Auld Lang Syne

 A 92 year old friend phoned today to express her gratitude for our friendship this year.  It was a strange year to attempt closeness while social distancing.  At a time that loving people meant staying away from them, maintaining connection was challenging.  To express love without hugging was frustrating for many people.  Our heads understood the health risks but our hearts longed for the ability to greet and embrace each other. 

We have learned to never take these simple expressions for granted.  Eye contact.  Hugs.  Travel.  Visits.  Hopefully soon we can once again welcome loved ones in to our home.  We can attend the theatre and sports events.  We can return to our favorite restaurants.  We can vacation and discover new places.  

Let’s not forget to continue making an effort to stay connected.  Phone calls matter. Visits matter even if you are masked and chatting from a safe distance. 

We lost so many dear friends this year. How we long for just one more conversation with them.  One more hug.  

Our friends and support systems kept us going when we were at our lowest during this pandemic.  It isn’t over  but we have learned where to turn for humor, strength, compassion, faith and empathy. We learned who we could be quarantined with and survive.  We learned more about sacrifice.  

We have witnessed despair.  We have seen enormous loss.  We have also seen the magical ability of the human spirit. We saw health care workers and essential workers give so much.  We heard folks cheer and bang pots and pans to celebrate them.  We have mourned every loss.  We have celebrated every patient who made it through.  

Our children taught us resilience.  Our elderly once again exhibited unimaginable fortitude.  Each and every time we were down, love lifted us back up.

The lyrics to Auld Lang Syne ring true this year.  It is time to say goodbye to 2020.  So let’s sing the song even if we only partially understand the words.  

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

Chorus:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup!
and surely I'll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Chorus

We two have run about the hills,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered manya weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

Chorus

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

Chorus

And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Chorus

Don’t Let The Parade Pass You By

 If you asked her what she did over the weekend, you should prepare for a lengthy list of accomplishments including both productivity and fun. It definitely would include an act of kindness for someone else. She was indeed a light in this often dark land. To some she was their compass. To others she was their North Star.  To some she was simply home. She was a sounding board and confidante. She was Nancy. 

An invitation to our home for dinner would result in her arriving with a bounty of gifts from her garden or freshly baked goods from her kitchen.  Empty-handed she was not.  Even a spontaneous last- minute dinner invitation would result in her saying she would arrive in ten minutes. But she would arrive in nine apologizing for being “ late”. She would have showered and be bearing home-made brownies hot out of her oven and an enormous colorful tossed salad.  We never could figure out the algorithm making that possible. We once considered she might be an extraterrestrial.  

Everything about Nancy was authentic. And extraordinary. 

If her faith was a force, then, the force is strong with this one. And her wish would be : May the force be with you. In times of strife: Keep the faith. She always did. 

She valiantly fought cancer. There was no surrender. She was a formidable opponent.  Her fight was resilient and tenacious.  But cancer is not the story of her life. 

Her love of her family was immeasurable. Her “ kids”. She loved them to the moon and back and then lapped it another million times over. She saw in them everything that was good and right about the world. Multiply that again hundred-fold with the grands. Her kids grew up with a hands on/ arms wide open mom making gingerbread houses and crawfish costumes. Their guardian angel has her wings. Her siblings and the mighty Coffey clan : start with the parades and polkas and end with the love. They all love to gather. To be together. 

About the parades... How many people do you know who casually and repeatedly referenced being in parades ?  The Rockettes.  Macy’s balloons.  Ferris Bueller. College Marching Bands. Nancy. 

Movies. Board Games. Concerts. Birthday cookie cakes. Long talks. Laughs. Cards. Tomato Pie. Margaritas. Mojitos.  Scotch. Fish Salads. Pizzas. Lunches. Dinners. Puzzles. Christmas Lights. Photos. Moments.  Precious priceless moments.  Pudge. Merritt. 

Nancy had a method of delivering bad or stunning news in a mumbled blur followed by a rapid succession of changing the subject.  We often thought perhaps we misheard or we had suffered some sort of neuro episode. She drove in the same way she lived, multitasking and accomplishing many things at once including alarming her passengers. 

She rafted, fished, gardened, cooked, painted, sewed, baked and ran marathons. She was ultra organized and could plan anything. She loved to pounce a revealing board game on you. She was a mixologist and loved to travel. 

