I am feeling a little melancholy today. Holland Halls tradition of Primary School Night at the football game was always a big deal to our little family. To our wide-eyed kids, it was a brush with greatness: modern-day gladiators prepared for battle. To CE and I, just starting the long process of attempting to provide world class education for our babies, it was the ultimate optimism: We saw those high school kids (grown men and women, really), whose parents had somehow gotten them raised and educated, so bright and full of promise. I remember it seemed both completely impossible, and at the same time, our lives singular mission. I remember purchasing these three little sweatshirts in the middle school office. At the time, they were the only HH gear sold and were actually part of the PE uniform. They had two extra smalls for the boys, and somehow had one teeny tiny one that was perfect for Sydney. If I recall, this was just after September 11th, and the world was still reeling. The night was bitterly cold, at our friend, Pam Powell wrapped baby Darcy in a blanket and kept her warm through the whole game so Clayton and I could chase our kids, who ran around on the practice field and under the tree. Fast forward 13 years and I just came from the Primary School pep rally. My son, Gordy, who used to be the little boy holding a streamer hoping to get a high five from a larger than life football player, was today, the gladiator. So if today, you come see me to buy a tiny sweatshirt, at the football field, under the tree, dont be concerned if I look at your child for a second too long. I am just seeing a little bit of your future. And a little bit of my past.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 15:46:37 +0000
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