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Girls – Fille Numéro Trois: Amanda Marie

The baby is always the baby. Amanda is my/our Baby daughter.

I remember that last pregnancy in 1991. I wondered, because we never found out, would this one be a boy? At that time, I really did not care and when Amanda was born I could not have been more happy. As January birthed a new year we would birth our final child, which would complete the family known as Underwood.

For me, this would be the end of the line. There would be no one to carry my name…now, to some that might be a big deal, and I have had a few days of wondering about that myself, but this child…WOW. She overcame all of that with her presence. She truly was the crown of our family.

We wondered if she might be born on my Mother’s birthday, January 16, but she arrived a day later, January 17. I asked and was granted the joy of attaching my Mother’s name (or a transliteration of it) to her. She would be Amanda Marie, thus preserving the chain of A’s (Andrea, Alexis, Amanda) and a family connection. My mother’s name is Maire.

Amanda was doted on by her sisters, parents and grandparents. She was well taken care of.

On her first family trip she visited NYC in the summer of 83. Two years later we were in Canada on another family vacation when, in Toronto, she got a tummy ache and lost her cookies as we were driving through China town. Forevermore that seat in that van would be known as ‘the throw-up seat’ and no one wanted to sit in it, despite its’ thorough cleaning.

Amanda is the true melting pot of our family… she is a little bit of everybody, not just her parents. She has Andrea and Alexis in her as well. I would say mostly Andrea. She is more Andrea than her mom or her dad. That is not entirely a compliment (sorry, Andrea.) Amanda is LOUD. Amanda is DEMONSTRATIVE. Amanda EMOTES. Amanda is like a ride at Six Flags – up, down, in, out, inverted, extroverted, exciting, scary, jerky, uneven and totally a girl!

No one quite knows if Amanda’s often exposed emotional responses are truly controlled or uncontrolled.  She seems to be able to cry almost on cue.  Once, when she was fourteen, I asked her “Amanda, why are you so emotional and cry over seemingly irrelevant issues?”  to which she retorted in very measured and calculated surety, “Dad, I am fourteen.  This is what teenage girls do!”  I don’t ask anymore.

Amanda has natural rhythm, artistry and charisma.  She, like me, does not exploit her gifts.  She, like me, does enough to get by.  She, like me, wants to be the center of attention.  She, like me, feels her feelings. At sixteen (and two-thirds) there is no clear direction, purpose, sense of being.  Amanda lives for now, not tomorrow.  I know that can change in a moment. I will never forget my senior year and the week after graduation.  The events of a short time changed my life.  April to June that year sealed my destiny.  I believe Amanda will follow the same course.  She may follow her mom into teaching or she may adopt Andrea’s penchant for caring for humanity on a global basis.  Like me, I think she will be an international more than a national.  She already wants to go to Africa for a couple of months to study and interact.

Although the youngest, she is the tallest, loudest, most demonstrative and her tears flow more than my own.  My Baby, Amanda.  She is it and no one can ever, ever, ever take her place.

Girls..Numero Dos: Alexis Nicole

My children, all of them, are special.  Alexis is my most misunderstood daughter.  If you took a picture of me at 15 and Alexis at 15, cut everything away but the eyes, brow line and nose line, we would be twins.  It is scary how much of my family characteristics she has, but back up and she doesn’t look like me… She is pretty, blonde (or used to be before she started experimenting with hair color,) makes great grades without effort, and can sing (if only she would.)

Alexis is unique, with a dry, cutting humor…deadpan demeanor…a facade of not caring about anything in the world – especially her dad.

Alexis and I have had some pretty great moments.  Once, we spent an entire day alone in London exploring the city, touring and seeing the sites.  We went to Westminster Cathedral, St Paul’s, The Tower of London, Harrod’s and other places to see and be seen.  The rest of the family had gone home early, but we stayed behind because Lex had lost a day to sickness and we did not want her to miss anything.

On our way home, she got to experience something that I had experienced twenty years earlier, she got to meet John Glenn.   For my generation, John Glenn was an icon.  He was THE astronaut. He was the first man to orbit the earth.  In Alexis’ generation, he was the oldest astronaut ever, circling the globe again in the Space Shuttle at age 77.  He had just returned from this mission when we ran into him in Washington, DC. I had met him in Washington when I was 17 and spent almost an hour in his office with him during an interview for television and now Alexis was meeting him after his momentous trip into space for the second time.

