SOME DAYS I THINK I AM SO FAR OUT OF THE LOOP that I am in an alternate universe. Today is one of those days.
One of the Usual Suspects handed me a clipping from last Sunday’s paper about a popular therapy being used on athletes to help them heal quicker:“Cryotherapy.”
We’re not talking about putting an icepack on your head to sooth a headache. Nope. We’re talking some serious cold here.
IT WAS A QUIET SUNDAY EVENING at home watching the Colts beat the Denver Broncos when I heard my wife, the lovely and eloquent, Dawn, call out, “What the heck is going on?”
THIS PAST WEEKEND WAS HOMECOMING for the Students and Alumni of Indiana State University here in Terre Haute. (That’s French for, “I can’t feel my face.”)
The town was filled to overflowing with grads coming in from all over the country to revisit a burgeoning campus and attend the Big Game. There is always a Big Game for Homecoming. It must be a law or something.
THE TV HAS BEEN FILLED TO OVERFLOWING this last week with every moment of the Pope’s visit to the United States. Regardless of one’s faith or lack thereof, this was a Big Deal for millions of people.
JUST ABOUT EVERY SATURDAY my wife, the lovely and officially Reverend, Dawn, sits down and writes her sermon for Sunday’s services. She starts planning each sermon days or even weeks ahead of time, but does the actual typing on Saturday. It is a lot of work. She doesn’t get up there and wing it on Sunday morning. It takes her a lot of preparation time and it shows in her sermons. Just ask anybody who hears her.
This past Saturday she was busy working on her sermon when I announced that I was heading out to St. Arbucks to work on this blog.
“I’m going to attempt to be somewhat creative,” I said.
“Me too,” she answered. “I’ll tell you what – how about it if I do your blog and you do my sermon?”
HERE WE ARE MOVING INTO MID AUGUST and we are having a very “Late September Day.” The sky is a blue canopy and the sun is shining.
When I got up this morning the temperature was in the mid 50s. I actually wore a light hoodie when I went for coffee at the Chapel of St. Arbucks. There were school busses driving around, getting ready for the resumption of classes next Monday. Yes, it was all very Autumnal.
But…but… I’m not ready for summer to be over.
THE FATHERS DAY Holiday, Celebration, Acknowledgement is hard upon us.
On days like that I really don’t think much about my role as a father. I picked up the honorific in midstream, becoming a “Step-Dad” at the age of 56. I don’t think about my role because it is an evolving thing, changing from day to day – sometimes hour to hour.
AS I’VE STATED BEFORE – I am a baseball fan – and I have just a passing interest in football (no pun intended. Well, yes it is intended, kinda.) but with all of the hoo-haw of the last week I just can’t ignore it.
Because I live in Indiana, about an hour outside of Indianapolis, most people will assume that what I say is flavored with sour grapes.
It ain’t so.
I ADMIT IT – I’M A BASEBALL FAN, but this weekend was all football, all the time. There were four NFL Playoff games on the tube and, given the crappy weather, I sat there and watched most of them. My brain is now feeling like a clump of trodden sod.
The first game was the Baltimore Ravens vs. the New England Patriots. I was nominally rooting for Baltimore for two reasons: The Ravens used to be the Cleveland Browns and, by winning, the Ravens’ victory might remotely rub off on the Browns memory. Nah, not really, but the last time a Cleveland sports team won a championship was in 1964, I think. They must feel bad.
Down the Hall on Your Left 