So there’s this amazing football stadium in Texas, built expressly for this storied football team in Texas, and owned by a fellow that many in Texas revere, but that a lot of other Texans find creepy. But the stadium is still amazing, no matter what the team’s season is like, or the guy who owns the team.
And on this particular Saturday, we find ourselves there through a simple chain of events. We have a beloved grandchild, the grandchild plays a horn in a high school marching band, the high school’s football team manages to make its way into the playoffs, the playoffs are held at the amazing stadium, and there we were.
And there was this huge screen suspended from the ceiling where we could watch close-ups and instant replays of our very own kids. Just our kids from our ordinary families who attend an ordinary high school in a very ordinary area of the Metroplex we all call home, and there they were, up there, just like the big guys.
And as we sat there, watching the drill teams from both schools, the bands in the stands, the family and friends and interested spectators in the stands, all the colors of modern high school football life, I realized what a rich and privileged life everyone in that stadium was experiencing at that moment, regardless of the price of the homes they would return to. What a special collection of moments we were sharing. And when the ROTC officers marched out with the American flag and the state flag, when in this instance our band’s trumpet section played the national anthem beautifully, when everyone stood and honored the flag, our country, and our children there, I found it to be almost more moving and beautiful than I could bear.
Not being a particular fan of football, and definitely not being a fan of the owner of the storied team for whom the stadium was built, never would I have thought we’d be sitting there, eyes wide, mouths open, loving the spectacle, but grandchildren (and children before them) lead you places you never expected to go.
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