Alexis and I had it good.  She was kind of a buddy and would go with me often. She seemed to have no fear and was incredibly funny.

Then something happened to Alexis and I.  She really wanted to go camping, so we took a father-daughter trip to Unicoi State Park outside of Helen, Georgia.  That evening we went to dinner at Unicoi Lodge and ate at the buffet.  There was trout on the buffet and I wanted Alexis to try it. Her answer? No!  It was emphatic.

My authority was challenged.  Alexis was already kind of defiant and would not apologize or have any part in not being the strongest will in any match of wits and wills.  I pushed and she stonewalled.  She stonewalled and I pushed. That is one of the most regretful days of my life.  Alexis ceased to be my buddy on that trip.  We had a stand off and I lost.  Oh, I was in charge and I was dad, but I lost.  As I type this, I am experiencing the emotion of that loss and tears fill my eyes.  I lost something huge that day.  I can only wish to have it back.

It has been about eight years since that trip.  We have never gone camping since.  We have never done anything, one-on-one, since.  She has never told me she loved me without cajoling, since.  She has never just bear hugged me since, or kissed my cheek or held my hand.  She is still my daughter and I am so very proud of her.  Still, I miss my old Alexis.

Now, moving into adulthood, she is a young woman. She is beautiful, self-sufficient, smart, a university student, a girlfriend to a nice guy, a person who has taste and style, and she never gives her Mom or myself a worry in the world. We never wonder if Alexis is going to do anything out of bounds.  She can be trusted.  She is trustworthy.

She is still funny, still deadpan, still Alexis and she is a good daughter.

I wonder sometimes what she will become or do or contribute to the world at large.  She has so much potential and gifts that are within her.  I hope there is a human that unlocks that potential and waters her garden of goodness and ability.  I wish it could be me.

Sometime, Alexis says it is too often, I go by her workplace when she is working just to say hello.  Her sister works there, too, but with much less regularity.  I love to see them there in their gorgeous purple-and-black Taco Bell uniforms.  Alexis makes me a great veggie burrito – the best I have ever had.  I feel love in that burrito from her to me.

When I am speaking and she is there, I always wonder what she is thinking. I can speak to hundreds of people and if Alexis is there I wonder how she is hearing me, understanding me, getting me….and how she feels or thinks about what I am speaking.  I never dare to ask.  If I did ask I would be told she was not listening. I feel that is not true, but whatever.

Alexis is Alexis.  When she was born Alexis Carrington was a character on an evening soap opera and was the meanest, most conniving woman in the world.  My mother, God bless her heart, tried to dissuade me from using that name.  She felt it might always color Alexis’ world.  Well, that Alexis was cancelled, but my Alexis is not colored by anyone, anywhere.  In the words of Helen Reddy….she is woman, hear her roar!

Girls, Growth & Wedding 1: Andrea Lauren

I have been alive 17,969 days. Of those 17,969 days I have been a father for 9,665 days. That is 54% of my life. I am now more of a father than a person. I absolutely love being a father. I love my daughters.

I see the individuality of each one of my girls and, at the same time, I see the carry-overs of DNA, family traits, learned behaviors and peculiarities of their parents, Pam and me.

My girls are Andrea Lauren, Alexis Nicole and Amanda Marie. Andrea is twenty-six, Alexis is 18 and Amanda is 16. I have three and a half years left of being the father of a teenager. When the teenage era finally comes to an end in this family I will have been the father of a teenager from 1995 until 2012. That is seventeen years…SEVENTEEN YEARS. Can a man survive that? What does it do to a man? Not only will I have been the father of a teenager for SEVENTEEN years, but the the father of at least one, and sometimes, TWO TEENAGE GIRLS.

I love it (most of the time) and adore my girls.

But now, I come to a change in my life. On November 1, at seven in the evening, the music will begin, the candles will be lit and I will be standing to the right of my oldest daughter as the doors to the church open and I walk down the aisle to give her away to a young man who will become my son-in-law. She will, within twenty minutes, cease to be Andrea Lauren Underwood and become Mrs. D Andrew McMahon. Who made the decision to make girls change their name? They do not do that in Latin America. I think we should learn from others and let her remain an Underwood, or better yet, let him decide if he might want to take her name. What do you think? Okay…I know. Leave me alone about it.

