The World Cup–and Harold darling…
It’s a draw–1::1, USA and Italy. {Sound of cheers}!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m sure a computer saavy person could actually give you a link to that sound, but it ain’t me.
I can’t believe I actually watched the game. I didn’t intend to. I turned the TV on to just hang out for a while, and there the game was. And I never moved throughout. I’m amazed at myself.
I’ve never been a sports fan particularly. My father, from whom I would have gotten the bug, wasn’t a a sports fan either. He was a star fullback, first for Cornell, and then for one of the early league teams, the Long Island Bulldogs–or maybe it was the BlueBells. He played in the days when the helmets were leather caps and the only padding they had was Kotex. He considered contemporary players, with their complicated underlay of plastic and metal, to be (his word) sissies. So I never learned to love games by sitting on his knee. I learned to love reading by sitting on his knee. And arguing any topic at any time whatsoever….
…it’s a funny thing about this blog. I started out to write about watching the soccer and how I couldn’t believe how absorbed I was in it and how it took me back to that time long ago and far away, when I loved a footballer in England and spent many a Saturday watching him play…
…but then my thoughts took a right hand turn to my father–and I suddenly realized that tomorrow is Father’s Day.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. You would love all the new stuff computers can do. You would cheer my blog on and write Anonymous comments and maybe you’d have your own blog. I miss you. I miss your mind and your wit. And I miss the way you loved me. And liked me. Especially that.
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daddy’s girl
Poignant yet foreign to me. I’m teared up with a fantasy of a daughter’s unconditional love for daddy. Her anchor when the world is too windy. But find some comfort in knowing that you are loved by those that may misunderstand you.
I had the best Father’s Day ever, and I wasn’t with my father either. A new tradition begins, and you are an essential piece.
Happy blogging.
JW
Aw. That’s lovely.
Did I leave a funny, beaded brown pin on top of the dryer?
Writing it got me that way too…and funny thing is, I didn’t know it was in me until I wrote it. Thanks
(Sniff) I’d managed pretty well today until I read that, Jane… my dad was completely useless with gadgets, machinery, and technology, but he was a man of books, letters, and oratory. Oh boy his memory… the stories he could tell, by the hour… sigh.
It’s Father’s Day today here in the UK (Sunday 18th).
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.