A very good thing.

One of our fundamental needs as people is to be known for who we really are. Whether we are good, bad, or most likely some combination of the two, we desperately long to be “naked” in the eyes of another. We want to stand before someone, say, “This is the real me,” and have them reply, “Yeah, I know. Now lets get on with it.”

An important element of this deep knowing is knowing a person’s past. Our past does not define our present, but it certainly shapes it. Whether that past is a source of guidance or something against which to rebel, where one comes from holds keys to where one is going.

But this knowing must be something that surpasses an academic understanding. You can’t know a person in this deep way by watching their biography on the History Channel. That knowledge comes only from proximity, time, and shared experiences.

Kerri hates the Ohio State Buckeyes. If you know her, this will not surprise you. The copious orange and blue in her wardrobe are clues to her Illini fan status. And if the colors don’t give it away, the fact that each of those shirts, sweats and hoodies is emblazoned with block print “ILLINI” the it, ought to be enough for anyone to get it.

But Kerri’s hatred toward the Buckeyes and her love for the Fighting Illini run deeper that the obvious causes. These are facts not completely explained by her years growing up near Champaign, Illinois. Though not obvious, I know why. I know with a fair degree of detail exactly how, when, where and why this all came to be. I wasn’t there when it began, but I was there not long after and for most of the developments since that beginning. We’ve shared the stories, and I know them as well as or better than I know some of my own memories.

And that is one of the things that makes a marriage awesome. Between us, Kerri and I know a great many things about the other, things that no one else knows, things we scarcely know ourselves. There a moments when we can anticipate the other’s reaction or response. Sometime that only means Kerri knows the punchline before I utter it for the umpteenth time. Other times, however, it means much more.

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Post from: Blisstree

Blast from the Past

Anyway, Cor…erm….Bald Man is a fan of OSU. Not immensely, not hugely, but a fan. And yet, today, he sported the Illini gear with me and helped root us (yes, I said “us”. Didn’t you know I was on the team? ) to a victory over the Buckeyes. I’m still glowing.

And why do you care? I dunno. Maybe you don’t. But I’m wondering how sporting events go in your house. I remember growing up in a house divided over NFL teams. My mom is a die hard Steelers fan, and my dad would fervently cheer on his beloved Lions. And anyone who happened to be playing the Steelers. They watched the games from opposite sides of the room.

Now, they both loved the games, but neither was a fanatic in the true sense of the word. At the end of the night, it was just a game. And that’s how it is generally for us. We have teams that we each root for, it’s fun, it’s a game. And then, no matter the result, life goes on.

However, I’ve seen some people who are truly fanatic about some teams. Honest die hards. I’m wondering if that kind of devotion to a team ever effects a marriage.

Has devotion to a team or a particular sport ever caused a rift or somehow effected your relationship?

photo credit: Justin Russell

Post from: Blisstree

Leave me alone…I’m watching the game…