Thursday, January 26, 2012

how cool is THIS?

You may not have any interest in a college bowl game from 75 years ago but I do! 



What's this? Oh, that's right - it's footage of 
my GRANDFATHER 
from the SCU vs. LSU Sugar Bowl of 1937. 
"Santa Clara took the lead on a 27-yard pass play from Falaschi to MANNY GOMEZ" 

click and watch this 2 minute video. 

 
So awesome.

and a couple of photos:
my grandpa is on the bottom right with his face parallel to the camera

 and here he is again on the bottom left - dark and handsome (he was Mexican)

Here's the article by Chuck Hildebrand:

On New Year’s Day 1937, a team from a little Jesuit school in the Santa Clara Valley stunned the sports world with an upset that won them the Sugar Bowl. And put their home on the map.
The 47 Santa Clara football players and their entourage weren’t sure what was in store at the other end of the line when their Southern Pacific Bronco Special pulled out of the Santa Clara train station the day after Christmas 1936. But they knew who they were and whence they had come: through a season that, by the end of November, was 7-0 and had them ranked fifth in the Associated Press college football poll, introduced that fall. They beat Stanford, Auburn, and rival St. Mary’s. And on Dec. 4, they accepted a bid to play No. 2-ranked Louisiana State University in the Sugar Bowl at New Orleans’ Tulane Stadium.
"There was no question we thought we could win the game ...
We were good, and we knew it."
It was virtually a home game for the Tigers; oddsmakers favored LSU 4-to-1. The LSU program had been a public plaything of Louisiana Gov. Huey Long before his assassination in 1935: He’d hired and fired coaches, involved himself in recruiting—even tried to dictate play calls. He devoted enormous state resources to strengthening the university. One result: The LSU line averaged 212 pounds—25 pounds more than Santa Clara’s.
The Broncos were virtually unknown in the football-loving East, Midwest, and South. An AP preview story on the eve of the Sugar Bowl included multiple references to the “Bronchos.” Most Santa Clara players came from first- or second-generation immigrant Bay Area families and regarded their football experiences as extensions of their working-class backgrounds. In the midst of the Depression, few of them could have considered college had it not been for their football skills. They played as if far more than the outcome of a game was at stake.
They also had Coach Buck Shaw. He drilled his men in “moving your feet, keeping your balance, things like that,” said center Phil Dougherty ’37.
They were smaller but faster.
“There was no question we thought we could win the game,” teammate Jesse Coffer ’37 said. “We were good, and we knew it.”

Game on

The teams took the already muddy field in a steady drizzle before a capacity crowd of 42,000 at Tulane Stadium. One surprise for the Broncos: While Huey Long and LSU football were deified in rural Louisiana, the Crescent City was still a Tulane town, and a large segment of the throng was there to jeer LSU and cheer for its opposition. Fans of sister Jesuit school Loyola University of New Orleans were on Santa Clara’s side, too.
At a time before unlimited substitution was allowed, Shaw predicated playing time mainly on defensive skills at three of the four backfield positions. But he had one generalist, Nello Falaschi ’37, who never left the field, and was both the face and the personality of the 1936 Broncos.
Falaschi returned the opening kickoff to the Bronco 41. Teams exchanged punts. A few minutes later, fullback Chuck Pavelko ’37 took a snap from center, feinted left, shook an LSU tackle, and ran 13 yards to the LSU 31. Two plays later, with the ball still on the 31, Pavelko took a snap, pretended to burrow into the line, raised up and flipped a lateral to Falaschi, who then hit wide-open halfback Manny Gomez ’37 with a touchdown pass that gave Santa Clara a 7-0 lead.
Relive the game: Watch the Broncos in the
1937 Sugar Bowl.
 
Meet the team: See historic photographs.
Not much later, back in possession on the LSU 30, Santa Clara went for broke on fourth-and-12: Bruno Pellegrini ’37 connected with end Norm Finney ’37, who was alone in the end zone. The Broncos were up 14-0. The crowd went wild. LSU landed one touchdown pass just before halftime to narrow LSU’s deficit to 14-7. With his team up, Shaw was concerned about his players being slowed by uniforms and boots now caked in mud. So he put in a call to Loyola.
“When we got to the dressing room,” Al Wolff ’38 recalled, “there were dozens of shoes sent over by Loyola, just scattered around the floor. The coaches said, ‘Find a pair that fits and put ’em on. Then we changed into our practice uniforms for the second half, and we were ready to play again.”
The defense took over in the second half. LSU managed only 44 rushing yards in the game, and went 25 game minutes without registering a first down during one stretch. A 35-yard interception return by Gomez gave Santa Clara the ball at the LSU 15 midway through the third quarter, and on first and goal from the 4, end Frank “Mississippi” Smith ’37 took a handoff on an end-around and scored to give Santa Clara a 21-7 lead. LSU scored on the second play of the fourth quarter but never seriously threatened to score again. The final score was 21-14.
The ride home was a festive one indeed—so much so that, celebrating along the way, a few of the players even spent a night in jail in Juárez.*
Seventy-five years later, there are only a few of the ’37 Sugar Bowl Broncos left. Chuck Pavelko, now 96, lives in Del Mar. Al Wolff, now 94, lives in Santa Barbara. Wolff sums up that era so: “Football put Santa Clara University on the map.”



Friday, January 20, 2012

Opening night! and "Don't Carpe Diem"

Yay, I'm back on the boards!
I have 2 short scenes in a production of Marvin's Room and I'm really excited to play for a sold out audience tonight.  The theater is small but it's the perfect space for this intimate, deep and lovely show about life, family, love and death.  Plus, my two characters seem to be written for comic relief, which suits me perfectly right now.
It's been a pretty light rehearsal process for me, which was key for me to be able to do it at all.  It's taken me out of the dinner-bath-books-bedtime routine a few nights a week for the past month, which has been a welcome break.  Andrew does just fine with the girls and I know it's good for us to share responsibilities and support one another's extra-curricular activities.  It's vital, actually.
Plus, the girls know that I'm at rehearsal, doing what I love.  That's huge, because I would like to get acting back into my bones consistently and forever, and this allows my daughters to start learning more about their mom as a person. (what a concept!) Sadie is excited to come visit the theater, even though she can't see the performance. 

In other news, this article was shared with me on Facebook and I could not possibly agree with it more.  It hits the nail on the head so completely, it's staggering.  I love it.  It's long, so I highlighted my favorite parts.

Glennon Melton
blogger, Momastery
Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."
Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.
I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.
And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.
Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.
There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"
I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.

Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.


Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.
Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.
Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.
Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.
These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.
If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.
Good enough for me.