Oct 15, 2001
Yesterday was a special day, and not just because my wonderful grandmother celebrated her 90th birthday. Yesterday was also the 10 year anniversary of the first date that Erin and I enjoyed together. On that day in Cleveland, we double dated with one of my good friends (Mike Thomas—he sang Danny Boy at our wedding), attending a concert of the King’s Singers, an a cappella group from Great Britain. I still vividly feel the intense excitement of sitting next to beautiful Erin in the fourth row of Severance Hall as the singers filled the room with their crisp voices. When the concert was finished, we went to a coffee shop on Shaker Square. When we returned to campus, Erin and I didn’t want to part company, so we made plans to see a movie later that night in John Carroll University’s auditorium. During that film (Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood), I held Erin’s hand for the first time, and I feel as if I’ve never let go. I’m the luckiest guy alive, because Erin hasn’t let go either. After ten years together, five years of marriage, two years of Peace Corps and one amazing little Anna, we are in love moreso today than on that first glorious October 13.
Today I played flag football at a nearby church league; last night we were dinner guests of a couple who Erin had met while shopping, and Brian invited me to join his team today. My sole role during the game was to rush the quarterback. While I rested on the sidelines, I thought back to my childhood in Idaho. My dad spent countless hours throwing passes to me in the backyard of our home on Teton Street. Down and out, zig-zag, flea flicker, Hail Mary. A lot of the time I landed in the muddy garden, still clutching the ball and knowing I’d kept my feet in bounds for the catch. I pretended I was Lynn Swann, even though he played for the arch enemies of my favorite Dallas Cowboys. I loved that time in the yard with my dad. That is what football will always mean to me.
Anton Zuiker ☄
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