We spend our autumn Sundays, each Thanksgiving, and the rare Monday, in the throws. We visit Ford Field; we stare at our televisions. Sixteen times every fall, we participate, identify, and scream — sometimes with joy, usually in pain. We are offsides; we are injured; we shake our heads and curse ourselves for wasting a perfectly good afternoon on this ridiculous team. Occasionally, we win, and we shake our heads just the same. We are being strung along. Stupid Lions.Winter brings the playoffs, and we watch numbly, from afar. By the second round, we’re adopting a team. The Super Bowl is played. We don’t wonder when it will be our turn. We have no dreams for our future. It’s February, the mercifully shortest month, the worst month. Our hearts and road conditions unite: we are cold, iced over. We are sick of winter and done with football.The rash among us disassociate and make vows: they will never watch another Lions game until that team proves their worth. These rash might get teased a little, about jumping off the bandwagon, but mostly, everyone nods.
How do Lions fans go from this to the unbridled optimism of August? Read the entire story here, at curatormargazine.com.
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Hi there. I linked here from The Curator to say I really appreciate your most recent essay. Not the one above (which I also enjoyed last month), but this past Thursday's. Thank you for your honesty and for putting your thoughts and experiences into words, something I still need to do after my daughter's difficult birth a year ago. And I love that you finish with GMH. I had read that particular poem once before, but hadn't thought to use it as I start processing and really dealing with what happened when my girl was born. Also, your insight on how that overload of information can water-log us, and how poetry (I'd include literature and story, too) can pull us up where we need to be. So true. Thank you, thank you.
ReplyDeleteHi Rebecca, how kind of you to stop by. I agree that literature and story can serve the same purpose as poetry. I know we don't know each other well, but if I may be very bold, I hope you are encouraged today. Sometimes, the words take a while, but they usually come. Best to you, Laura
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