Living Our Dream in Pueblo

My Sweet Al is eye candy on my arm. We’re decked out in red Thunder wolves’ tee-shirts and blue windbreakers. We have Team Wylie Blankets, game bags, red sparkling pompoms, red and blue Mardi Gras beads, and red megaphones. We have I-phones ready to take pictures for our Facebook friends.

The four of us, Sweet Al, myself, Allison and Al are looking like the circus has come to town. We are only missing the bearded lady and the sword swallower. We are sitting in our red and blue seats at the playoffs in Pueblo ready to cheer on our grandson’s football team, CSU Pueblo. They’ve had a four-year winning streak with only one loss.

During the Playoff game we were winning big, I leaned over to My Sweet Al and said, “I think we are living our dream.”

He responded, “I didn’t know this was our dream.”

I said, “I didn’t know our dream was going to be in Pueblo, either. It’s kinda like crusin’ Espanola. When we’re with the kids, we’re having fun and laughing a lot.

We were enjoying listening to some of the Mamas and Papas of these hugh football players. The parents could’ve been out on the field and played with the same fierceness of their sons. One Mama was singing, “Sack that quarterback. Hey sack that quarterback.” Then others started adding rhythm and smack. It was a new beat of music. One of the Mamas was yelling like a mad woman, “Jackson, get me the ball. Make your Mama proud. Jackson, bring me a quarterback. Hit someone and play nice, Jackson.”

My daughter leaned over and said, “Apparently she’s living her dream, too.”

Local fans come to the games and fill the stadium. I asked My Sweet Al if he was getting cold. He assured me he wasn’t, and if he did he’d snuggle up to the Hottie who had been sneaking in hot toddies in her bra all afternoon. She was passing them back and forth among her friends. Living her dream?

The expert in back of us had ten empty beer bottles in front of him when the game was over, and he insisted we do the victory dance. We all had to sing with him.  Na, na, na, Hey-Hey Goodbye and Turn out the lights, the party’s over. I don’t know if he’ll remember his dream tomorrow.

My Sweet Al counted the empty beer bottles and said, “He spent a lot of money. Do you know how much money he drank up?”

“No, honey, how much?”

“I don’t know, but it must be a lot.”

One of the mothers, a redhead hot mama, must have been a cheerleader in her day. She yelled, did the car wash dance and high fived everyone in reach or out of reach. Every boy was her son on the field.

I pictured her on top of the table with a lampshade on her head. She could’ve pulled it off. After that win, and the way I was feeling, I could’ve been up on the table with her. Victory makes a person feel different.

I am getting good at HOWLING like a wolf and My Sweetie is yelling, “Get me the ball.” I’m not sure what he would’ve done with the ball. We’ve learned the “Get me the money” sign and Beep, Beep, Beep.

As soon as we had won, we were planning for the next trip to the next game. We made hotel reservations, secured tickets and had our bags partially packed for the next playoff weekend. We hadn’t even left the stadium. I am hooked! For five days we talk football, players, winning and the next playoff game. We are ready to hop in the car and chase the next thrill of Victory.

Our grandson is red shirting this year, he’s not even on the field, and we’re acting like Jackson’s mother. Our grandson was picked to replace Tony Campton, Number 92, nose guard.

The coach says Creede moves quick like him and his mannerisms are the same. He’s athletic, built like Tony, and they want him ready for the defense line. He will be Tony’s replacement after he graduates. Of course that makes us feel proud, tickles us and keeps us buying more red and blue memorabilia.

It makes us totally invested in this team, the coaches, the teammates and the program. Will it happen? Who knows, but it’s living in a dream today. Does it mean a future professional league? Probably not, it’s just the dream of the moment.

Final Brushstroke: My Sweet Al would rather be home on his Kubota, digging holes and having Whiskey, his dog, next to his chair at night. For me, it would be easier to write a book or study Greek and stay home. But, I wouldn’t be doing the victory dance and singing Na, na, na, na, Hey-Hey, Goodbye. And I would’ve missed hearing my grandson say,  “Grandma, I’m glad you’re here.”

Memories - Different and Precious

Time changes, things change, and memories change, also.

We enjoyed our family for Thanksgiving, but a week early and on a Saturday. We’ve always had Thanksgivings on Thanksgiving, but not this year. What’s with that? We would be on the road to a playoff game for CSU Pueblo during the Thanksgiving weekend.

The day was different but the smells of Thanksgiving got the mood set. Sitting around the turkey and dressing a week early, the house was filled with an unusual mix this year. The grandsons came home, brought a friend, and our son-in-law made sure that the neighbors and his niece from California who drove all night had an invite.

One grandson invited another good friend, with his new family. It was fun to have a baby in the house. It wasn't the traditional group but even better and the tradition of family/food and fellowship was still in our hearts.

After the meal, a conversation was prompted by an e-mail I received from a young man who grew up in Pagosa with our children. He had found an article, which appeared in the SUN Newspaper in November, 1978. It read, “YOUNG PEOPLE, Don’t forget this Friday is the Ice Skating Party at the Al Slades, beginning at 6:30 p.m. Tis’ an ‘Old Fashion Party.’ Girls and ladies wear your long dresses and men and boys wear your knickers. There’ll be music down by the pond played on an old Victrola. He signed the E-mail, “Good times and wonderful memories of you both? God bless, Jace.”

