I love to play games. My husband and I spent our newlywed weekends with one of several sets of friends, playing cards. I was on a women's softball team for a short while, and my husband played football in high school. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I constructed a giant board game at my library (my third one is currently in use right now).
Yet, I find myself totally puzzled by the world's rabid fascination with professional sports. My husband just spent almost three hours totally engrossed in a football game. I can't imagine sitting still, doing nothing but staring at a screen, for three hours for any reason. (Okay, maybe there was the odd movie here and there that ran that long.) To me, sports spectating is a massive time suck.
I am stymied by the fierce dedication that many people show for their favored teams. Kids idolize their favorite players. Grown men and women scream from the stands and shout at their TV screens. Occasional fights break out between rival fans. Hundreds of thousands of people fill the bleachers to watch a handful of adult males (usually) hitting, kicking, or throwing a ball. Millions of dollars are spent on tickets, t-shirts, hats, and other fan paraphernalia. Players earn seven- and even eight-figure incomes. Professional sports is big business, and I think that's probably why I despise it.
Call me un-American. I can't be the only person who feels this way, but those of us who object to this massive waste of time and money stay silent on the subject, because someone would probably egg our houses or key our cars, or worse. I can't help but think of how ridiculous it is to put such importance on something so unimportant. Imagine if all the sports fans of the world would pour all their money, time, and passion into something that really mattered--like education, or poverty, or homelessness. Imagine what our world would be like if teachers, police officers, and sanitation workers got paid what sports figures earn. Professional sports, to me, is a huge example of how skewed our society's priorities have become.
Okay, I get that it's entertainment. It's a means for escape from the drudgery of work and daily life for many people. But why does it have to be so all-consuming? I can't have a single conversation with anyone, anywhere, where sports isn't at least mentioned. Even my dad, who knows full well that I could care less about football, will recount the highlights of the Penn State game he just watched while I stifle yawns. Pennsylvanians especially are fiercely loyal to their Phillies. I'm probably the only person within a fifty-mile radius who doesn't own a team t-shirt.
I am not saying that people shouldn't play sports. That's a different proposition entirely. Playing sports is exercise, and encourages teamwork and cooperation. It teaches kids that life isn't always fair, that they can't always win. (As long as parents aren't breaking into fistfights on the sidelines.) Playing games is a great social activity, and sharpens our minds. I'm all for playing. Especially when I win.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Times, They Are A-Changin'
2011. Wow. What a year.
Last winter, I dreamed of all the gardening I would do during our first full summer in our new home. I planted seeds in pots and flats and nestled them along the windowsills of my spare bedroom. Then reality hit--I'd promised to help my daughter, Mulan, sew her wedding dress. (And by "help" she meant that she would cut out the pattern pieces and I would sew almost all of them together. Although, to be fair, she spent a lot of time tearing out seams for me.) We started with a test dress done in muslin (to make sure it would fit and to work out any alterations before setting it in bridal satin). The wedding was at the end of May; by mid-April, when I should have been planting radishes, lettuce, and onions, I was fighting with filmy lining and tearing out set-in sleeves yet again. By mid-May, when I should have been planting everything else, I was fighting the fear of inserting an invisible zipper and tearing out my hair. The straggly little seedlings got thrown into the ground as almost an afterthought, and full focus went on dress and wedding plan finalization.
In addition, my first-born and only son, Luigi, announced that he, too, would be joining the ranks of the happily wedded, he and his fiance Neko-chan setting a November date for their nuptials. Woo hoo. I couldn't even begin to process that prospect. Not when I had to reconstruct sleeves and the hem wouldn't lay flat.
Two weeks before the wedding, Mulan graduated from college with a BA in Social Work and a minor in Accounting. A frenzied week of drawing up to-do lists and last minute reception count adjustments. Another frenzied week of feeling certain we would be buying a gown off the rack at David's at the eleventh hour. Then, the Big Day was at hand.
The wedding dress actually looked okay. More than okay. Mulan was a vision.
I was amazed at how smoothly the day went, all things considered. If there were any hitches or hiccups, I was blissfully unaware. Bride and groom took off for a four-week road trip across the country, after which they returned home to live with us. Just when we had gotten used to being pretty much empty nesters. Mulan had a week of respite before starting her master's degree at a nearby Ivy League school. Ginger, her new husband, got a job as a manager at a local retail chain store, and we all worked on getting accustomed to living with each other.
Meanwhile, Luigi's office closed and he moved to New Jersey to work at the home office. Neko-chan finished her college semester and wrapped up her job and moved down with him during a monsoon in September.
And despite my total neglect, those all but forgotten seedlings grew into mighty tomato vines and sturdy pepper plants. Herbs flourished. Flowers flowered. Free from others' demands of my free time, I could finally devote my time to weeding, staking, and pest control. (Living on the edge of a wooded area invites a variety of critters to my yard, who viewed my little plot as a smorgasbord placed there especially for them.) The harvest was steady and, while not the bumper crop I'd envisioned while snow piled up on the back deck, we had no dearth of green beans and tomatoes, with the occasional Fairy Tale eggplant, zucchini, and Anaheim pepper thrown in for good measure.
The planning for Luigi's wedding was a different matter entirely. First of all, I did not have to do any sewing at all. Neko-chan found the dress of her dreams online and, miraculously, only minimal alterations were required, which she was able to do herself. They planned the entire thing themselves. With them in NJ and us in PA, and the ceremony and reception to be held in an entirely different location altogether, far from both of us, we were not directly involved in the details of the planning. For as totally immersed in Mulan's wedding as I'd been, I was equally removed from Luigi's. It was odd to be involved but not really. Being the control freaks that Big Kahuna and I are, we both felt strange standing back while others took care of details. With the exception of our car (holding all the flowers for safekeeping) being towed from an illegal parking space at the rehearsal dinner, this wedding also went off pretty well.
