Near as I can tell, I've been to games at 22 Major League ballparks: Boston, Montreal, Baltimore (2), New York (4), Chicago (2), Minnesota (3), Florida, California (3), St Louis, Detroit (2), Toronto, Philly.
I wouldn't have had Philadelphia on that list till I found that poem today, so who knows, maybe there's another couple of games I'm forgetting. In fact, I just added both Montreal & Toronto.
I'm thinking about all the things you can prove—the receipt, the ticket stub, the photo—and how they can put you there, but don't necessarily. And I'm thinking of a memory I'll never forget, of a waterfall of fireworks off the Brooklyn Bridge. I don't know when it was or why there even was a display that day, but one perfect picture will always be with me. I'm thinking of things people said to me that they had no memory of later, still less that it stayed with me for decades. And the times someone repeated something I'd said, & all I could do was shrug & say "sounds like me, sure." Obviously I don't remember in order of importance.
The randomness of it all. The point of writing it down is to what?—to accumulate a bunch of memories I have no use for but to marvel later at what fell out of my head so easily?
Well, better minds than mine have gotten tangled up in thoughts like these.
What's for dinner?