Cotton Bowl, Conclusion

Okay-- final update on our trip.

Sunday began with a trip to Holy Spirit Episcopal Church in Northeast El Paso. This is the church my parents have attended for over 40 years. Our previous church, Christ the King, merged with another church to form this one in the early 1990s, and set up shop a good bit closer to home. CTK is the church I was raised in, near Fort Bliss.

Anyhow, I was happy to get there and see people I worshiped with all those years ago, and hadn't seen in a few years. I was also pleased that my Aunt Cynthia joined us. Following a meal and taking the First Lady back to the hotel (she still wasn't feeling well), I drove about town for a bit. Looked at some of the old sights. It's when I drove past what was left of the old Northgate mall, as mentioned earlier. There really wasn't a whole lot for me to see-- I remember the old stomping grounds well, yet there was an air of unfamiliarity for me.

Ann and me, with Uncle John (dad's brother) and Aunt Marianne 

Next came the whole reason for this leg of the trip-- gathering in the parish hall for my parents' 50th anniversary shindig. It's when I got to see the folks who have been most prominent in their (and my) lives over the years. 78 people signed the guest book. So many celebratory cards, a well-decorated cake, (really) old pictures, good food, good people, and old friends. The whole family, Ursula (who is family, as well), who baby sat me as both parents worked, Father Martin, who baptized me at age four weeks, and various friends of the family all came by to share in their joy. And mine-- I was so happy to see them be the center of attention and be celebrated like this. I also enjoyed seeing and saying hello to more old friends. This was another event I wish could've ended around midnight. There was a postgame event at the house, which involved more storytelling and fun.

The next morning, which was getaway day, started with an early breakfast with the whole gang. After saddling up and leaving the hotel, we stopped one last time at the house for some goodbyes and photo ops. The only regret of my wedding day is I didn't get enough pictures taken, and I wasn't going to let that happen again.

The two of us, with my folks, plus Uncle Chuck and Aunt Cynthia (mom's sister)

We touched down late afternoon in Dallas' Love Field. One thing that should clue you in as to how sick Ann was is that she flew to and from El Paso without getting her customary copy of Vanity Fair magazine. She was very strong throughout, showing no signs of trauma. We were eager to get on up the highway, since this was the night of the national championship football game, and we wanted to get to our hotel in Longview to see Alabama play. We listened to the first half on I-20 and saw/celebrated the second half and beyond in our room. I spent halftime finding beverages suitable for celebration, since at the time, it seemed like it could be a good night. So I found a local Big Box Store and loaded up. And man, what a game.

The following day, Tuesday, got a leisurely start for two reasons. One was that was it was our last day of vacation, second was that we celebrated a little much the night before. We stayed on Interstate 20 the rest of the way and didn't really wonder why traffic got pretty thick with Bama fans where 20 merged with I-59 near Meridian, Mississippi. These were folks headed back home from New Orleans. I'm guessing it was a late night on Bourbon Street for many of them.

We touched down at the estate about 6 that evening, a little tired and road weary, but definitely happy to be home.

Tuesday

I know I still owe one more Cotton Bowl posting, but it's time for a scattershooting as I catch up a little.

We're still waiting for winter to start in Alabama-- it's been chilly a few times, maybe even cold once or twice, but it's been really nice most of the time. Maybe it's payback from the hideous weather we had last spring. Who knows. But nobody has freaked out three days in advance about a remote possibility of snow flurries, so it's a good thing.

I also find that as much as I love watching football and basketball (college, not NFL or NBA), I find that I spend too much emotional energy in these games. I let the actions of 18-22 year-old kids (who have more invested than me and want to win more I want them to) determine whether I'm going to have a good day. It's been like that for years and years as I watch UTEP and now Kansas State play. I'm starting to realize that nothing really happens to me during or after the games, and that I still have things to do after I watch, and that I am in charge of how I feel, win or lose.

It's a maturity thing and will probably will help prevent things like blood vessels popping. I'll try to have fun, of course, but try to have a little bit of disconnect, win or lose.

And following my marathon, I've found that I am a bit of a magnet as far as people asking me about it. I like these people, and I'm not upset about it, it's just that I'm not good at being the center of attention. It's kind of like at my wedding, where all our friends and family came to see Ann and me. It could be worse, I suppose-- I could've stolen a car and gotten attention that way. But it's been nice to have folks ask me about it or congratulate me.

And pitchers and catchers are starting to report. Yes, spring training is here, and baseball season has started for the colleges. For some reason I find myself wanting to watch baseball. Part of it is likely because of the nice weather, partly because I just read an autobiography of Braves broadcaster Pete Van Wieren, who spent 33 years calling Atlanta baseball games. I remember watching some of those games as a teenager and as an adult-- not religiously, but I vividly remember the technical aspects of those telecasts-- how spot on and informational and technically sound they were. No glitches, nothing. very easy to watch, even if the baseball itself was pretty hideous.

More to follow.

