A Case of Mistaken Identity

We have an interesting phenomenon that occurs in our house. Myself or one of the kids will go to the mailbox every day and retrieve the mail. We’ll then walk back to the house and after removing the mail addressed to whoever picked up the mail the remainder will be deposited on the edge of the cupboard. On the surface you would think this would work out very well and be quite an efficient method of dealing with the postal mail. Unfortunately there is a small problem with this process. The person who retrieves the mail typically forgets to tell anyone that they had gotten the mail. This results in additional trips to the mail box which of course find it empty leaving the retriever with a false impression that the mail has not yet arrived or that we simply did not get mail that day. The second flaw is that everyone seems to forget to check the corner cupboard to see if the mail has been deposited there. This coupled with the fact that the kids also deposit their homework, school papers, and anything else they can find on the same cupboard means that the mail is quickly lost and forgotten. The pile of papers continues to accumulate until either someone gets frustrated with the stack of paper or there is a cave in from the paper causing a safety hazard whereby someone is trapped under the weight of a paper avalanche. After the rescue crews have safely cleared the avalanche there is a family meeting where we all promise to change the way we retrieve mail. The reminder of the weekend is spent going through the mountain of paper and dealing with the lost mail. Today was one of those days.


I could hear the faint calls for help from the pile of paper and I immediately realized that poor Dakota was probably buried under the paper. I don’t know how many times I have warned him not to make any loud noises around the paper overhang, he is just asking for an avalanche to get him when he does that. Oh sure he might think that he can out ski the avalanche but he hasn’t been successful with that so far in his young life so I don’t share his optimism in his abilities. So at the conclusion of Trina’s latest recitation of the safety measures when traversing the mail zone it was time to begin chiseling away at the mountain of mail and deal with whatever paper is addressed to us. In my case the process usually goes something like: 1) pick-up piece of paper 2) check if paper is either Sedona Red or has a Diamondbacks logo on it. 3) non-Sedona Red paper is deposited into trash. 4) Trina retrieves paper from trash and reminds Jeff that he cannot continue to throw away the bills just because a business has not chosen to adopt Sedona Red as their official color. 5) Jeff complains to Trina that they should not be held accountable for any liability that has not been properly presented in Sedona Red. 6) remaining Sedona Red mail is stacked into a small pile to open and read. This final small pile is in my eyes the only important mail we actually get anyway. Today during the mail purge I happened to run across an envelope that was approximately 6 inches square. It was white and I immediately identified it as “trash worthy” but at the last moment I happened to turn it over and saw a Sedona Red sticker that said Arizona Diamondbacks Foundation. Like a reprieve from the governor this piece of mail was saved from execution and deposited in the “Important Mail” pile. I sat down with my “important mail” and began going through it. I came to the Diamondbacks Foundation envelope and opened it revealing a Sedona Red star-studded background. In the center was a very official looking invitation to the Second Annual Evening on the Diamond Benefitting the Arizona Diamondbacks Foundation. According to the paper I have been cordially invited to this exclusive event at Chase Field on March 27. The event will include a cocktail hour, a D-backs Clubhouse Reception (for Grand Slam and Home Run tables) followed by dinner and a live performance by George Benson and the Phoenix Symphony. Wow, George Benson I loved that show. He was the coolest butler with an attitude. He was good on SOAP but even better on Benson. I excitedly called to Trina to come check this out, we were going to meet that guy that played on Benson! After reading the invitation Trina corrected me that the dinner was not with Robert Guillaume but rather featured talented musician George Benson. Initially I was disappointed but then I figured this guy was probably pretty good too. Besides the important thing was; I was going to get to eat dinner at Chase Field down on the playing field. I was all excited and ran to the closet to try and figure out what Diamondbacks apparel I owned could be classified as Cocktail Attire. I have no idea what that is. I envisioned people dressed like little hors d’orves and there was no way I was going to dress up like a little weenie with a toothpick. While I was busy going through the closet stressing out about what I was going to wear, Trina came in and asked, “Did you read through the rest of this invitation?” Well, come to think of it I was so excited at meeting Benson while dressed like a cocktail weenie that I didn’t even look to see if there was anything else in the envelope. There was a beautiful card showing a picture of last year’s event with tables lining the infield dirt along with two email addresses for contacting the team and the event. I made note of the addresses to send a thank-you to both of them for including me in their party. Trina was quickly losing patience as I admired how beautiful the grass looked in the picture and wondering aloud what the new scoreboard would look like when they finished it. In her impatience she went to the back of the packet to the RSVP form pointing directly at the reservation information. It seems I have four options. I could become a Grand Slam Host for a table of 8, a Home Run Host for a table of 8, a Triple Host for a table of 8, or I could be a Pinch Hitter where I would not attend the event but would donate to the Arizona Diamondbacks Foundation. Each of the first three levels included a cost for becoming a host. The prices were listed as $50,000, $25,000, and $10,000 respectively. I got the same feeling in my stomach that I felt when Anibel Sanchez threw a no-hitter against the Diamondbacks. I turned the envelope over to see if perhaps I had gotten the wrong mail. This was obviously not my envelope. My envelope should have been for the guy that eats Hungry Hill Sausages and leaves peanut shells on the floor under his seat. To put it in perspective, I could become a Grand Slam Host for roughly the same price as 11 years of season tickets where I am currently sitting. I mean it’s cool that the Grand Slam Host has a Diamondbacks starting player sitting at his table and that he gets an autographed jersey from the starting line-up of the Diamondbacks. That would be awesome hanging on the wall in my family room aka “the shrine”. It’s not that I am against the Diamondbacks Foundation, I think it is an awesome organization and a great place to donate money. They do some awesome work which should be continued. But I am just a guy from Section 112 Row 8 Seats 7-8. They have obviously mistaken me for someone else. What I need is the event where for $100 you get a Hungry Hill Sausage and you can eat with one of the clubhouse guys who wash the towels or for $125 you get to eat with the guy responsible for rubbing down the baseballs before every game. That’s probably more along the lines of what I should be invited to.


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