An Officer and A Gentleman.....and A Realtor

It's Veterans Day weekend.  I am out this Friday morning placing signage on a property.  A lovely older gentleman with a soft spoken manner, a visible hearing aid, and perhaps the deepest eyes I've ever seen walks up from a nearby home.  He asks about my listing.  He asks if I am a "realtOR," as he says, "not just a realtor."   I assure him that I am indeed a "realtOR." He says he is a veteran.  He served in Viet Nam.  I thank him for his service and give him my card.  He says he may one day soon be in need of real estate assistance.  I tell him I would be very pleased and honored to help him.

He shares that his mother (at least I think he said mother, but in hindsight, perhaps he said wife) suffers from Alzheimers.  He says she went out of their home during the night, turned on their car and apparently left it on all night.  He has been trying without success to reach someone to help.  He comments that he has cables.  I ask if he would like to try to jump his car off from mine.  (Note that I remembered a lesson  learned from a car trouble experience of my own when in my mid twenties I caused quite a stir by asking if any of a group of young guys could jump me.  Clear communication can be a wonderful thing, can it not?)

The charming, distinguished veteran asks if I'm sure I have time and don't mind helping.  I assure him I have time to help.  He hooks up the cables and a few minutes later we hear the welcome sound of his engine turning over.

He shakes my hand and thanks me profusely.  Really....he thanks me?  He says, "God sent you my way this morning, Young Lady."  That may have been the best part...being called "young lady" after my recent birthday, but I digress.  I think maybe God did send me, but not in the way this gentleman meant.  Thank you, Lord, for giving me a Veteran's Day opportunity to interact with one who proudly served this nation, and to maybe in a very small way lend him a grateful hand.

                                                   

In the Spirit of Spring Cleaning, Or Not....

I opted out of the shower I probably needed in the wee hours of January 10.  And after what seemed only minutes of rest...definitely not sleep....I again elected not to shower before Drew and I began our long drive home.  I just couldn't yet wash it away.... the sights, smells, sounds, and feelings of a National Championship.  I still today close my eyes, and I'm back....back to the smells of highway fumes from a procession of tens of thousands of Tiger fans rolling toward Tampa where orange would paint the town..... back to the group of Tiger Lettermen of the late 80's and early 90's and their families who allowed Drew and me to share their experience.....back to the smell of chlorine as our fearless kids would not be denied a dip in the pool...even in the unusually chilly 40 - 50 degree Florida weather..... back to the unmistakable and pervasive odor of pot wafting toward starlit skies at the Usher concert and the chill sounds of an amazingly soulful performance by Gavin McGraw.... back to the unmistakable aromas of fried chicken and beer at a tailgate that for all intents and purposes looked (and smelled) like a Clemson home game... back to a stadium crowd owned by those wearing orange and smelling of hot pretzels and pizza and, yes again beer... back to the frenetic amped up passion for a beloved team in anticipation of what might lie ahead...

I had worried about bad omens as my superstitions sometimes get the best of me.  I forgot my trusty Original Tiger Rag, the one that had with me made so many huge games over the years, the one I saved from Clemson's first Natty in '81.  I also forgot to pack my mom's orange walking coat, a wardrobe staple for me for cool weather games...partly because it's one of the few pieces of orange clothing I actually have, but mostly because I know how much Mother would have loved these games.  I worried yet again when an early January snowfall in the Southeast twice cancelled my sister Di's flight into Tampa.  She barely made the game.  I knew we couldn't do it without her, just as we couldn't quite do it last year without my little sis Donna who had to miss that amazing game of "almost."

David Hood, Clemson Sportswriter noted that during pregame, Tiger staffers on the field were singing the Back Eyed Peas classic, "I've got a feeling....that tonight's gonna be a good night!"  Raymond James stadium speakers blared the same tune just before the game got under way.

It was fittingly appropriate that in the end Clemson's remarkable offense led by a true star, a star in both talent and character yet somehow shunned by Heisman voters would not be denied his championship.....appropriate that in the game's final minutes two stunning drives into the heart of Bama's vaunted defense were directly into the "Clemson end" of a stadium where Tiger band and Tiger fans were totally coming unglued... especially appropriate that the winning play was a pass thrown by a collegiate icon who had been if not THE then certainly one of the faces of college football these past two years to a baby faced Myrtle Beach walk-on who toiled away to even earn a scholarship.

Yes, I've finally showered, and I'm pretty sure Drew has.  But washing away our memories...the smells, sights, sounds, feelings of  the year and the game that was...that's another matter altogether.  I hope, especially for my son, they outlast a lifetime of showers.

