Football

Idolatry and the NFL – How Our Worship of Sports is Ruining the Experience

Taking a quick detour from my Greek adventures, as this has been blowing up on social media and been sort of eating at me.

There is a clip going around of a Packers fan (a young woman) being berated by an Eagles fan, or who I will term “bully” who proceeds to call her an ugly “See U Next Tuesday” if you get the reference.

***Warning, harsh language***

Lately, I haven’t been commenting on these types of things, for there seems to be plenty of that on twitter and other social media sites, but I came across a clip from Matt Walsh, who berated the woman’s fiancée for not “defending her honor.”

I usually appreciate Matt Walsh’s commentary, for I do believe there are many places in today’s society that require a no-nonsense approach to solving issues, and his deadpanned style of humor can actually not just be informative, but quite entertaining in some of his documentaries.  But one foible of his I’ve noticed is he seems to lack grace with men in certain issues, or at least that’s the perception he gives, when I think grace is required as we live in a fallen world.

Also, in this particular commentary, I think he misses the broader picture, something that’s an even greater plague on our society, which is the idolatry of this game that so many of us are wrapped up in.  And when I say “us,” I’m including myself, for I can be just as guilty as everybody else.

First, let’s talk about manliness and defending your honor.  Unfortunately, like he mentioned, the clip that’s shown doesn’t share the entire story.  There could’ve been an altercation between the two prior, and the guy filming could’ve had a few extra words to say after he stopped recording.  But  judging by the woman and the fact that she was sitting in front, it’s hard for me to believe she did anything egregious other than being a typical fan rooting for her team.  And let’s just assume the man recording left it at and didn’t say anything the rest of the game to him.  I’m tempted to say “I would’ve done this, or that…” but doing so would simply be Monday morning quarterbacking the situation, of which there’s already enough of that going on.

But the question remains, should he have gone and punched or physically assaulted the bully in the face and risked going to jail or the hospital?

I think it’s worth nothing that in these situations, we should make a distinction between being courageous and being stupid.  If you’re on a date and take a wrong turn down a street and suddenly, you’re surrounded by a group of dangerous robbers, one of whom insults your wife/fiancée/girlfriend.  Should your first reaction to attack him?  I would say no, for your duty is to get her out of harms away above teaching that guy a lesson and live to fight another day, of which attacking one of them would simply rope you in to doing exactly what they wanted you to do.

And though going to an NFL game is a little different, the concept still holds.  The woman and her fiancée were in a no win situation, surrounded by people of which were he to act as Matt suggested, he would be giving in to exactly what the bully wants, which is to create a situation where he could easily beat up a fan of the opposing team with little repercussions, with the excuse “he threw the first punch.”

But while people can debate whether or not the guy filming violated the man-code for not defending his fiancée’s honor, I think the better question is, “where were the other men?”  The bully was apparently with his two friends, whom were surrounded by several other people, of which more than half were also men, who sat around couldn’t care less as a woman was being called vile names?  Nobody had the gall to say, “hey bud, knock it off!”???  We can harp on the guy filming all we want, but when it comes down to it, he’s closer to powerless in this situation than we would like to believe, while being surrounded by people who actually have the authority to step in and correct the bully’s behavior.  And I’m not even suggesting physical confrontation, but imagine if another Philly fan went over to him and said something like, “before we are Packers fans or Eagles fans, we are human beings, and we don’t treat people like that!”  That guy probably would’ve been a bit humbled, maybe even apologized, and would probably still have a job, for it’s said that the company he works for has since terminated him as an employee.

I think if we take an honest look at ourselves as men, there are times where we’re in positions of authority for others who do not have that power, and at the risk of being uncomfortable, we simply do not act.  And I know at least for myself, I can do better.

But the broader issue at stake that is mostly ignored here is the idolatry of our sports teams.  And I get that there’s many forms of idolatry in this world, but I think it’s safe to say that the NFL, being as big as it is, is one form that has captured many of us.

I specifically remember taking my wife (then my girlfriend) to a Packers/Redskins game a few months after we started dating.  I did my usual routine of getting super excited, drinking a little too much, hooting and hollering and heckling Redskins fans and players, and overall acting like a fool, something I easily got away with as a single man (or more appropriately, a single boy).  The next day, she made it crystal clear that I would not be acting like that ever again.

And she was correct.  My behavior was childish, and looking back at how I acted as a fan in my 20’s and early 30’s, I’m a bit embarrassed to say the least.  The arrogance I displayed when my team won, the meltdowns I publicly had when they lost, and in my more “matured” response, I would talk as if my team was the center of my life, which is the definition of idolatry, and as a Christian man, I was breaking that commandment day in and day out.  Through marriage, having children, and also living outside the US for the last couple of years, I’ve thankfully been able to take a step back and not make football the center of my life.  But although I may not publicly display it, in my heart, there are times when those feelings of hatred and animosity towards rival teams’ surface, and there’s no good reason for it.

It’s this idolatry that causes people like the bully in the video to talk to that woman that way, because his sports team, “must be placed higher than anything else, and anything that gets in the way of this must be torn down, belittled, and shamed.”  It is literally the worship of a sports team, and being that the Eagles have only won one Super Bowl, it is worship that will let him down more often than not (as it will let down all of us, no matter what team we root for).  It’s forms of this idolatry that prevent people from doing the right thing, because doing so may make us uncomfortable and violate whatever the idol commands against, which in this case, includes diminishing the sacredness that comes with rooting for our team.

A point was also made that, “you should simply not take your fiancée to an Eagles game period.”  And to a certain extent, I get that, for I probably wouldn’t take my son to an NFL game until he’s near adulthood for that reason.  But how sad is that, that we’re starting to collectively accept that a professional sports game is no place to bring your family?  I can remember how special it was as a kid when my mom and dad took us to a Mariners game and getting to see Ken Griffey Jr. hit a home run.  And now as an adult, I feel that I won’t be able to give that experience to my children because some adults may ruin it, again, all for the sake of idolatry?  And imagine if we held this standard all the way?  “Oh, we can’t go to Billy’s high-school football tonight because he’s playing an away game, and the fans say disgusting things to our wives and children…”  That would not be tolerated on that level, and the same should go for the professional level as well.

I’ve heard Philly has a reputation, as seen by this video of a Viking’s fan (and mind you, that I am certainly no fan of the Vikings), which I would hope the leadership in the Eagles organization and the NFL would make strides to correct this, for it’s making ordinary people akin to rabid animals in the wild.

Again, language warning

But even if it doesn’t exist to this extent with other NFL franchises, other forms of idolatry still do.  We let these teams control our emotions, our behavior, how our weeks, months, and years will go, and we act like it’s the center of the universe.  I say, let’s try to find something else to put front and center, my recommendation being Jesus Christ.  And I get that not everybody is a Christian like me, but there are certainly other things we can put before football in our lives, our family and friends being one.

Until we do that, football, and sports in general, will continue to become less and less enjoyable to watch, both for the bullies and the innocent among us.

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Kalimera! Winter 2023

January 26th, 2023 – Poor performances from the Packers? And Santa too??? Can’t get much lower than this…

Mr. Mike, 

It’s been a little while since I’ve written.  I wish I could say it’s because I’m just so busy now that I have a new job and everything.  I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I have the keep the entire Embassy of the United States up and running, and believe me, that’s no joke!  If things start to fall apart, my butt’s on the line, and that’s no fun, I don’t care who you are! 

But in actuality, it’s a different story.  Mike, it’s hard not to be depressed these days.

First off, we had Christmas. Now, this wasn’t a terrible Christmas by any means. And actually, all things considered, it was pretty good. My wife’s mom came to visit and she made a Red Velvet Baby Jesus Cake, I cooked my very own roast beast, and we all came out all right with presents. But Santa, man did he let us down this year…

We had an embassy Christmas party, which was decent enough you could say. My son built his own gingerbread house, and sad to say, I don’t think he’ll be following in the engineering footsteps of his old man. By the looks of it, demolition is in his future.

But when it came to Santa, man, this guy just wasn’t up for the task. He was boring as can be. Barely made a splash of an entrance, barely talked to the kids, and didn’t even ask my son what he wanted for Christmas! I mean, c’mon man! What’s the deal? You’re Santa for gosh sakes! Get with the program!