There were fifty kids who came that night and some of those kids are still here in Pagosa. Along the way, a few of them have reached back and told us how they enjoyed that night. My Sweet Al and I were making memories for these kids and we didn’t even know it.

I made the comment to the family that I was touched that he took the time to send this article to us. His thoughtful note brought back a precious memory. We reminisced about how things used to be.

I said, “Our grandchildren are missing out on the memories that we enjoyed when we were growing up and raising our children.”

Then our daughter, said, “The grandchildren will have their memories. They will be different memories, but precious to them.”

“Oh, but not like our memories. We had such fun.”

But would this next generation really want to step back and live our memories? I don’t think so. They wouldn’t know how to act. They would be totally bored with how it used to be. How could this next generation possibly know a Holiday without television, CD’s, I-Phones, videos, computers, and texting? They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.

Our son-in-law said his family spent the whole week between Christmas and New Year’s Day visiting friends and family. They called it “Christmasing.” His family would go as a family and take a small gift like a plate of cookies or fruitcake to other families. That was Christmas to him.

Today, with texting, the kids know in seconds what is going on and making plans for a quick escape. Although, they kept saying we have to go but they still hung around longer than we ever thought they would. They wouldn’t go with their family to other families’ homes and visit for anything. Talk about BORING!

Our Christmas will be different this year. For the last twenty years, our twelve family members convened at our house for two weeks during the Christmas holiday in Pagosa.  No matter if we had four feet of snow or it was twenty below, no water, no electricity, our family came together as family.

Even when our California children broke down in Mohave, and had to buy another car in transient, they came.

Last year, when our son came from the Philippines and was mad about the ugly sweaters, he was still with the family. It was our Ugly Sweater Christmas, every one had to wear ugly sweaters the whole time. We had our family portrait taken in them. Everyone was in the picture except our son. He wouldn’t be a part. We had to photo shoot him in later and we dressed him in even an uglier sweater.

We have made a few memories for our grandchildren over the years. When our grandson heard that we weren’t having Christmas as usual, he said, “What’s with that? What do you mean Grandma and Granddad won’t be having Christmas here?  We always have Christmas at their house.”

I said to him, “We had to change the plans, everyone is doing something different this year. Our one grandson is in China with YWAM, our granddaughter is in Southern California and has a job, the other one has to work and you have to be in training over the holidays. It’s going to have to be different this year. We want it to be the same, but it won’t be.”

Over the years, things have changed. We had to make sure we had Wi Fi for the grandchildren and do other things. We still were family and were making traditions along the way. This year, we will all be in different places, but we are still family.

Final Brushstroke! I think it’s up to grandparents and parents to keep the tradition and memories going for their children. It takes a lot of work to keep them going and keep them together. Even though times have changed, families still want to be family and do family things. It just has to be on their terms now.

Flying Body Parts and Body Language

Some of our favorite times in the car are with our family listening to books on tape. As we follow CSU Pueblo’s football games around the country, we listen and analyze these books.

Last week in the car, we were listening to a well-known author. I said maybe you’re better off not knowing anything so you can just enjoy the book.  The writer wrote she sipped her coffee with tightly squinted eyes. I didn’t know you could drink coffee with your eyes. Then the eyes dropped to the floor and looked around. The eyes need to stay in her head.

And those tags are so distracting. They break the cadence. Today, you don’t write tags like she says, he says. You have to write it in the voice of the character so there is no question who is saying what. If the writer says one more time, “Tim died,” I’m going to scream. How many times is she going to tell the same story? I get it.

My daughter said to me, “Well, listen to you, Old Smarty Pants. The author writes a good story and I used to read all her books, but I quit reading them because she is so redundant.”

Of course this famous writer has been in the business for thirty years. But, today the editors would not take her as a new author. She can get by with it because people buy her books and she has sold millions of books.

I’ve told my children I have grown as a writer. It was an abstract statement to them and I don’t think they believed me or took me serious.  On this trip, my kids were impressed, almost shocked with how much I’ve learned over the last few years honing the craft of writing and spending hours and hours with my editor friend.

I told my kids that my editor friend would not let me get by with this sloppy writing. Thank God she won’t. That’s why my second book is held up because of editing. We’ve gone through each line, each sentence, each paragraph, and each chapter by chapter.

Apparently I haven’t learned enough. When she read a scene in my book, she said to me, “Libby just asked Frank to do something, he agreed but he put his hands in his pockets. Frank just said by his body language, “I don’t want to do it.” Did Frank want to do it? I said of course he wanted to do it. She said you’re not saying that.

Then in another scene the sheriff came up and saw the pregnant girl. My friend said to me, have him do something. I said, I’ve had him adjust his gun in his holster, hold his pad, write something, ask questions, but I’m not sure what else he could do. She said, “Have the sheriff put his hand over his belt buckle. When a man sees a pregnant woman, he will put his hand over his belt buckle.