Then came Thanksgiving, hosted by our newly extended family and attended by Ginger's family, with Mulan and Ginger cooking the exquisite meal. And enjoying it. I feel I have been replaced.
Now it was the end of the year, and shortly before Christmas I learned of the proposed county budget that would cut all funding for my library. (See previous post.) We campaigned, wrote letters, held our breath, and prayed. The community rallied; we got level funding (and a tax increase). I still have a job.
We had to adjust our Christmas traditions to accommodate the new additions to our family, who really wanted to spend Christmas with their families. We held our Christmas Day celebration on Christmas Eve, with much muttering and mumbling from Big Kahuna. The kids took off for merry-making with their in-laws, and we sat in our empty home, wondering what happened to the year and our family.
And so, we look at 2011 as a year of big changes, of adjustments and accommodations, of family gained and responsibilities shifted.
2012. It sure would be nice to have a calm, largely uneventful year for a change.
And lots of fresh vegetables.
Last winter, I dreamed of all the gardening I would do during our first full summer in our new home. I planted seeds in pots and flats and nestled them along the windowsills of my spare bedroom. Then reality hit--I'd promised to help my daughter, Mulan, sew her wedding dress. (And by "help" she meant that she would cut out the pattern pieces and I would sew almost all of them together. Although, to be fair, she spent a lot of time tearing out seams for me.) We started with a test dress done in muslin (to make sure it would fit and to work out any alterations before setting it in bridal satin). The wedding was at the end of May; by mid-April, when I should have been planting radishes, lettuce, and onions, I was fighting with filmy lining and tearing out set-in sleeves yet again. By mid-May, when I should have been planting everything else, I was fighting the fear of inserting an invisible zipper and tearing out my hair. The straggly little seedlings got thrown into the ground as almost an afterthought, and full focus went on dress and wedding plan finalization.
In addition, my first-born and only son, Luigi, announced that he, too, would be joining the ranks of the happily wedded, he and his fiance Neko-chan setting a November date for their nuptials. Woo hoo. I couldn't even begin to process that prospect. Not when I had to reconstruct sleeves and the hem wouldn't lay flat.
Two weeks before the wedding, Mulan graduated from college with a BA in Social Work and a minor in Accounting. A frenzied week of drawing up to-do lists and last minute reception count adjustments. Another frenzied week of feeling certain we would be buying a gown off the rack at David's at the eleventh hour. Then, the Big Day was at hand.
The wedding dress actually looked okay. More than okay. Mulan was a vision.
I was amazed at how smoothly the day went, all things considered. If there were any hitches or hiccups, I was blissfully unaware. Bride and groom took off for a four-week road trip across the country, after which they returned home to live with us. Just when we had gotten used to being pretty much empty nesters. Mulan had a week of respite before starting her master's degree at a nearby Ivy League school. Ginger, her new husband, got a job as a manager at a local retail chain store, and we all worked on getting accustomed to living with each other.
Meanwhile, Luigi's office closed and he moved to New Jersey to work at the home office. Neko-chan finished her college semester and wrapped up her job and moved down with him during a monsoon in September.
And despite my total neglect, those all but forgotten seedlings grew into mighty tomato vines and sturdy pepper plants. Herbs flourished. Flowers flowered. Free from others' demands of my free time, I could finally devote my time to weeding, staking, and pest control. (Living on the edge of a wooded area invites a variety of critters to my yard, who viewed my little plot as a smorgasbord placed there especially for them.) The harvest was steady and, while not the bumper crop I'd envisioned while snow piled up on the back deck, we had no dearth of green beans and tomatoes, with the occasional Fairy Tale eggplant, zucchini, and Anaheim pepper thrown in for good measure.
The planning for Luigi's wedding was a different matter entirely. First of all, I did not have to do any sewing at all. Neko-chan found the dress of her dreams online and, miraculously, only minimal alterations were required, which she was able to do herself. They planned the entire thing themselves. With them in NJ and us in PA, and the ceremony and reception to be held in an entirely different location altogether, far from both of us, we were not directly involved in the details of the planning. For as totally immersed in Mulan's wedding as I'd been, I was equally removed from Luigi's. It was odd to be involved but not really. Being the control freaks that Big Kahuna and I are, we both felt strange standing back while others took care of details. With the exception of our car (holding all the flowers for safekeeping) being towed from an illegal parking space at the rehearsal dinner, this wedding also went off pretty well.
Then came Thanksgiving, hosted by our newly extended family and attended by Ginger's family, with Mulan and Ginger cooking the exquisite meal. And enjoying it. I feel I have been replaced.
Now it was the end of the year, and shortly before Christmas I learned of the proposed county budget that would cut all funding for my library. (See previous post.) We campaigned, wrote letters, held our breath, and prayed. The community rallied; we got level funding (and a tax increase). I still have a job.
We had to adjust our Christmas traditions to accommodate the new additions to our family, who really wanted to spend Christmas with their families. We held our Christmas Day celebration on Christmas Eve, with much muttering and mumbling from Big Kahuna. The kids took off for merry-making with their in-laws, and we sat in our empty home, wondering what happened to the year and our family.
And so, we look at 2011 as a year of big changes, of adjustments and accommodations, of family gained and responsibilities shifted.
2012. It sure would be nice to have a calm, largely uneventful year for a change.
And lots of fresh vegetables.
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