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Football, spring and MLK Day | Home Again


Last updated 1/29/2019 at Noon

The NFL football games last weekend presumably pleased people, but I am among the thousands disappointed by the outcomes of both. As to Feb. 3, Super Bowl Sunday, I’ll admit that my enthusiasm for the game between the Rams and the Patriots has its limits.

Yes, I’ll watch the game. I’ll cheer for the Rams – but it will not be my favorite game of the season.

In the meantime, speaking of sports, my 9-year-old grandson Adam now has an “elite” soccer practice twice a week, rain or shine. Because he has joined that particular program, he won’t be playing with the West Seattle recreational team he has been with since he started soccer as a little boy.

I don’t know about the rest of the family, but I’ll certainly miss his wonderful coach and the parents and boys I became acquainted with through the years. I know Adam’s new team will travel for games, which will be a new adventure for his family.

My son Brad played hockey from age 6 into high school, and our family followed him to Spokane, Yakima and British Columbia for games and summer camps. Now Adam and Abby’s 15-year-old cousin, Annika, plays on a traveling hockey team in Idaho.

Here in Edmonds, it’s been a mild mid-January weekend – and early signs of spring caught my eye.

Two squirrels, with one of them dashing across a street while a careful driver slowed to wait for the squirrel to reach the curb. Another squirrel digs in a patch of dirt where he presumably buried something earlier – his random retrieval efforts unsuccessful.

I noticed a long jet trail, fading into white fuzz against blue sky. Green spikes of crocus and daffodils poked up under the rhododendrons near the sidewalk. Primrose and pansy plants bloomed in bright array outside grocery stores – $1.25 each for weeks of cheer. And the gorgeous super wolf blood moon provided its breathtaking color show on a cold Sunday evening.

I am writing this on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a day set aside to pay tribute to a man who experienced racism from an early age and who grew up to become the strongest voice for the civil rights movement, putting his efforts into leading African Americans into attaining equal rights.

Every time I think of him, I try to imagine what his life was like, how often he was exhausted, afraid, uncertain, lonely for his wife and wishing he could be home tucking his children into bed.

Instead, he kept moving, addressing crowds of strangers who gathered to hear him, see him, soak in some of his courage as he tried to help blacks grow in success, grow in freedom. Every year I read his “I have a dream” speech, and every year I feel the tragedy of the way he died, so early in his life.

I’ll close with two Martin Luther King Jr. statements: “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend,” and “There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must take it because his conscience tells him it is right.”


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