Fan-atic?

A couple of my friends called me a "fanatic" recently.  Actually it may have been more than "a couple.  In fact, I think the term is pretty widespread in use by now.  Folks think I'm a "rabid Alabama football fan"!  I, on the other hand have always thought of myself more as a rather dignified graduate of the University of Alabama with, perhaps, more than her share of crimson, white, and houndstooth apparel, but who still retains her dignity...until...well...   Who am I kidding??  I LOVE THE CRIMSON TIDE!!!  I love the way our teams win (all of them, from golf to gymnastics!)!!  I love our Football Head Coach, Nick Saban, I love his wife, Mrs. Terry!  I love all the guys on our team, I love all the wonderful traditions of our University, I love every teeny, weeny, eensy, weensy little bit of fun that comes from living in a University City!!  But my devotion to the team, my love for the University, my love for all this goes far deeper, and it pre-dates Coach Nick Saban by many, MANY years!!   My truest devotion to the University is all tied up in sweet memories of times with my Dad and brothers.

As I grew up,  my dad was a very busy M.D. in a dusty little one-stop-sign Alabama town.  I saw very little of him--VERY LITTLE!  Every chance he could, he'd try to schedule a few hours to be home on Saturday to watch or listen to Alabama's games with us.  Real treats for our family were those weekends when he got tickets for us all to return to his Alma Mater for a game!  Seeing him take a couple of hours to unwind and enjoy something so much made such an impression on me that when I was only six year old I decided I was going to learn everything  I could about the game and team he loved so dearly, just so I could spend time with him! In the years since I lost him to cancer, I realize that was one of the best decisions I ever made!!  Those times through the years we spent enjoying Bama football together were wonderful, and created some of the memories I hold dear to this very day.  What fun we had!

In 1970 when my eldest brother, Randy, went away to the University, he played the bass drum in "The Million Dollar Band"!  What a thrill it was to attend games and see him perform with them! Many years later now that I am married and living in Tuscaloosa, I love to drive by the band practice field just to listen to them, and I do it often.  I'm kind of partial to drum section.  Randy  passed away suddenly last year, but it takes only the sound of the band's bass drum to bring to mind happier times. If I close my eyes as I listen, I can still see his smiling face in those old 70's uniforms!  He looked sharp, and oh how he loved playing in the band!

I did graduate from the University of Alabama,  I DO love the Tide, and I'm mighty proud of that.  Maybe I do keep an inordinate amount of school apparel in my closet.  But when I when I dress in crimson, white and houndstooth on gamedays, I have to admit my reasons are two-fold.  I do it to honor  my team, but it's also to honor a lifetime of autumn Saturday afternoons spent watching and listening to games at home and walking the Capstone hand-in-hand with beloved family members who loved Bama before me! When I walk across the campus today, I can hear the faint echo of those well-loved family voices, and sometimes, I think I can almost see  traces of their smiles on the faces of fans headed into the stadium!  When I do, I have to smile.  Could be my friends are right about me...

Victory at the Europa Cafe!

Sometimes it's all in how you approach the salad line!

All I wanted was a salad, a few toppings, some dressing. Simple enough, right? Well maybe in some places, but not so much at the Europa Café in uptown Manhattan during the lunch rush!

Oh, things started smoothly enough... It was my first trip to New York City. I was there for a conference and during a break, my husband, John, and I slipped out to do some sightseeing around Times Square. At lunch, we decided on a great looking café in the middle of it all where we could grab a bite to eat while still watching the people pass by on the bustling city streets.

