The Edge of Reason

John is a DHS Titan

I received an email from my neighbor this morning. In her message, she wrote, "Who is Taylor?" I emailed her back asking how she knew about Taylor. She responded by asking me if I had read this week's edition of our local paper. I then opened the paper to see this picture of John and his friend Michael displayed in the Weekly Events Section of the Loudoun Connection. Hmmm. Very interesting.

The picture was taken last weekend at the first activity of the 2006-07 school year. Taste of Titan is an annual event held every August to kick off the new school year. It is big picnic with a carnival-like theme. And it is there on the high school lawn that neighbors, old and new, join together in the spirit of friendship to celebrate the end of summer and the beginning of another school year. Little did I know that during John's first Taste of Titan, he would make his mark in Titan history.

Before the festivities began, John and Michael stood at the front entrance of the high school holding these signs for all to see as they crested the hill of the field where the picnic would be held. Taylor was a wee bit embarrassed to see her name displayed so prominently on a sign that could not be missed. And so she decided to pay John back later on in the week by making a pink poster that she hung on the fence during the first football game of the season (pictured in the collage below).

I love the high school my kids attend: I love the building, I love the teachers, I love the counselors, I love the coaches, I love the principal, and I love the kids. John's class of rising freshman hold a special place in my heart. I have known these kids since they were in first grade. I have worked with them in their classrooms. I have gone on field trips with them. And I have had these kids in my home more times than I can count. And so when we attended Zero Day last Thursday, it was no wonder that I was excited for them to begin their DHS years.

Zero Day is another end of summer event sponsored by the high school. It is not a scheduled day on the school calendar. Therefore, attendance is not mandatory. Zero Day is the one day each year when parents and students attend high school together. And it is on this day that the students find out who their teachers will be, who is in their class, and where their locker is located. No freshman in their right mind would miss Zero Day, because on Zero Day, they are given the map of the high school - a building that must seem monstrous to these fourteen year olds who have never gone to school in anything other than a building with four halls located all on one floor. The high school is three times as big as the middle school. And the high school has two levels. I can only imagine how frightening it must be to think about trying to find classrooms in a building that size. And so, yes, Zero Day is a big day in the life of a freshman.

Zero Day was an emotional experience for me this year because as the day came to an end, I realized that it would probably be the last Zero Day I had the opportunity to attend. Next year, when these kids are sophomores, they will choose to attend Zero Day alone. And by the time they are juniors and seniors, they won't even go to Zero Day. I know this because Alyssa stayed home and used the day to work on her project that is due the first day of school. As a junior, she could care less about Zero Day. I guess by the time they are upper classmen they don't really care about getting a map to the school. And I know that by the time they are juniors and seniors there is no way they would be caught dead going to school with their parents. And so as my last and final Zero Day came to an end, I was touched when the principal took the time to announce that the freshman football team had a game that night. And not only did he announce the game time, but he also invited everyone to attend the game in the spirit of the Titan community. Deep in my heart, I felt this was a sign that John's high school years were going to be the best years of his life, because being a DHS Titan is something special.

That afternoon, John had to be back to the school at 3:00. The game didn't start until 6:00, and so I had three hours to burn before game time. By 5:00, I decided to head back to the high school because the wait was killing me. And when I arrived, I was thrilled to see that there were already people in the stands (which was amazing, due to the fact that this was a freshman game). Ever since the day John learned how to throw a ball, I have been looking forward to watching him play high school sports. Finally, that day had arrived. And now, looking back on Zero Day, which was also the day of John's first high school football game, I know that it was a day that I will remember forever. Everything about the day was perfect. And John was so happy to finally be a DHS Titan. The next four years are going to fly by, and knowing that makes me sad.

I won't bother giving a play-by-play account of the game. But I will say that the freshman team looked good. And it was thrilling to watch John play on the high school field. He has a position on both the first string offensive and defensive teams, and he only came off the field at the end of the third quarter when they put the second string in. The DHS freshman team won their first high school game 40-6. I couldn't be more proud of these boys.

And so it is that my fourteen year old son begins his high school career: the entire community now knows that he likes a girl named Taylor, and the teachers have already figured out who the football player with the blonde curls is. School hasn't even begun yet, but John has made his mark as a Dominion Titan. I have a feeling we are in for a wild four years. And I know I am going to savor each and every moment of the ride.

Following are pictures of John's first football game as a DHS Titan. John is #32, leading the team onto the field (and, yeah, that fills my heart with pride, knowing how much he's struggled and how far he has come).

