There are several momentous occasions in life, some which may, for all intents and purposes appear somewhat insignificant to most family and friends, however, assuredly the occasion is in the eye of the beholder.

What on earth am I ranting about today?

Early this week I went for a follow-up to a routine test, which showed that more tests were needed, the word biopsy was bantered about and I immediately went into that state known as denial.

It is how I have learned to deal with all uncomfortable situations throughout my life: denial, acceptance and faith in Jesus and God to see me through whatever crisis might occur.

Given that one must consider that in today's world of medicine, more thought is given to err on the side of caution than face startling malpractice suits, the procedures that one must go through in order to satisfy a physician are not always comfortable.

Enter denial.

Whilst in this state I took myself to a better place, literally - Yankee Stadium, Bronx, New York. There is no better stadium on the face of this earth that the House that Ruth Built. I have enough to deal with being from Massachusetts: the state that gives you the now infamous supreme court, politicians whose names need not even be mentioned, Abby Hoffman, Amherst, and of course, the least herald resident, Dr. Timothy Leary. For those of you who are not familiar with the good doctor, he came up with a somewhat popular hallucinogen back in the day - LSD. Begging the question: Was the good doctor so shaken by living in the People's Republic of Massachusetts that a chemically enhanced out of body experience might be required? He should have taken up baseball.

Back to the game.

The sun was shining, the temperature balmy, the attendance was 56,000 plus as the Yankees took the field. The fans were treated by a moving rendition of the national Anthem sung by the Westpoint Cadet choir while the cadets in center field unfolded a giant American Flag. As the last notes of the anthem were sung, two Navy jets came screaming in over the horizon and flew directly over the stadium - it was a moment to hold in one's heart. It was patriotism, it was baseball, it was American and I was proud to be a patriotic American at a ballgame.

It was the bottom of the 8th, the Yankees were down by 3 points, there were three men on base and Derek Jeter took to the bat and hit a home run - winning the day. Perfection!

Obviously, I am no sports writer, some could argue no writer at all, however, the exhilaration of the stadium, my team winning against what might have been the odds, made my heart soar! That and the fact that my husband, a die hard Red Sox fan and my daughter were with me. Although I love my husband, he has his faults, we all do.
My daughter, who was a professed Red Sox Fan, was on her feet in the 8th, screaming as loudly as I was! For the Yankees! This was what made this day so very special.

Although I am certain she will disavow being any type of Yankee fan now that we are back in the hills of Western Massachusetts, for one brief shining moment, she was caught in what makes New York and New Yorkers special. My father was a New Yorker transplanted to Massachusetts, my Aunt Enda and My Uncle Johnny were both diehard Yankee Fans. I imagined them looking down from heaven, enjoying the game as much as I was.

One of the best days of my life. Opening Day, Yankee Stadium and the Bronx Bombers bring home the game.

Life is good.