If she was eating dinner with us, then she was walking with friends, going to a movie with others, meeting a couple for coffee and possibly having a cocktail with others beforehand.  There was never a wasted moment. Not a minute.  Not a second. 

She loved to dance. It is a metaphor for her life. She was out there engaging with others. Laughing  Lit up with a smile.  She was never a bench warmer. She was always in the game.  It wasn’t a spectator sport.  Nancy loved music.  John Prine.  Emmylou Harris. Lee Bains.  There is a long list. 

She returned to teaching nursing at a challenging time and predictably changed many lives including students and colleagues.  Her work ethic was stellar. Her patience was classic Nancy. ( She did tell some funny stories.)   Nancy was a teacher in every sense of the word.  She, of course, was the advisor to the student association because...you know, she didn’t have enough to do.  And her contributions were in fact, award-winning. 

Nancy embraced life with the zest of anyone committed to saying yes to any possibility in the form of a trip, challenge, adventure or new chapter.  Her humor. Her selflessness. Her curiosity. Her capacity to give  of herself.  Her love of life.  Her love for others. Her courage.  Her humility.  This was Nancy. 

There are so many memories and stories.  Some poignant.  Some hysterical.  Those are for another day.  

She was a rock star.  She was a super hero. Nancy could stare down a grizzly and achieve world peace and still refuse to call it a day.  But it isn’t about the quantity of what she packed in to an hour...a day...a week...a month.....a life.   Her example is how she lived.  Her lesson is that she lived with a force and joy  that was never-ending.  Be like Nancy Coffey Mitchell.  

Don’t let the parade pass you by. 

#GirlDad

My dad was a #girldad and he rocked it. He had three daughters with a variety of interests and talents and he supported them all. Unconditional love. One of my favorite series of memories is sneaking out of bed on school nights to watch late Monday Night Football games with him.  He loved it. I loved it more.

He loved football, fishing, ping pong, tennis, poker, solitaire, rook, pinochle, yard work, the beach and all things BAMA.  He was thrilled if we participated in or showed interest in any of those things . But he showed interest in anything that brought US joy.  He endured dance recitals, pageants, student-faculty basketball games, sleep-overs, birthday parties and more with patience and a smile on his face.

My dad was affectionate and a good listener. He was present. He loved to laugh.  He always told us how good we looked and expressed his pride in our accomplishments.  When I scratched the car up and locked myself in the bathroom, he was on the other side laughing.  It’s just a car, honey.  It’s just a car.

When he and my uncles kicked the tires when inspecting a relative’s new car, his daughters didn’t necessarily “ get it” but we were happy he was happy.  When we gave him gifts, he truly loved them whether they were home-made or priceless.  He loved our pets and when they perished, he buried them.

He often surprised us.  He loved Andre Agassi, long hair and all. ( This was many years ago when Andre had hair.)   He respected his talents and his individuality.  I bought him an Andre t-shirt and he wore it proudly.  He would willingly wear anything we gave him, whether we made it in home-economics class or not.  He acted surprised when opening yet another necktie or  poorly camouflaged tennis racket.

My dad was sensitive to our needs and the needs of others.  He actively participated in civic groups and taught us responsibility and caring.  He was empathetic and sincere. He was the real deal. He was authentic.

The guy bought more dolls and stuffed animals than elves produced at the North Pole.  He bought medicinal ice cream cones and wiped tears with his handkerchief.  We cried on his shoulders and bled on his shoulders when we experienced real scrapes.  We sat in his lap.

My dad took us fishing and shared that holy place with us.  He baited our hooks and de-boned our fish when he fried them later.  He played football and basketball with us.  He slaughtered us in ping-pong but managed to do it in a gentle way.

He took us ( and my mom) to  Disney World, Silver Springs, Panama City Beach, Daytona Beach, Cypress Gardens, Six Gun Territory and more in Florida for family vacations.  He jumped waves and bought floats, beach balls and snow cones.

My dad was fearless.  He handled all things that go bump in the night.  He killed spiders. Big spiders. Enormous spiders.

He taught us to be independent and self-reliant. He showed us integrity and work ethic. He taught us the spirit of competition. He didn’t believe in discrimination of any kind. My dad was a #girldad .

