It truly is the “beautiful game”. Okay — disclaimer — I am always and ever shall be a sucker and cheerleader for the underdog. (I will stand up and cheer for the hapless, foolish coyote every day over that vain, smart-elecky road runner.) Secondly, it was super easy yesterday to root for the home team, but also cheer the good plays of the underdog, Turkey, since our own amazing USA team had already scored a place in the next knockout round. And Turkey! — and herein lies the beauty of soccer (the real “football” according to, well, everyone in the world but us of course 😊) — even though Turkey knew they were out of The Cup and would go home tomorrow no matter what happened — they played their hearts out and it sure did pay off.
*
What a match it was! Austin Trusty scored for the USA in the first 2.15 minutes of the game (and did any one else notice this? — Trusty seems to be able to leap straight into the air from an almost standing position — what is he, part Impala?!) And the game went on keeping us focused and curious at a well earned tie of 2–2 until, as if by the magic of pure desire and well — again — the beauty of this beautiful game — Good golly Miss Molly! Yowza! — Kaan Ahyan from Turkey scored IN THE LAST SECONDS of the game.
Austin Trusty, USA Men’s Soccer
*
Each game of soccer is like a gorgeous new puzzle — you never know quite how all the pieces will come together. It is a game like chess — all the pieces have to work together, move together, and sometimes someone sacrifices for the good of the whole. For instance — My goodness, how in the world the Turkish goalkeeper, Ugurcan Cakir, didn’t break his arm and various other bones in his body last night on that dive in the second half I have no idea.
Turkish goalkeeper, Ugurcan Cakir
*
Okay, so those of you who know me — I don’t watch sports much any more, especially professional sports. Ever since moving to SoCal in the late 1980’s when I was the lone voice cheering for the Celtics in Laker land and no longer in Celtic land and well, getting busy in the 1990’s raising my own almost enough to be a soccer team family; and also, now that my kids don’t have their endless soccer games or tennis matches any more for me to cheer at and bring orange slices and gateraide to, last night’s game was unusual for me. (Okay, so yeah, cool Dodgers and all that, but I have always been a basketball and soccer girl — I mean, I’m from Indiana long before the Colts and watching baseball to me is a bit like waiting for paint to dry.) But goodness sakes, it was so wonderful to be rooting for a game last night and a team (or secretly both teams — you know, underdogs and all that). It was so nourishing and wonderful to be cheering for something America is doing right and well in this moment, it was great to see nations come together in friendly competition, using amazing skills, both physical and mental; it was a gift to see played out on a playing field the beauty of the human spirit. It was and is, truly, the beautiful game. And I am grateful.
There was sooooooo much to celebrate at the Grand Opening of the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago today. I was choking up to hear one of my favorite “hymns” — “To Dream the Impossible Dream” sung right after “The Star Spangled Banner” — oh indeed! — with Bill Clinton mouthing the words — it broke me with — yes! oh yes! First Lady Michelle Obama’s call to remember and then to act in hope. The intentionality of the center itself — communal, welcoming, diverse, fun, lovely. Angela Merkle! Bono! John Legend! Marc Anthony! The Boss! The guy playing Tuba!! Stevie Wonder! (“All praise to God for this moment.”) And the whole Obama family singing along with him!
Presidents and leaders of our past — when presidents used to be for us, not against us. Of course they made mistakes. Did you think they were gods? But they really did believe in America and in us and they did their best with the times they were given. Thank you.
Of course I personally could watch the ASL signers sign for hours — just them alone brings me deep joy beyond even understanding — the glorious language of hands and faces — I mean seriously did you see just the hands signing trumpets, drums, guitars playing? People clapping? Hands. Our hands. Let us make our hands stretch again to clasp each other across this nation, throughout this world.
The smiles — the hugs — hard, deep hugs. The laughter (George Bush and Michelle Obama). The love of the daughters, Malia and Sasha, now beautiful women. Once children — now examples of goodness and love for the next generation of children.
Children on stage, children from all across the nation, with parents who wanted them to see what we could be, coming to remember and to hope again what it is to believe in US, in the U.S. — to hope, to celebrate what we are and can be. “You better believe”.
Okay — again — Michelle Obama. Yowza. Amen. I had a constant “gulp” — throat gulping — eyes tearing up. I could feel my heart beating for the first time in a while with that deep connection to what we can be at our best.