Are you kidding me? Wow! I didn’t know that. Does other people know that?

She said, “Watch and see.” Then she gave me a lesson in biology.

I said to her, I’ve got to Google Body Language. I can’t believe I’m almost finished with this second novel and I’ve got to go back through and check it out. I’m sure my characters are not saying what they need to be saying with their actions. I thought dialogue was sufficient.

Google has become my best friend. This is what I learned. There is an accurate way of seeing people’s thoughts, emotions or moods by reading their body language. People speak about 75% through their bodies. For example, if a person has a habit of touching his or her nose, people could perceive it as a sign of deception. They are interpreting that gesture as untrustworthy. You could think they are telling the truth, but they are lying because of how their body is acting.

I Googled Body Language. There are a lot of sites on dating and how to act when you want someone to notice you. I’m not planning to enter the dating scene any time soon and hopefully never. But if I’m going to get these characters right, I’m going to have to learn how to act when dating. Oh me. It’s always another learning curve.

In a dating scene when a woman inspects a man over her shoulder with curiosity, she’s checking him out and saying I’m interested. He looks back over his shoulder at her and he’s saying, I’m checking you out, too. I’m also interested.

Another site showed a few movie star couples and how they stand next to each other. The writer of the article claimed how they stand beside each other will tell how long they will be together as a couple.

One of my favorites was Tom Arnold, he had his girlfriend in a body clutch. His arm was around her and his knuckles were white in a tight hold. The writer said it wouldn’t last and he was right.

Final Brushstroke! I need to get these body parts right and my character’s body language acting right since they are saying more than I thought. My characters are fictional, but apparently they are talking out of school and telling on me. It’s time to get some more schooling.

Life after the game – Not the end of the story

As I watched the Pagosa Pirates Football Team play their hearts out during the Bayfield game, I saw the hurt in the players. I knew there would be life after the game. It was the last game of the season, but far from the end of the story.

The score didn’t reflect the player’s determination, effort and heartache on the field and off the field. The boys of fall didn’t just show up on Friday night, they started training at the beginning of summer and officially started in August practicing every day getting ready for Pagosa Football Season 2014.

One player was hobbling off the field, turned around and went back into his position. He made several more tackles after that. Another one was made fun of from the smart-mouth announcer from Bayfield. I wanted to wring the announcer’s neck and put a sock in his mouth, but I was sitting on the other side of the field. Just as well, it wouldn’t have been a very pretty sight for a grandma to come unglued.

I understand why parents get so involved. They see what their child is going through. These young men are growing up and it hurts to see them struggle, but it’s necessary.

I would be amiss if I didn’t write this article. Our grandsons have graduated and gone on, but Friday nights under the lights are as real and poignant as the tears of the players and the heartbreak of the parents.

I remember last year when our grandson was kicked off the field during a home game for un-sportsmanship behavior. He had the one final game to play and he missed it. His senior football season was over. There wouldn’t be another game for him in his #72 jersey on the Pagosa Pirate field. He grew up on that field.

That was emotional for all of us at the time. I know it was just high school football, but it was a hard time. His uncles from New Jersey came to Pagosa just to watch him play. He wasn’t finished with the game of football. His whole life has been studying football and his career choice is to become a college football coach. We thought the un-sportsmanship call would ruin his changes and a college wouldn’t look at him.

Even though he excelled in wrestling his last year of high school, and was even offered wrestling scholarships for college, there was unfinished business with football.

He loves to come back to the Pagosa field on Friday nights just to support and cheer on his friends. He understands how much it matters to them. He has walked in their cleats.

Something on Pagosa’s field made him determine to go on to be the best football player on a winning team. He chose a college not for academics but one that has a winning football program.

The head coach said to his mom, “We can do so much with that passion and but we can’t give it to them. They have to be born with that fire in them. This is what we are scouting for!” They saw his potential, not by the wins or losses of his senior year’s team, but by his determination.

He will finish up what had been taken away from him. His College had a 42/0 record until a couple of weeks ago. They lost their winning streak, but are back to winning. They needed that wake up call to jolt them out of complacency.  I am learning you can be complacent even when you are winning. Hmm, that’s something to ponder on later.

My Sweet Al and I, along with his parents have been outfitted in red and blue and we are burning up the road again traveling to cheer on the CSU Pueblo Thunder Wolves. Our grandson is red shirting this year, and was named scout of the week from among 50 other redshirts.

Bayfield is always the last game of the season and also a rock in the shoe for Pagosa. My daughter said, “Our boys are so sweet, why does Bayfield treat them so badly?” My answer to her was, “Maybe we are growing tough men. And it hurts a lot.”

Bayfield is not going away. I noticed on their lineup a 6’4” sophomore who will be back next year.  The announcer for Bayfield will probably be back, too. He’s not go away either. But, the story is far from being over. I want to remind the young warriors of Pagosa they may not have won Friday night but their opponent was hurting the next day.  This is just the beginning of their next journey. When they are suiting up for a winning college team then they’ll understand the battle.

Final Brushstroke! Everything we experience today, even our failures are designed for tomorrow’s victory. You might change school colors, but you don’t change your passion for football and the determination to win.