My Andrea will become somebody else’s Andrea in sixteen days. I am excited, scared, tickled, frightened and ready. I am glad, happy and ecstatic to see her heart filled with love and life, plans and purpose, eternity and energy. When I give her away, (and this is our secret here in this blogosphere,) I am secretly going to hold on to some of her. There is no way I am giving it all. She will always be MY daughter with (some of) my quirks, my impatience, my emotion, my sarcasm, my care for others, my gifts of communication, my internationalization, my diversity. She is mine by the will of God (because she would never have chosen me as a father.) I have hurt her, disappointed her, left her aghast, confused her, spanked her, yelled at her, lied to her, been angry at her, and l have loved her in it all.

As I ponder fatherhood and the future, I think of what I have missed doing, saying, being. I cannot go back and do it over, it is done. But, I can pay it forward. I want my daughter to be a better parent, model, guide and mentor that I was or am. I have complete confidence in that potential.

I am proud. I am dad. Nothing will ever change that.

When she was a younger teenager, Bob Carlisle wrote and sang a song that brought tears to my eyes. Andrea hated the song because every time we heard it I would cry. I cry when my heart is touched. I have shed hundreds of tears just typing this blog.

The last verse to that song is about to be realized in my life. I give the entire song to you, though, because I am writing about all of my daughters today….and I will walk this path twice again. It hurts, but it hurts good. You know that kind of pain…where you feel it and you know that it is producing something wonderful – wholeness.

Here are the lyrics…. Andrea, if you read this, don’t get mad at me.

here’s two things I know for sure
She was sent here from heaven, and she’s Daddy’s little girl.
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night
She talks to Jesus and I close my eyes
And I thank God for all of the joy in my life, oh but most of all…

For butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair
Walk beside the pony Daddy, it’s my first ride
I know the cake looks funny Daddy, but I sure tried
Oh with all that I’ve done wrong, I must of done something right
To deserve a hug every morning, and butterfly kisses at night.

Sweet sixteen today
She’s looking like her Mama, a little more everyday.
One part woman, the other part girl
To perfume and makeup, from ribbons and curls.
Trying her wings out in a great big world, but I remember…

Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair.
You know how much I love you Daddy, but if you don’t mind
I’m only gonna kiss you on the cheek this time.
With all that I’ve done wrong, I must of done something right
To deserve her love every morning, and butterfly kisses at night.

All the precious time, oh, like the wind the years go by.
Precious butterfly, spread your wings and fly.

She’ll change her name today, she’ll make a promise, and I’ll give her away.
Standing in the bridegroom just staring at her
She asks me what I’m thinking, and I said I’m not sure.
I just feel like I’m losing my baby girl, and she leaned over…

Gave me butterfly kisses with her Mama there
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair.
Walk me down the aisle Daddy, it’s just about time.
Does my wedding gown look pretty Daddy? Daddy, don’t cry.
Oh, with all that I’ve done wrong, I must of done something right.

To deserve her love every morning, and butterfly kisses,
I couldn’t ask God for more, than this is what love is.
I know I gotta let her go, but I’ll always remember…
Every hug in the morning, and butterfly kisses.

I love my girls….Congratulations, Andrea, on a wonderful life you have made.

You can learn more about the heart of this amazing young lady through her writing at…  Shalom Existence

New Days

I love a new day in Costa Rica (where, incidentally, I am presently.)

When I am here I stay at a little B&B in San Jose, the capital city, in a home built in 1938 by a very prominent family in town.

I awake every morning to the sounds of a commuter train sounding his horn less than 30 yards from my bedroom window. It is very loud at 6:10am, and every thirty minutes afterward for 3 hours, as women and men traverse east and west through the city to work and school.

But mornings here are wonderful even with the forced wake-up.

Why? You roll out of bed, open the curtains and sunshine invades your life. Then, you get somewhat ready and go downstairs to the small courtyard where Reynaldo, or one of the other helpers owner Kurt employs, brings you a personal pot of coffee, basket of bread, pineapple and strawberry preserves, freshly squeezed papaya juice, and all the pineapple, melon, mango and papaya you can enjoy.

The temperature is perfect, the flora lush, the simplicity beautiful and the message from God’s creation is clear – this is a new day.

In my new place of experiencing life I want to discern the spiritual reality that says to me, every day, “His mercies are new each morning.”  I want to know that when the sun comes up, I get up – literally and figuratively.

