MIZMARILYN'S MISSIVES

MIZMARILYN'S MISSIVES... THE MANIACAL MUSINGS ON THE MEANDERINGS, MISADVENTURES, AND MISHAPS OF A MISGUIDED MISCREANT...

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Football, Football, yes we are for football...



On the right, my sweet daddy, and on the left, Cliff Brice, a dearest family friend (and marriage relative) who died last year and is missed a great deal... watching football... this may have been taken the first year we were in our new home, 1956, as there doesn't seem to be much in the way of furniture...

Well, clearly keeping up with my blogging was not one of my NYR's (as they are now called). This is always such a chaotic time of year. It all has to do with NOT putting 2005 on any check I write. That's it. That's what causes all the tension, I just know it!

My father loved to watch football, and I learned to love it sitting at his knee. That and boxing, but that's another story for another time. I do not watch football as much without my father. I am aware of it, but I used to be keenly interested. Somethings are not better alone... This is a picture I love of my father and Cliff watching football. Notice that each has their own BOTTLE of booze... not just a drink, but the bottle. I can only assume that the plan was to not have to move from the TV at ANY time for ANY thing. Good plan. Must have been the UCLA/USC football game, although my parents often went to that game. My father, because of his back, found going to events such as a football game difficult... but that was all forgotten when it was UCLA/USC.

The Brices were family AND related. Cliff died last year, more than 20 years after my father left, and was always a sort of link to my father. He looked more like my father as he aged, even though it was his wife who was related. I see his son, my cousin, on occasion. He works close to me, and the last time I was in his office I saw him from the back and was taken back by how much his stance was like my father's. Family. Never ceases to amaze me...

I was born during the UCLA/ USC football game, or so I'm told. Either that, or the false alarm the week before interrupted the game... I don't know if my father ever truly forgave me...

but maybe that's why I loved sitting at his knee and watching with him...

without the booze, of course...

2 Comments:

At 7:53 PM, Blogger auBoy said...

i don't care what you write about, i just like to read it.

 
At 5:29 AM, Blogger theshriek said...

I have fond memories of watching pro football with my Dad when I was young too. One time my Mom said I got tired of watching football and stood holding a blanket in front of the TV to get my Dad's attention -)

 

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