Randy got the assist but Pam got the ball. . .

We did nothing for a day in Bluffton, OH, and I do feel better now. After I recuperated we went to the Cincinnati Parks Krohn Conservatory for their “Butterflies of the Philippines” exhibit. It was an OK exhibit but I was a bit disappointed with the paucity of species of butterfly. I am going to sound like a curmudgeon—OK, OK, I AM a curmudgeon—but I get heartily sick of hundreds of children, none of whom seem to have ever been taught to live in society. They appear to be, “Me, me, me” and never seem to think about the fact that there are other people in whatever room they are in. They bump into people without excuse, they step in front without looking, and they seem to yell all the time (whatever happened to, “Use your inside voice”?) All right, I’ll stop ranting now][.

There were volunteers at the exhibit but their job seemed to be telling people to please not touch the butterflies or to take money, not to be informative. There was no explanation of where they came from, why they had Philippine butterflies and not, for example, local butterflies. But they did wear cute costumes.

Ah, the Cincinnati Reds game versus the Washington Nationals. We got very nice (and FREE!) tickets from Tim Parks (the inventor of the book we use to get our baseball stamps, the Baseball Pass-Port program) about 20 rows above the Reds’ dugout on the 1^st base side. Perfect spot to catch a foul ball (which Randy warned me we should watch out for). And in fact we did catch one. I say “we” because if Randy hadn’t deflected it with his left middle finger (yes, THAT finger) I wouldn’t have caught it. Well, “caught” is not perhaps the operative word, picking it up from my lap would possibly be more correct. Randy said, between clenched teeth, that he thought he had broken his finger.

Horse drawn carriage to the game; what a way to go!

Cubby, Randy, and Johnny Bench

Cubby loves Johnny Bench

Randy, The Ball, and his injured finger on the ice pack donated by the guy in front of us.

Cubby in Cincinnati

Pam and The Ball

It did look a wee bit injured and the guy in front of us just happened to have an ice pack (!!) for Randy to use. What a great guy! Randy’s guardian angel, he said he was. He also said that Randy’s injury convinced him to not try for any other errant balls that might come our way.

Tim, up in the really high-priced seats, saw the action and through some texting back and forth, sent a staff person down with an “official” “Foul Ball Certificate” for Randy. Nevermind that I had possession of the ball! We’re pretty sure it was hit by Byrd because that is where in the scorekeeping that I sort of lost track and Byrd hit two foul tips. (Aside: several days later, Randy did not break his finger but does have a large bruise on the middle finger. Not large enough to get much sympathy, however.)

One of the views from our seats.

Entertainment!

Everything after that was sort of anticlimactic. A flurry of activity on the part of the Reds (four runs in the 8^th), an ejection, and 11 strikeouts (getting Cincinnatians free pizza) and a final score of Reds, 8; Nats, 5. And of course we have the ultimate souvenir. Oh, yes, we also got a bobblehead of Josh Hamilton. And we had a two-hour drive “home” to the RV. We think that, in the future, if we have the RV that far away, we’ll stay in a hotel in town.

So off we went the next day to the Detroit area, Greenfield actually. It started raining after the Cincinnati game and didn’t really stop until we got to Greenfield. Everything was mud, mud, mud so we just hunkered down for the rest of the day and read our books. Internet speed here at the Greenville/Detroit RV Park is aggravating at best; the Pony Express would have been faster!

In the area is The Henry Ford. Not The Henry Ford Museum (although it IS a museum), just The Henry Ford (which includes a museum and an old-timey village). Our RV park has discounted tickets so being the cheap airline pilot, Randy got tickets there. It was $30/pp for the Museum and Greenfield Village including parking—Aside: at the parking lot at THF there is NO sign until you get inside to the ticket counter that there is a parking charge of $6. Sneaky.—AAA would have charged $41 plus $6 parking for a senior ticket. The museum part was fabulous, the Village part, not so fabulous (it was overrun with screaming children and their oblivious parents). If you get a chance to go, by all means see the Henry Ford Museum (confusing isn’t it? It’s “The Henry Ford” if you are talking about the whole complex, but it’s “the Henry Ford Museum” if you’re talking about the museum part of the complex. My head hurts.)

These photos are from The Henry Ford.

The entrance to THF includes airplanes!

Beautiful DC3, front and center of The Henry Ford.

Back to the roots of aviation.

And some of the more dangerous exploits of the early years of aviation.

One of the early Sikorsky helicopters. Read the placard below!

Now, THIS is the way to travel!

Unless you look inside the Ford Tri-Motor at the seating!

I used to make models of this car when I was a child. I loved cars of all kinds, but especially old ones.

A Mustang will never live up to a Corvette...

...but at least a pilot got the first one!

Interesting concept, but only two were ever built and only one was lived in.

This is the one that was lived in and donated and moved to THF.

Yes, Randy does know his way around a kitchen.

The living room of the Dymaxion House.

THF also had a large exhibit of furniture, including this blown-up Eames Lounger...

...and the put-together one.

Pam learned how to fold an airplane from a young visitor to THF.

And these are from Greenfield Village

The line was about an hour for a $5 ride in a Model T

Edison's workshop was moved to Greenfield Village.

This guy was a great entertainer: If three rights make a left, what do two rights make? An airplane!

This man was also entertaining and very knowledgable about Edison...

...unfortunately it was difficult to get close enough to hear what he was saying over the voices talking at the same time he was.

An actual working roundhouse.

For this.

It took us two days to do the Museum and the Village; the evening of the second day was the Detroit/Oakland game. I got pretty nice seats on the “Club” level, 324. My seating’s sightline was look exactly down the 3^rd base foul line.

Aside—“Club” level seats usually imply some perks such as private dining areas, seat service, etc. In Comerica Park, however, it means absolutely nothing except that the seats are padded.—It was vertigo-inducing to be up on the 3^rd level, front row, and a low glass wall in front of me! Very few foul balls in this game. Pretty boring game actually and it finished in under 3 hours. Good thing, too, ‘cause we were freezing! Hard to imagine it is over a hundred degrees at home in Tucson!

We had dinner before the game, outside the park, and this was our view.

Cubby is NOT intimidated by the Tigers!

They have a carousel INSIDE the park.

 

Cubby does not mind the elevation and the glass wall.

Next: on to the Chicago area (actually we will park the RV in Union, IL) for about 10 days. From there we will go to games in Chicago (two), Minneapolis, and Milwaukee before starting what I think of as the Western part of our baseball tour. We are both heartily sick of the traffic and the roads in the “East.” There are only two seasons, it seems, in the eastern part of the US: Winter and Construction. And, although it is pretty chilly, it isn’t the Winter season! Actually, when we lived in Chicago we were told that Chicago, much like the rest of the country really does have FOUR seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, STILL Winter, and Construction.