Waves

Holding my great-niece in the waters of the beautiful Gulf of Mexico was relaxing and restorative. We were having fun chatting, laughing and riding the waves. At times we had to really jump to anticipate the arrival of the waves in perfect harmony. We were enjoying an annual tradition heading to the beach to the white sands and emerald waters.

As the waves increased in size and force, seven year old Opal said : “There may be more waves coming and we don’t know when they will get to us but it’s okay. We can handle it.” She was grinning when she announced that fact. She was calm and yet excited in a giddy way. She was looking over my shoulder toward the rest of the ocean. She did not see anything we could not outwit or thwart. But the waves were not arriving in a predictable pattern. No worries. We were an able team ready to conquer whatever came our way. She was neither frightened nor concerned. She looked me square in the eyes and said “ we’ve got this.”  Her wisdom was profound and pure.

I had imagined myself to be her protector holding her and keeping her head above water. I thought I was secretly keeping her safe from all sea creatures real and imagined. And I was protecting her as evidenced by the grip she had on my neck.  But in that moment she was reminding me of our strength together and our ability to ride out any size wave whether unexpected or not. We laughed and continued to conquer the ripples and swells.

In the past few months I have heard and read priests, authors, friends, poets, physicians , counselors, survivors and therapists refer to the arrival of grief in waves.  My mother died in March and Opal’s brilliance was revealed to me a few months later. ( She had already revealed her brilliance in countless other ways but the wave analogy landed during this trip.)  Her words were comforting in a way she could not have imagined.  Grief comes in tremendous waves at expected times and other times knocking you off your feet.  Her innocent genuine assurance that we can handle it had perfect timing. 

Simply saying, writing or thinking that my mother died hurts in ways beyond description. Grief can be a tsunami of emotion and pain or a single tear trickling down my face. One day it’s the wave that slaps you in the face and other days you get the full effect knocking you down and sending saltwater in to your eyes, up your nose and through your throat. Grief can be subtle or obvious. The same is true for love. The constant unconditional love of a great-niece always bringing a smile to your face and a reminder that we can handle whatever waves come our way. It is life-affirming. It is grounding. It is priceless.

Watching Opal interact with seagulls on that same trip solidified her Jedi-status with me. They swooped down toward her outstretched hand and she released giggly screams but she stood her ground. She was fearless. With each successful exchange , girl-to-gull, she grinned in delight. When she grew tired of that activity, she summoned me to join her in the sea.  We went out hand-in-hand to jump the waves yet again.

Back to Back World Champs, USWNT

The World Cup Champions  USWNT consists of the best athletes and possibly greatest soccer coach of all time. Coach Jill Ellis is a rock star. Several team members became icons. As a team they played with outstanding talent and fierce determination also exhibited in their fight for equal pay. And in 2019, they gave us something to cheer about.

Just when you thought no one and no team could give our nation the same grit and amazing athleticism of Abby Wambach, Brandi Chastain, Mia Hamm, Michelle Akers and other players from previous  United States soccer championship teams...  here come these ladies. Some you have seen before. Proven performers. Some less known. But all now forming an Ellis-coached precisely placed team. Each with a role. All with a vision.  These warriors.  These champions.

Megan Rapinoe and Alex Morgan each had 6 goals and 3 assists.  Rapinoe had 16 corner kicks. Both women are exceptional athletes. Rapinoe was the most valuable player and was limited to play in 5 of 7 games due to injury. She was also awarded the Golden Ball as the best player in the tournament.  She is an extraordinary player. Tobin Heath was a beast. Unfreakingbelievable footwork. Where’s the ball ? The opponent had it. Now Tobin has it.  Bravo. All three of these players put on a show. Tobin’s goals had a way of being nullified.  She scored and then the officials decided there was an infraction by another player. Hmm. Really?

When you think of 2019, remember the brilliance this team displayed. They all put on a show. We had front row seats watching at home on our televisions. Jill Ellis, calm and calculating, subbing players with precise timing and perfect instructions. Her team was fit, strong, smart, conditioned and ready. They dominated.