And I get that people are a little more cautious with kids these days, not wanting to get too close at all, but this guy acted like he was allergic to em’! I mean, he wouldn’t go near the kids! Mike, I’m telling ya, where’s our buddy Rich when we need him? Now that’s a man you can count on to be Santa. We’ve seen him in action at the Nats games. He could deliver.

I just don’t know what we’re going to do for next year. This is the US Embassy for cryin’ out loud, and we gotta set the example for the rest of the world, and alls I know is, if we can’t get Santa right, then I’m afraid… I’m just saying, somebody’s got to step up to the plate! And if I can’t get Rich out here, then… well, I don’t want to even go there right now, but let’s just say, if I have to take matters into my own hands… never mind, I’ll cross that bridge next year IF it comes down to the wire.

Now, I wish I could say that was the worst of my problems, but sadly, I can’t lie to a man like you, Mike. The truth is you see, this team I really like rooting for called the Packers just wasn’t having the year I thought they would.  I mean, they lost to this team that used to be called the Redskins, and believe me, that’s not an easy pill to swallow.  People have become self-masochists after something like that!  Now, there was hope when they beat the Cowboys, a team that our former colleague Rich used to gleam over, but after they lost to another team called the Eagles, I just couldn’t take it anymore…  I cried out to God, “Is there any humanity left in this world?!?!” 

But wait… what is this?  A glimmer of hope?  May they actually claw their way back to the playoffs?  I mean, its destiny, right?  Everything was working in their favor.  All they needed to do was win at home against this team called the Lions then everything will be ok!  Surely they can beat them, because, who can’t beat the Detroit Lions for Denny’s sake? 

Well, guess what, they lost to the bleeping Lions.  And now here I am, back at square one, forced to re-enter this world, my mind wiser, but my heart… colder. 

And to put a cherry on top of that, I finally happened.  I never thought the day would come, but after 2 years and 8 months of invincibility, I caught the gosh dern COVID.  And let me tell ya, what an annoying way to get sick!  You’re always tired!  You can’t do anything, and these days, you’re lucky to find anything of decency on Netflix anymore.  I can’t lie, I worry about the future of these young kids.  Back in my day we had quality television, like Family Matters and Full House.  What do they have now, Meghan Markle and Prince Harry?  Ughz, don’t make me barf!!! 

And just when I thought I was out of the woods, my wife gets me sick again with the flu!  Can’t a guy catch a break here???  At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I make it out of the winter alive!!! 

To try to get my mind off things we all took a trip to the place called Napflio in a part of Greece they call the Peloponnese. They have this old castle there that if you want to get there, you have to walk up 999 steps! I guess they figured bad guys would really have to be determined to come, because I don’t know about you, but if I had to walk up 999 steps, I’d think twice about conquering a castle and pick one a little lower to the ground.

And that’s only half way up!

Well, those 999 steps gave me time to think about life and contemplate my misery over the Packers. And all in all, I was rewarded with a decent enough view of the place. And one thing I could appreciate was you could actually find a parking space around here, a true commodity in a place like Athens, or even DC!

Napflio… not the worst place in the world. I suppose I could come back for a vist.

In better news, last month, I practiced my patriotism by attending my very first Marine Corps Ball, and I can’t lie, it wasn’t too shabby!

Sure, there were some who complained that it wasn’t as good as the year before, but since I didn’t go the year before, I had a heck of a time!  Anything I can do to support those who serve our country! And every now and then, I clean up pretty nicely.  It’s like what you used to say to Rich back in the day, “You know the difference between you and me?  It’s that I make this look good!” 

I mean, just check out those shoes!

Other than that, we’re just getting back into the groove of things from the Christmas break.  And who knows what 2023 will bring.  Possibly some good news for the city of Philadelphia?  Now, I gotta admit, part of me was hoping that the Giants would pull an upset last week, and was even tempted to jump on the Brock Purdy bandwagon, but once I saw that our good friend Jenn was donning some Eagles gear on her Instagram, well, I guess now they aren’t so bad.  So, for this week, and possibly this week only, fly Eagles fly. 

And now that we’re talking about football, have you checked on our buddy Rich lately?  Oh boy, he must be in complete agony after his Cowboys blew it!  I mean, what were they thinking?  A play with no offensive linemen?  C’mon Man!

All that said, you better check on him to make sure he’s doing ok, maybe bake him a nice fruit cake and send over some thoughts and prayers.  I bet he misses you guys, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.  And if you tell him I said anything, I’ll deny it emphatically, but I guess I miss him a little bit as well. 

Well, don’t be shy.  Make sure you update me on all the juicy gossip back in the office!  Our buddy Rich used to spill all the dirty details, and I just got to know all the smack talk between you, Tara and Marquetta, so don’t leave me hangin’!

Oh, and PS, finally made my way up to the Parthenon! Also not too shabby. Give credit where credit is due, those Greeks built things to last back in the day!

March 12th, 2023 – So the Secretary of State came into town. Big whoop!!

Mr. Mike, 

Or is it Magic Mike?  I seem to recall that’s the name you preferred, at least that’s what Tara told me back in the day.  Either way, I think it fits you pretty well! 

But first things first.  My condolences to your Eagles.  Believe it or not, but I was rootin’ for you guys.  And that last play where they called holding and gave the Chiefs a first down?  Bull crap if you ask me!  Jalen Hurts got shafted, big time!  But we can only lament for so long.  The truth of the matter is, our country needs us, whether it’s supporting the Navy or the Embassy’s around the world, football gonna have to take a back seat. 

Well, February was an eventful month over here in Greece, and this time, I have a pretty decent excuse for my lack of updates.  First off, we had some Secretary of a State come into town.  Blinkin’s the name.  Which state, I don’t know, they wouldn’t say, but holy guacamole did it get everybody all excited.  They were all running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off, cleaning things up, setting up events and trying to get bands and dancers and whatever, putting this dude into a fancy hotel, plugging up traffic, it’s like, give me a break already!  So, he comes in, gives a few speeches, cuts a ribbon, and then books it out of town.  And I’m thinkin’ “is that it?”  Apparently, it was, and I hate to say it, but the guy was kind of boring if you ask me.  The speech he gave us was pretty much a snoozefest, and the answers to his questions… Lame!!!  But what do I know?  I’m not a Secretary of any State, at least not yet.

Sorry bud! The embassy looks nice, but as for you, I’m not impressed!

Thankfully, people have settled down a little bit, but next time he comes into town, I may have to give him a piece of my mind.  “Hey buddy, what’s the big idea, making me do all this extra work?  I got places to go, people to see, and updates to write!” 

But on a cooler note, guess who else came into town?

It was our buddy the George H.W. Bush!  And yours truly was hand selected to go on a visit!  I felt bad for some of the Greeks since they wanted to go, but when my name was drawn out of the hat, I guess it was just meant to be.  So, I made sure to get a couple good pics for everybody.  Brought back some good memories of hangin’ with my pals back in the office.  But dangit was it cold!  I was just thinkin’, “Man George, did you really have to pick the coldest, rainiest day of the year to come to Greece?”  In the end, it was a good trip, and I was able to pick up some goodies along the way.  So maybe the next person who comes to visit me in Greece may just have a ship coin waiting for them (wink wink).

And don’t worry, I picked up some souvenirs for all the guys back at the office from the ship store, heheh.

There was also this place called Monemvasia.  They say it’s the most romantic place in Greece, and I would agree with that statement, especially for a guy like you, in case you want to impress the wife someday.  But when you have a two-year-old who’s constantly on the go, it’s more like as the Greeks say, “Den Nomizo Taki,” or “I don’t think so son!”  Every step there’s a sharp ledge to bust your head on, a drop off with stairs to fall down, cliffs that fall into the ocean, obtuse stones to trip and fall on—basically one giant death trap!  I think I left that place with more grey hairs on my head than Rich!  Thankfully, we survived the ordeal, and in the process, I was at least able to get a few cool pictures to share.

And guess what was on the way back to Athens?  That’s right, the place I’ve been waiting to see ever since I saw that great documentary called 300, where the Sparta soldiers beat up all the Persians until they are betrayed by the funny looking guy Ephialtes.  Boy was I excited!  “What could such a place hold for a guy like me?”  I could only imagine the spectacles I’d see.  A bunch of buff dudes with there shirts off walking around?  Spartan helmets everywhere?  Monuments to the great Spartan Soldiers?  And finally, I’d get to see the mother of all travel destinations!  The pit where King Leonidas famously kicked the Persian Messenger into!  I felt like I was going to Disneyland for the very first time!

