Day
20: Oh these silly holidays we create. Manufactured to make a buck,
preying on our consumerism. Taking our genuine love and slapping a price
tag on it. But that's unimportant now. With no grandparents and only my
father and brother, every day is Father's Day.
Today is a happy day. A day we boast about that world's greatest that we all seem to have dubbed. But let's not, if only for a moment, forget that this day might be difficult for some. My thoughts at this moment are for all of you out there who only connection is a box of old photos and your cherished memories. For those few who have just lost their fathers, let me make you aware, it doesn't get easier, but the strength that your fathers instilled in you, will get you through it.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads iut there, here and gone. #100DaysOfHopper
Day 21: They say "actions speak louder than words." They are a misguided group, commonly known as the masses or as I Iike to refer to them, the sheep. While it may be true that acting on one's promises is a sign of a genuine person, mere words should never be devalued.
In the final hours of Sunday, two people said things to me that changed my day. One was merely a compliment based on past memories of easier times. The second was an appreciative thank you. One that was completely unnecessary, because to me, nothing less should have been expected. Two sentences, by two people, who hold very different levels of importance in my life, changed my day. There were no actions, but mere words, that moved me. Maybe that was the action. #100DaysOfHopper
Day 22: Patriotism is an odd thing. In America, it always seems to be manufactured. A handful of flag waving worthy holidays and then we go back to bickering about which political party sucks less than the other. Our differences are supposed to be what makes this country great, but it's that division that has the country spiraling downwards. Last night, if only for a few hours, we forgot about those differences.
The World Cup has always been an enigma to me, much in part to my soccer-less childhood. I'm 43. I have taught soccer, refereed a match and even coached a match, but I've never in all my years, actually played. Not in school, not with friends, never. So my lack of interest in the sport has always been out of ignorance to its nuances. Recently I've attempted to learn about it, but the pride aspect escapes me. Last night, for the first time ever, I began to understand.
In the last few weeks, I've watched grown men cry in public over Liverpool losing. I've seen children with brogues, cheering their Spanish heroes. I've sat and watched in confusion over what I view a complex scoring system, which is essentially quite simple in comparison to my beloved baseball.
When the World Cup started, I was almost ready to embrace it, but that red, white and blue blood was yet to start pumping. I yelled and cheered watching the Netherlands, Mexico and others and then Saturday happened. I sat rooting for England, surrounded by Italian fans who screeched and moaned at every kick. Their children, spending more time cursing Rooney than cheering their own team. I looked at their faces and found irony in that they looked more like the Englishmen they abhorred, than the olive skinned Italians they applauded. I've always been confused with people claiming they are a certain ethnicity, when two, maybe three generations have been born in this country. When asked, I always say, I'm American, but what is that?
This year, more than ever, I feel patriotic. It's for personal reasons, but I do feel a deeper pride in my country, especially those who serve it. So last night, when when people who call themselves Italian, Irish, Colombian, Mexican, Brazilian, etc. gathered, draped in Old Glory's colors, it felt right. It felt like what patriotism in this country should feel like and unlike that winter morning in 1980, it wasn't born out of hate, but out of love. Last night, we cheered, hugged, high-fived and kissed and we all shared in the glory of our team winning.
Who knows what lies ahead for this team, but I know one thing. They truly are "our team." Their differences represent ours, but we as a society need to embrace them and much like this team, come together to achieve a common goal. Unity. I think we could all take pride in that, long after the games have ended. #100DaysOfHopper
Today is a happy day. A day we boast about that world's greatest that we all seem to have dubbed. But let's not, if only for a moment, forget that this day might be difficult for some. My thoughts at this moment are for all of you out there who only connection is a box of old photos and your cherished memories. For those few who have just lost their fathers, let me make you aware, it doesn't get easier, but the strength that your fathers instilled in you, will get you through it.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads iut there, here and gone. #100DaysOfHopper
Day 21: They say "actions speak louder than words." They are a misguided group, commonly known as the masses or as I Iike to refer to them, the sheep. While it may be true that acting on one's promises is a sign of a genuine person, mere words should never be devalued.
In the final hours of Sunday, two people said things to me that changed my day. One was merely a compliment based on past memories of easier times. The second was an appreciative thank you. One that was completely unnecessary, because to me, nothing less should have been expected. Two sentences, by two people, who hold very different levels of importance in my life, changed my day. There were no actions, but mere words, that moved me. Maybe that was the action. #100DaysOfHopper
Day 22: Patriotism is an odd thing. In America, it always seems to be manufactured. A handful of flag waving worthy holidays and then we go back to bickering about which political party sucks less than the other. Our differences are supposed to be what makes this country great, but it's that division that has the country spiraling downwards. Last night, if only for a few hours, we forgot about those differences.
The World Cup has always been an enigma to me, much in part to my soccer-less childhood. I'm 43. I have taught soccer, refereed a match and even coached a match, but I've never in all my years, actually played. Not in school, not with friends, never. So my lack of interest in the sport has always been out of ignorance to its nuances. Recently I've attempted to learn about it, but the pride aspect escapes me. Last night, for the first time ever, I began to understand.
In the last few weeks, I've watched grown men cry in public over Liverpool losing. I've seen children with brogues, cheering their Spanish heroes. I've sat and watched in confusion over what I view a complex scoring system, which is essentially quite simple in comparison to my beloved baseball.
When the World Cup started, I was almost ready to embrace it, but that red, white and blue blood was yet to start pumping. I yelled and cheered watching the Netherlands, Mexico and others and then Saturday happened. I sat rooting for England, surrounded by Italian fans who screeched and moaned at every kick. Their children, spending more time cursing Rooney than cheering their own team. I looked at their faces and found irony in that they looked more like the Englishmen they abhorred, than the olive skinned Italians they applauded. I've always been confused with people claiming they are a certain ethnicity, when two, maybe three generations have been born in this country. When asked, I always say, I'm American, but what is that?
This year, more than ever, I feel patriotic. It's for personal reasons, but I do feel a deeper pride in my country, especially those who serve it. So last night, when when people who call themselves Italian, Irish, Colombian, Mexican, Brazilian, etc. gathered, draped in Old Glory's colors, it felt right. It felt like what patriotism in this country should feel like and unlike that winter morning in 1980, it wasn't born out of hate, but out of love. Last night, we cheered, hugged, high-fived and kissed and we all shared in the glory of our team winning.
Who knows what lies ahead for this team, but I know one thing. They truly are "our team." Their differences represent ours, but we as a society need to embrace them and much like this team, come together to achieve a common goal. Unity. I think we could all take pride in that, long after the games have ended. #100DaysOfHopper
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