It was October, 1992, inside this big white building in Toronto.  Thousands of us approached the SkyDome stadium, our non-perishable food item in hand.  That was our ticket to enter.

Slowly the stands filled with eager human beings … 47,000 of us.  And what was happening on the playing field?

Nothing

No game … no concert … empty

Except for us devotées, our eyes glued to the Jumbotron screens.  Huge images met us.  Images from Atlanta in the USA.

A baseball game was showing on the world’s biggest TVs.  Game Six of the World Series – the championship of professional baseball in North America.  Toronto was leading Atlanta three games to two in the best-of-seven series.

SkyDome rocked with cheers, gasps and groans throughout the evening.  It was surreal.  And then … the ending.  Toronto was ahead.  It was Atlanta’s last chance to tie things up.  If their batter didn’t get on base, the game and the series were over.

Ground ball to the infield, throw to first base, caught by the first baseman before the batter touches the bag …

Yes!

The stadium erupts

Hugs, high fives, screams, bodies flying high and others collapsing …

Toronto had just won the first World Series Championship in their history.

Soon we thousands were streaming out of the SkyDome, many of us walking north together on Toronto’s iconic Yonge Street, which basically goes on forever.  No room for moving cars that night.  We were a flood of humanity.

We Blue Jays fans were lifted high above the asphalt.  Our joy reached the heavens.  Yes, there was drinking, stumbling, getting up again to continue the pilgrimage home.  And all was well.

The best news?  No looting.  No violence of any kind.  Slowly we flowed northward, folks leaving Yonge when their neighbourhood appeared.  My destination was mom’s home seven miles from SkyDome.

***

It was long ago

And in my heart right now

***

Last night was Game Seven of the 2025 World Series.  Toronto versus Los Angeles.  In the same building, but this time brimming with fans.  Now it’s called the Rogers Centre.

Final score:

Toronto Blue Jays  4

Lost Angeles Dodgers  5

(Sigh)

Over a month ago, I was short of money.  I needed to borrow a considerable number of euros for three weeks.

My bank said no, not because they’re unfeeling people, but because they have to abide by Belgian law.  I can’t get a loan until I’m a permanent resident, which will be in two years.

A dear friend said “Yes”.  (Thank you!)

Money would be coming from Canada in “six to ten business days” to repay her.  So it felt like a three-week loan.  She graciously gave me till the end of October to repay.

But then …

Someone at my Canadian financial institution made a big mistake, forgetting that the transaction required me to sign a form.  So I thought the process was flowing along.  Actually it was standing still.  (Sigh)

So I waited.  I had expected three weeks and now it was looking like at least four.  And … I had given my word that the funds would be in my friend’s hands by the end of October.

What mystery.  There was my word.  And there was my inability to control what a financial institution does (and when).  It was a somehow gracious limbo of letting go, contracting, letting go again …

Often a softness entered my face.  And a smile.  An overarching feeling of All Is Well.  I floated.

***

My friend received her money on October 29