Mike, I gotta tell ya, the last time I felt this much disappointment was back in 1997 when Hollywood Hulk Hogan joined the New World Order.  The place was absolutely dead.  No shops with Spartan helmets, no tours of the ruins, no buff guys walking around, nothing but this one statue.  That was it!  The archeological site was a joke, the people seemed like they were too proud to care, it was just a boring old town in the middle of Greece!  If I was running that place, I’d pretty much have an amusement park or something, making it the number one destination in Greece!  No wonder they don’t talk a lot about this place anymore.

Ancient Sparta? You’re looking at it. Big whoop!
Big ol’ Yawner
My wife was so mad, that she even tried kicking me down a well!

Oh, and the guy at the gas station was a big jerk too, or as we say in Greece, a “Malaka,” of which I can’t translate here, for the term is too dirty.

I got a one decent picture I suppose, but man, I don’t know how a man recovers after such a monumental letdown…

One way I can maybe get my mojo back is that it looks like I’ll be heading back out to the States finally.  My friend is getting married in St. Louis, so I’m popping into town to see that go down.  It’ll be my first time back in about a year and a half, so I’ll have to see how the place has changed.  One thing I’m not too excited about is all the higher prices people keep telling me about.  I’ll let you know if I have any money left after I get back.  Until next time, stay safe and frosty, and don’t forget to pass this note along to our buddy Rich.  I can only imagine he’s living his best life right now, probably on a yacht or out on the beaches in the Bahamas, soakin’ in retirement.  Hopefully he hasn’t forgotten about all of us, but if you have his email, let me know, and maybe I’ll send him a note or two.

Part 7: Spring (and Easter) 2023

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Kalimera! Winter 2022

January 26th 2022 – The Turkeys keep getting me down!

Well Rich, I wish I could say Kalimera with all my heart.  But I was really hoping that I would be bearing good news that my Packers avenged your Cowboys by defeating the 49ers last Saturday.  And dag nabbit, I’m still mad about it all!  I know I shouldn’t be, because one, we have a few 49ers fans back in the office and I’m sure they’re all having a great week about it, and despite their poor judgements on what football team to root for, they’re all still decent and well-mannered people.  And two, it’s what the good book teaches us, but I just can’t help it!  That book’s really long!  Heck, I’ve been reading it for a year now, and I’ve only gotten to the part where Jesus starts performing all those miracles and stuff!  And you know me, Rich, I try really hard to be a good guy and everything and to do what the good lord tells us, but I just haven’t got there yet.  All those years sitting next to our neighbor Mike keep weighing us down.  I don’t know how you do it sometimes…

Well, in other news, we finally got all our paperwork in order to drive our car.  But then, this happened…

And this…

This too.

So that means no driving for us… still.

It was a complete Snowpacolyse! Except for the grocery store and a few cafe’s, the whole city’s shut down!  We had to have gotten over a foot of snow, and the Greek’s never get snow, so needless to say we’re hurting a little bit over here.  Can you imagine Socrates trying to walk up to the Acropolis to teach philosophy, or King Leonidas fighting Persians in this?  No wonder he got all made and kicked that guy down the pit!

Rich, it’s so bad, they won’t even deliver McDonalds to my house right now!  Sometimes, I just want to scream at the top of my lungs.  “Why God, why?  Why do you put me through such misery?!?!?”.  All that said, you can easily conclude that it’s been a rough week so far, but I guess it gives you appreciation for everything we have back in the states.

We tried to get out and enjoy it a little bit.  I don’t quite think the little guy likes the snow just yet, and the wife hit a patch of slick marble on the sidewalk and landed right on her rump!  I’ll tell ya, that marble sure looks shiny and nice, which is why all those rich folks use it, and I guess it’s plentiful over here so they have it in a lot of places like the sidewalks, but one thing’s for sure, it ain’t good for walking in the snow!

At least we were still able to get a few pictures out of the whole ordeal.

Well, maybe next month I’ll be over my despair and I can bring tidings of better news.  Not sure how long this snow will last, but I imagine things will warm up and wash things away soon.  Now it’s just a matter of what the aftermath is.

As always, keep an eye on the team for me.  I hope they are coping better than me right now.

March 16th 2022 – Lots of Firsts for the Little One!

Kalimera Rich!

First off, I can’t believe I missed February!  But in reality, I suppose it’s not that unbelievable, being that February is the shortest month, and I was still in mourning over the Packers losing, along with all the other crazy stuff going on in the world.  You think gas prices are bad now over in the States, over here it’s like 9 bucks a gallon (which it has always been expensive over here, but still)!  It’s ridiculous!  But now that the Packers have resigned Aaron Rodgers for a few more years, it seems that I’ve been able to operate with more clarity, thank the Lord.

Speaking of the Lord, Rich, I did something I thought I could never do…  I read the entire bible, all the way through, all 2,300 pages of it.  And let me tell ya, I already feel like a better man!  Our good friend Mike would be proud!  All those times I came by his desk and he’d shake his head in disappointment, saying “Zack, Zack, Zack…” lowering the tone of his voice with each repetition in the same manner as you would admonish a child reaching for a cookie in the cookie jar only to knock the entire jar over and spill its contents all over the ground.  If he could see me now, I just know those head shakes would turn into nods of approval followed by, “…Zack, you’re all right.”

And some more good news is that we were able to travel and see the ocean, now that we have our car and can drive!  Took a nice little getaway for the weekend and relaxed by the water to this little place called Glyfada. Technically, it’s still a part of Athens, but still, it was nice to get out of our regular spots for once.

We have a few trips to some of the islands next month, so we’re pretty excited for those.  I’ll be sure to take pictures and send them to you guys.

The little guy’s doing pretty good.  He met his first friend at the park the other day.  Was a little nervous about how he’d interact with other children, but he just went up and gave him a big hug!  It’s probably similar to the first time you met Mike at the office.  Scary and unpredictable, but sometimes, it’s just meant to be.

He should be walking any day now.  In fact, I think he can walk now, but he’s a little scared to do it on his own.  When he does, watch out, because it’ll be big trouble in little Greece.  In the meantime, he got his first haircut, and we took him to the aquarium.

Boy did he enjoy that!  But we gotta be a little careful with him.  I let him watch this Cocomelon show on TV, and now he’s hooked!  I’ll only let him watch for a little bit, but holy cow does he throw a fit when I turn it off!  He acts like a Bears fan whenever they lose to the Packers, or an Eagles or Redskins fans when they lose to the Cowboys.  Like, you know it’s coming, but I guess they have to learn to take it with grace.  We’ll get there… someday.

I can’t lie, even I’m a little hooked…

But now, I’m going to call in a favor from ya.  There’s this facilities management position opening at the embassy, so it’s time to update the ol’ resume and I need to get some names, numbers and emails from ya.  Truth be told, I may need another favor from ya in the future, just like everybody else in the office.  I think it’s because you’re the one they can trust, and if something needs to get done, they can count on you, at least that’s my motto.

I think that’s all for now.  Gotta get ready for some lunch before the little guy wakes up.  Until next time, keep up the good work on your end, and I’ll represent us well over here.

Part 3: Spring 2022

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Why do we Stand?

It’s morning at the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard.  Welders, electricians, shipfitters, and engineers alike settle in to begin their day working to repair the pacific naval fleet.  The rain pounds the asphalt as I walk from my office to the machine shop for a work brief, ill equipped for the weather as usual.  It’s been this way for weeks now, as is the norm in the Puget Sound, with no signs of a respite.  Any second now, a trumpet will sound through the loud speakers, signaling the national anthem.  All that are inside are free to go about their business while the it plays.  However, those caught outside are instructed to stop what they’re doing and stand at attention.  I pick up the pace and walk briskly to the door, fast enough to make it in inside, slow enough not to bring about unnecessary attention.  I’m almost there, mere seconds from sanctuary—

“Badum, badum!” the trumpet plays.  Only a few steps separate me from the entrance of the shop.  I hesitate.  My mind goes into hyperdrive.  Do I sneak in?  I don’t want to be late for the meeting.  Besides, I don’t think anybody will even notice, and who would blame me if I did?  Nobody will ever see…

***

If you’ve ever spent an extended period of time on a military base, most likely you’ve had a similar experience, especially if you are stuck in extreme weather conditions.  Every morning at 0800, the Star-Spangled Banner rings throughout the base, and every morning, everybody who is outside stands at attention out of respect for our military, including me, no matter how many thoughts vacillate through my head.

