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Month 8

15 0 0

Yesterday, I did something for only the second time in my life. I went to a regular season football game at MetLife Stadium. To raise the stakes, as a native Philadelphian, it was an Eagles-Giants game. These contests are always close, more of a scrum than a thing of athletic beauty. The winner is more like a battered survivor than a triumphant victor.

The sky was overcast for most of the game, and the temperature was in the high 30s to low 40s. Unlike a September game in balmy 70-degree weather, it felt like a real football game, with multiple layers of cloths, gloves, scarves, and hand warmers. We were not in the nosebleed seats, but I still needed my long-range glasses to appreciate what was happening on the field. I was nervous and sat quietly the whole time. And it got me to thinking.

My father was not a star athlete, but he was more than adequate. He roller skated to school as a young child and could gracefully get around a rink on ice skates. Even at age 70, he could swing a bat and make contact with pitches thrown at 70 miles an hour in a batting cage. My mother was a Brooklyn girl and sports were not a major feature of life in the Bais Yaakov of Boro Park. But she was in decent shape and could walk miles with the best of them. My mother easily kept up with her friends on........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)

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