This particular café had an interesting little salad bar. Once you selected your bowl of greens, a “salad specialist” would add the toppings of your choice; mix it and “Voila!” a wonderful “New York Salad!” I’d never seen anything like it. It was so hot, and the bowls of crisp salad greens stacked neatly one on top of the other in the cooler looked so refreshing as we walked through the front door. I quickly selected a bowl then took my place in the “salad condiment” line where I stood long enough to review the board of toppings and dressings. By the time I reached the “salad specialist” behind the counter I knew what I wanted, and was ready to go! I was confident I could keep the line moving along at the brisk clip it had been maintaining since we walked in! “I’d like shredded carrots, bean sprouts, tomatoes, a couple of those things (I had to point . . . didn’t know what they were, but they looked good and, hey, “while in Rome” right???). I continued down the line quickly. “And, I’d like the Organic Raspberry Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing.” With that, my “Salad Specialist” dropped the tongs, put down my bowl of greens, now so beautifully garnished, and stared at me--in silence. At this point I realized that for the first 8.6 seconds of our relationship, I’d done all the talking. I looked at him then repeated, “the Raspberry Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing?” smiling my best, sweet Southern-belle smile. Not a word. It only took a second or two more until I realized the problem! Obviously from his attire and that great big towel on his head, I surmised he was not originally from the US, and here I was speaking Southern Drawl!! We had a language barrier thing going on! I’ll speak louder! “RAZZ—BEAR—REE; HUNN—KNEE; BALL—SOM—MICK...” I did not have a chance to finish. The deepening scowl on his face told me all I needed to know! The salad line, which had been moving like a well oiled machine when I came in, had now come to a screeching halt! I, the "human monkey wrench" that had shut it all down, began to sweat! I tried gesturing, pointing at the words on the giant chalk board menu behind him. He did not move. However, for the first time in our short relationship, he began to speak! Okay, actually, it was more of a bark! “NO!” What on earth...?? Was my salad not worthy of such a garrulously named dressing? Was it one reserved for only native New Yorkers who could properly pronounce "vinaigrette"? Was I dressed inappropriately? As I nervously glanced back at the salad line, which now stretched to the front door, I relented. “How about ranch dressing?” “No!” “Catalina?” “NO!” Suddenly I realized I was not dealing with a language barrier at all. I was, in fact, standing face-to-face with the first cousin, twice removed, of the world famous “Soup Nazi”! The line, growing by the moment, was soon out the door into the street. Now I was really feeling the pressure. The stares of all the others in line were so intense I thought I was going to hyperventilate, and I was sweating like I’d just run the mile, in world class time, wearing a fur parka and my 3 inch heels!! “Lemon juice, anything, please” I squeaked, barely audibly. He put something on top of the salad and handed it to me. “NEXT!!!”

By the time John paid for our meal, I was a huddled mass of sobbing humanity at a tiny corner table in the back of the restaurant. I did not people-watch as I ate after all, and to this day do not remember what dressed that salad. All I remember is thinking over and over, “I’ll never come back to the Europa Café again!”

But, something nagged at me about the experience after we returned home. Oh, I know it may have seemed on the surface like nothing more than a silly chance encounter with a tong-brandishing-dressing-bandit who was obviously having a bad life. But, as I thought back, I realized there might be more. Perhaps it was another opportunity for me to grow! The entire episode reminded me of the many times I'd started out on some project or program, full of enthusiasm and confidence, only to back down at the first sign of resistance. And the more resistance I met, the more I'd doubt--myself, and my ideas, my ideals! I'd usually end up giving in or giving up altogether! It was one of those pesky personality traits that had troubled me for years. Like a gnat buzzing around my face--highly bothersome, yet almost imperceptible—something I could never quite put my finger on. How funny that, in the end, all it took was a quick trip down a salad line to bring it clearly into focus so I could begin doing something about it!

I worked on strengthening that aspect of my personality, and as I did, I found myself more and more determined to return to the place where I'd first become aware of the problem! But, oh, heaven help whoever might be behind the salad condiment line if ever I DID make it back to the Europa Café!!

I finally did make it back there a little over a year later when we traveled to New York on business once again. You’d better believe I made certain our plans included a stop by the café during lunch one day. As I stood outside what I knew could turn into my own little “Waterloo,” I'll admit that my knees did go weak, and it took a full five minutes for me to gather the courage to go inside. But, by the time I finally walked through the front door, I was full of confidence and the courage of my convictions---I was there for salad, and I would have the dressing of my choice!! I picked up a bowl of greens and marched straight over to the condiment counter! I spoke, courteously, but firmly. "I would like shredded carrots, bean sprouts, tomatoes, a couple of those things," (again I had to point..still did not know what they were, but they still looked good). "And I WILL HAVE the Organic Raspberry Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing.” I waited....with bated breath. “Yes, right away.” I was thrilled as I watched him put it together! And let me tell you, no salad has EVER tasted better!

Do not, therefore, fling away your fearless confidence, for it carries a great and glorious compensation of reward. For you have need of steadfast patience and endurance, so that you may perform and fully accomplish the will of God, and thus receive and carry away and enjoy to the full what is promised. Hebrews 10:35-36 AMP