Friday night, I became a little agitated looking at the most recent copy of Backpacker Magazine and looking at all the places I will not visit any time soon. I must admit it left me in a rather sour mood and was not a good way to start off the weekend.
After a wonderful night's rest where I woke up confused about where I was or what day it was, my mood greatly improved. Melissa and I watched SportsCenter while we read the paper, ate breakfast, and talked about the day's plans. Melissa was planning to spend the morning with some friends before we drove to Waco; the only thing I had to do was attend the morning's yoga class.
We stopped talking as the anchors focused attention on the Mississippi State-Alabama game held during the SEC tournament. With a little more than two minutes left in overtime a tornado passed through downtown Atlanta and caused steel girders inside the arena to shake and a portion of the roof to rip open.
For a several minutes, players, coaches, and spectators shifted focus from the fleeting importance of the game to their own survival that evening. I commented to Melissa that it was one of the few times in life where sports seem trivial and silly. Almost all other times, however, sports are representative of every value and ideal I cherish; and Saturday proved no exception.
Late in the afternoon, our drive to Waco got canceled too late to go to Ethan's soccer game. Not wanting to waste the entire day, I decided to attend a college lacrosse game.
I had read in the morning's paper that Dallas was to host the Patriot Cup, two college matches between Navy and Holy Cross followed by Army and Rutgers. By coincidence or design, the games were held the same week that marks the fifth year anniversary of the war. It was the first time Dallas had ever hosted a lacrosse event of this nature and all proceeds are to go to the Wounded Warrior Project.
The Long Gray Line was in full force as the crowd of a couple thousand was pro-Army. Many of the older men in the stands are West Point alumni and came to support their school.
[On a side note, I have never attended a preppier event. I don't have much use for yuppies but I love preppies. And if you gotta ask what the difference is, you'll never understand. A hint? Yuppies are made; preppies are born.
I have never seen more pink clothing or collars turned toward the sky. I saw one young mother wearing madras shorts, a yellow cable-knit sweater, and green clogs. I was at home.]
The game was fun to watch and the aura awe-inspiring. When the team ran out of the locker-room carrying the American flag, it was impossible to not remember that these kids are not just student-athletes but officers-in-training. Even how they aligned themselves on the sidelines (from plebe to first class) showed order and discipline. At half-time, a wounded veteran came to mid-field and accepted a check on the organization's behalf.
The game was not without levity, however. When a Black Knight defensive player received a foul for slashing, a fan stood up and yelled to the ref, "Give the kid a break; he just got back from Iraq!" It was received with the spirit in which it was delivered and fans from both teams laughed.
Army won the game 12-11 on a last minute goal and I was able to leave the game happy and no longer feeling the immediate urgency of moving from one responsibility to another.
Sunday was a continuation of my no-responsibility weekend. As is often the case, I felt a bit guilty that I would have to leave Melissa at home to participate in my selfish activities; I don't think she felt too bad, as she was able to have her own weekend of irresponsibility.
That afternoon, I played golf with Larry, Chris, and Erik. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch, hit balls on the range, and enjoy a nice round with the temperature (obviously not the scores) in the mid-70's.
Last October, the last time we played the Fazio course, I had one of my worst rounds in several years. I don't even remember keeping score after nine holes. Yesterday, however, was a wonderful day and I ended up having my best score at Stonebriar.
I was able to go to bed Sunday night fully grateful for my life. While everything is not exactly as I may wish, everything in my life is wonderful to the point of near-perfection.
Not important to tell anywhere else but still pertinent to the weekend, I leave the following:
- I enjoy spending time with all my in-laws, but particularly my two youngest sisters-in-law. Both are hilarious in their own unique way and are always good sources of amusement. Saturday at dinner, Hilary surprised us both by her familiarity with Rilo Kiley. She was richly rewarded with a concert ticket Melissa never asked for or wanted in the first place. Likewise, Nicole and I joke around too much and that occasionally gets her in trouble. After Sunday supper, I told Nikki not to open up the oven door or the heat would be released and it'll take longer for the brownies to bake; to spite me, she opened up the oven door and gave me a dirty look. I had a handful of grapes and bounced one off her head; she wasn't expecting it and stomped on the grape as she walked away. Her dad wasn't too pleased with squashed fruit on his kitchen floor and I still feel guilty about getting her in trouble. On the other hand, I had nothing to do with the dead rabbit incident.
- After the kitchen had been cleaned up and Colleen was finishing wiping down the counters, Melissa found a chewed toothpick with a wad of gum balled up on one end. Often finding the same coffee-table litter at our house, Melissa started to yell at me for the disgusting habits I bring into other's houses. I had no idea what she was talking about and we both started to laugh when Larry yelled at Melissa to leave his gum alone. Once again, Melissa cursed herself for marrying someone just like her father and once again, Larry and I could only chalk it up to genius finding genius.
