Homecoming

Our first house sat within the glow of the Friday night lights. On delightully chilled fall Fridays, the glare of the football stadium radiated brightly, viewed with awe by our son Greg, then three. Of course, he wanted to go. I took him more than once.

To Greg, it was a circus with the cheers, the marching band, the concessions, and the young boys and girls running here and there. Then there was the show itself--two teams competing in a contest of strength and will.

Greg did somersaults in the grass, strained to climb the stairs of the wooden bleachers, then quietly watched the affairs on the field with reverence. He grew up loving football.

And I thought one day he would take his place on the line. Greg was athletic, loved to tackle his brother, and could throw a pretty spiral. Once, a player was injured and I teased Greg that he might have to substitute. Greg stood up, all forty pounds of him, ready to go.

When it did come time for Greg to put on pads and join the middle school football team, we found he didn't have the "fire in the belly" as described by fellow blogger Kenju. Greg eventually spent his Friday nights with the marching band. Ironically, his younger brother Scott took his place on the field, becoming a varsity starter.

Wendy and I spent warm nights, cold nights, rainy nights, even snowy nights on those wooden bleachers. It was dedication but it was fun too. Whether cheering on Scott and his team or clapping in cadence to the strains of the marching band, we wore our school colors proudly. Homecoming was the best. The parade of floats and musicians wound its way through our own subdivision.

This fall, the lights of the old football stadium are dark, the wooden bleachers empty. A splended new facility built of concrete and steel has taken its place miles away. I attended a game there recently.

Watching the little boys playing in the grassy outer reaches, I could almost imagine a three-year-old with a mop of blond hair doing somersaults. On the field, I felt as if I saw number 77 trotting to the sidelines. My sons weren't there, of course. One is at Michigan State and the other was working the late shift. And it was Homecoming too.

It just wasn't for me.