So, it’s no surprise that several different emotions ran through me last Sunday as I watched players kneel during the anthem, or link arms to make a statement that didn’t seem to have much to do with the anthem.  I was angry, even furious at times.  The headlines on CNN, “NFL players take a knee in defiance of Trump,” didn’t make matters any better.  “How could somebody be so disrespectful to a country that has given them so much?” I thought or, “Why protest like this?  Why make a political statement at the expense of the American Flag?” or perhaps the most egregious, “What are they doing?  This kneeling crap’s going to screw up my fantasy team (which it did)…”

At the same time, I was sad.  Watching the demonstrations take place, it was almost as if I no longer recognized the country that I had grown up in.  I felt that I could never watch a game and cheer for a team I loved so much the same way ever again.  It was as if by a single gesture, all the excitement, the entire livelihood of the NFL had been sucked out of me.  Perhaps the worst part was that I didn’t see a single leader of the NFL, the coaches, commissioner, or any of the broadcasters have the courage to say what those players were doing on the field was wrong.

After all, standing for the national anthem is a practice that’s been entrenched into most of us since we were young.  It’s an anthem that often gives me goosebumps, and even a little swell in my heart after a beautiful and emotional rendition.  And I hate to admit, but during times of inebriation, I’ve admittedly sang the anthem at the top of my lungs like a jackass.  But if you’re anything like me, for most of your life, you’ve stood with your hand over your heart, many times just to go through the motions, never really stopping to ask the question, “why is it so important to stand for the national anthem?”

Many of the reasons the players chose to kneel were well expressed, most stemming from the that inequalities still exist in our country and that social justice must be attained before they choose to stand again, a viewpoint exacerbated by Trump’s recent comments.  And how much can I argue that inequalities don’t exist?  After all, we are a country that for better or worse, has been through a lot since its inception, born with its ailments, or foibles perhaps, that the founders knew couldn’t be cured with just the stroke of a pen.  They were shortcomings that would take years of pain, suffering, and intense battle to overcome.

“America is great because she is good.  If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great,” said Alexis de Toqueville, the French diplomat who had spent a copious amount of time studying democracy in the early years of the United States, eventually authoring, “Democracy in America.” The founders shared de Toqueville’s sentiment that the American citizenry consisted of a good-hearted, God-fearing people, and had faith that they could, and would carry out the dream of a free society if given the chance.  With this, they were granted the power to choose its leaders through a representative Republic, with the ability to form, to quote from our constitution, “a more perfect union,” of which many risked and sacrificed their business, riches, security, and in some cases, lives to fight against all odds, against the most powerful nation on the planet, so that one day, maybe, just maybe they could secure this dream for the American people.

We are a country that in order to remain united and survive past its infancy, had to accept the inhumane practice of slavery.  And although slavery existed, the founders knew the system of government they had set in place would allow the will of the people to eventually right its wrongs and put an end to the practice.  And with a war that cost the lives of roughly a million Americans, a great president, and nearly divided our country for good, we paid our debts and were able to overcome this evil.

We are a country that continues to fight against the evils of racism to this day.  During the civil rights movement of the sixties, people of all backgrounds fought against many powerful institutions to pronounce the treatment of a group of people based on their race is wrong, and it must be stopped.  And through peaceful protest, heavy persistence, and battling past the constant threat of violence, those who had fought so long for fair and equal treatment won the argument and changed the hearts of Americans alike.

We are a country who continues this rejection of prejudice to this day.  At the recent riots in Charlottesville, while many in the media screamed of fear and the rise of fascism, white supremacy and racism, I saw a swath of Americans who came together to take a stand against a vile display hate and anger.  The hundreds of demonstrators that came to protest that day were highly outnumbered by the voices denouncing them from all around the country, voices that aren’t afraid to speak out, not matter where the source of such evil comes from.

And when it comes to evil, we are a country who has had a proven track record against it.  On December 7th, 1941, there was little hesitation from our country to take action after the attack on Pearl Harbor, judging by the response of our leaders and the abundance of young men willing to join the military to take a stand against the Nazi’s and Imperialist Japan.  And like the soldiers of the American Revolution, Civil War, and other wars before them, they fought, risked, and sacrificed, from the beaches of Normandy to the islands of the Pacific, enduring the harshest of conditions and all horrors that come with war.  They fought to defeat this evil, for there was a belief that what they were fighting for was something greater than themselves, that although they may fall, their brothers would fight on to secure their way of life, that their sacrifice may result in a much better world for their friends, family, and the rest of the world.

We are a country who from the beginning, has always promoted science and innovation.  Not by force and coercion, but by allowing the pursuit of happiness to take its course, to let one take command of his or her own ideas, dreams, and visions of the world and watch them flourish.  Through this, we’ve built and powered great cities, from New York to San Francisco.  We’ve taken command of the internet, unleashed its power and provided an infinite catalogue of knowledge and the ability to connect with people thousands of miles away with just the click of a button.  All throughout our history, we’ve created thousands of other inventions most of which go unnoticed in the day to day grind: the automobile, airplane, iPhone with GPS capabilities, indoor plumbing and waste treatment, air conditioning, electricity, fresh drinking water, refrigeration, an MRI machine, Disneyland, Nintendo, Instagram, and the list goes on.  Thousands—millions of inventions that make our lives better, each and every day, most of which are taken for granted by everyday citizens, including myself.

We are a country that promotes the free expression of art, creative ideas, and different modes of thinking.  And through the advancement of music and motion pictures, artists continue to find ways to experiment and express themselves, creating art that touches our hearts and makes us laugh, cry, and at times jump up with excitement.  By watching films like the Godfather, Forrest Gump, Star Wars, or any John Hughes movie, or by attending your favorite band’s concert, whether it be Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Metallica, or Kenny Chesney, this art holds a deeply emotional and significant impact on our lives and has changed the way we view the world.

I mean, c’mon, we are a country that put a man on the mother f’n moon for God’s sake!  Excuse my language, but think about this for a second.  Back in the day when the Pilgrims came over, it took 2 to 3 months just to sail across the ocean, one way, and this ain’t your luxury Carnival Cruise we’re talkin’.  These trips sucked, and if you wanted to go and visit Europe, you best believe you were gonna stay there for a long ass time.  Then, America was born, and in less than 200 years, we flew a couple of dudes into space, traveled nearly a million miles, landed on the moon, and brought their asses back to Earth in a little over a week!  That’s incredible!  (And if you’re one of those people that believe the moon landing was a hoax, Buzz Aldrin will come and punch you in the face!)

https://youtu.be/o5dr7SEzWBA

Imagine Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson talking about this after they wrote the Declaration of Independence.  “You know Tom, after we get this forming a country stuff figured out, someday, we’re gonna walk on that big old moon up there.”  Forget about it.  It never happened!  And who could blame them?  The country they helped form was able to do something inconceivable, something that nobody in their wildest dreams could’ve ever thought possible, a feat no other country has ever been able to do, ever!  Man, if they were alive today, they’d be damn proud of what this country has accomplished.

Somebody once shared a quote from John Adams that has stuck with me, “I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy.”  These great men who set the foundation for this country, who did the heavy lifting and hard work in its early days, and those who, to this day, serve to protect our country, our freedom, and our way of life, who allow us to live peacefully without the threat of anybody taking that away, it’s these people who allow us to live our lives as we see fit.  It’s these great men and women who allow people like me to drink Rockstar energy drinks and share silly stories of my misfortunes when I should be studying mathematics and philosophy.  It’s these same people who provide artists like Kanye West the opportunity to share their crazy views while creating their amazing beats without the fear of censorship.  It’s these people who give us the luxury to watch, play, and celebrate a game in which two teams try to carry a pigskin across a field.

It’s these people of whom we are indebted to, of whom deserve our deepest gratitude.

And above all, we are a country that comes together during the tough times.  I’ll never forget September 11, 2001, watching on a 13-inch television set in Mr. Rayburn’s science class as a Junior in High School when both towers of the World Trades Center came down, knowing that the one and only world I ever knew would be changed forever.  And I’ll never forget the emotions felt during that time, the amount of pride I felt as an American, in my fellow countrymen, seeing almost every single person I knew set aside their differences and unite to heal as a country.

It’s a spirit of lending a helping hand to our fellow man that continues to this day, as I watch several strangers come together, donating their time, money, and efforts to provide aid and rebuild the lives of victims of the hurricanes in Texas and Florida.

