Hard to find the words

Sometimes I fall off the blogging wagon and struggle to get back on.

There have been a lot of things going on lately, and yet... not much to write about. Or, not much I can adequately put to words. Maybe a good way to do it is go through the recent cell phone photos and tell you the stories behind them?

Lets start with this one: of my mom's birthday dinner at my grandparents house.

It's a blurry cell phone picture. If I could set up this picture again, I'd have a nice DSLR camera, with a timer on it. I'd put the camera on a shelf facing the dinner table, set the shutter on continuous mode, and the camera would capture images of the lit candles, the smile on my mom's face, and my grandparents singing "Happy Birthday" to her as she blew the candles out. Somehow the camera would capture the sound of my Grandma's light (alto? soprano?) and my Grandpa's deep baritone.

The camera would not remember the shit storm of an argument Gretchen and I walked in to that Sunday afternoon, as we came over to make a Sunday birthday dinner for my mom. I think all families have this argument at some point; failing health, elderly grandparents, working adult children, lack of in-home care in rural America, the difficult decisions that must be made. What we don't talk about is the fear of losing the ones we love, losing the traditions and memories and institutional family knowledge that comes with their impending death.

It is hard.

I was in eastern Washington that weekend, over Veteran's Day, to visit my sister for "Dad's weekend" at Washington State. Since dad was a little busy playing at Sacramento, I was the stand-in. We ended up down on the field before the game, due to Gretch's participation in a student booster group. My mom was in the area too, so we were able to snag tickets from a friend on the WSU coaching staff and all sit together for the game. In a snowstorm that looked like this:

Pretty epic. The best part was the come-from-behind victory.

And... less than a month later, 'Cougar football has reminded me why sometimes college football can be cruel. You see, the 'Cougs head coach used to work for my dad. He stayed on at Eastern Washington University when my dad left for MSU. After his first wife died of a brain tumor, he remarried and now has a son and a stepdaughter. In 2007 WSU fired their football coach (whose wife, ironically, had died of ovarian cancer the year before) and our friend was hired at his alma mater and where he played, WSU. Four years later, and about 3.5 weeks after this picture, Paul was fired from WSU.

I think I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder when it comes to people we know being fired. Seriously, all last week I was weepy and had a chest ache every time I think about it. It makes me sick.

And so, it seems the only thing to do is come home and cuddle this furball, who never fails to make me laugh:

(Don't fear, she punished me for this indignity by eating one of the glass ball ornaments the next day). 

At least the doggie knows how to hang out and roll with the punches.

It's THAT weekend.

My sister and her boyfriend are headed to Bozeman this afternoon. They're visiting to attend this weekend's MSU football game, which is against the team our dad currently coaches, Idaho State. 


I've been dreading this weekend for the last year. Dusty has considered going fishing or hunting instead of to the game. 


After MSU threw dad under the bus, he was out of football coaching for four seasons. For a guy who's entire persona is tied to what he does as a profession, it was torture. It was a really, really difficult four years for him, and all of us by extension. It finally feels like things are getting back to "normal"; whatever our new "normal" is. 


And of course, Montana being a small town, there have been stories in all the major newspapers. The Great Falls Tribune had one, the Billings Gazette had this one on Wednesday and this one today. People comment on those newspapers. The internet chat rooms have been all over it. I've had three calls and two emails at  work from people trying to contact dad, or asking to interview me about how I feel about it. 


The party line this week is "no comment." 


How do I feel about it? It's too painful to drag up. The wound has finally started to form scars; I'm not ripping it open only to invite the internet trolls and their uninformed comments to further infect the re-opened wound. No thanks. I'll go along privately licking my wounds. 


Overdramatic? Maybe. But tell me how I'm supposed to feel about having my dad publicly flogged for shit he had absolutely no control over?


Theme song of the week might be Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." Dad was fired on the cusp of really doing something amazing at MSU. I'm talking lots of wins, playoff games, national championships. 

The scars of your love remind me of us

They keep me thinking that we almost had it all

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless

I can't help feeling

We could have had it all

Instead of having it all, dad's coaching at a school that's never had three winning seasons in a row. That's down scholarships and practice time because of Academic Progress Rating issues. It's a total rebuild; a resetting of the institutional persona. And he'll get it turned around, because he's done it twice before. Because he's good at this. And because we're all so damn grateful to have him back where he belongs. 

Hell, he's so proud to be back in football, even with only two wins this year and few prospects for another, that he's cried at three different press conferences. CRIED. Had to hold back SOBS. 

(I tease him about being speaker of the house John Boehner). 

We could have had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside your hand

And you played it to the beat

Could have had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside your hand

But you played it with a beating

Throw your soul through every open door

Count your blessings to find what you look for

Turn my sorrow into treasured gold

You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow

(Now I'm gonna wish you never had met me)

We could have had it all

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

We could have had it all

He'll beat MSU again someday. It won't be on Saturday. It might not be for a few more years. But he will. In the meantime, I still have more than enough to say.