I live the reality of the new day…

- God is awake and attentive

- His love and compassion is never tired

- My regret and past is swallowed up in His forgetfulness

- My treasured memories are captured in worship-filled gratitude

- Fear of any potential failure is overwhelmed with the confidence of being loved, no matter what

- When it rains I am not the only one soaked, it’s just rain

- The sun does come out tomorrow…or soon.

Today is a new day!  I am now going to mentor others in this new day way.

Riding High & Free

Here I am riding high at 34,000 feet as I break over the coast of Florida’s Panhandle into the expanse of the Gulf of Mexico just south of Tallahassee. I am on my way to San Jose to spend three days investing in the lives of leaders and coaching them through the unchanging reality of change in our life, leadership and spiritual cultivation of others.

You might ask, “What do you know about change?” “Ha!,” I would answer you, “My middle name is change.”

The last two years, really all of my adult life, I have been pursuing change. I have always been looking for ways to change. Why? I was mostly miserable with where I was and I thought the next great thing was going to make the difference. I was not myself and was scared to be me. I could not be me and be accepted.

I got married as a different person. I parented as a different person. I was a friend as a different person. And, as a different person, I was always trying to be something different. I was trying to be comfortable, accepted, natural, successful, fun, interesting and effective. I was trying to change from what I seemed to be.

Nineteen months ago I was in a restaurant in Haines City, Florida when it happened. I changed. This was different. It was not the quest for change, but a coming to reality and honesty that I had never had the courage to come to before. Let me tell you something. When this happens as it did to me, people cannot and do not understand. The person my honesty hurt most was my wife at the time. We had been married for almost 27 years and here I was telling her what a fake I had been. At this time I was emotional and not totally understanding of what was going on inside of me. My communication was less incriminating to me and more intimidating to her than what I would have intended. Still, it was honest. That was a huge change. It is one thing to lie. It is another thing altogether to live a lie.

Back to Haines City…I was sitting in a booth waiting for pancakes and writing, as I am today, in a journal of thoughts and prayer when I began to cry. First, a few tears, then a stream, then a torrent of emotion. I was trying to hide myself, but dared not get up for fear of calling way too much attention to myself. I told God I was finished. I could not live this way another day. That day, I took off my watch and my wedding ring and put them away.

To me the watch was a reminder of how I was always trying to make things fit, minute to minute and hour to hour to accommodate my schizophrenia. (Okay, that is an over statement of my emotional condition, but I was out of a state of normal living.) The ring was the greatest lie to me. It represented what I was faking the most – an intimate connection of care, concern and partnership for the greater good of another human being. I was selfish, self-serving and self-preserving. Why? I was in a constant state of surviving. I felt like I was in a whirlpool of drowning from which I could not escape. Death was my only way out and I feared death. That is what you call caught in the vortex.

Over the next few months, in a limited capacity and without the full understanding that I have today, I attempted to craft a new life. I offered to God a new way. He laughed. I offered to my wife and family a new route and I was shouted down. I offered to myself a new purpose and I failed.

Through it all, I have just lived and trusted. I do not make perfect choices, but something has happened. God has methodically taken away my masks and my crutches. Everybody now knows my weaknesses, sins, misgivings, detours and humiliations. I have lost my church façade, my pastor façade, my spouse façade and even my perfect parent façade. I am now known. It is a wonderful place to be.

Things have changed and fear is gone. I am loved. I am accepted. I am embraced. God does this for me.

Do I want people to do the same? Heck, yes! And they will. Some already do.

Why am I so happy today? I am losing so many of my outward trappings, yet there is a freedom.

If you are a regular reader of this collection of thoughts and words, you will know my lack of freedom. You will know how happy and excited I am in an airplane at 34,000 or 37,000 feet. Well, today, I am happy at sea level. I am free.

It took me 49 years and a few weeks, maybe even the trauma of my father’s death, but I am finally becoming me. Maybe salvation is a wonderful process of God’s love active in our lives in the midst of hell’s hatred. Maybe I am like Nicodemus and having the beautiful gift of new birth explained to me by a loving Lord and friend, Jesus. I do not know where the wind comes from or where it goes. I cannot know time and space apart from where I am. What I do know is that I am free to love because I am loved. I have a new life. I am riding high.

Forward

It’s October. I have to move on, now.