Sweet Peek

Once upon a time in a land of milk and honey....or perhaps watermelon and sand....there lived a beautiful lady.  Such a sweet and warm hearted lady was she, but unimaginably saddened by love unexpectedly lost.  On many days, this lovely, lonely lady found peace and a best friend in a sweet and precious pup. During long, sad days, the devoted girl pup never strayed far from her lady, and the lady rarely left her pup.

Time passed.  A kind and gentle man in the same land ...of watermelon and sand (work with me here; this is my first fairy tale).... found himself also lonely.  Needing companionship,  he found his way to the lady and her pup, and together the three forged a new happiness.  As the lady began to love the man, the puppy began to love him too, for in a dog's way the pup understood the man made her lady happy again.

Time continued to pass.  A funny thing began to happen.  Although first drawn to the lady, soon the man also strongly loved the lady's sweet dog.  He cuddled and shielded the pup, just as he did the lady.  The man and the pup would sometimes share a recliner and watch the Tigers play.  Most days, they took long golf cart rides and short walks.  As the man talked, the pup listened closely and understood.  At night, a tired but happy girl pup crawled into her basket bed and dreamed of the happy new life she and her lady had found with the man.  She came to be his...just as much as she was her lady's.  She loved this man.

As age crept up on the pup, the man tended to her ailments and comforted her, for he knew something of the ways of healing.  When he was unable to cure her ills, he carried her to the vet.... in time increasingly often.  He sat up with her at night.  He helped her through hard days and encouraged her and soothed her, just as he had the lady, because he had come to so love them both.

One day, as is sadly always the case, the end came.  The man and the woman he loved lost their sweet devoted pup. The void seemed unbearable.  Their tears flowed.  The puppy basket bed was empty.

But the sweet puppy now once again had strong legs and a young pup's heart on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.  And she would always and forever happily remember and watch over the lady she loved and the man who came to love them.

(Photo Cred to Di who also suggested I try to put impossibly intimate feelings into words....I did my best for you, Sweet Peek.)

What A Ride to the Edge of Glory

A few years ago, I posted a blog entitled Edge of Glory.  My beloved Tigers were in the midst of a promising season....about to face Florida State.  I had this feeling it was our time, but things did not pan out that year.  Flash forward to 2015.  All season that phrase and, I'm ashamed to admit, that Gaga song popped in and out of my mind....Edge of Glory.  I wanted to post a second blog on the subject, but my superstitions got the best of me, and I waited.

I waited as all year we were doubted, all year sold short.  The underestimaters were out in force...for every test, every big game.  But The Orange persevered.  Notre Dame in a sunami, Florida State in weather almost as bad..... through the Division Championship, "State Championship,"  Conference Championship, and the Orange Bowl, these Tigers pressed on like David slaying Goliath.... again and again.

It was time for a National Championship trip to Arizona.  I knew I shouldn't go, but I couldn't stay away.  I was there following the '81 season to see another young, overlooked, underestimated Tiger team take a national championship.  I couldn't not be there when it happened again.

Those who know me know it's always all about the moments.  And there were definitely crazy moments...Di and I arriving in Phoenix nearly forgetting we had checked bags.  Had our brother-in-law not remarked about how well and surprisingly light we were traveling, two sisters would have walked right out of the airport without our luggage.  Pre-game jitters, I guess.  And the luggage...my goodness, we packed for cold, we packed for warm, we packed for cool...honestly we could have stayed in Phoenix for a month and had all the clothes we needed, no matter the weather.

Speaking of staying a month, a first intro to Desert Donuts had me wishing we could.  I think in three days, we made about four runs to the local DD.  One bite of a bacon donut, and it was over for me.... and for my hips and thighs.

Walking the even if temporarily orange dotted streets of Scottsdale's Arts and Shopping area, stopping to greet horses and ogle cacti, and eat the self proclaimed 'best sandwich in America', it continued to seem as if we had stepped into some surreal spaghetti western dream.  But it was real. The Tigers were on a business trip, and so were we.  Note to self:  check with accountant about writing off.....

Game day arrived and with it all the nervousness.... the rolling tummies, the biting nails, the silly chatter.... two sisters and their niece, Tiger Girls lying in bed watching Gameday.  We were anxious to start the day but anxious about the outcome as well.  There were key wardrobe decisions (sadly as usual, Di and I had packed several of the same outfits, so that took a little coordination moderated deftly by Niece Hannah), face painting, margaritas (when in Arizona, right?), clapping along to Tiger Rag being piped in to a local bar and singing Sweet Caroline along with hundreds of other Tiger faithful following their team.  Note:  Not sure if the look on our niece's beautiful face was horror, shock or something else as Diane and I joined with great gusto in a boisterous group sing of The Captain and Tenille's "Love Will Keep Us Together."  How could Hannah not know that one "....Think of me, Babe, whenever"....Oh well.  It was craziness of the best kind.