The Picture of Health

Note: These pictures were taken this week during the final basketball game of the season. SRMS lost by 8 points. They are out of contention for the championship, which was theirs for the taking. They went into the tournament as the number one seed and last year's reigning champions. After playing together as a team for two years, they end their middle school basketball career with a record of 2 losses and 23 wins. John is number 53 in these photos.

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. And most often, that is true. But that's not the case with these pictures. These pictures are a false advertisement for health. On the surface, John looks to be filled with strength and vitality. The appearance is that of a poster boy advertising athleticism and youthful energy. And for his sake, I am grateful for that false appearance. Because being a teenager is not easy. I remember being a teenager, and although much has changed, much also remains the same. The teenage years are all about fitting in and being accepted. And that is all John wants. He wants to be a normal teenager.

My kids are the age where they are finding their way and testing their limits. These are the years when Alyssa and John are making memories that will last a lifetime. Memories that are filled with friends and fun, school activities and sporting events, parties and sleepovers, girlfriends and boyfriends, and so many other things that are an integral part of their everyday routines; events that they will remember forever. So much of what happens during these teenage years affects the person they will become, because their future is shaped upon their past. And as John struggles with his health, my hope is that this journey to wellness will not have a negative affect on his childhood memories. I want him to be happy. I want him to be normal. And most of all, I want him to be well.

Tonight when I returned from the pharmacy, picking up yet another medication for John, he walked into the kitchen and groaned as he looked at the contents inside the bag. And then he said something that made me stop think about what it must be like to walk in his shoes, "Mom, I feel like an old person. All I ever do is take medicine, go to the doctor, and sleep." I reminded him that last night he tore up the basketball court as he proved to be the strongest defender on the team. He just smiled and told me that even though he felt like an old person, he wasn't about to let that slow him down. Thank goodness for that attitude and determination. It is the one thing that has kept us sane as we embark upon this seemingly endless search for answers. To say that I am proud of my son for having that determination would be an understatement.

And tonight as I look at these pictures, I am torn, because I know the story behind these photos. I know that prior to this week, we were not certain whether John would be able to play in the tournament. I know that John dosed up on Motrin to ease his headache before we left for the game. I know that John had to rest after school so that he would have the strength to run up and down the court for an hour. And I know that when John arrived at the gym, nothing was going to stop him from giving 100 percent in the game. I know my son, and I know the story. And knowing these things makes me sad, because thus far, John's teenage years have been filled with all sorts of things that children should not have to endure. What will his memory be of these years? Will he remember playing basketball? Or will he remember taking eight medications each night before going to bed? Will he remember a winning basketball season? Or will he remember spending hours in doctors offices? What will his mind choose to keep and what will it let go? It's his journey; what will he take from these experiences? And what can I do to make it all good? I might know a lot of things. But these are questions I don't have the answers to.

I wish I had the courage to document the journey. But I can't. Because it's a journey that I'm having difficulty with. And to take the time to write it down means that I have to relive the events; events that I want to go away, never to return. So I don't talk about it. And I don't write about. And I try not to even think about it. John likes it that way. He told me that he would prefer that we don't discuss it at all. He doesn't even want me to ask him how he feels. He is so much like me in that regard: if we don't address it, and we pretend like it isn't happening, then we are able to deal with it, because in our mind, it's not really there in the first place. And when we have to go to the doctor or the hospital, we look at each other with an unspoken understanding: "this is part of the journey," we silently say to each other. It is an unspoken journey that we are taking together. And it is during those silent moments that we are able to regroup, gear up, and deal with the facts. Then, and only then, do we address the issue. It's easier that way. It's how we go on day after day, week after week, month after month. We pretend all is well, and when it's not, we suck it up, deal with it, and then put it behind us. No need to dwell, no need to discuss, no need to be reminded. Because we can't. To do so would make it all too real. And so we don't.

John just wants to be normal. He wants to be accepted. He wants to fit in. And so he does. He is the picture of health...

Let's talk about the Seahawks and the XL

I received an email from my mom this week. I laughed out loud as I read her description of how my extended family is preparing for the Super Bowl this weekend. Apparently, my cousin Russ has turned his home into a Seahawk museum. She told me that he has covered his living room walls with Seahawk tees and sweatshirts. His dining area has three sets of bobble-heads (one he plans to sell on eBay), with a helmet bowl and a tree adorning the center of the table. She says the tree looks like a money tree with footballs hanging off the branches. I so wish I had a picture of his tribute to the team. It is such a "Russ-like" thing for him to do, and it tickles me knowing that my family is getting into the spirit of Super Bowl XL. It's taken twenty long years for this team to make it to the Big Show. I can only imagine what things are like back home in the Pacific Northwest. I'm thrilled that the Seahawks have earned a ticket to the Big Game, and that Washington state gets to experience what it is like to be part of the history of the Super Bowl.