And it was about one man who made us realize it is never and never has been about one man — no matter what someone with power or access or obscene amounts of money tell you. Someone with a name that took us aback at first — until we got to know him —Barack Obama. I wept with deep, deep joy the night he was elected as the first Black president of this nation that we had become the nation we had set out to be. But it was never about just one man; it was never about just him. It is about one man, and one woman, and one boy, and one girl, and one Latinex, and one Black, and one white, and one farmer, and one teacher, and one mechanic, and one restaurant owner and one waiter, and one and one and one and one becoming All of Us. I can’t wait to see this center someday — where people come to garden and play Bball, and read in the reading room, and laugh and walk with those who pray in a church or on a rug or near a wooded glen or in a closet — it doesn’t matter — this is a testament to place and people — where we remember it is about one and one and one who long to see a history that can encourage us to make a future. “No gale can topple us over”. Believe. Hope.
And oh, the love. And oh, my heart — Thank you, Obama. The Love. How could anyone turn away from this? How could anyone doubt that this is what we are meant to be? We had it in our grasp to be this, to do this, to know this. This is what we are called to be. This is what we are at our best — anywhere, any time, any color, any gender, any nation, any tribe. As Barack Obama said truly: “Everyone has a sacred story to tell if you just care to listen — full of courage and grace and purpose”. How amazing it was to hear a leader who could put words to thoughts with truth and care and grace and compassion and vision! Community! Do you remember what that feels like? Can you imagine what that will feel like to be again?
Our common humanity and bonds can be based on trust. When is the last time you heard a leader say “we” — this is about “we”. — “us”? Oh my. Wasn’t it lovely to use our brains again? To be not only back in reality but in memory of what we have been and hope in what we can be? Wasn’t it a strange combination of peace and exhilaration? Wasn’t it amazing to hold up a mirror that we haven’t held up to ourselves in so long — -the mirror of us as a democracy, as a community, as a force for goodness not just in this country but in the world — One in God, One in grace and justice, One in the desire to make the world, this nation, the planet a place our children and grandchildren will inherit with gratitude and fulfilled dreams — One in purpose, One in hope?
Remember intelligence? Remember compassion? Remember world vision? Remember sharing? Remember stories of not billionaires or mockers or deniers — but stories of hard workers, care-givers, embracers, and families, and students, and faithful, simple, hopeful — people like us?
Today — I remembered and rejoiced — that we are here. We. Are. Here. And as long as we are here, we are responsible and we are able.
Chicago, the home of the Obama Presidential Center, was once my city, and I think your first city is always what you believe a city really is — can be. I am proud to be from that part of the world — the middle part of this great nation, the “fly-over zone”, the “bread basket” and “bible belt” — and now to be a part of Los Angeles, California, yes, as my relatives in that heartland where I once lived call us — yes, we are the “fruits and nuts” — and proud of it — we are what feed you and feed your sense of openness and delight in this glorious, diverse, beautiful land that we call The United States of America. We have been given so much here. May we remember that we are stewards. We are care-takers. We are borrowers from our children.
As President Obama said, “let us turn towards each other, not further away”.
“Oh, what a glorious task we are given to continually strive to improve this great Nation of ours”. (The Boss quoting Obama from his speech at Selma.)
Thank you for today, Barack Obama and family —family both given and chosen. Thank you for pointing us towards The Land of Hope and Dreams! May it be so. Let it begin with us. Today. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”.
“We see what faith without fear can do”. “We know in the Spirit that positivity will win”. “Keep on tryin’ til we reach our higher ground”. (Stevie Wonder.)
“Today in history” often interests me but today as I read my daily local newspaper’s blurb on it, well, it seemed…. well… you read it and see if you see and feel what I did.
1942: Anne Frank, a German-born Jewish girl, received a diary for her 13th birthday, less than a month before her family went into hiding from the Nazis. Less than 3 years later she would die in Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.
1963: Civil rights activist Medgar Evers was shot and killed outside his home in Jacksonville, Mississippi.
2016: A gunman opened fire at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando Florida, leaving 49 people dead and 53 wounded in what was then the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. History.
There are not enough sorrow emojis for me to write. I wish so much I could consign this to history — but then I read the rest of the newspaper….. and I ask: Why do humans continue to do this to other humans? Why do people have to hate? Or as Rodney King, one of our patron saints in Los Angeles, poignantly asked, “”People, I just want to say, can we all get along? Can we get along?”
Jane Tawel 