The epic game has been well documented.  Again, it's the moments within I'll most remember.....seeing at least two thirds of the "neutral" stadium decked out in orange, hearing the deafening cadence count...at an away, indeed far away game, watching a young Houdini in Orange slice through the vaunted Bama defense over and over and over again, runs of sheer determination from the Wayne Train, enduring a no pun intended 'kick in the gut' of an Alabama on sides kick, hearing forty thousand proud Clemson fans still cadence counting as they exited with the loss, having come oh so close to that natty championship, seeing two Heisman finalists share the field in competition and even more an after game hug filled with oh so obvious mutual respect, our exhausted team still lifting helmets to salute the amazing road crowd that had followed this team...to the edge of glory.

What a ride...what an amazing ride.

Hope it's nowhere close to 35 years before I am back....

A Southwest Selfie Saga

                                                            

Selfies.... the craze that has changed the face (pretty clever, Dee) of photography.  So why is it that I....camera geek that I am.....just cannot get the hang of it?

I would say in my lifetime I may have taken...well, maybe half a dozen selfies.  A couple at least were accidental selfies.  Yes, accidental.  Who knew if I hit that camera button a second time my phone lens was suddenly, magically facing in instead of out.  Imagine my surprise when more than once, I pointed and shot my phone camera at some desired subject only to review the photo and find I had a beyond horrendous shot of myself.  Happy to report I now I understand that part.  Fool me once.... you know the rest.

Many times during Clemson's remarkable 2015 season, I wanted a selfie or two of my sisters and me as we made this incredibly magical journey with our Tigers.  I wanted to document our nerves, our joy, our determination to share some of the incredible twists and turns of following our team as sisters.  And a selfie...it can't be that hard.  Everybody does it.  Game after game, we would stand, in perfect unison turn our backs to the field, hold the phone up (as I have read usually should provide the most flattering angle) and smile the Tiger Girl smile....only to preview the most gosh awful selfie ever.   Sometimes, or should I more accurately say usually, at least one of us wasn't even in the shot.   And usually after three or four failed selfie attempts we could glance up into the stands to see a friendly, okay usually laughing face...connected to a shoulder.... to an extended arm.... reaching down for my phone sympathetically offering to take the photo for us.  A pity picture....but alas there was no choice.  I am a selfie failure.

Oddly Diane, who rarely if ever takes photos, is suddenly a selfie expert.  How does that happen? Photography may be the very one thing in life I am better at than she, and if not better then definitely more experienced.  So, Sunday in Arizona, as Di, Hannah and I took out on our Great Southwestern shopping expedition, the selfie spirit moved me.  I decided it was time to try again.  I refuse to let this shortcoming get the best of me.   With Diane driving, Hannah in back and I in the front passenger seat, I pulled out the trusty iPhone, ready to try again.  It's a car selfie....  I see dozens posted on facebook every day. Even my five year old "Baby Hoppa" can take a selfie.  So, with a determined deep breath, I held up the phone, made sure Hannah and I were both in the pic and clicked.....only to have both Hannah and Di burst into uncontrollable laughter.  "Why can't you look here...don't look at the home button...look at the camera lens...your eyes are always almost closed..what is the matter with you......hold the camera up....no down....are you thinking too much..." Well, imagine that.... who can possibly remember all these instructions? And their last correction..... may I quickly insert that at this point I was ready throw my phone and possibly my middle sibling out the window of our rental SUV..... "look natural."  Really?  This isn't that hard.  And yet, I couldn't argue the point.  This selfie was simply not acceptable.  All I can think is how much I truly miss my Nikon dinosaur. I actually pulled my favorite Nik out at one of this year's tailgates only to hear a fellow and much younger tailgater exclaim, "What the heck is that?"  Stand down, Young Whippersnapper.  I'll match my photos from a camera that requires at least a modicum of skill against the point and clickers from your phone any day!

Fast forward to Championship Monday and the game, and I, well I was still determined to get the perfect selfie. Fourth quarter....final game of the season.  It was now or never.  Pressure was ON. Diane and I stand....in unison turning our backs to the field (and by the way at that point to a Tiger lead).  I raise my right arm, lift the phone, say a quick prayer for a successful selfie (don't judge; my minister says to pray about all things), woops.... almost drop the phone, recover nicely, look at the lens....correct spot...check, click.  Preview....positively terrible.  Try again.  Again the worst.  And suddenly there she was...three rows up....the laughing but trying to hide it Good Samaritan Lady Tiger Fan...holding her hand out...gesturing and snapping for the phone.  And suddenly, thanks to that nice woman, we had our prize picture.  Another glance back, a quick thank you wave up to the laughing lady who saved the day.  Wait....didn't we see you in Raleigh?

                                                         

"I Believe That We Will Win!"

