This past weekend I was afforded the luxury of being able to spend a solitary weekend with my father in Kansas City, Missouri. I lived in K.C. (Overland Park to be exact) for about 5 of my formative years (7th grade through 11th grade). One of our Sunday traditions was for dad and I to go to K.C. Chiefs games. My dad and I are not always a lot alike, but I as I grow older (and throw off my youthful individualism for "mature" appreciation) I have noticed more similarities -- and one way we bond is through sports.
A few years ago dad and I went to New Orleans for the Final Four (to see the Jayhawks lose to Syracuse in a nailbiting finale). We drove all night, talked, drank, ate and I had one of the more rememberable and happy times of my life. As I grow up my perspectives on many things have shifted and expanded -- I realize my own mortality, I see the worth of life, I feel my body give out and age, my hair slowly grays and I know I will die; we all will -- though I'm not able to feel anything but trepidation about that fact (not knowing about something for certain makes me uneasy).
Knowing that my parents won't live forever makes me appreciate the time I have with them even more. As a child my parents were my providers, protectors, guides and comforters. Now they are my mentors, my confidants, my friends and they will not be here forever. Knowing this made me want to do all I could to enjoy their company while I could. So, I thought -- why not accentuate our similarities and pick a game, a team and make a trip together for a weekend once a year. It isn't about the game or the teams as much as its about the times inbetween. And this past weekend I cherished that time.