Monday, October 26, 2009

This is one Monday . . .

. . . when I'm glad my dad isn't coaching anymore.

Strange, though, how old habits die hard. Like, I've been avoiding the papers, the TV, the radio so that I won't accidentally have to hear about how CRAPPY BYU played on Saturday (it's true, though--they did play like crap). All the old instincts of self-preservation kicked in, and all I could do was keep my head low, just like when I was a kid.

Sometimes I think I should write SOMETHING about what it was like to have a dad who coached college football. But I've been reluctant to look like I was trading on his name. And, frankly, I've always been more interested in writing about commonly shared experiences than the exceptional ones.

Still. When I told the story tonight about my sixteenth birthday and how Don Ho sang happy birthday to me (I was the one wearing an orange muu-muu) in a night club because one of my dad's former players ran the joint, my kids said they'd never heard it. And that made me think I should write some of that stuff down.

6 comments:

Lisa B. said...

Oh yes you should. You told me that Don Ho story recently and I was all, NO. WAY. And you were all, yuh huh. Which made me think, what other kinds of amazing stories can Ann tell? A lot, that what kind. Get on it.

Do I smell a memoir? I believe I do.

word verification: crupulan. Does this relate to your first paragraph? Who can say?

Alec said...

I have heard that story. I guess we just didn't really respond to it (because we had no idea who Don Ho was) so you stopped telling the younger ones about it!

LucindaF said...

Forget Don Ho, you were wearing an orange mu mu in a nightclub. Ha.

And yes, yes, yes you should write this stuff down. And then send it to me. ;)

Valynne said...

I still think a memoir would be great. We've had tickets on the 50-yard line from the past generation. And I come from a family who talks about the team using the first person, as if they are the ones out on the field. I'm pretty sure many could relate to your memoir.

Bob the Woodworker said...

I think you could work common touches into a memoir that would make some experiences feel universal while describing other experiences in such a way that people would feel like they had your very special experiences. Go for it, girl!

Jayne said...

As it turns out, we all think the world knows our dad at some point in our lives. For good or ill, they do set much of our sexual identity and world view. For some, Dad really is famous, but in the nice relationships like yours(where he really is) or mine (where he really isn't), it doesn't matter after all.