A few days ago I was talking to my friend Sherri on the phone. Sherri lives in Georgetown, TX. Her husband, Kevin, was my husband’s college roommate at The University of Texas. Their oldest son and ours are the same age, and we were commiserating about having children old enough to be high school freshmen. I mean weren’t WE high school freshmen just last week???

Sherri’s son is playing basketball for his high school. I told her that Kory is playing football for our local high school – even though he is still a homeschooler. She became nostalgic…..

You see, in Sherri’s mind the mention of high school football conjures up images of large, full stadiums, enthusiastic cheerleaders, parents wearing their son’s number jersey or a photo button of him on their school colored windbreaker, crowds cheering, dance teams dancing, fabulous marching band halftime shows, baton twirlers, flag wavers, costumed mascots, color commentary, programs that boast tough-looking mug shots and the exaggerated weights of each player, the singing of the National Anthem, the Alma Mater, the school song, and last but not least a prayer for the protection of all of the players and participants given by a student over the loud speaker.

And why was she thinking these things? Well, because she is from Texas, and no matter the size of your school (some being extremely small with graduating classes of say…10) these common elements are hardly ever lacking. In some cases, you may see a uniformed and padded football player playing the tuba, because you can’t NOT have a tuba in the marching band!

So, Friday night was our local high school’s first Varsity football game. And not only that, but the Homecoming game to boot. Kory had to suit up for the game, but we were pretty sure he wouldn’t play. As a freshman, he’s on the Junior Varsity team, and their games are usually on Monday afternoons. But we all went to the game – even Robert’s parents, visiting from the Motherland went along, and if anyone knows football it is them! Robert’s dad coached Texas high school football for many years.

I have to admit that my main motivation for going was sheer curiosity. If it’s the first game of the year AND Homecoming, surely there will be some sort of fanfare or semblance of how I spent nearly every Friday night each fall of my high school career. In our ten years here I have never actually attended a local game, and had only heard rumors of the underwhelming amount of atmosphere, community support, and overall involvement. I needed to make sure I was giving Sherri accurate information.

Not to worry. The first clue was the semi-empty bleachers and total lack of canvas chairs on the home team side. Oh, there was a small crowd, but it was comprised mostly of unsupervised teenagers who were mostly flirting with each other and not watching the game (a cross-cultural phenomenon, I’m pretty sure), and supporters of the other team who didn’t have the energy to trek across the field to the bleachers intended for their team.

During the first half of the game, we kept wondering if it really was Homecoming as we had heard it was. No music. No alumni-looking folks. No anticipation of the announcement of a homecoming king and queen. No nothing.

Halftime came and it seemed that it would boast absolutely no entertainment, until the announcer came on to introduce a cute little 8th grade girl who would do a baton-twirling routine. Evidently, she had been among 150 national twirlers chosen to march in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. And she was amazingly talented – Kayla and I were completely enthralled, but I couldn’t help but wonder where she found out that there was such a thing as baton twirling. And who coaches her? Surely she spends her summers out-of-state in foreign lands of flag wavers, marching bands, and baton twirlers.

(yours truly, “hanging” on the right, circa 1986)

Cooper, Kayla, and I left at halftime to rent a movie and head home for the evening. They didn’t want to miss our Friday night tradition of pizza and a movie. On the way to Blockbuster I received these text messages from Robert:

(Ok, that last part was a big exaggeration. I was not in the running for Homecoming Queen at my high school. My (still) good friend Kerry was the Homecoming Queen, AND the head cheerleader, AND voted “Best-All-Around” leaving me in the dust at every opportunity, but, as you can tell, I am not and was not at all jealous or bitter.)

So Robert, his parents, and Kory arrived home around 9pm and gave the report that from the first quarter to the last, there was no hint of Homecoming except that the announcer occasionally mentioned that it was Homecoming and a “big weekend for Amherst.”

Maybe they crown the Homecoming King and Queen at the Ultimate Frisbee game? (We are the birthplace of that sport, after all.) Maybe the band plays for the Lacrosse game halftime? Maybe the soccer players come bursting onto the field through a large and intricately painted “break through” banner. I don’t really know, but I am fairly certain that of all high school sports in these parts – and there are many sports and wonderful athletes, football ranks dead last in participation and popularity.

And it’s not like those Texas football traditions are better than others, just different. (Our traditions in these parts are something like lacrosse, hockey, organic farms, and protesting the big box stores) Those traditions are a common thread that draw all sorts of folks together around the schools, the local kids, and the community itself. It may sound lacking in depth and meaning, but I think that may be part of the draw. Pure, social, simple, joyful, fun.

(Unless you are the coach or a player!)

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore!”

And now I’m off to watch some “Friday Night Lights” episodes.

(Just kidding. I’m not THAT in to it. I’ve watched only one episode to date. And, what’s more, my kids only recently found out about this “cheer career” of mine. There are better ways to spend your teen years, I now believe, than wearing a short skirt and dancing in front of the crowd. I did enjoy the gymnastics part of it, though!)

“Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no place like home!”

P.S. As you can see, I did get roses, and was crowned Homecoming Queen of the Evening, because that’s just the kind of fun and wonderful husband I have – who, of course, was the Prom King of his high school (there was no Homecoming King – only a Queen), AND Valedictorian, AND “Most Likely to Succeed.”

(Oh..and let us not forget, the illustrious, “Most Conceited.”)