Do you ever think about what you would include in your life story? If you were to share your story with someone in only a couple of hours, what would you include? Would you include your likes and dislikes? Your travel adventures? Your hobbies? Stories about starting a family? Buying your first home? Your career? How about your memories of the ‘big games’ in your life?
It’s hard to whittle down a well-lived life into a highlight reel. And yet we all inately are able to do this. We blur out much of the detail of the mundane and share those things that truly shaped us or bring us happy remembrances. I suppose that’s why I would include my love of football as part of my life story.
Clearly I never played football, so where did this love of football come from? It came from my dad. He was an avid football fan and a long-suffering fan of the Seattle Seahawks. Football was a way that he and I could connect. It was something we shared and could communicate about even when I was grown and on my own.
I remember many times, travelling from eastern Washington, across the Cascade Mountains and into Seattle to watch the games played in the long gone but not forgotten Kingdome. My dad had season tickets and what a treat it was to watch the game in person from our lofty (but still good) seats. It took about four hours to drive there, three hours for the game, and another four hours home. It made for a long but wonderful day. Some of the best conversations I ever had with my dad took place in the truck on our way to or from a game. And since football is a fall and winter sport, I have plenty of dramatic weather-related stories as well. What an adventure we had!
There’s Always Next Year … Except When There Isn’t
This year’s Superbowl is now history, and while I had no allegiance to either of the teams playing, I watched—from the pre-game prognostication, to the incredible overtime comeback, to the post-game wrap-up. I cheered on an unfamiliar team even as I lamented the fact that neither the Cardinals nor the Seahawks made the championship game this year. But as any die hard football fan will tell you, there’s always “next year.” I wish I had a next year with my dad. I’m grateful to have recorded his stories because his memory will live on in his story. And, just like me, a portion of his life story is about his love for football.
Note: A version of this post appeared in Michele’s Remembered Well blog.