Revived Traditions
Boise, ID
February 19, 2022
Almost 45 years ago, my uncle took my mother, brother, and me to the first college basketball game I’d ever seen. I’m sitting now at the most recent one I’ve attended. And the same team played in both.
“You mean”, my son asked, “that…of all teams…you’ve seen two Utah State games…one at home, and one on the road?”
I initially thought that was correct. I’ve not even seen Georgia Tech play in someone else’s arena. Then I remembered I’ve seen Stanford play several times on ”The Farm”, and a couple times in Berkeley.
But who cares? Here I am, sitting with David, watching the Boise State Broncos host the Utah State Aggies.
We landed a couple hours ago, hopped in our waiting rental, and made the ten minute ride to the campus. David loves college basketball, so when we realized two good teams were playing just after we arrived, we decided to take in the game before moving on to the mountains.
We had a nice trip. After enduring long lines in the Atlanta airport, things looked up as we approached the air. We moved like molasses toward an ever-receding security checkpoint. But the tedium was relieved by a pleasant surprise. Our boarding pass on the Delta app had suddenly changed color and switched our seats. We’d been bumped up to the front of the plane.
Flying first class, as comedian Dave Smith put it, is “sitting in the least comfortable chair in your house, eating a microwaved meal, with a drink in a plastic cup…and feeling like a king.”
We were more than happy to take our thrones and accept our crowns. Aside from a couple short hops in and out of Walla Walla, David had never flown up front. So he took full advantage of the lie-flat seat on a plane configured for international trips. I’m not sure he wanted the flight to end.
Now that we’re here, we’re glad it did. Watching Utah State basketball is a tradition I inadvertently revived. A more important reclamation is more intentional.
Till a few years ago, Alexander, David, and I spent a week each year riding up and skiing down the powdered slopes of Steamboat Springs, Park City, Deer Valley, or Alta.
They were wonderful trips. Skiing, tubing, exploring new cities, seeing new states: great guys’ weeks with my teenage sons.
But after 2017 they were interrupted…the first couple years by family obligations, the last two by viral interventions.
As recently as Christmas, the thought of going again hadn’t crossed my mind. But toward the middle of last month, the First Lady wisely put it there. I’m glad she did.
We already have one son in college. Within a couple years, the other will be there too. If I were to do another ski trip while David’s still here, now’s the time.
Within a month of departure, it was no surprise that flights were either full or a fortune. But I finally found one, to a place we’d never skied. We’d been to Idaho in the summer, having spent a few days several years ago in Coeur d’Alêne.
But never in the winter. I’ve heard great things about Sun Valley, and hoped it might be a bit less crowded than the popular destinations in Colorado or Utah. Over the next several days, we’ll find out.
But that’s not all I hope to learn, or to remember.
Rita and I had dinner last night with our Uncle George and Aunt Molly. Having attended a funeral that morning, they reflected how quickly life passes, how fragile it is, and how little we may have left.
But we know we have today, so must make the most of it. Thanks to the encouragement of my wonderful wife, that’s what I’m doing.
JD
