Nostalgia

My brother has been assembling old film, articles and stories about our home town high school football team. His aim is to produce a DVD for fundraising purposes. What he's turned up so far has been illuminating though scant. I'm eager because I get to work with and spend some time with him on this.

How bittersweet resurrecting a slice of local life that so clearly shows what we remember, and most often, have forgotten or lost. Over a century of fevered gridiron activity is now translated into inches of film, or inches of columns, or inches of memories. Little is revealed, every image or memory is more like a Galloping Ghost than is comfortable.

Our father was intensely involved in local sports, which is like saying that a cat is involved in grooming himself. He would have been so proud of him for trying to keep this little tremble of sports history alive. For Dad, sports were the best proving ground for a person. The one place where clear definitions and expectations were bundled into the fair play and glory that he so wanted in his life.

I'm can't wait to get more material from Norm. There's something to build from here that's elusive, not easy to understand. But that's okay. Dreams are not in the business of making sense. Helping your brother makes all the sense in the world to me now. That, in all my gratitude, is more than enough glory for me.