Impromptu escapades

– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist –

Sometimes, unplanned, spur-of-the-moment jaunts, turn out to be the best.

I was living in Mellen, and a man asked me on a date. I knew him by reputation only, but one of my friends knew him and his parents. Though not in any way what I was looking for, we started dating.

His name was Mike, and his parents were Antone and Nina. Antone was Russian and spoke minimal broken English. Nina was Ukranian and spoke with a thick brogue. I absolutely adored them and we visited them often.

Mike spoke English, as he was born after they, and their two older boys, emigrated to the United States, in 1951. Nina spoke often of their life before arriving at Ellis Island, and was teaching me to speak Russian.

Mike had four young children from a previous marriage, ranging from age 10 to just two years old, so we planned as many activities as possible that would include them. We arranged to go to a Milwaukee Brewers game with the middle two youngsters and Mike’s older brother, Richard.

We drove by the way of Madison, to tour the state capital. I enjoyed that immensely. As we were ready to leave, a shiny, black sedan pulls up, bearing a miniature Wisconsin state flag and a United States flag, prominently displayed on each corner of the hood.

Two gentlemen adorned in black suits, wearing sunglasses, stepped out and, flanking the rear passenger door, opened it, as Gov. Tommy Thompson disembarked. I was such a gauche hayseed. I jumped out of our car and asked if I could snap a picture. He graciously conceded, with the stipulation that I was in the photo, as well.

It was such a chance happening that we were in the right place, at the right time, and it made me so happy.

I thought our trip was off to an unforgettable start and then we arrived at Milwaukee County Stadium, at Miller Park. Seeing a professional baseball game is something I think everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. The icing on the cake, was when I instantly recognized the distinctive announcer’s voice. It was none other than Bob Uecker, “Mr. Baseball” himself.

I grew up listening to his radio broadcasts of the Brewers. Uecker first started announcing for Milwaukee, in 1971. The 2023 season marks his 53rd year calling for the Brew Crew. There was ample time before the opening pitch, so I was determined to get a picture of my idol.

Mike and Richard tried to dissuade me, stating I wouldn’t be able to get close enough, but I was willing to try and took Mike’s eight-year-old daughter, Marsha, with me.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure we were in several restricted locations, but if the doors I tried were unlocked and no staff personnel challenged our presence, it seemed reasonable to continue. Somehow, we ended up on the extremely narrow catwalk at the top of the dome.

Marsha and I made it all the way to the announcer’s box door. A disgruntled security guard appeared out of nowhere and asked if we were lost. I told him I would like to please take a picture of Mr. Uecker.

The guard planted himself securely in front of the door and crossed his arms across his chest, with a firm, “No.” I asked if I could at least snap a picture of the door (I could see my coveted prize through the glass.) At this request, the officer slowly shook his head no, with a scowl.

I decided discretion was the better part of valor and I had tried his patience enough. Besides, he had a very official-looking firearm strapped to his waist.

The guys were astonished I made it that far and we laughed the rest of the evening, over our adventure. I got to experience a couple home runs, with Bernie Brewer going down the slide, watched the grounds crew draw the tarp over the playing field for a rain delay and, of course, the famous Racing Sausages.

I hadn’t envisioned anything near that fun or thrilling, and I’m sure it wouldn’t have turned out as memorable as it did, if I had planned an itinerary. Oh, and the Brewers won that night.

Play ball!