What a year 2008 has been for me. I trudged through an uncertain Winter. I broke into Spring with dismay, ordering divorce documents. I moved and lived really alone for the first time in my life. I asked for a different end and was denied. I hurt my children’s security and trust. I had to admit embarrassing sin that I had thought was dealt with and put away into God’s forgetfulness. I was humiliated. I created a uncertain relationship leading to all three of my daughter’s anger and questioning of me. I gave up a vision. I suffered the loss of a home. I suffered the loss of friends. I endured the scrutiny of many.  I survived that and actually discovered great healing in the process.

Then, to add to the year’s emotional demands, my Father died.

It has been five weeks, today, since we laid his body to rest. I have experienced depression, anger, hurt, despair, questions and loss. It hurt. It hurts. On Thursday I took a short trip. I needed a mental health day and today was beautiful. I left my counselor’s office at 12:30, went to one of my favorite restaurants, Goldberg’s, and then hit the road toward North Georgia.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous, perfect, clear, bright and almost cool. My first stop was at Panorama Orchard’s store where I picked up a 1/4 bushel of Red Delicious apples. In taste tests, Georgia Apples always beat the more well-known Washington apples. I could tell you that.

From there, my next stop was the beautiful downtown village of Blue Ridge, Georgia. There, you can take a train to McCaysville that wanders through the unequalled North Georgia hills and back. I did experience and witness a little mischief there. I saw members of a secret society, wearing their little decorative aprons, entering their lodge. A few minutes later, I noticed someone had placed a small step-ladder against their door. I wish I could have waited for someone to open that door from the inside.

From Blue Ridge, it was on to a beautiful riverside park in Blairsville. Then, to Young Harris, Ga and Young Harris College where their baseball team was playing Truett-McConnell College, from Cleveland, Georgia in a doubleheader. It was a beautiful afternoon for baseball, but every time the bat and ball meet, that strange ‘ping’ of the aluminum bat (will somebody please outlaw them?) the baseball gods cringed.

Heading east from Young Harris, I arrived in Hiawassee, which has disparate memories for me. It was here that my grandmother took me almost every year to the Georgia Mountain Fair. I loved this fair. You could see the Mountain ways there, like soap-making, moonshining, fiddling, frying pork rinds, whittling and woodworking. As a child I was amazed. It was also in Hiawassee, on a staff retreat in 2001, that I was rushed to the emergency room at 4am. That began a trek of four months to discover that I had a serious liver ailment. I did not like my visit to the Chatuge Regional Hospital.

Leaving Hiawassee I had no idea of the adventure I was about to experience. After turning south on the Richard Russell Highway on the way to Helen I saw a small sign on the roadside that said ‘High Shoals 1.5 miles.’ What was High Shoals? I stopped my car, put it in reverse and turned off the main road onto a small dirt road. I began climbing a rocky mountain road that was pitted with holes and ridges and roughness. I thought I was on a short journey. No! I ended up staying on this dirt road as it rose and rose toward the mountain summit. I saw the sign for High Shoals Trail, but nothing else for 14 miles. Let me tell you – 14 miles on a dirt road in the mountains with sheer cliffs below and above and no sign of life except one whiff of a skunk’s protective system, is an adventure at dusk. I had no idea where I would end up and, frankly, I did not care. It was exhilirating! Finally, after about 40 minutes, I emerged from the forest and found my way back to civilization and Helen, Georgia.

In Helen, I made a spontaneous decision to stop. No plan and no reason. I saw a sign at Paul’s Restaurant that said “All You Can Eat Crablegs – $22.95.” I counted my money and went to Huddle House where I bought a $3.99 omelet.

My adventure was over and now I was pointed back to Atlanta…No. Wait. I think I will stay.

Tomorrow, I will go forward. I will leave the forest of the past and emerge into my future with positive motion. I will still miss my dad. I will continue to miss the special gift of living in a contiguous family. I will still be without the things I lost and the things that lost me. But I will not lose hope, faith and love.

Please go with me…. FORWARD.

Pushing

It’s Monday afternoon and time for lunch. I am pushing myself forward today. I have to work, create, write, call, envision, lead, communicate and love people. Shouldn’t I say, ‘I get to…’ do this, not ‘have to.’

I think I said “have to” because I am operating on strength not inspiration or motivation. In the overall scheme of things I feel privileged and happy to be able to live my life, be creative, produce thought that teaches and helps and to love people. I think that is my favorite part – loving people.

