Boys of Fall

  It's soo sweet.  And it's something that I observe as somwhat of an outsider.  My husband has a bond with my sons, and that bond is football. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge encourager!  I love watching my boys  play!  And I can ring a cow bell with the best of 'em!  But, I can't give you my opinion on the single wing offense, and I can't tell you the difference between a half back and a full back.
  My husband  played in High School.  He went to the state championship game...and lost.  He was too short to play college ball, and ended up serving in the military after High School.  I attended one football game in HS.  I think I left before half time.
 My introduction to football began when M. was eight, playing on the local Jr. league team.  I know some mothers hesitate to start their boys in tackle football at a young age, but I wasn't.  There really wasn't any stopping them!  They wanted it, and it was something they shared with their dad.  I never worried about injuries.  Life happens.  And I want them to live life.  I trust my husband's expertise in the matter of raising boys.
  M. shares his dads passion.  Oh, his first year of football!  They lost more than they won, and every losing game, I'd watch for that little eight year old frame to trudge off the field.  I know him by his walk.  Tears streaming down his mud stained face, head hanging.  He gave every bit of himself in every game he played!  Physically and emotionally!  He was driven.  He was homeschooled at the time and even back then, he would wear his game jersey to our homeschool co op.  He was proud!
    During M.'s last year of Jr. league, he outgrew his age!  There wasn't an ounce of fat on him and he was trying to drop weight. The league we were  with had a weight limit.   M. was unable to lose the weight he needed, and so, was unable to play.  That was their winning year. He stood on the sidelines every game, and helped his dad coach his littlest brother's team.   The boys he had played with for the last six years, his brother included, were going to the championship game...without him.  That's one game I will never forget.  The kids were so excited, they were playing under the lights at the high school!  I sat in the stands with him, and as the clock wound down, and we knew we were going to win, it was a frenzy of conflicting emotions!  B. was on the team, and I was happy for B!  And next to me sat M., watching others celebrate the victory that he so longed for, for the past six years.  And just like when he was eight, I watched the tears roll down his face while he sat in the stands looking on as his brother, teammates, and fans rushed the field to celebrate.  I can't tell you how much my heart hurt for him!!
  In some states, you can homeschool your kids and they can still play sports for the public schools.  Not in Michigan.  After much consideration, we chose to enroll M. in the local public High School...for football.  That really was our only reason!  I could not stand in the way of his dreams.  Since then he has made the JV team as a freshman.  I was glad for him as this victory came on the heels of the previous years Championship drama.  As a sophomore, he was pulled up to varsity.  Four games into the season, he broke his foot in practice.  After getting word at the doctors office that his foot was indeed broken, he kept it together until he left the office.  We made it to a bench in the lobby and he couldn't even stand, he was crushed.  I had a six foot 215 lb. "man" sobbing on my shoulder.  All he wanted was to play.  God it hurts!  I wanted nothing more than to have my foot broken instead of his.  Holding on to each other, and me crying with him, we sat in the lobby like that for 15 minutes.  It's an emotional roller coaster, this game! 
  This year, he made captain.  Proud is putting it mildly!  He has shown dedication and leadership and was recognized for it.  He's not a partier.  He has a few close friends.  Football motivates his GPA.  He wants to play college ball.  The first day of summer vacation, he was at the school, in the weight room.  If the High School's weight room was open over the summer, he was there!  He brought along his brothers with him.  He and his father have influenced them.  And this year B. begins his freshman year at the same school  M. attends.  Following in his brothers footsteps, he too made the JV team.  B. shows the same willingness and commitment to work hard to achieve his goals.  I'm glad that it's his brother that's his role model.
  Through it all, Mark has been their biggest fan.  Mark's been at every practice.  He coached for six years.  I don't think he's ever missed one of their games.  He doesn't belittle mistakes.  He IS one hell of a cheerleader!  He's the dad that the whole student body knows, because of his booming voice cheering on the boys from the stands, and his ability to keep everyone entertained!  Mark will sit with the boys after school and watch video of the weeks previous game. He is commited to them.
  At last weeks game, he went up to the school an hour and a half before the game started, just because he was excited.  I drove up to drop off some snacks and drinks so I wouldn't have to carry them later, and there he sat, top row, right under the press box (so he can hear what they say), alone and waiting, just staring out at the field.  I tease him.  I tell him he's living vicariously through the boys, but he's not.  He shares their passion for the game!  He's never forced them to play, but he won't let them quit something they've made a commitment to.  He tears up at the Kenny Chesney song "Boys of Fall", and in turn, so do I.  He loves watching them play.  And he's proud of the men they are becoming. I still have a hard time understanding the game of football. What I do understand is the bond that it is between my husband and his sons.  I love that they share it.  I don't mind being on the outside looking in.

Soo long ago.  So little.  I love this pic. 

Click here to watch the Boys of Fall...better grab tissue!

Fathers Day, Quantity Time!

  Thinking about the dads in my life.  I'm with neither of them today.  Mark has taken M. to his second football camp of the summer, so they are gone for the day.  My own dad lives 800 miles away, but I will see him in two short weeks. 
  When I was little, we lived in the small town that my dad grew up in.  My dad spent time with us.  What I remember most fondly, were Saturday mornings!  It would be just the two of us.  I would run errands with him.  We would bring the trash to the dump.  This was a fascinating adventure!!  A busy place, with mountains of trash, and birds circling overhead.  Then, off to pick up donuts and a newspaper.  I think the name of the place was "Honey~Dew".  Often times we would stop at my grandmothers who lived just across town.  Another busy place!!  My dad had 1 older brother and 5 younger brothers, so something was always going on there!  He'd have a cup of coffee and catch up.  I'd find a cousin, uncle, or neighbor to run off outside with.  In the summer we would spend the afternoon washing the car.  I don't ever remember my dad bringing the car to a car wash!  It cost money, that (at the time) they didn't have a lot of.  Plus, nobody could get a car "shining like new money", like my dad could!!  He worked in auto body for years.  First doing, then teaching.  He had a red, 1970, Cutlass Convertible.   I would scrub white walls, rinse off soapy water and "turtle wax" the chrome.  He'd tell me, "You just ain't cool if your chrome don't shine!"

This wasn't ours, but looks a lot like it.  Ours had a black rag top.

  He often had to work a second job, but it was out of necessity.  If he had painted a car during the week, I would get to go to Morris' shop, (don't even remember the name of the shop, but I remember his bosses name) and help him peel paper and tape off of the car.  I loved this.  He made me feel as if I were really helping.  It smelled of bondo in there.  I love the smell of bondo!  Often times my uncle and cousin would be there.  My cousin and I would explore the shop, and since it was a weekend, nobody would be there.  It was a spooky place to a couple of five year old kids, a rambling old building on the edge of the woods. 
  When I got older, he would often work on a car in our garage at home.  But it was in these everyday activities that a father/daughter relationship grew.  Conversations were had.  It wasn't planned.  We didn't have to "do something".  But in everyday life, he made his children a part of it. 
  These are the qualities that I love in my husband.  We do things together!  It could be as mundane as going to Sam's Club, and Mark would say we go "As a family!"  Obviously, as the kids get older, it gets more challenging.  But we do our best to make it a priority.  I don't buy the "Quality Time" theory.  Try telling that to someone you've just started dating.  Don't you want to spend as much time with them as possible?  It's not about going to an expensive restaurant, it's about being with them.  Sharing life!

Me and my dad! And a little B!  ;)   (A while back!!)

  We are given a very short amount of time with our children, a small window of opportunity to make an impact on their lives.  (And it goes by fast!!)  I'm glad my dad made time for me!

My boys dad!