Summer days with no school, a Tiger game, and REAL Michigan grass is where I retreat to.  Nevada’s been kind to me, and Portland is the finest city (and people) I have ever been a part of.  But in the end the place I go to for simple and wholesome bliss is under a tree with a small radio waiting to hear about the adventures of Mr. Kaline, Tram, Lou, or the rest of the fellas.  Four decades of Tiger memories make my happy place warm, cozy, and uniquely mine.