One for the history books:

A tale of baseball and peanut shells

By Kim Evans

Herald-Times Bloomington, Ind.

Community Columnist

June 18, 2009

I come from a family of Cincinnati Reds fans. There was a time when Southern Sporting Goods in downtown Bloomington was the local ticket outlet, and I remember going there with my mom and brother, wooden floor creaking beneath our feet, air scented with leather and cigars. The salesman would pull out a small map of Riverfront Stadium and Mom would pick the best available seats in our price range. These were the days before online ticket sales.

It was a real treat to attend games and watch Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, and the rest of Sparky Anderson’s Big Red Machine of the mid-1970s, and I had the most fun when we were joined by my cousin Jeff and his family. Jeff and I were people-watchers more than game-watchers. There is one particular night I will always remember. It was chilly enough for sweatshirts. The stadium lights were smudged by the evening haze. Jeff was pointing out people in the crowd, drawing my attention to strange hairstyles and funny outfits. The scoreboard showed two chunky hands clapping in an effort to get the crowd to join in. Jeff and I bent our fingers at the knuckle to make our hands look chunky like those on the scoreboard. We grinned like clowns while we pretended to clap with exaggerated motion.

Mom had just returned from the concession stand with the classic baseball snack, unshelled peanuts. She passed the crinkly bag down the row to us. I pulled out a small handful and rested them in my lap. After I cracked the first one open, I wasn’t sure what to do with the shell. I noticed Mom was throwing hers on the ground, so I followed suit, enjoying this opportunity to be messy and carefree.

Then I noticed the man sitting directly in front of me, leaning forward in his seat, inadvertently exposing a big gap in the back of his jeans. I didn’t look too closely because I was embarrassed on his behalf. I quietly pointed this out to Jeff, and we looked at each other with our mouths wide open, silently hysterical. I glanced over at Mom again, and saw she had that familiar devilish look on her face. I watched her as she took aim and tossed a peanut shell directly into the man’s pants.

I felt my eyes widen as far as they would go as she repeated the ritual several times. I wondered if I could get way with this, too? I decided to give it a try. Bingo. My shell landed on top of the small stack that was accumulating. Then Jeff joined in and before long the back of the man’s pants was full of peanut shells. My stomach muscles hurt from stifling my laughter. I kept wondering what Mom would say if the man turned around to confront us. Would she defend us? Or were we on our own? I wondered what else I could get away with if I got away with this. I started questioning why I tried so hard to be good all the time when being nasty was so much more fun.

Suddenly, the man stood up. A few shells spilled out the back of his pants. I grabbed Jeff’s arm and squeezed. The man looked around, hiked up his jeans and exited the row. We never saw him again.

I don’t remember who won the baseball game that night, but the peanut shell story has become “one for the history books” in our family.

Community Column #1

http://www.heraldtimesonline.com/stories/2009/06/04/column.qp-8661325.sto

Newspaper with an editorial page required for residence

By Kim Evans

Community columnist | kimevans_columnist@att.net

6/4/2009

Hi, my name is Kim, and I’m a Bloomington rubber-bander. I’ve fulfilled the classic scenario for many townies like me: We grow up here, not fully appreciating all this community offers. In search of some perspective, we move away for awhile. That’s what I did; shortly after graduating with a psychology degree from IU, I seized the opportunity to relocate with my soon-to-be-husband. Thirteen years, one baby and a more marketable associate’s degree later, there was nothing more I wanted than to come back here.

We lived in a very small town for eight years. While the kindness of the people in this small town was unsurpassed, the lack of town leadership started to get to me after awhile. There was no organized forum for public conversation. I hungered for a local newspaper with an editorial page.

So, as I launch my stint as a community columnist, I’d like to get a few things off my chest by sharing a sampling of brief letters to the editor I would have written to my small town newspaper:

Dear Editor,

Is there anything that can be done about the “antique shop” across the street from my home? I am concerned that my property value is being adversely affected by this eyesore with unfinished plywood siding, old rusty bathtubs on the front lawn, two buildings crammed so full of junk no human could possibly walk through, not to mention the conservative talk radio blaring all afternoon. Isn’t there a local ordinance that at least requires finished siding on buildings? Thank you.

Dear Editor,

I’m writing to convey my shock that a policeman knocked on my front door today and asked to speak to my husband and me about a complaint that a toddler was running around our front yard. That naked toddler was my daughter playing outside on a hot summer day. Is there a law against a toddler playing naked in her own yard on a hot summer day? Thank you.

Dear Editor,

Is there any way our town can find a more effective way to corral the loose, aggressive dogs across the street? I fear they will attack my child (yes, the naked toddler) if we dare take a walk to the park. Just how effective is a town official walking the streets with a box of dog biscuits tucked under his arm? Didn’t Mayberry have its act together better than this? Thank you.