I see the national anthem as an allegory for this type of spirit.  Played before times of intense battle and divisiveness, where fans will relentlessly jaw insults back and forth and two teams will spend 60 minutes pounding the crap out of each other, we all can take a moment to stand with our hands on our hearts, to remember that there are things in this world and in our lives that are bigger than us, bigger than Donald Trump, that there are principles we all can unite around.

We can take a moment to reflect on those great men and women, admittedly greater than myself who have served and those who have shaped this great country through art, innovation, risk, and sacrifice into what it is today, to allow us to partake in such coveted pastimes such as the NFL.  It’s a reminder that someday, through hard work, patience, and sacrifice, we too may become the great men of our generation.  It’s a reminder that though our country is not perfect, nor will it ever will be, we have the ability to change, to strive towards a more perfect union.  Our system of government allows it.

…It reminds us that America is great because she is good, and despite our differences, the flag and the anthem unite us.  It always has.  It is the single most unifying symbol we have.

If anything good has come out of the craziness of this kneeling fiasco, it’s given me a chance to reaffirmed my beliefs on standing for the anthem and the importance behind it.  It’s given me the opportunity to articulate my views so that others who do not know better may understand.  Never again will I question whether or not I should try to sneak in at the last second to avoid having to listen to the anthem for a minute on a military base.  And as long as America remains great, I will always stand at attention when the anthem is played, on base or at a sporting events, no matter the weather.  I will show respect for the American flag, and I ask you to do the same.

I ask you to set politics aside, and remember the reasons as to why it’s important to show this respect when our anthem is played.  I implore you to search within yourself, to look at the big picture, to remember that even with the present inequalities or injustices you may see in your life (and trust me, I have a list of my own), that there is so much more good than bad that has come about from this country and from the people living in it.

I implore you to stand next to me with your hand on your heart, unified.

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So as it turns out, Michael Jordan wasn’t born in North Carolina…

Ever since I was born, my mother has reminded me of the fact that I was born in Wilmington, North Carolina. Yea, no big deal right? Wrong, because there’s another big part to it… That it happened to be the same hospital where Michael Jordan, the greatest basketball player of all time, was born. It was a fact that I repeated time and time again throughout my life. In grade school, the kids would hang on my every word and repeat the story to others as if I were a legend. Through my college years I would tell the tale and be met with responses along the lines of “No way!” or “Get out of here!” and other expressions of excitement. Even now as a working professional, I still tell the tale and receive the nod of approval and ever so slight grins that grow at a slow, yet proportional rate. I repeat it as if it’s my mantra, my motto.

It was one of my proudest claims to fame, a highlight of my life, and a great pick-up line for the ladies. In fact, it was merely a couple weeks ago that I was attending a bachelorette party and I laid down the line in front of a large crowd of babes, where they all smiled with a heightened level of impressiveness. And for those that are wondering, yes I said bachelorette party, and yes, aside from the over abundance of phallic objects, its was really fun (thanks to the efforts of a few boundary babes)! Even better than any of the bachelor parties I’ve ever been to, no offense to those bachelors, especially my buddy Alex. I love you man, but being stuck in the middle of the woods at night with a busted up rig that can’t start in weather that was around 10 degrees wasn’t exactly the greatest moment of my life. Especially after the fact that we nearly rolled off the edge of a cliff and to our deaths about 10 times, but that’s a whole other story. Let’s just say I’m happy to be alive to tell my stories after that incident.

But the point is, I would walk into a room and spread the truth in front of a crowd of people, and instantaneously I would be greeted with astonishment, with a slight wave of jealousy coming from a few. What could they say that made them relevant?  Nothing. I was always one step ahead.

It had been nearly 25 years since I stepped foot in the motherland, or crawled for that matter, and I was ready for a welcoming reception home. I met my compadres Mike and Jason at Jay Bee’s World Famous Hotdog’s in Statesville, North Carolina, where I have no idea why their hotdog’s are considered to be world famous. Every place I’ve been to that claims they have world famous hotdogs have always left me with a feeling of disappointment, such as Ben’s Chili Bowl in Washington DC. If you’re going to say you have a world famous hot dog, it better be damn good. At least don’t call them world famous so your standards shoot through the roof. If you don’t claim it and your hotdog is terrible, I won’t really care, but when you claim world fame status and your hotdog stinks, your reputation and integrity fly out the window in my book, and leave me with less satisfaction than if I ate a 1/4 pound all beef kosher dog from Costco, except that those actually aren’t that bad. One, they taste better, two, they’re only a buck fifty, three, a 22 ounce drink is included, and four, they don’t even claim to be world famous! They just let the taste of their juicy dog do the talking, and that’s the way I roll.

Anyway, after eating my less than mediocre world famous hotdog, we headed to our destination in Asheville, NC, telling story’s of the glory days when we were hooligans roaming the streets of Moscow, Idaho. We were a minute away from the house when the story popped into my head, and I found the perfect segway to tell my great tale of fame. “Dude, this is my first trip my back to North Carolina since I’ve been born. And I don’t want to brag or anything, but I happened to be born in the same hospital as Michael Jordan.

Mike tweaked his head toward me with a sudden look of confusion. “Uhh, Michael Jordan was born in Brooklyn New York dude.”

“Bull crap,” I swore back to him. He was wrong. He had to be. I knew he was going to take offense to my statement, just like he always does, and of course he wasn’t going to believe it, he never believes anything I say, but he couldn’t prove anything this time. What the hell did he know? He was seriously going to go against my mother’s word? I don’t think so. Not even he has the balls to go there, and when it comes to arguments with Mike, trust me, we’ll go to the deepest and dirtiest depths just to prove a point. It’s personal.

“Wikipedia it man,” is all he said back.

“Wikipedia isn’t a source!” I wanted to screamed. That’s like the first things they teach us in college! God I couldn’t believe he just said that! Wikipedia? C’mon! It took a lot to hold back the fury that bellowed inside me, because I was freaking mad!  Lieutenant Dan mad when he’s yelling at God during the hurricane in Bayou La Batre. Bill O’Reily mad when he’s told to play it out. Freaking Kanye West mad when Taylor Swift robs Beyonce of the best video award at the MTV VMA’s!

But I kept my cool and held my tongue through the whole ordeal. Now was not the time to blow up and cause a scene. I was about to meet the remainder of his family that I had not yet met, including his mother, and impressions to me are above and beyond the most important. Besides, there was plenty of time to prove Mike wrong and make him look like a fool, an act I get more joy out of than being that kid who receives an Xbox for Christmas! All I needed to do was wait for the opportune moment. Patience is key in situations like this.

Luckily for us, nothing brings a bunch of testosterone craved boys together like a classic Pay-Per-View UFC match, including an epic bout between Rhonda Rousy and Miranda Tate, and watching Anderson Silva’s leg snap in half. I know people are gonna hate on me for saying this, but seeing that live was freaking awesome!  And even better than that was the epic Packers and Bears matchup that proceeded the following day. Wow, that was one that’ll go down in the history books. It’s 4th and 8 with 44 seconds remaining in the game. the Pack is down 27-28 and the Bears are lined up for a jail break blitz. 7 defensive linemen vs. 6 on the offense. Rodgers snaps the ball and Julius Peppers runs towards Rodgers unblocked. John Kuhn the fullback dives in front of him with a last ditch effort to deliver a block. He barely slows the bastard, but it’s just enough for Rodgers to escape within a fingertips length. Out of the pocket he spots a wide open Randall Cobb in the middle of the field. He delivers a strike and into the endzone goes Cobb, ball in hand… and that’s when me and Mike went bonkers. We were jumping up and down in the bar, yelling, calling, texting, hugging complete strangers, and even in some instances, kissing (ayayay I know, I almost got slapped for that)! But in the end it didn’t matter, for we were full of cheer and were going to spread it around to everyone we could see, including Bears fans! You’re probably asking why, but it’s just the kind of guy I am. I can look past those types of things for one night.

We made our unmistakable appearance known to all at the various bars we visited, and by the evening’s end it had been a complete night of unforgettable memories and passion. Yet something was still bothering me deep inside as I lay in bed at the end of it all. The controversy of Michael Jordan’s birthplace still lingered, and I just couldn’t shake it off. I had to know. This had to be settled once and for all.

