Autumn, food, football, family

During football season, the Eldest comes over to watch our favored team play. We want them to win, of course, but we’ve been disappointed these last two seasons. That’s all right. They’ve won their share in the past, given us our share of atavistic triumph over the years, and it’s all fun. Unless it’s not, and then we watch something else or just sit and talk.

If any of you kids want to inveigh against our watching football for some political reason of yours, it’s bouncing off of deaf ears. I don’t care what you, my family, other football fans, or football players do or say politically. It’s the freedom of expression American thing. I don’t take what you or they say personally, and I don’t slather any meaning over it other than what the expresser might say it means. I’m just here to watch a game that I sometimes enjoy, not to infer some underlying offense.

Well… a game that I sometimes enjoy. As I get older, spectator sports have gotten less relevant to my own sense of well-being. It’s a function of having fewer years ahead than you do behind, so you’re driven ever more to wring meaning out of what’s left. After about an hour of game-watching, I start to fidget (unless the game is really, really good).  I start thinking about catching up on work. Or writing more on a story. Or a blog entry. And here we have it.

But still, when the circumstances are right, what’s not to enjoy about watching football ? Today was wonderful (except for one thing, which we’ll get to in a moment). I made some of my previously described chili, and kids, it was a really great batch. Made some nachos for a snack later, also and immodestly to rave review. The beer was very tasty, thank you, New Belgium, and a perfect complement to the food.

A chilly fall day, spicy and tasty chili, cold effervescence of great-tasting beer, watching football, nestled in the warmth of family. As quintessential enjoyable American autumn days go, it just doesn’t get better.

Oh, the one thing that wasn’t wonderful? Our team lost. Heck, sometimes I’m not sure that they were on the field. But that’s okay. Part of my separation from acute emotionality of home-team fandom is taking such things philosophically, shrugging, and moving on. In fact, the way it was going, I didn’t even watch the game the whole way through.

I think that attitude of just not taking it so seriously might help me live a little longer. Less overall stress. Hope so. I mean, there’s fewer years ahead than there are behind.

Oh, did I mention that already?

— Grandpa

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