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.....

Clemson versus Notre Dame 2015

I wonder if  Phil Collins was thinking of this night when he wrote this lyric.  Probably not, but he missed a good chance.  David Hood, Senior Writer with Tigernet, would write, "The numbers of people who will say they were there will grow as the years pass, but only the ones that were there will understand what it was like....."

It simply cannot be described.  I've been to games....many games....night games.... huge games.  I was in fact there in '77 when Joe Montana broke the hearts of tens of thousands bleeding orange with a dagger of a drive to win the last match-up of these two for the Irish.  I remember to this day the agony and the tears of that loss.  But this, the 2015 version, from its very beginning was.... other worldly.

As we pulled into our puddled but luckily paved parking space, our tailgate neighbors' speakers blared Garth Brooks', "Bring me two pina coladas...," as all within earshot dreamed of a little more island-like weather for this epic matchup.  It was not to be.  Two bewildered Notre Dame fans wandered up to our meager weather affected tailgate to ask if they could pay us $2.50 each for a beer for, in a twist of irony, in the deluge, they couldn't manage to find a watering hole.  Tiger Kids big and small nervously tossed their footballs back and forth in every possible paved opening, having been driven from their favorite play fields by the flooding rains.  We sat in the car for most of hours....my sister knitting one, pearling two, dropping stitches....pregame jitters, I suppose, for she never drops. Nervous sister small talk filled the minutes.... Donna's new job, Di's trip to Florida, Dee's birthday wish list, kids, recipes. (Obviously, I contributed little to that last talk point.)  But, it never changes...weeks can pass without us seeing each other, and even awkwardly crammed into an SUV in a torrential downpour, we pick up where we left off.  We just do.

Little victories are won in the challenges of games like these. Bad hair days become baseball cap days, for me a definite step up.   Fashion decisions become no brainers as we happily find we all look just the same in a poncho.  Mom jeans sliding down exposing body parts no longer worthy of exposure are now covered completely by the afore mentioned orange poncho.  I am finding balling in the rain can be, well,  glorious.

The ESPN Gameday crew gushed lavish praise upon the unbelievable crowd that even South Carolina's worried Governor could not warn away.  Dabo was to proclaim the Tiger Walk unlike any he had ever seen.  Defensive Mastermind Brent Venables would say this was one for the ages.  Again quoting Tigernet, for all "the fans who unified in their defiance against the weather, for those who wanted to keep these tickets forever but watched them disintegrate in the unrelenting rain, this was just that.....one for the ages." BTW, thank goodness the same dissolution does not happen to memories.

An hour until game time.  Death Valley already filled with 83,000 drenched frenetic fans. Plastic ponchos melted into the fog and blur of steady blowing rain to create an eerie orange film over the stands.  Buses rounded the corner onto Stadium Road.  We could barely see them, but the crowd noise was unmistakable.  Suddenly, through the gloom, players and coaches appeared at the rock.  I could barely contain myself.  I was not alone.  And when Collins' "I can feel it coming in the air tonight'" belted out over the stadium sound system, it was almost an afterthought.  The scoreboard tiger's eyes flashed.  I already knew.  My sisters knew.  These fans already knew.  The rabid, most faithful of the faithful knew, all of us brave enough to brave the elements knew, this was to be the night....a night for the ages.

Kickoff, and I see #4 trot excitedly onto the field.  Funny, as Deshaun appears, I still sometimes see Steve Fuller.  I know...I'm dating myself....remembering one of the heroes of Clemson's rebuilding. Today's players weren't yet born when Fuller dazzled Tiger fans and opponents with his talent and football intellect. And now an engaging young kid with mad skills..."the new face of college football" according to Herbstreit... is at the helm, a player so talented that Fuller himself allowed his jersey to come out of the hallowed halls of Clemson's retired, so that a Georgia phenom could start a new tradition of Clemson prowess wearing the number "4."  It's a collision of the past and present, of a passer and a runner, of ebony and ivory, of Danny and Dabo, of Clemson past and Clemson future.

Two quick scores for the Orange, and although tested, the Tigers would never really look back in taking this classic rematch by two. It seemed at some point the fans took over to protect the lead, causing penalty after penalty and delay after delay, willing their beloved Tigers to victory. Finally a masterful defensive play would seal the fate of the visitors from South Bend.  All too fast in the furious rain it was over.  No one left; we barely breathed.  No one dared believe it was complete, that we had done it.  But we had. As fans flooded the field to celebrate and sing, we knew without doubt...this was one for the ages.

Fast forward, and now a week later, game day without Gameday starts much the same...it's raining, pouring actually. Could this be another 'one for the ages?'  Somehow, I really don't think so.


Artwork credit to the Internet.  Quote credit to Tigernet and Writer David Hood.