I picked up my iPad and googled his name. I hovered my finger over the link, but couldn’t quite press down on the screen. What was I nervous for? This was my mother’s word against Mike’s. There should be no sense of hesitation inside of me. But there was… “Man up,” I told myself before I pressed down on the link and watched the circular bars rotate in the upper left corner of the iPad, waiting for the answer, my heart working overtime against the disproportionate level of alcohol in my bloodstream. The answer would come soon. I was right. I had to be right. The screen finally refreshed and there popped up the wikipedia page. I gazed down at my answer in plain black text, waiting for me at the right hand side of the screen.

Michael Jordan: Born – Brooklyn, New York.

My heart sunk at the answer presented in front of me. How could this be? My mother had been lying to me my whole life, and I bought into until just now, when I finally saw the truth. How was I going to tell all my friends whom believed my story throughout the years? How could I even bare the thought of facing all of the babes I had met at the bachelorette party now that I’m a phony? And the worst of all, how will my relationship with my mother resume now that that sacred bond of trust has now been broken?

I awoke the next morning, pretending that the whole incident never happened, but it was no use. “Oh, by the way, did you find out where Michael Jordan was born?” It was a cheap shot question I could not defend, and he said it so smugly in front of everybody. He was mocking me big time, and I tried to play it smooth, but all that came out was one of those pathetic looks of the same fashion as the one that is permanently engrained onto Jay Cutler’s face. And he stood there in his pompous stature that makes James Franco look like Mother Teresa. No other words needed to be exchanged. Congratulations Mike, you won the argument, and my life is over. I’m sure you feel no shame whatsoever. In fact, I bet you’re ecstatic. I hope you’re happy, and I hope the torment you put me through along with a newly broken family was worth it for you.

I can’t believe she did that, out of all people, my own mother! I’m completely devastated. Those types of things just shouldn’t happen. The thought of sneaking off to get a McRib before Thanksgiving pales in comparison to this quarter century fib. It’s probably going to be at least another quarter of a century before I fully recover too. But then again, I did get over the fact that Santa Claus didn’t exist, so maybe there’s hope for a rebuild of our relationship. Although I think a lot of chocolate chip cookies and cheesecake may be required for the rekindling (*hint hint*).

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Wisconsin: The Conclusion

A slight drizzle covered the lake house that somber Sunday morning in flawless fashion to supplement the mood of saying goodbye.  I had just spent an almost perfect week in the state of Wisconsin and now the thought of heading to work at 5 in the morning was all ready making my body cringe.

 

I took a moment to breath in a few last molecules of Chain o’ Lakes air, but due to the fact that I was “dilly dallying” (as my mother used to say) the night before, that moment was cut short, and a classic race against time scenario was in play to pack my belongings into my undersized carry-on and catch my plane.  To my luck though, I would find the Appleton airport to be much smaller in size compared to SeaTac, and navigating through security and to my gate was a breeze, turning my crush on time into a non-issue (after the fact that is).

 

I boarded the plane and found my seat, finally getting a moment to relax after the Chinese fire drill that consisted of me scurrying to the airport.  I leaned back and shut my eyes as the flight attendant instructed us of what to do in case we fall to our immanent doom…  And that’s when it set in.  My grandparents were selling the house.  It was the last time I’d ever step foot in that place ever again.

 

Immediately, memories started to flood my head, one after another.  I embraced the opportunity and pondered on each passing one, letting the nostalgia sink in before moving on to the next, further exploring the infinitesimal alleys of the mind…

 

 

I still can still remember walking into that house for the very fist time.  Through the eyes of an 8-year old boy, I saw a gargantuan castle on the water filled with secret passages, built in intercoms, and 1000’s of square feet to provide me with hours of exotic exploration.  Not to mention an arsenal of toys at my disposal: speedboats, inner tubes, noodles, a floating dock, fishing poles, paddle boats, you name it!  This place had it all.  And for a kid growing up in the 90’s, it was a Big F***in’ Deal (to quote our often candid vice-president)!

 

Us kids were wired from the get go the night the Bero’s and the Wohler’s came together for the first time to celebrate the holy union of my grandma and grandpa. Everyone had a lot to prove to each other, especially me.  I did my part by devising a secret scheme with the big boys to sneak into the girl’s bunk and pour water into all of their sleeping bags, leaving them completely miserable for their night’s slumber.  My stunt had gained enough respect from the older cousins that lasted through the wedding, however my cousin Brian and step-cousin Hans had different plans, for my devious plot was pork and beans compared to what they were about to pull off.

 

The adults that night found it in their best interest to separate themselves from their kids, which proved to be a foolish choice after Cousin Brian and Step-Cousin Hans found an empty champagne bottle, in which they proceeded to fill it up with a half and half mixture of 7-Up and Sunkist Orange Soda.  While Step-Cousin Hannah played a dramatic tune on the piano resembling a legato/minor ragtime feel, the two took turns taking pulls from the bottle, simulating the effects of two pre-teens getting completely plastered (pulling it off quite well actually).  It didn’t take long for their slurred words and stumbling about the house to make it to the upstairs in full view of grandma.  She cried out in disgust and embarrassment, especially after they spilled soda all over the carpet in front of the new members of our family, setting a perfect Wohlers example for years to come! 

 

Luckily for Cousin Brain, he’s always been grandma’s favorite, and can get away with just about anything, and Step-Cousin Hans wasn’t officially our cousin yet, so a high energy scolding was waived, and the two were able to continue with their wild antics with little consequence throughout the night, as well as future visits.

 

We learned a many great traits of the lake, including how to tube like a champ, the art of fish filleting with grandpa (in all honesty I never really got that one down very well), and even how to go pee when you’re out in the middle of the lake (consisting of draining the bladder into an old coffee cup and dumping it overboard).  Some of those skills came in handy when my cousin Kimmy and I took the paddleboat out to the floating dock and I caught a nice blue gill in front of a bunch of slightly intoxicated locals passing along in their pontoon (fortunately, I didn’t have to pee that time).  They cheered over my success, only to berate me when Kimmy unhooked the fish for me (I know right.  A girl unhooking a fish? It’s Crazy!).  APPARENTLY I wasn’t man enough to do it myself.

 

And somewhere along the timeline of our childhood Cousin Brain, totally oblivious to his surroundings, walked straight through the screen door in front of the whole family.  Everybody talks of the incident as if it’s the Holy Grail of events that occurred at the cabin, and for the longest time I pretended to know all about it.  But to be honest, I have no recollection of that ever occurring.  Not even of grandma blowing a gasket (And believe me, I would’ve remembered that)!  It kind of makes me mad, the fact that I’ll never fully relate to such an epic tale that will be passed down for generations, and that is still being retold to this day.  Maybe I’ll get over it…  Someday.

 

During one summer, my family and I drove all the way to Wisconsin from Washington, one of the best family vacations we ever had in my book (one where my little sis found the urge to bite into the bottom of a Styrofoam cup, spilling a quart of lemonade all over the Burb’s interior, but that’s a whole other story).  I was cruising in the back seat of our baby blue Suburban with my Pokémon (Red Version) Game Boy game with the mega-hits of the late 90’s blasting through the speakers, which was all I needed to last through the trek.  The hits included Smashmouth’s “All-Star,” The Abercrombie and Fitch Song, Pearl Jam’s “Oh where, oh where has my baby been,” and Six-Pence, None the Richer.  It was the peak of the 90’s Alternative Rock sensation as so elegantly reflected upon the styles of us teenage cousins and our excitement over Woodstock 99.

 

Once we arrived at Grandma and Grandpa’s that summer, the tunes got a little more explicit when I reunited with Kimmy, who had acquired quite the potty mouth since the last time we hung out.  Regardless of her tendencies to speak as if she had the mouth a sailor, we were busy rockin’ out to Limp Bizkit, Blink 182, and any other dirty band that Cousin Holly had introduced us to, for she was full blown into her pop-punk/hardcore phase at that point.

 

And when Cousin Brain showed up, all he could talk about was American Pie, and how it was the greatest freaking thing that ever happened in the 20th century.  For hours he was talking a million miles a minute, babbling on about who got naked, what ridiculous thing this one kid did, who said all the swears, and on and on and on…  Jesus Christ the guy wouldn’t shut up about it!  And I was hanging on his every word, totally obsessed.