Alyssa Naeher denied goals over and over. Carli Lloyd , Julie Ertz and Kelley O’Hara were unstoppable. Christen Press, Becky Sauerbrunn, Samantha Méwis, Crystal Dunn and AbbyDahlkemper were incredible. Rose Lavelle had 3 goals, as did Lloyd.  Lindsey Horan and Mewis had 2 goals. Mallory Pugh and Press had one goal each. Mewis had three assists.  O’ Hara, Horan and Davidson had two assists each. Heath, Press, Dunn and Pugh had one assist each. Again, Heath was robbed there. They were a machine.

Ashlyn Harris, Adrianna France, Ali Krueger, Emily Sonnet, Tierra Davidson, Morgan Brian, Allie Long and Jessica McDonald are all integral parts of this machine. They were such a cohesive unit of skill both mental and physical. Each individual player brought a particular strength that made the collective unit unbeatable. And they were a joy to watch.

Naeher played 630 minutes. Dahlkemper played 622 minutes. Dunn and Sauerbrunn played 540 minutes each. Heath played 494, O’ Hara 492 and Morgan 490. Ertz played 474, Mewis 467, Rapinoe 428 and Lavelle 427.

Every second of those minutes were phenomenal soccer. The artistry. The power. The strength. The resilience. The tenacity.  The joy when a teammate executed a moment of soccer perfection. The laughs when some lucky thing happened on the field. The gentle jabbing of younger players unsure of how to celebrate.

June 11/2019 the United States National Women’s Team beat Thailand 13-0.  June 16/2019 the USWNT beat Chile 3-0.  June 20/2019 the United States National Women’s Team beat Sweden 2-0.  Then the knockout round : June 24/2019 the USWNT beat Spain 2-1.  June 28/2019 the USWNT beat France 2-1.  July 2/2019 the USWNT beat England 2-1.

And on the 7 th of July 2019, the USWNT became four-time World Cup Champions beating the Netherlands 2-0. History-making and record-breaking, these women became the first US team to win back-to-back World Cup titles. Goals from Rapinoe and Lavelle clinched the win with incredible play from the entire team.

The USWNT was held scoreless in the first half. It was dramatic. It was tough but they had faced obstacles before. Penalties. Injuries. Bad calls. Missed calls. Nothing was going to stop this train.

Note that in the finals both teams had female coaches. Jill Ellis for the United States and Sarina Wiegman for the Netherlands.

These coaches and players have done so much for the game of soccer. They have fueled interest in young girls and boys who might want to play. They have caught the attention of fans/ viewers and thus corporate sponsors and they continue to educate and fight for equal pay.  They have increased attendance at such a pace that their venues for matches continue to increase in size. Their matches are watched on television by much larger numbers of viewers.

Jill Ellis left France with her World Cup Champion team and continued to coach until her retirement in October of 2019. The English born Ellis coached the USWNT for 5 years winning two FIFA World Cups. Her steady approach outwitting her opponents and utilizing her players will be missed.  She was the mastermind.

There were so many moments with this team. The hugs. The slides. The blood. The embraces. The goals. The assists. The jaw-dropping unbelievable kicks. The celebrations. The young fans with signs of support — both girls and boys. The national pride. The chants of  USA ! The flags waving. The balls in the net. The matches can be watched repeatedly with no less excitement or thrill. They were fun to watch. They gave us something to cheer about . Remember them when you reflect on 2019.

Glory, Glory To Ole Georgia

I wanted Georgia to win the national championship football game last night. I wanted it with all my heart. The last time the University of Georgia football team won the national title was the semester I graduated from UGA in December of 1980. The game was technically in January of 1981 but the incredible inimitable season was 1980. I love the UGA and UGA football. 

Both of my parents were born and raised in Alabama. My father went to the University of Alabama. I was raised on BAMA football and the Bear Bryant Show.  My 94 year old mother adores the Tide and all things houndstooth related. I am a lifelong Bama fan.  More than fan. It’s in my blood. It’s part of my heritage. I send out a game day text each football Saturday saying: Go Dogs ! Roll Tide ! The game last night was full of many emotions. But truthfully I was totally cheering for my Dawgs last night. It’s been too long. I felt it was our time. 

The old ABC Wide World of Sports teaser described the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. They were talking about football. They were talking about college football. They were talking about the SEC. 

It’s been a tough year. Sports victories are cathartic. I needed a win. 

