Category Archives: Memories

Memories – bittersweet

Nick Canepa writes his sports column for the Union Tribune.  Disgusted and disgruntled with, and disrespectful of the San Diego Chargers he rightly calls Judases, he wrote some of his memories.  Being a Chargers fan since 974, this writer can understand Canepa’s bittersweet remembrances.

Here are a few.

Canepa first went to the old Balboa Stadium with his dad.  How could he forget that? he asked.  Our family remembers seeing Old Balboa Stadium just east of downtown.  In 1982 he covered his first Chargers training camp as a member of the late “lamented Evening Tribune.”  Who doesn’t miss that paper?

He said famed coach Don Coryell would be so deep in concentration on game day he wouldn’t recognize him, though he had covered the Chargers for two years.  Once in Seattle on game day Canepa boarded the outdoor glass elevator for a trip to the dining room for breakfast.  A few floors down Coryell got on.  He didn’t notice Canepa, the only other person aboard.  All the way down the two of them descended.  At the bottom Coryell got off, not having seen Canepa.  “I cracked up,” the Greek wrote.

He also remembered Dan Fouts.  What Chargers fan doesn’t?  After one practice he met Canepa and took him for a ride.  To talk.  To get acquainted.  The great Quarterback, the Rookie writer.

No doubt who ran the Chargers when Fouts came on the field.  He also had a game face.  Once, in San Francisco, after Fouts and Montana dueled each other all game long, each throwing over 400 yards, the Chargers won.  Fouts sat at his locker.  A reporter approached.  Stuck his microphone out and asked a question.  Fouts replied with a profanity that underscored his demand to get the microphone out of his face.  He then realized it was his dad, longtime announcer for the Niners.  U-T, 6/19/17

There were more memories in the column, but you see how it went.  Memories…football, football players and football teams, years and years—56 in all—painful, joyful, disappointing—more of that than anything for Chargers fans.  Septembers won’t be the same in San Diego.  Memories don’t play within those yard markers.

Have any memories that still delight you?  Humble you?  Challenge you?  Swell tears or bring a chuckle?  Memories:  what’s gone and won’t return; they last but can’t be made into more.  Thank God Christians have memories.  And thank God, we have greater golden joys coming than the good memories now embraced.

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Memories – and more

Note:  Memorial Day is Past.   Our Wedding Anniversary is Over.  Back to blogging.

The San Diego Union-Tribune over last weekend covered the military activities prior to and on Memorial Day.  Three pictures stood out of the many taken.

The first showed parents of a young man who gave his life in Afghanistan to save the men of his special operations force.  The mother stood with pained eyes ready to sob; her husband looked into the distance so he wouldn’t.  U-T, 5/27/16.  Women are always more honest about emotions than men.  Women weep, men say, while they just get something in their eyes.

The second showed a woman sitting among gravestones in Miramar National Cemetery, legs crossed, flowers in right hand, her uplifted left hand supporting her cheek.  Before her husband’s grave.  Looking with downcast eyes.  He died in 2012.  He had been wounded in Viet Nam.  Remembering.  Grieving.  Lost in memories never again to be experienced.  U-T, 5/30/16

The third was another from Miramar National Cemetery.  (I hope it wasn’t a posed picture suggested by an unscrupulous photographer seeking an emotional photo-op.)  A 5 year old girl stood before her father’s grave, hugging the stone.  He died by suicide in 2015.  He had served in the Persian Gulf.  He suffered Post-traumatic stress disorder.  Was she giving her daddy a farewell hug?  Had she suffered while watching him come apart before her eyes?  No member in a troubled family, however young, but feels the stress.

It reminds me.  Sometimes we forget quickly.  Sometimes we forget slowly.  Sometimes we remember always.  Christians may weep in regret of losses suffered.  And shall until Jesus dries their tears.  But he shall one day.  That’s our hope.  That’s our contentment.  The wiping up, the drying of all that causes sorrow and loss.  Then the beginning of joys never to be grasped this side of the grave.  May it happen soon.

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