My wife and I have been married 13 years now and we’re no closer on our choice of joint hobbies than we were from day one.

I love camping, she loves opera and ballet. What do you think are the chances we’ll ever be able to see a Luciano Pavarotti concert at a KOA campground?

And so we find ourselves in marriage kind of like an old baseball mitt in the closet. You’d never give it away, but is the sentimental reasons your only hold? In comparison, is the glove special because your favorite granddad now long since gone, gave it to you on your birthday? Maybe it’s because of that playoff game in seventh grade where with that mitt you tagged out the neighborhood bully named Bobby Bigalow and fixed his little red wagon once and for all. Or how about that first game in college where as a freshman, you climbed the left field wall and robbed a senior of a game-winning home run.

Maybe it was the first picnic date where you tossed a baseball to that cute little blond, never realizing you were destined to fall in love, marry, and make your own love story. Or could it be, maybe it was the first time you pitched a ball to your three year old son, who looks just like you, and encouraged him to really let the ball fly?

Maybe it takes an old baseball glove in the closet to make you realize that sentimental memories are the greatest hobby you can share. Maybe a picnic with that cute blond with a few streaks of gray may be the hobby I’ve searched so long to find. We won’t forget to bring the glove either!