Of course the team and coaches and support staffs needed a win too. I remember. Those are the folks who took us through this fantastic season. The dramatic wins. The amazing comebacks. The selfless play. The injuries. The sacrifices. The focus. The dedication. The sportsmanship. The humble interviews. 

It would be nice to have a villain. A despised opponent. An unworthy team. But that wasn’t the case. It was BAMA. 

Back to 1980 and 1981.  I remember it like it was yesterday. The joy. The pride. The fun. The celebrations. Just like this year.

Many times this year the Dogs, my Dogs,  made me scream with happiness. They pulled me up. They hunkered down. The smiles. The laughs. The shouts. The hugs. Thanks to my Dogs. 

Life is one big overtime game. It isn’t always fair. It hurts. It’s a rollercoaster on a mountain in a tornado. And it’s tailgating and high fives and cheering and singing the UGA fight song. It’s watching the game with dear friends cheering for different teams. 

Back to last night. I needed a win. I needed to feel that way again.  I woke up this morning and thought about this season of Georgia football and said Go Dogs ! I said it out loud. I said it with enormous love and pride. The Dawgs gave me wins all freaking year. They are my team. To the seniors and the entire roster, I say bravo. You are my Champions. And that’s a win for me. 

Arnie's Army

It was a tough scene at the ceremonial first tee on Thursday. Jack and Gary wept. Billy Payne appeared visibly shaken. The moment was marked. The green jacket on the empty chair. A Masters without Arnie.
The overwhelming angst that was the absence of Arnold Palmer was eased by the Arnie's Army buttons distributed on Thursday. There was a certain dread to not seeing him there. But he was there. We felt him throughout the week. Those buttons represented our unspoken love, admiration, loyalty and grief. The buttons made us smile. We wore them as proudly as green jackets. We drank Ketel One and Arnold Palmers in tribute. And we acknowledged that Arnold Palmer will always be a part of The Masters Golf Tournament.

But the win belonged to Sergio Garcia. The best golfer to never win a major erased that unwanted title. Dustin Johnson had a freak accident and had to withdraw. Charley Hoffman made a run. Jordan Spieth made a run. Rickie Fowler made a run. Justin Rose made a run and wound up in a playoff with Sergio. But the Spaniard prevailed. Sergio became the first Spaniard to win the Masters since the 1999 green jacket was awarded to Jose Maria Olazabal. And he won on the birthday of beloved golfer Seve Ballesteros , six years after the Spanish golfer's death. Seve won the Masters in 1980 and 1983.

The 37 year old , Garcia, finally won a major tournament after 73 previous attempts. He first debuted at the Masters in 1999 as an amateur. Born in Castellon, Spain, he resides in Crans-Montana, Switzerland and he has added a coveted green jacket to his wardrobe. The playoff was a dramatic ending to a dramatic week. 

An early freeze prevented the usual display of thousands of brilliant azaleas on the grounds but no one seemed to miss the flowers. The traditional pimento cheese sandwiches were seen in abundance. No freeze can stop those tasty treasures. The winds whipped through the flags on the main scoreboard. The greens were impeccable. The bunkers were as always, legendary. 

New friends were made in whispered conversations in the mass of folded green chairs. Visitors from many different countries asked questions of fellow patrons and compared favorite golfers. The Masters is a sort of United Nations of sports--certainly of golf. 

The staff of paid employees and volunteers are energetic and friendly throughout the long days of the tournament. This is true from the front gate,security, restroom attendants, concessions staff , merchandise staff and volunteeers at the ropes and each golf hole. And they too wore Arnie's Army buttons. We were united in both our grief and solidarity. 

The Augusta National Golf Club is one of those places that live up to all the hype. It is gorgeous. And The Masters Golf Tournament is understandably a bucket list ticket for many people. You have experienced a little bit of Heaven after visiting. Not just Amen Corner. There were angels among us. 

Bobby Jones. Payne Stewart. Ben Hogan. Byron Nelson. Sam Snead. Bruce Edwards. Arnold Palmer. 

There was a wind advisory Thursday with gusts up to 40mph for the opening day of the 81st Masters Golf Tournament. Several times during the day sandwich wrappers and caps flew around the course. Late in the afternoon, you could sense a light calming breeze. It seemed like a weightless fly-over. It felt like Arnie.

Sergio got the jacket. But the week belonged to Arnie.