I am so much in love with people right now that it hurts me to not be able to love on them all.  I am not going to worry about it though, just enjoy the ride. In the meantime, I do enjoy having friends, acquaintances, companions and buddies to do things with.

Today, I awoke around 7:20am with a vision for the day. I am accomplishing that vision. This blog was not a part of it, but I am encouraged to write right now. I want to be, not just do. I feel I have been wasting time but this divorce and the aftermath have put a severe damper on my soul, so maybe it is just the way things go in this place. I don’t know, I have never been here before.

Anyway, I am pushing myself to be in the flow. Why? If I did not do that, I would stay in bed and sleep all day and I cannot do that to myself – I would feel horrid. So, I write, create, vision and pray and then let that flow to the people I serve and love. We are a wonderful community and I am excited about our future.

So, if you have any words that will push and motivate and inspire… help me out here! : )

My quote for today that was sent to me is this – “Energy and persistence conquers all things.” It kind of reminds you of the story Jesus told about the widow and the unjust judge in Luke 18. She just would not give up being heart and getting justice. FInally, the judge, weary of her continual visits and pleading her case, granted her her desire. Jesus said to let that teach us to ‘always pray and never give up!’ Energy and persistence (pushing) pays off in the end!

I love them, but…

As I do every year on Saturday when UGA is playing at home I went to Athens today.

Athens is a lovely little place.  It is known by its byline, The Classic City.  Athens is home to the University of Georgia, The United States FIRST chartered state university, begun in 1789.

Sanford Stadium, opened on October 12, 1929.  It cost $360,000 to build and was beautiful from the first day. One of the distinctive attributes are the English Privet Hedges that circle the field.  It lends itself to the identification known to college football fans the world over, ‘between the hedges.’

Wikipedia instructs us that, ‘an early major force behind UGA athletics, the stadium’s namesake, Dr. Steadman Vincent Sanford, arrived at the university as an English instructor in 1903. He later became the faculty representative to the athletics committee and would eventually become president of the University and Chancellor of the entire University System of Georgia. In 1911, he moved the university’s football venue from its first location, Herty Field, to a location at the center of campus which was named Sanford Field in his honor.’

Today, though, despite the history, 92,746 of my closest friends and an almost guaranteed victory against Central Michigan University, I walked out of the stadium as I walked in… alone.  I left before the first quarter had barely gotten under way.

I love my Dawgs, but being there just did not seem right.  I’m just not into having fun again yet.  I will be, but not yet.  As I sat on my couch in my apartment this morning and looked at two great pictures my youngest daughter framed and gave me this week I just missed my dad again.  I can’t call him today. I can’t stop by.  I can’t get any spending money from him. (OK, that was supposed to be a joke.)

Two weeks ago today, he called me.  He said, “Phil, come over here, I want to talk to you.”  I did, he did, and that was the last time.  I will never forget that call, the subsequent talk and the feeling of love I walked away with.

I love the University of Georgia.  I love the Georgia Bulldogs.  I love visiting Sanford Stadium.  But, I love my dad more.  In fact, as soon as I hit publish on this blog I am going to go sit in his chair and watch the rest of the game.  We are winning 28-7 and it is halftime.

I hope you’re watching too, Dad, but I reckon you might still be busy catching up with some people you know.

Bye.

Friday

What’s the old phrase, ‘Thank God it’s Friday?’   Why?  I think it because Friday is the slide into a couple of days of self-determination. No boss, no schedule and no office.  You sleep late, tell yourself what to do (or what not to do), eat when you want, work for yourself or don’t work at all, play or chill, go or stay.

This weekend, and every weekend is not like that for my life.  I think my Friday begins on Sunday afternoon and extends thru the evening and then again on Tuesday.  At the same time, I do enjoy my Saturdays in the fall.  Fall means UGA football every Saturday at the most beautiful stadium in the land – Sanford Stadium.

Last Saturday the Dawgs began the season with a convincing win over Georgia Southern and this week play Central Michigan.  After this weekend, credible opponents begin to litter the weekends until December.

I do thank God it is Friday, but this Friday is different.  One week ago today I laid my dad to rest.  This week has been a week of being sad and slow.  I am glad that today I begin week two of living a new reality.  Tomorrow morning I will get up, get ready and go to Athens for a football game.  Life goes on and I know my dad would say the same.

I loved my dad and these last few years have been very good to us.  Now, I will continue his work and mine.  I guess that means I will have no off days for a long, long time.  Pray for me.