After a long day working at the factory and after we all had dinner — my dad would grab the radio and make his way to the Cottage porch.
He’d place the radio on the window ledge and tune in to the Detroit Tigers game. Leaning back in the rocker he’d put his feet up and stare at the lake.
I don’t know if he was lost in his thoughts and the game was background noise or vice versa. I like to think that the few hours during every broadcast he found great pleasure in a life that on the surface seemed so mundane.