Marathon Man

I got an early start to my Sunday-- waking up at 4:10 am, which I can confidently say I've never done before. Anyhow, the purpose was to run the Mercedes-Benz Marathon in Birmingham. Ann and I got a lucky parking spot and I got in the starting corral with a few minutes to spare for the 7:00 start.

I won't bore you with details here-- if you're interested in specifics, please head over to the On the Road With Woodrow Miles blog. The link is on the far right column. But it was the hardest thing I've ever done. 26.2 miles, 4 hours, 12 minutes, 35 seconds of my life. But I got it done. My legs (ten hours after the completion) still don't want to be associated with me. But what a sense of accomplishment.

After a post-race meal, we drove home for a quick nap and cleanup. Our bishop was the celebrant at church and we didn't want to miss it. This service, after a big run, made me realize just how much standing and sitting I do in church. More ouch. But one of the Scripture readings was from the 9th chapter of I Corinthians, which included words like, "Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?  Run in such a way as to get the prize." Pretty powerful stuff for me.

So now I'm home, parked on the couch with the First Lady/wife/support staff/pit crew. And some really sweet victory swag:

What a day. And yes, I got my prize.

Cotton Bowl, Vol. IV

Following K-State's Cotton Bowl loss to Arkansas, we loaded up our stuff (we are notorious overpackers) and headed for Dallas' Love Field for a flight west. There were lots of folks wearing purple at the airport just before noon, most presumably headed back to the Sunflower State.

We, on the other hand, were headed to El Paso, city of my formative years. Keep in mind that my poor wife is still sick, so flying in a pressurized tube at 30-some-odd thousand feet isn't our idea of fun. Touching down midafternoon, mom and my brother dropped us off at the hotel. On the drive to our part of town, I remembered that this city is not the one I grew up in-- so much has changed and is changing. I still know my way around for the most part, and it all seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. When we finally got to our room, we were greeted by this, left by my parents as a welcome:

It was a much appreciated and very nice surprise-- check out the sticky note, as well.

We unloaded and decompressed a little, then I went to the house while Ann stayed home and rested up for the evening's events.  This is about the time my aunts and uncles John and Marianne (dad's side) and Chuck and Cynthia (mom's) joined us. Our family is very small-- dad has John as his only sibling (he has two kids), just as mom has Cynthia (one daughter) as hers. So the couples all crammed into the dining room for the evening. Mom cooked up a terrific brisket meal, with rolls, salad, potatoes, and my favorite, tomato pudding. Home cooking.

What I also enjoyed was sitting in the dining room listening to three army officers and their army wives spending the evening telling 50-year old stories about their earlier years on bases in Germany, a few of which may have involved libation. Cynthia and John also told stories about my parents' younger days. I also didn't know that John had stopped in Mt. Gilead, Ohio (where mom is from) once upon a time many moons ago, and Dr. Ingmire (my maternal grandfather) housed him for three days while things worked themselves out. I don't remember the circumstances, but it's really wild that two separate sides of my family, with only one thing in common connected like that. I wish these stories could have gone on forever, since they were taking about sides of my folks that I don't know too well.

This whole evening made me very happy-- to have these wonderful people wanting to come together to celebrate like this. And excluding Ann and me, only Chuck and Cynthia are on the short side of their 50th wedding anniversary themselves, but only by a few years. So nearly 160 years of marriage was represented in that house, of which we can contribute only two. So we've got some catching up to do.

The nice thing is that we have some terrific role models.

Carson's Comedy Classics

I've been a longtime fan of Johnny Carson's comedy sketches-- not so much from watching them in real time, but from the 30-minute programs my brother and I would watch on late-night TV, many of which are accessible via youtube. Floyd R. Turbo, Carnac the Magnificent, and Aunt Blabby were always favorites.

Very high on that list is also the Tea Time Movie with your friend, and his, lovable Art Fern. I won't bore you with the premise, but he'd always talk about directions to a sponsor's location by taking the Slauson Cutoff and cutting off your slauson and turning left until you come to...

This particular fork in the road is at Camp McDowell, where the First Lady and I spent this past weekend at church retreat. We love the people with whom we worship every Sunday, and many of them were there for at least some of the time. There was some 'church' stuff going on, but this annual retreat, our third, is a chance to meet people and get to know everyone better. It was a success on both counts.

Camp adjourned after lunch Sunday, at which time we drove back to Tuscaloosa. I had to haul pizzas as a deliveryman the last two seasons (and replace a car battery a year ago), so I was very happy to get home this year in time for a Sunday nap knowing I didn't have to work soon afterward. This gave the First Lady and me the chance to watch the Super Bowl with our trivia friends. Since the Kansas City Chiefs were not part of things (and they seem to wipe out earlier and earlier each year), we were all about the party.

We enjoyed the game and the 17 prop bets that were a part of the evening, such as halftime point margin, which side wins the coin toss, etc. Winner got first pick of six exotic flavored sodas. It was great fun. After scoring five points, I took fifth and chose a non-alcoholic sangria. Good food and good people. And for the record, I think the halftime show sucked.

This weekend reminded me of how privileged I am to be surrounded by so many nice, fun, and wonderful people. Even moreso, they don't seem to mind me hanging around.