Many years ago, I got a job working as a circulation assistant at a library. My schedule on most days had me going to work at 11:00 a.m., taking an hour for “lunch” at 4:00 p.m., and then working the evening shift until the library closed at 8:00 p.m. Usually I got home about 8:30. I began this job in July, so when I got home, my mother was watching the Atlanta Braves game. I’d played softball as a kid, but it had been a while since those days and I wasn’t a big baseball fan. On the other hand, my mother was. (Where my parents were concerned, my mom, not my dad, was the bigger sports fan.) When I arrived home, I was beat. I’d been on my feet most of the day. But I wasn’t necessarily sleepy, so I’d sit with Mama for a while and watch the game.