After I read the email from my mom, I got to thinking about the Super Bowl and this sport that makes men act like boys, and boys want to be men. I have so many memories that are tied to football, that it is no wonder that I have a soft spot for the Seattle Seahawks. I remember when the team became a franchise in 1976. It was a BIG DEAL for the state of Washington. I also remember attending my first game in the Kingdome and watching professional football in a stadium for the first time as the Seahawks played the San Diego Chargers. I can still hear the roar of the crowd, and I can smell the hot dogs and beer when I think of that day. If I close my eyes, I can see the sea of blue/green tee shirts on almost every person in the stands. But most of all, I remember thinking that pro football was so much bigger and better when experienced in person. I think it was that day when my lifelong love affair with football was solidified.

The first year my husband and were dating, we took a trip to Seattle to watch the Seahawks play the Denver Broncos. We rode the train from Portland to Seattle with a bunch of friends from our office. I had the time of my life, and I decided that even if I wasn't "in love" with him, he was worth keeping around because he took me on fun dates. We rode the train many times during the years of our courtship, always attending Seahawk games and rooting for the home team. My 25th birthday was spent on the train, and then in the Kingdome watching football. And at that time in my life, my 25th birthday was one of the best days I'd ever had. I'm pretty sure that it was during that football season when I fell in love. More than likely, it happened on the train or in the Kingdome.

Yes, I have a love affair with football. The fall of my 21st year, I began working at a telephone company. I was the youngest employee there. My job was neither glamorous or important, but it was a foot in the door and I loved what I did. Not long after I began working there, I met my husband. He was 28 years old, and to me, that seemed very mature and grown up. Our very first date was on Super Bowl Sunday. He took me to a pub to watch the game with his friends. I was so intimidated to be with those people because they were much older than me, and most of them had prestigious positions in the company. I was way out of my league. I remember thinking that I wanted to impress them, and at 21, that meant it was all about how I looked.

At the time, I did not wear contacts and I was very self conscious about my eye glasses - they made me feel like I had bug eyes. I hated those glasses with a passion. On that day I decided I would leave my eye glasses at home so that I wouldn't feel so buggy. Boy was that a mistake. Not only could I not see the football game on the big screen, I also could not see the faces of people who were sitting three feet away. I had a very hard time keeping track of who was talking to me and what they were saying. I must have tried to act mature and confident, but I am sure that I acted very foolish and silly. At some point during the game, I had to use the restroom, so I excused myself and blindly tried to find the facilities. When I came out of the bathroom and made my way back to the table, they all were laughing. I remember someone asked me how the bathroom was. I thought that was such an odd question coming from such professional people. I responded that it was not very clean, but it worked just fine. It was not until two years later that someone told me what I had done. And for years after that, those same people were still teasing me about how I used the men's room during the Super Bowl on my first date with Jeff. I had no idea. I couldn't see a thing and apparently, that included the sign on the door to the restroom. What I took for a dirty bathroom was actually a men's room. Every single Super Bowl Sunday, my husband reminds me of our first date and how I used the men's room.

Memory after memory. I have hundreds of memories that are tied to football. I lived in Wisconsin during the not so long ago glory years of the Green Bay Packers. I've spent more time at Lambeau field than a girl has a right to. We attended every home game for almost five years. We had box seats, so it was not cold at all - never(!), not even when it was subzero were we cold. Those season tickets and box seats were a luxury that I will always remember with fondness and longing. I will never forget what it was like that January day in 1997 when the Packers won Super Bowl XXXI. My kids were little, and even they remember when Green Bay won the Super Bowl. They remember the pep rally in their tiny elementary school. They remember wearing green and gold for an entire winter. They remember the Terrible Towels and the cheese-head hats. They even remember that the schools were closed on the day the Packers returned from the Big Show so that everyone could go to the ticker tape parade. And every single Super Bowl Sunday since that year, we talk about the Packers and how awesome it was to be part of that season and to live near Title Town.

Having experienced the fun of celebrating a winning season, I wish that same experience for my family and friends back home. I would love to be there, but since I can't, I will cheer for the Seahawks from the comfort of my home, so far away from where I long to be. These days, I don't attend parties on Super Bowl Sunday and I don't have season tickets to attend the games. But I do have the memories and I know that I have been fortunate to experience more football than most people do in a lifetime. So when the pregame show begins, and the team runs out on the field, I am certain I will remember the thrill as I shout GO SEAHAWKS. I would give anything to be with the gang on Sunday...