Dear Editor,

When will the “renovation” work be done to our town park? We previously enjoyed going there to swing and play, but now all the playground equipment has been ripped up and there are dangerous trenches in the ground, filled with green liquid. I haven’t seen anyone working on it for several weeks and would like to know what the master plan is. (Is there a master plan?) Thank you.

Dear Editor,

Is there any way that residents can be forewarned when the town plans to flush out the water system? On several occasions we’ve been shocked to suddenly have rusty red water flowing from our bathtub faucet as we prepare to give our child (yes, the criminally naked toddler) a bath. How hard would it be for officials to hang door tags about this? Thank you.

Dear Editor,

Why are chickens residing in the town limits? Don’t get me wrong, I love chickens, but I don’t live on a farm, and I don’t love being awakened by a rooster crow at 5 each morning. And the smell of chicken poop knocks me over every time I’m in the back half of my yard. Isn’t there an ordinance that addresses this issue? Thank you.

Ah, it’s good to be back in Bloomington. Life handed me the perspective I needed. Along the way, I discovered some of my bottom-lines: town ordinances, freedom for toddlers to play naked in their own yards, and a local newspaper with an editorial page. Everything else is gravy.

Kim Evans is a Bloomington native and IU graduate who “rubber-banded” back to town in 2005 to open her graphic design studio, raise her family and circle back to her writing. She can be reached at kimevans_columnist@att.net.

It's Time for a Post

Nothing exciting is going on. I'm sitting on the couch under my chenille blanket watching Olivia play Wii tennis. Trent is munching on a bag of Christmas M&Ms. The last time I wrote on this blog was Labor Day. Where did that time go? To all my loyal readers (do I have any loyal readers?) I apologize for keeping you waiting so long. I have discovered Facebook, so if you are hungry for more interesting nuggets and more photos about my life, visit me there. Christmas is in 20 days. I haven't done any shopping yet, how about you? I have this fantasy that I will force myself into getting all of my shopping done in ONE DAY. No consternation about what to buy. Just one day to decide and shop for everyone on my list. Think it will happen? I also have a fantasy of going on a cruise over Christmas vacation. Somewhere warm and sunny and oceany. That would be wonderful. Mmmmmmm.... Now Olivia is bowling on Wii. I love the sound effects, the country music in the background, the sound of the ball hitting the pins. Just like the real thing. Okay, now she is boxing. My daughter is a tough cookie. You go, girl!

Labor Day at the beach

We bid farewell to summer at Lake Michigan this weekend. My cousin lives in Ogden Dunes and our whole family visits every Labor Day. It's become a tradition. Olivia and her cousins love it. We love it. We laugh a lot with our family. There are enough adults there to allow the parents to steal away a few moments to take a walk on the beach. Our walk is a mini-movie inside me now...cool sand, sunset behind Chicago, miniature like a city inside a snow globe, so far across the Lake from us...the light changing every every moment...orange sky turns red before giving way to a darkening blue...pebbles sink under my wet feet. A reggae band is playing at the beach party...we meld with the crowd swaying gently to the rhythm...then it's time to go back to our family, our stolen moments have come to an end for now.

Drum Corps Captured Her Imagination and Changed Her Life

This article appeared in the August 9, 2008 edition of the Herald-Times, Bloomington, IN

There is a unique phenomenon rolling into my town very soon, in the form of large coach buses driving through our streets, brass music and percussive rhythms, and ensembles of 100+ sun-baked young people on local football fields repeating choreographed movements and musical passages, putting the finishing touches on the performances they have been working on since winter.

All these buses and young people will converge on Memorial Stadium for three days in August, the culmination of many hours of sweat, hard work, and pushing themselves further than they could possibly imagine. They will compete for the crown jewel of their activity: the Drum and Bugle Corps World Championship.

I was first introduced to Drum Corps in 1979, the summer before my seventh grade year, at the Drum Corps Midwest Championships in Whitewater Wisconsin. I will never forget the feeling that swept over me when my family and I entered Warhawk stadium. A corps by the name of The Troopers from Casper, Wyoming was on the field, and they produced a brass sound so rich, so bright, and so LOUD, that it raised the hair on my arms. When we found our seats I was treated to a visual delight as well. Their show was based on a civil war theme, which befitted their uniforms, and I remember their color guard forming a circle around the flag and saluting. I was captivated by this focal point and how it created a climax of the performance. I was sold on drum corps from the very start.

Back at home, I listened to homemade recordings of the shows and memorized each corps’ repertoire. This educated me about classical, jazz, broadway, and contemporary music. I watched video tapes of the performances and taught myself the choreography, learning the beauty of how movement and music can intertwine.

