Day 34 - Tired

Today has been a long day. My wife and I spent a lot of time watching college sports. An interesting thing happened as we were talking to friends. I ended up explaining to many people that my family was a sporting family, not a sports family. My dad didn't teach me to throw a ball or how to make a basket. Instead, my dad taught me how to hunt, fish, and camp.

I don't think this is a bad thing. If anything, I see my dad teaching me the lost lore of being a man. I know how to setup a snare, how to pick out movement in the forest, and how to identify different fish. I remember one Christmas growing up where most of my friends wanted a new bike or baseball glove. My gift of choice? A hatchet. That was my big present. (That Christmas I not only got the hatchet, but also a telescope.)

Most of my fond memories include being outdoors. I remember a particular trip with my dad and brother to Lake Darling. That weekend included learning how to put up the great big 12-person tent. Or another time where my brother and I were catching fish so fast that my dad didn't get a chance to fish (he was rigging up the hooks and taking fish off). Or probably one of my greatest memories of my grandfather taking me hunting (for squirrel) and teaching me the lesson of valuing the prey (we saw a squirrel and we didn't shoot it, instead we watched it climb a tree).

It is only of late that I really started to take notice of sports (in the traditional sense). My favorite sport is hockey (go Avs!), and I'm encouraged by my in-laws to say "Go Giants!" Yet, despite all of these team sports in my life, I still have the underlying theme of tranquil waters and a staccato cast.