Tailgating, football, and pride

What better way to spend an autumn day than a little tailgatin', a little drinking, some college girl watching, and seeing the Fighting Irish play Purdue. The day was beautiful as was the evening and the Irish kicked some serious ass which made the boy quite happy. The college girls made him happy too. The friend of mine who made this possible for young Edge and I used to work for me, was the best employee I've ever had and I rewarded him thusly and we have remained friends. He and his friends are rabid, fanatic Purdue fans having attended the University 20 years or so ago. They tailgate in the same spot every home game and they have it down to an art form. Everything you could ever want to eat and drink, satellite TV, a crawling scoreboard to keep track of other games, Fooseball, you name it, they got it going on.

One of the former dorm roommates has an inoperable brain tumor and is very ill. The treatments he is receiving have left him weak and pale and I watched him sitting in his chair, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but still, you could tell his experience was different than everyone elses. You could almost see his thoughts, I won't be here for any of this next year, I see all this exhuberant youth and I won't even see middle age. His mouth was set, expressionless, he was void of energy, sucked from him by radiation and chemo. The boy caught me aside and said, he's sick isn't he Dad? I told him, very sick, sad isn't it? His name is Dan. People didn't know how to act around him. It's hard to stare at death.

Later, he dozed in his chair and leaned too far one way. It tipped and over he went. He hit the ground hard and I watched the boy race to him, the first one there by far as I think he had been watching him throughout the day, seeing something that his young mind was having difficulty comprehending. My son is mansized now and he took him in his arms and righted him, still in his tipped chair. He helped brush the grass from his clothes, the silence was broken and several of Dan's friends were upon him making sure he was ok. He was embarrassed of course. He had his hand on the boy's arm and he thanked him. My son nodded and I knew why he had to turn and walk away. I followed him around side of the van and there were tears streaming down his face. Boy tears on a man face. I held him, a Dad hold on a boy becoming a man. Our shirts were wet, his from me, mine from him. He isn't little Edge anymore. His name is Richard and he is a fine young man.