And in my heart, that's exactly where I'll be - right there in my mom's living room watching the game with die-hard Seahawk fans who are the family I love.

A Rainy Conflict of Interest

The bug got me - the sick bug that is. I've spent the past 48 hours in bed with body aches and a fever. It seemed as though no matter what I tried, I was unable to warm up. I piled blankets on top of me. That didn't work. I put on sweat pants and layered tee shirts on top of long underwear. That didn't work. I tried the heating pad. That worked a little bit, but only at the location of the heating pad. After much creative layering and piling, I decided that I was just going to be cold, so I settled in, wearing all those clothes, including two pair of sox, and let the weight of the blankets lull me to sleep.

Whenever I have chills like that, I try to distract myself with the sound of the television as I attempt to keep warm. So for the past two days, I've had the TV on. For two days I dozed, and every time I would wake up, it seemed as though the weather report was on. Each time, I would hear the report about my region (warm) and then they would begin to talk about the rain in the Pacific Northwest. In the fog of my fever, I kept thinking, "Wow, they must really be having a storm back home since it is making national news every hour." But I was feeling too cold to pick up the phone and call my mom to find out the actual status of her weather. So I just let it set in the back of my mind as I would doze some more.

At some point, I did rouse myself enough to take a peek at the seal on the roof of a car in a parking lot in Astoria. Just two weeks ago, we had driven to that parking lot looking for the seals and listening to them bark. My kids got a kick out of the seals, and they found it highly amusing that a 600 pound seal would leave the dock area to venture into a parking lot. But other than the seal news, the rest just passed me by.

Finally I started to feel better last night. No longer was I shivering with chattering teeth, so I left the comfort of my bed and moved my aching body to the family room. Again, I turned on the television. I was just in time to catch the 6:00 evening news. Right there on the screen was a reporter in Seattle talking about the weather. WOW! It's really raining there. And finally, at that moment, it dawned on me: the local weather forecasters were talking about the weather in Seattle because the Redskins are playing the Seahawks this weekend. The people on the east coast care about the Seattle weather because it will directly affect how the football game is played this afternoon. Wind and rain will come into play as the teams move the football up and down the field. What a silly fool I was to think that the weather reports from Seattle were cause for national concern.

   

Which brings me to a personal conflict of interest. One of the first dates my husband and I went on over 20 years ago was a Seattle Seahawk football game. I've attended more Seattle Seahawk games than any other football team, excluding the Packers (we had Packer season tickets for seven years). The Seahawks hold a special place in my heart. And their coach, Mike Holmgren, is one of my favorite coaches in the NFL (see Packer reference). But now we live in the Washington D.C. area, and I've become somewhat attached to the Redskins. Call it local pride or regional influence. Either way, I've enjoyed watching Joe Gibbs breathe life back into this team. And all season long, I've watched to see if they would make it to the playoffs. Today they will play their second playoff game - against the Seahawks, that team that I first fell in love with so many years ago; the team that my entire extended family cheers on; the team that represents home.

When I was in Washington over the holidays, I told my step-dad that if this day arrived, I would have to cheer for the Redskins. He is a die hard Seahawk fan, but he understood. I think he was gracious with my announcement because the Seahawks are looking so darn good this year and he knew it would be a failing effort for the Redskins. He's right, the Seahawks have looked good all season long. However, the Redskins did beat them at the start of the season. And, the Seahawks did lose to my struggling Packers three weeks ago. So there is hope for the Redskins. The hope may be slim, but it's there nonetheless.

So today I don my Redskins sweatshirt, Redskins hat and Redskins socks. On game days, I always dress in my team spirit wear. My son HATES the Redskins, and when I deck out in my Redskin finery, he refuses to go anywhere in public with me. He claims that I look like a dork. He's right - I do look like a dork! But I'm not the only dork in our town. Everyone looks like a dork on game day. That's what makes being a fan fun. A person gets to look like a fool, and act like one too. This is one of the reasons I love sports so much, being a fan is just plain fun.

So in spite of the family conflict of interest, and in spite of my sentimental feelings towards the Seahawks, I'm cheering for the Redskins. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the offense can find their footing and actually do something worthwhile. And I'm hoping that the defense can prove, once again, why they are one of the best defensive teams in the league. I love football. And I love the playoffs. So today I will wear my dorky clothes and cheer from the comfort of my home, hoping beyond hope that the Redskins kick some Seahawk butt and continue on in their quest for a Superbowl birth.  Because now that the fever has lifted, these weather reports are making a whole lot of sense. GO REDSKINS!