 

“Shannon Elizabeth’s boobs?  He does what to a pie?”  Holy crap I was salivating!  The way he was describing it, I figured it was going to be this generation’s Gone With the Wind, and during the next year, I made it my goal to see this magnificent accomplishment of cinema magic, no matter the cost.  And as it turned out, when my best friend Austin Moody got his heart broken later that year, his mom felt bad for him and rented American Pie for us to watch.  It turned out to be everything my Cousin described it to be…  And so much more…

 

Once we finally bloomed into adults (about ten years later), we realized that no matter how much we had grown, some things never change.  With all of the cousins back at the cabin, we could only act mature for so long before something got out of hand.  It probably started during the bon-fire after I spent about an hour chasing Kimmy’s kids around.  “You’re it!” Carson would scream after an unsuspecting tag, followed by a most devilish laugh as if she knew she was going to put you through hell just to tag her back.  Miraculously, they would all tucker out and go to sleep.  But that’s when the real trouble would begin.

 

Tony (Kimmy’s Husband), Nick and I stumbled upon a stash of fireworks in the water sports shed after we had polished off a few brews.  “Yea!  Let’s light them off!  That sounds like a fantastic idea in the middle of the night!”  So we did…  ending up waking half the lake in the process.

 

The next morning, I walked into an overflow of verbal abuse at the house.  “What were you doing lighting off those fireworks?” my grandma sneered.  1: She didn’t have to scream and embarrass me in front of all my aunts and uncles.  I go through enough crap as it is.  2: She had absolutely no proof it was me who lit the fireworks off!  As soon as I walked in, she just ASSUMED I was the one who lit off the fireworks.  This is America for God’s sakes!  Innocent until proven guilty!

 

Yea, I lit the fireworks off, so?  I’m always the guy taking the blame, no matter what!  Maybe it’s me who causes the most trouble around the cabin, but regardless, it’s still a bunch of bull crap if you ask me!

 

Not all the trips to the Chain O’Lakes were of the recreational sort however.  In fact, some of those trips proved to be very humbling experiences.  One such occasion was when we joined together to mourn the death of my Aunt Cathy, who had passed from a long and painful struggle with cancer.  I’ll never forget the storm of emotions floating around that cold January weekend in 2011, all leading up to the NFC championship between the Packers and the Bears.  That Sunday, we gathered at the grandparent’s house and we watched the Packer game as a family, hoping and praying for a win, some type of sign to let us know that her spirit was still with us.

 

And when BJ Raji intercepted Jay Cutler’s pass and ran in for a pick 6, we went ballistic!  We recreated his famous “Teach me how to Raji” dance, and jumped all around the house, hooting and hollering, performing silly dances, doing push-ups…  Well, I think I was the only one doing push-ups and stupid dances (I don’t quite have all the details nailed down), but the one thing that was for certain was the explosion of positive energy that surfaced in that house when the Packers defeated the Bears, sending them to win Super Bowl 45.

 

After moments like that, I think it’s only natural to wonder if your loved one’s had a hand in that game.  Now it’s unlikely that the good lord meddles in the affairs of NFL teams, but victories like these remind us that our loved ones are always watching out for us, as was Cathy during the game, and will continue to do so throughout our lives.  It reminded me of her positive and easygoing spirit, for she never got too worked up over things, knowing that life was too short to waste getting upset over things that don’t matter in the long term.  Even in her final hours, we were told she was still cracking jokes doing her best to keep us from worrying about her fate.  I think she understood that this was just one step in a grander picture, and that we would all be reunited with her in heaven someday soon.  And until then, we should enjoy the small victories like seeing our favorite team reach the Super Bowl.

 

And as it turns out, it is those small things that will stick with me the most.  My grandpa’s off-colored jokes, for which it seemed as if he’d always have a new one ready for us to crack up at each visit.  Listening to that Rihanna song (Oh na na, what’s my name?) during my work out and runs around the lake, and enjoying happy hour every 4 PM at the house with the relatives, devising new tricks to getting under grandma’s skin (I should add that I have a pretty high success rate).  It’s as if they all come together in a grand picture to make up a culture, where it might not be just a single memory that you miss, but the overall feeling of being in a place you hold dear in your heart where so many special things have taken place.

 

And nothing cut deeper into my heart like the times when I could sit on the dock and watch the hot summer sun set on the lake, reflecting the golden rays of light back on the lakefront property.  There’s an amazing phenomenon that happens during a sunset, one of those things that settles the soul and brings serenity to your life at that very moment.  As if time slows down, and no matter how hectic life gets, you always have time to sit down and reflect on it whenever that great ball of burning mass lowers itself from the sky.

 

And for a final time one evening during my vacation, with an old fashion in hand and the new Daft Punk album pumping into my ears, I was able to do just that; Reflect, and write…   About life, love, how blessed I was to be in such a beautiful setting, and whatever else was going on in that crazy head of mine.  I reminisced about the importance of family and how my grandparents had provided us grandchildren with the ability to acquire such wonderful memories over the past 20 years.   A place where I truly felt at home and could flourish with my talents to unlimited bounds.  A place I had grown to love and would have to come back to, retaining the sprit of the Chain O’Lakes with me wherever I would go.

 

I thought about all of those memories and so much more on that plane ride back to Seattle, for so many things occur inside the human brain in such a short period of time, far too much for us to ever understand.  Your thoughts and senses cause reactions that send signals through your body that release different chemicals, causing us to react a certain way.  Whether it’s pain, happiness, anger, you name it. The brain controls it.  And the usual emotion that comes from reliving great memories in your life is a bit of sadness and depression, for you may miss those days, or possibly be horrified at some of the choices you had made.  But for some reason, I didn’t feel that at all.  Instead, after looking back at my time in Wisconsin, I felt an emotion that hadn’t been felt in a long time…

 

I became inspired.

 

I realized how much I had taken the lake for granted over the years; the cabin, all the toys, the boat, and the property itself.  All of that didn’t just appear for my family one day.  It came from the expense of hard work and sacrifice from my grandpa, who had a dream.  Working through the ranks in his career, and through his sincere dedication, he eventually became the president of his company and was able to provide his family with an unimaginable gift that we were able to enjoy throughout the passing years.  A place where my grandparents got to watch us play out on the floating dock, take us on pontoon rides through the lake, and send us to their secret fishing spots around the lake to come back with bucket full of blue gill for the evening’s fish fry.

 

A place where we would get in trouble and have the opportunity to learn from our mistakes, whether it’s lighting fireworks in the middle of the night, using an Ouija board and forever haunting the downstairs living room, or walking through a screen door in front of the whole family.  A place where we could laugh and love by singing songs and doing ridiculous tricks in your Speedo for passing boaters, or gather around the campfire to share your words of wisdom, such as the greatest movies of the 20th century, or just sit out on the lake during a summer sunset to appreciate the magnificence of life.  But most of all, it was a place that my grandparents could watch us kids grown into self-sustaining adults, forge life-long memories, and make us realize the importance of family and how great life can truly be with it.

 

It took me 20 years to realize how precious this gift was, and how grateful I was to be able to spend the time I did in such a wonderful place.  I didn’t want to see it go, didn’t want it to be the last time I’d ever see it.  So I became inspired; that someday, I could work hard and utilize my talents to become successful, just as my grandpa had.  That someday, I could maybe find my own special little place where I can bring my family and watch them grow up; where they can create their own memories to pass down to their children.  It inspired me to create my own destiny, that I can someday find my own house and cabin on the Chain O’ Lakes.

 

And while I’m finishing this post, I find it appropriate that I’m sipping on an old fashion, a perfect Midwest cocktail to compliment the memoirs of my epic Wisconsin trip.  It’s made up of a mix of cherries and oranges, two fruits reflecting the attitudes of the people of Wisconsin; a certain quaintness and sweetness that you just can’t find anywhere else.  The whiskey, which allows us to let loose every now and then, for there’s no need to be overly judgmental in the Badger State.  Add a little bit of 7-up, to provide a little excitement, in the same fashion every Wisconsin trip brings.  All poured over a cup full of ice to remind us how strong and lumber the people of Wisconsin are when they go through the great pains of enduring freezing temperatures and harsh winters to support the things they love and hold dearest to their hearts, kind of like they did during the ice bowl many moons ago.  And to top it off, add few sprinkles of aromatic bitter, for yes, life throws us curveballs from time to time, but mixed with a supporting family of tasty ingredients, we take it all in and remember that life is good, and will always be good in this gem of the Midwest.

 

So with my old fashion in hand, I would like to propose a toast.  Here’s to the great state of Wisconsin.  A state I can’t wait to come back to and make even more fantastic memories for the many years to come.