Back in the game

This afternoon my dad retakes the football field as a collegiate head coach. After three years of being out of the game, he'll lead the Idaho State Bengals onto the field at Martin Stadium in Pullman, for an afternoon showdown against Washington State University. 

Man, there is so much emotion wrapped up in those two sentences. Dad is finally actually coaching again. He and my mom grew up 12 miles from Pullman. He was recruited by Washington State, but chose to start at the University of Idaho as a freshman. WSU drubbed Idaho so badly in 1975 that my dad's brother Pat, who was being recruited by WSU, refused to speak to the 'Cougs coaches. Pat signed with Notre Dame instead, married a girl from the east coast and has lived in Massachusetts since.  

Football is a game, don't get me wrong. But sometimes it has life-changing consequences.

Dad was on the staff at WSU last year. Let me make it clear: he made $24,000 as the glorified water boy. He couldn't interact with college athletes. He wasn't coaching. But he and my mom had fun being 'Coug fans. Even if the 'Cougs only won two games last year; one of them an overtime victory against Montana State. 

A long time assistant, and good friend of his, is the head football coach at WSU. Paul's WSU teams have won five games in three years- he's on the end of a one-year contract extension. Saying he's on the hot seat is like saying I've got small fingers. Duh. 

My sister and her boyfriend are seniors at WSU. It's amazing how much this university, which I didn't attend, has been in my life lately. Can I call myself a bandwagon 'Coug fan if I became a fan when they sucked? 

The sportswriter for the Spokesman Review out of Spokane has been a longtime favorite writer of mine. His article this week gets to the amazing irony and sometimes gut-wrenching coincidences that come with college athletics. You can, and should, read it here.

Don't get me wrong, it won't be a close game. The 'Cougs have been terrible, but the Bengals have been worse. But it's awesome to see dad get another chance to do what he loves, and is so damn good at. 

Four years

Four years ago I returned from graduate school in Kentucky, happy to be back in the Big Sky state and certain of a bright future. It was a great, meandering trip back, with stops in Madison, Wisconsin and Bismark, North Dakota. Driving across the northern great plains in May is beautiful with green grass, blue skies and a lot of bugs.

I arrived home, car loaded down, to my aunt and uncle in town for my cousin's graduation from Montana State. Zack was the last of the three of us cousins, Blake, me and him, to attend MSU. Both Blake and Zack played football for dad; Blake as an All-American Tight End, and Zack as an outstanding center whose career was cut short by bizarre injuries and happenstances. 

The Tuesday after graduation I interviewed for my First Professional Job. On Friday afternoon I took a phone call while at the temporary job at my mom's medical office, in which I was offered my current position. Elated, I hung up the phone, finished my shift, walked down and told my mom the happy news, and went to Target to buy myself a celebration gift. I remember being on the phone with a friend, standing in the card aisle, and listening to a downpour of a spring thunderstorm. 

I couldn't get a hold of my dad all afternoon. My dad is not a phone guy, so I didn't really chalk it up to much. Target purchase in hand, I walked into the kitchen of my parent's home to find my dad leaning against the counter.

CK: "Have you talked to mom?"

Dad: "Yeah... (with a gentle resigned look on his face)"

CK: "I got that job with the City!"

Dad: "That's great kid; I just got fired."

And nothing has really been the same since. My mom came home, clutching the mail she'd picked up on the way in. A thick packet from their retirement investment advisor had arrived. Mom threw it on the table with a "well guess that's trash now."

My sister arrived home an hour behind my mom. In a fate which still makes my heart freeze up, she heard the news about dad being fired from a good friend of hers, whose dad had been MSU's basketball coach until he was fired the previous year. 

"Oh Gretchen, I'm so sorry," said Mikeala.

"For what?" Gretchen asked.

(and this is where I get really, really angry that an institution to which my family gave so much couldn't have the dignity and grace to at least give my dad 24 hours to notify his family before offering a fucking press release just in time for the 5pm news. You stay classy MSU.)

I made margaritas. No one drank them. 

We sat there and stared at each other. Shocked. Hurt. Angry. Upset. Livid. 

And though I try, and it gets a bit easier every year, I still have a hard time moving past those emotions.

Especially knowing that four years later, on May 17, 2011, my parents are still pretty unsettled. 

Knowing that this episode has taken years off of their lives. Added years to the length of time they'll work before being able to retire. Added lines and wrinkles and worry and stress and weight and hurt and scars on their hearts that will probably never really heal. 

I'm proud, or maybe more astonished, that my family has made it through the past four years. It has not been easy; it won't be easy moving forward. But life can't be easy, and if I was to learn that lesson, better at 22 years old than later, right?

Personally, the last four years have been pretty darn amazing for me. Successful job, relationship, marriage, dog, health, career, etc. And I'm grateful to have found a guy willing to take all of that on. It's a lot of baggage; this bitterness towards my alma mater (which happens to be my husband's too). I'm working to let go of it, but damn this bitterness is tough to rinse from my mouth. 

We are alive. We are resilient. We have bounced back. 

And damn if I'm not already looking forward to October 29: the date Idaho State University plays in Bozeman against Montana State. I'm challenging ISU to throw for 500+ yards of passing.