I auditioned for the Bloomington-based Star of Indiana in 1986. As a member of the color guard, it was thrilling to perform to this electricity. It energized me and allowed me to persist for many days of 12, sometimes 16-hour practice sessions. I was in the best physical shape of my entire life. I learned valuable lessons from our talented staff, especially George Zingali, our visual designer. His passion for the activity was contagious. He taught me to approach each performance as if it were my last, to put my heart and soul into it, and to consistently put forth my best effort. His fast evolving, curvilinear designs on the field revolutionized the activity from the military formations to the artistic realms it explores today. These shows are full of tension and release, subtlety and climax – a hallmark of this activity that has entertained audiences since the beginning.

So the Drum Corps are coming to town! Be ready! Enjoy this special opportunity to experience this unique performance art form. The Troopers will be here – in fact, they are celebrating their 50th anniversary season this year.

Our family returned to Whitewater for several summers. I remember walking through the souvenir stand area behind the stadium one year, telling myself, “Someday I will marry someone that knows and loves drum corps.” This was more prophetic that I could have imagined: my husband Trent knows and loves drum corps. We met in 1986 as fellow corps members.

Heart in the Sky

Yesterday while Olivia and I were driving through the parking lot at the mall, she spotted this heart shaped cloud. It was a puffy fluffy cottony heart right there in the blue sky. Its shape was changing quickly - shortly after I snapped this image with my cell phone it had evolved into something more abstract. I was happy she spotted it when she did. Reminds me of the painter on public television who painted "happy clouds." Remember him? What was his name? Jim-something? If anyone knows, please post a comment.

A safe and happy 4th of July to everyone!

Chance Encounter with American Idol, David Cook

Olivia and I have been HUGE AI fans for the past 3 seasons - and HUGE HUGE David Cook fans this year. I had to share this story...

We were at the Indianapolis airport - very early - Sunday the 8th of June. Because of the severe flooding going on, both of our normal routes to the airport were closed. We had to take a LONG detour and we weren't even sure if this route was open. Information about road conditions was very sketchy at that point, but that's another story...

Anyway, we arrived at the airport way early, and I was trying to catch a cat nap at our gate while we waited for our plane when my husband said, "that's David Cook." I was like, "yeah, very funny, is the Easter Bunny here too?" Then he said, "No, really." I bolted straight up and fumbled for my glasses and SURE ENOUGH - I saw THE HAT - and it was HIM - being escorted by an airport person into a restaurant for breakfast. My heart started POUNDING. Olivia and I started jumping up and down. I was freaking out because literally if someone had asked me to pick which celebrity I would most like to meet it would have been David Cook!!! I know that might sound shallow, but it's the honest truth. Yes, I'm letting my inner teenager out! Totally seredipitous....and it just so happened that I had purchased a copy of the June 16 People Magazine when we got to the airport - the one with a nice photo spread and article about him - but little did I know I was going to have it autographed!!!

The waitress told the small group of fans gathering that DC would meet with us when he was finished (he was sitting at a secluded table out of our view). So we waited patiently and I gathered a SHARPIE and my camera and we went back down about 30 minutes later. The crowd of fans had grown, but was still not too large - thankfully our gate was at the end of a wing, so there weren't a lot of people around, and it was only about 6:30AM. I noticed a flight to LA was departing at 7:00 and knew that must be his (we were going to San Fran). So then, (I apologize if this is too long, I just don't want to leave anything out) he came out and said, "how's' it goin" to us and we all laughed. Then he proceeded to sign autographs and pose for photos with every single person who requested them. He was wearing his hat, as I mentioned, and a t-shirt with a really cool vest, and of course, the boots. Someone asked how Adam (his older brother who is undergoing treatment for a brain tumor) was doing, and he said great, and the had been in IN visiting family for a birthday celebration. The fangirl in me wanted to go up and hug him and have my photo taken with him,but I decided to restrain myself and take Olivia's photo with him instead. When it was our turn, a lady pushed in from the side, saying "would you pose with an older lady?" And here is a testament to DC's character: he said he sure would, but this young lady was next in line. And he motioned for Olivia. And I snapped the photo. Then I asked if he would autograph my People magazine and while he did, he joked about how his dad had been giving him a hard time about the article. Very humble about it. And finally, I congratulated him on his AI win. It was really great to be able to tell him that in person, because his performances were very inspiring to me. We were floating on Cloud 9 - I couldn't believe how fortunate we had been. What a thrill.

Then, part 2 of the story is....when we got to our hotel in San Fran, we realized we had lost our camera - the one with THE PHOTO. I was heartbroken. I started thinking that this was a sign that I was too old for this kind of nonsense and I should start acting my age. But I kept hoping and praying it would turn up. We got hotel security and the taxi company involved, and sure enough, three days later, the taxi company called and said they HAD MY CAMERA! I immediately checked, and yes, THE PHOTO was still on there!!!!

I hope you enjoyed this rather long account of the day my daughter and I met David Cook. And yes, we purchased our tickets for the Idol concert in Indy - before the finale was over! Have a great day, and keep the faith. Have a question in mind for David - or whomever your favorite celebrity is - you never know when you might get the chance to meet him or her!