 

Till next time Wisconsin.  I’ll see you soon…

 

Grizzly Chadams

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Wisconsin Part 2: The Green Bay Packers

Friday, August 9th, 2013

 

I will never know exactly what drove me to walk into my grandparent’s garage that morning.  I had no purpose to enter, but some supernatural source kept guiding me up the stairs and out the door.  They say the Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways, and could’ve very well pushed me into an event that I would not want to miss.  OR it could’ve been the evil spirits released when Cousin Holly convinced Cousin Erin and myself to use a Ouija Board, a decision I’ve regretted ever since which has cursed the downstairs living room for the past 15 years (I still can’t sleep in there to this day).

 

No matter the cause, I turned the doorknob and immediately sensed turmoil.  I entered to my grandma flailing her arms about in panic as if the sky was falling.  “NO!  STOP!” She screamed in blood curdling fashion, just like in the slasher flicks right before the killer slices his poor victim into pieces.  Part of me wanted to step away from the pandemonium right then and there.  I mean, what if there was a killer on the loose?  I didn’t want to be the next!  But I couldn’t leave my grandma behind like that.  I had to find out what was eating at her soul; what was driving her bananas.  I mean, what the hay…  We’re family!

 

When I turned to my right, everything started to make sense.  It was so crystal clear why she was acting so hysterical, as if she had heard news that Aaron Rodgers had just gotten into a car accident and was in intensive care…

 

My grandpa was attempting to park the Lincoln.

 

For some reason, the Mercury was parked in an awkward position where as the task of maneuvering the Lincoln through the garage and into its normal dwelling proved much more difficult than usual.  I guess I could blame my pops for that one, but then again, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be writing such an epic tale of miscommunication, one of the best recipes for failure in the business world.

 

 “To the left!  Stop! Back up! NO!”  My grandma was barking out orders so fast and so furious she could easily be mistaken for that Chef Ramsey guy on TV, and was driving my grandpa to shear madness.  He had endured a lot through the war, and she was inching him to the breaking point.  Her words and actions were becoming a giant blur.  Heck, even I was getting confused, but at the same time impressed at the sight of an 85 year old moving her arms and legs in the fashion of a Richard Simmons workout on crack!

 

My grandpa however was a different story.  All this bewilderment had pushed him to the edge.  “Screw it!” he mouthed through the windshield of the Lincoln right before he blasted his foot down on the pedal.  What followed was the sound of metal crushing on metal and a brand new streak of scratched paint etched onto the Mercury.  That was when all hell broke loose…  And my grandma lost her freaking marbles!

 

She was making noises I never knew existed!  The closest thing I could describe it to were the sounds in “Alien” where the baby alien pops out of the guy’s stomach.  But it was when she started smacking herself in the head with both hands when I knew action had to be taken, common sense for any person with an ounce of courage.

 

But that’s not what I did.  I just froze.  The world was crashing down all around me and I stood there, petrified.  “I couldn’t move a muscle!  “Wake up stupid!” I said to myself.  I needed a catalyst, something to strike a reaction to get my blood flowing once again.  Then came cousin Brian, true-blooded Eagle Scout and captain of the pontoon.  He maneuvered past grandma’s flying fists of fury and to the Lincoln to guide it back to its customary state.  Just the spark I needed.

 

With grandma’s attention diverted, I slothed across the garage and made my escape to the outside unnoticed, miraculously unscathed from the mayhem.  After taking a moment to digest what had just happened, I was reduced to the emotional condition that any man goes through after a near brush with death.  I started giggling like a little schoolgirl to the point where tears nearly streamed down my face.  And I couldn’t stop!

 

It’s one of the surreal survival stories that you just can’t make up.

 

I guess life throws us for loops sometimes, but we have to bounce back quick in order to press on and make it in this world, which can be said of the mangled Lincoln incident.  We had to move forward, for me, my sisters, Cousin Holly and her domestic partner Nick were on our way to see the Green Bay Packers at Lambeau Field!

 

Man we were all so excited.  So much that my older sister was almost charged with shoplifting at the supermarket right before the game.  Her mind was just racing like a racehorse at the thought of stepping into the great arena of beer, cheese, and athleticism.  Luckily for us, the people of Wisconsin are kind and understanding, and let us off with a simple warning, knowing how important this moment was for us; something you just don’t see in the other NFL markets (no offense to the other teams).  And thank God, for that!  I would’ve pulled a grandma if we missed the game just because she got sent to the pin!

 

Most people have heard of Green Bay because of football, but don’t understand and would never understand its captivating appeal unless they visited, for it’s unlike any other city with a professional football team.  It’s barely considered a city with its 100,000 residents, where the whole state of Wisconsin travels far and long to converge and watch their Packers on game day.  Where the towering skyscrapers surrounding the stadium in a metropolitan city are replaced with farmed planes and a suburban neighborhood, and your parking lot is a family’s backyard, located a  block away from the stadium.  You are greeted with open arms and are invited to use their bathroom, cook on their grill, and even join them for a miller light or two.  It doesn’t even matter if you’re rooting for the other team.  The Packer nation welcomes anybody with the respect they deserve, as long as the same decency is returned.  That is, unless you’re a Bears fan (Don’t even get me started on them.  They’re awful.  I kind of want to throw up thinking about it right now.  Yuck.  UHUAGH!).

 

Come game day, church’s rearrange their scheduled sermons, stores shut down, and the city of Green Bay along with its neighbors gather around to cheer for what is truly their team.  Not a team owned by a mega billionaire or controlled by corporate interests who give ridiculous names for their stadium just to promote their obnoxious products or company (Mall of America Field?  Gillete Stadium? Century Link Field? Sorry Seahawk fans but I mean, c’mon!), but a team that is bought and paid for through shareholders made up of members of the Packer nation, for which I am proud to say that I am a part owner.

 

The people’s team.  It’s what’s taught to the children of Wisconsin and decedents of Packer fans.  Bred in green and gold, they learn early on about the significance of their team, and what it means to be a part of it.  It is the only small town team that could withstand the turbulent years of the NFL when money was not accessible and the talent pool was lacking They were able to survive as an NFL franchise when no other small town team could, with its dignity still intact no less.  In fact, when the team was on the verge of going broke, the city came together and pitched in to cover all of the bills and expenses in order to keep the team alive.

 

Then there’s the legend of Vince Lombardi, a man faced with prejudice his whole life for having an “i” at the end of his name.  A man who fought tooth and nail to follow his dreams and become a head coach in the NFL, even if nobody was willing to give him the chance.  A man, who for when all the odds were against him, took a rag tag group of grunts, the worst in the NFL (and the only team that would take him) and turn them into the greatest championship powerhouse the game has ever had, all while becoming the most respected man in the history of the sport.

 

Or the countless stories fans have to share about their team passed down from generation to generation.  Spend enough time in Wisconsin and you’re bound to run into somebody whose family stories date back to the days when Curly Lambeau founded the team and can tell you of innumerable experiences of traveling to Green Bay to endure the freezing temperatures just to watch their boys battle it out on the frozen tundra; the most memorable being the Ice Bowl, an infamous game in which the Packers clashed with the Cowboys over a field that was completely frozen over with a wind chill temperature of nearly -50 degrees; a game where the Packers miraculously came back and scored a touchdown at the final seconds of the game to send them onto Super Bowl II.   A game that my grandpa attended, in which he had help enduring thanks to a bottle of whiskey.  I am still in awe whenever he tells of the story.

 

And even after attending one game (even if it’s only a pre-season game where they lose big time, or a playoff game where they go 16-1 for the season and then blow it), you realize that it’s more than just a game for the people Green Bay, Wisconsin, and Packer fans as a whole.  It’s a way of life.  A supportive culture of people who will go out of their way to make you feel at home and who will risk life and limb for their team.  It’s because the Packers are as much a part of them as they are to the players, coaches, staff and executives, and without their contribution, the Packers most likely wouldn’t even exist.  Green Bay would just be another small mid-west town, and the team would’ve moved elsewhere and would be just like any other big city team, which makes visiting Green Bay during a Packer game and going to Lambaeu an experience you can’t find anywhere else.  An experience I hope to share with lots of friends and family for years to come, and a tradition I plan to pass down to my children someday, as it has been passed down to me from members of my family.

 

So here’s to the beginning of football season.  Here’s to the memories it brings.  The good feelings, the bad feelings…  Here’s to the Green Bay Packers.  GO PACK GO!!!

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