Sports Photography

The regular football season is over, and the Jags are now in the playoffs. The team played their first playoff game last Wednesday and they won. That was the game that John got injured, and it was looking iffy as to whether or not his leg would be strong enough for Saturday's quarterfinal game. After three days of pampering the leg, including seeing a sport's trainer to be sure that it didn't require medical attention, John woke up yesterday feeling strong. He was ready to play football. And that meant that I was going to have to take some pictures.

I am the team photographer for the Jaguars football team. Those who have read The Edge of Reason for any length of time know that I am sorely lacking in the area of night photography. This has been something that I have struggled with for the past two months because every time there is a night game, the pressure is on. The thing that bothers me the most is that when the season is over, the problem isn't going to go away. John is a really good football player and he has years of night games ahead of him. In fact, this is the last season that he will play any daytime games. From here on out, he'll be playing in the big stadiums under the lights. So this problem I have with night photography absolutely must be solved. Last night was my chance to revisit my weakness.

The quarter final game was scheduled to begin at 4:30, which was a perfect time for sports photography - the sun would be down, but darkness would not yet have fallen. All day I kept telling myself that I would take pictures the first half of the game before it got dark, and that would be enough to satisfy my son and the parents who depend on said game photos being posted on the website the following day. Unfortunately, that is not what happened. Just as I was getting ready to leave the house at 4:00, Jeff phoned and said that they were running behind schedule. And he was not talking a little behind schedule. He was calling to tell me that they were running an hour and a half behind schedule. YIKES! That meant that my plan of taking pictures at dusk was not going to pan out. To be specific, that meant night photography.

I hemmed and hawed for a while trying to decide whether or not it was worth taking the camera. Because when I take the camera, people expect results. When I leave the camera at home, they know better than to ask. Finally, I decided to pull out the big gun and do the one thing I said I would never do this season: I dug out the tripod. At 5:45 I showed up at the football field loaded up with the camera, the tripod, and all my lenses. I was the team photographer. By bringing the tripod, I had no choice but to set up on the sidelines, inside the fence, on the field, next to the player's bench. I so did not want to have to do that. I don't like being on field (read link above). It makes me nervous.

As the national anthem began, I was anxiously adjusting the height of the tripod. Then I cautiously screwed my beloved Pentax to the base. I was all set to go at kickoff time, and I was a wreck. There I was, on the field, looking like I knew what I was doing. There was no way that people were going to let me off the hook without at least a few decent shots. So I took pictures. At first, I was hesitant. Then, I got into the spirit of the game and all thoughts of looking like a dork left my head. I began to click away. I moved the tripod. I ran up and down the sidelines with the tripod in tow. I kept clicking. The game was tied. Then the opponents pulled ahead. Then it was tied again. Then we pulled a head. Then it was tied again. Three ties during the game, and time was running out. I took over 200 pictures last night. As the game went into overtime, I noticed that I only had 32 pictures left on the memory card. I knew that I had to use those photos wisely, because I didn't have time to go back and clean up the card. So I said a quick prayer, moved the tripod next to the end zone and waited. Click, click, click. We scored and the Jags won the game! I later discovered that I had taken over 150 decent photographs during the game. So, in the end, I won too.

The jags now move on to the semi-finals. They play again next Saturday. Game time is 1:00 in the afternoon. My first thought was, "good, a daytime game, no night photography." However, something happened last night as I ran up and down the sidelines watching those boys play football through my viewfinder: I discovered that I like being the team photographer. I like being right there, up close and personal with the boys and the coaches and the referees. Because with a tripod, I earned respect. People made room for me. They moved aside when I set up. They treated me as though I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. So maybe I won't leave the tripod at home. Maybe I'll haul it with me on Saturday after all. Last night I felt a thrill that I haven't felt in a long time. I had fun. I like using the tripod. That was an unexpected surprise.

Six of the pictures I took during the game last night are posted below. I used an ISO of 3200 and an action setting, which works fine for web viewing, but is a bit too grainy for printing. Prior to last night, I'd been using an ISO of 1600 with the action setting and those were blurred beyond recognition - not good enough for either printing or viewing. So compared to every other nighttime photo I've taken this football season, these win the prize. They are decent, and really, that is all I wanted - some decent photos to have as documentation.

Last night as I downloaded the pictures, I decided that photography is the same as every other thing in life - it's a learning process. The process of discovery never ceases to amaze me. The key to finding success is perseverance. I need to constantly remind myself that I learn more from my mistakes than I do from my successes. Because, when a person stops and thinks about it, without the mistakes, there would be no successes. The mistakes are part of this journey we call life. And life is what the journey is all about.

(to view larger, double click on each photo)