First off, everyone thank Bev. Because without her being willing to drive, I would not have enough time to expound on the issues of my week. It has been a hectic weekend already and there is no relief in sight. The block of time that I had carved out for writing was filled in with a rescue effort. Grace had planned on going to W. Virginia for a friend's wedding. And in the spirit of my blog on "girls goon wild" the obvious answer to "dad I want to drive across the continent what do you think?" is "you're old enough to go to war you'll certainly be able to handle any "deliverance" hill Jack that you come across in the hills and hollers." Then I think about that reasoning and it occurs to me that yes she is old enough to go to war but she would go with a freaking big A**ed army, navy and air force. But then there are all of those well reasoned arguments, written by my own hand about letting go and I have to curse "drats foiled again batman." Blessing in hand, she and a friend take off. Well her Taurus isn't cooperative and the transmission gives way just outside Economy, IN. Poetic dropping a $1000 transmission in Economy. Talk about your economic stimulus. Someone call congress.
Then today, Bev and I are going to the Purdue game. Buoyed by the unexpected victory over the previously undefeated and ranked wildcats we are looking forward to a day of fun with family, friends, and victory. So thank you Bev for driving and giving me this hour and a half.
Back to the theme at hand,to my readers who like more coherent and cogent theme development, I apologize. Last Monday state employees got the day off in honor of founding Ohio's Capitol. Weird, but I was not going to argue. My day was to be filled with cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood getting ready for the winter ahead. . .
We just got back home. Sadly, Bev was unable to drive home. It appears that a day of sunny 70 degrees, a beer, and a shrimp fajita with 3 nephews will make Bev groggy. So I did not get to finish on the way home. What started out as tome to fall, was obliterated by a fantastic day. I love college. I want to go back. It started on the way into the stadium and a 20 something had purchased a foam boilermaker special hat. It is much classier than the lowbrow foam cheese head hat. My fashion sense was confirmed by a 6 year old boy who stopped following his dad, who was loaded down with a nacho, coke, and wooden train whistle. This boy was transfixed by the sight of a pound of injected molded foam black rubber painted with gold highlights. He kept moving closer and closer; wanting to ask; needing to know where to find get one. Then quietly at first with firmer projection each time repeated, "Jason, Jaason, JAyson," his father called and slowly, gently the spell was broken. Attention shifting, shifting, finally breaking and poof, looking around. Where am I? More importantly, where is dad? Ah, there he is and off he goes but one last look back at that hat.
Then there was the kit helicopter that was buzzing the stadium early on. It was way too close for my conspiratorial theorist mind. Which as Bev pointed out, if it wasn't that, it would be something else. She is so right about that. But even she got nervous when the light breeze caused it to shift around like a ufo in a 1950's sci-fi film. These terrifying possibilities were quickly obliterated with Purdue's first first-down. The student sections starts pointing north, the band starts to play and the student voices all raise in 1, 2, 3, 4, first down bmumble mumble. All of the alumni around us start asking, "what was that? what did they say?" I was prepared because the last time I had attended a game 3 years ago I heard the mumble and went down to inspect it at a closer range. It really isn't a mumble. It is just unexpected. We old folks couldn't believe our ears. But at closer range, the enunciation is undeniable. I am so proud of those college students. Sure it is profane, rude, uncultured, but they are dedicated. From the first series to a meaningless first down late in the 4th quarter when most of the stands had cleared there it was 1, 2, 3, 4, first down b****. Now that is dedication to being a smartaleck. I can respect that. I love college.
As half time approached, hydration became a significant concern. This is the point where I miss the kids most. Bev and I had nearly resigned ourselves to the main drawback of empty nest. We have had to make accomodations since both of the kids are gone. I have bought a dorm fridge to set between the lazy boys in the living room. I have the kids stock it when they come home about once a month and that helps. I have velcroed the remote and cordless phone each to a leg on my pants. But nearing halftime, with a hydration crisis at hand, I was resigned to hauling myself down to the concession stand for a cold one. And suddenly my sister came to the rescue. "The boys are going down to get drinks. What would you like?" We are thinking about renting the nephews a month at a time. Sure enough 10 minutes later, here came my 32 ounces of $7 goodness. $7 what? Wow. But then I drank and found out why it cost so much. I believe that Pepsi was 40% wetter than any of $5 drinks that had 3 years ago. An a $1 McDonald's drink is down right arid.
Of course, it wasn't all fun and games. There were down turns. In the second quarter, the Purdue kicker missed an 18 yard field goal attempt. I could have hit that kick. I pointed it out to everyone around me and was so inspired that at half time went down the locker room and offered my 4 years of eligibility anytime the team need an 18 yard field goal kicked from the right hash mark. I thought that I would be perfect since you almost never have to kick an 18 yard field goal and I love college.
Sadly, the low point of the day was at the bookstore later. We were there to buy souvenirs. That was until I saw a shirt that shook me to my soul. There it was an $18 T-shirt hanging from a black plastic hanger. Mocking me. Causing me to throw up shouts of anguish. Those cursed words "Purdue Dad" mocking me. Oh how I hate those Hoosiers, and Cardinals, enticing my beautiful children away from the promised land. Trust me. My tears were bitter.
But . . . not so bitter though that a victory, family and friends couldn't make it all better.
Take care
Roger
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