Just because I have not posted a blog since January 30th is no indication that I have not tried. I throw out at least half of my attempts. However, there is nothing like writing for a specific date (in this case, a birthday) to outdate my efforts almost before they are published.
I have misplaced an important journal and spent much of yesterday, once again, searching for it. Quite naturally, that led to clearing my book shelves. Now that my youngest grandchildren are learning to read, about one fourth of my accumulated literary treasures would hold no interest to anyone except me. Of course, with a new grandbaby on the way, I'll hang onto most of those books.
Scattered haphazardly on the floor of a seldom-used room were books from various reading stages of my life. Lassie Come Home and coverless Cinderella as well as Hurlburts bible Stories and Aunt Charlotte's Bivle Stories are the only tomes that have survived since childhool.
There is one book that really haunts me. When John and I lived in Beaumont, Calfironia, there was an elderly christian lady who would stop me on a weekly basis and insist that I should read the best piece of literature ever written. Eventually, she brought me a copy of A tree Grows in Brooklyn. I have no idea how many times over the years I have tried to read this novel. I have never made it past the second chapter. I do not know why it has never held my interest; what little I have read was well written and even interesting.
Once again, I removed the book from my bookshelf where I keep books for loaning to people; although this book has never been loaned. Once again, I place it in the stack to take to the used book dealer's shop to trade in. And, once again, I remember the lady who loaned it to me over 40 years ago. And...once again...I place it back on my shelf. What am I feeling? Guilt? perhaps. Motivated? no. But maybe one day I will get around to reading it.
I wonder if others hang onto books or things, not really knowing why?
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
UNDERSTANDING FOOTBALL
I know it is not football season but...
After one and one-half hours of composing a masterpiece, I needed only to wrap it up and post it. When I hit the "enter" key on my computer, everything disappeared...never to be seen again. So, I resurrected an old unpublished article. If you are desperate for reading material...you've got it!
Everyone is talking about football these days, and I got to thinking about the influence that sport has had on my life.
I was in junior high in Andrews, Texas, when I went to my first football game. There are two things I remember about that experience. 1) The band major was a full-blooded Seminole Indian. It seems to me that there was some controversy over a boy in that position. and 2) The junior high boys teased me because my hair kept falling in my eyes and, to avoid being conspicuous about the dilemma, I would stick out my bottom lip and blow it back.
We moved to Tucson between junior and high school. Of course, high school football was far more educational in the big city high school. I attended most of the THS home games and never missed a Thanksgiving rivalry game against Amphitheater; that game was played near our house at the University of Arizona stadium. What I recall most about high school football is my wardrobe. Without fail, I always wore red and white every Friday, My favorite outfit was a white blouse and a full skirt (red with huge white polka dots) poofed out with numerous crinolines. I remember most of the cheers: T-T-T-u-c; S-S-s-o-n and We are the Badgers, Mighty Mighty Badgers. Who can forget First and ten; do it again. Harder! Harder! Yessiree, I sat on the front row in front of the marching band and yelled my little heart out, It was not hard to identify me as a real fan though I hadn't a clue what the cheers meant, No one ever bothered to educate me; and, truthfully, it never crossed my mind to ask.
The year I started college was the last year Pepperdine had a football team. I may have attended two or three games. Early on, I learned how many players were supposed to be on the field. Apparently, this was a piece of information that had alluded our team.
In our years in Juneau, football was not a part of the school sports program nor even community sports. With the advent of cable TV, and eventually the addition of a daughter-in-law whose brother is a college football coach, at last I was (somewhat) educated about the game. So, when asked if I watched the Super Bowl, my answer was "The last 39 seconds."
"Well, then, you did not miss anything." has been the standard reply.
Somehow, there must be a message here about life.
After one and one-half hours of composing a masterpiece, I needed only to wrap it up and post it. When I hit the "enter" key on my computer, everything disappeared...never to be seen again. So, I resurrected an old unpublished article. If you are desperate for reading material...you've got it!
Everyone is talking about football these days, and I got to thinking about the influence that sport has had on my life.
I was in junior high in Andrews, Texas, when I went to my first football game. There are two things I remember about that experience. 1) The band major was a full-blooded Seminole Indian. It seems to me that there was some controversy over a boy in that position. and 2) The junior high boys teased me because my hair kept falling in my eyes and, to avoid being conspicuous about the dilemma, I would stick out my bottom lip and blow it back.
We moved to Tucson between junior and high school. Of course, high school football was far more educational in the big city high school. I attended most of the THS home games and never missed a Thanksgiving rivalry game against Amphitheater; that game was played near our house at the University of Arizona stadium. What I recall most about high school football is my wardrobe. Without fail, I always wore red and white every Friday, My favorite outfit was a white blouse and a full skirt (red with huge white polka dots) poofed out with numerous crinolines. I remember most of the cheers: T-T-T-u-c; S-S-s-o-n and We are the Badgers, Mighty Mighty Badgers. Who can forget First and ten; do it again. Harder! Harder! Yessiree, I sat on the front row in front of the marching band and yelled my little heart out, It was not hard to identify me as a real fan though I hadn't a clue what the cheers meant, No one ever bothered to educate me; and, truthfully, it never crossed my mind to ask.
The year I started college was the last year Pepperdine had a football team. I may have attended two or three games. Early on, I learned how many players were supposed to be on the field. Apparently, this was a piece of information that had alluded our team.
In our years in Juneau, football was not a part of the school sports program nor even community sports. With the advent of cable TV, and eventually the addition of a daughter-in-law whose brother is a college football coach, at last I was (somewhat) educated about the game. So, when asked if I watched the Super Bowl, my answer was "The last 39 seconds."
"Well, then, you did not miss anything." has been the standard reply.
Somehow, there must be a message here about life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
