Westmoreland Asays

Meg and I attended the Blazers/Jazz game tonight. The Ducks basketball team was playing the best team in the tournament, Louisville, earlier in the day, and I hadn't heard the outcome yet (I had recorded the game, in case the Ducks figured out how to pull off the upset). Early in the first quarter of the Blazers game, the stadium announcer played a clip on the big screen from the end of an unnamed college game, saying simply, "And here's the last play of the game." One of the teams was wearing yellow jerseys, and the other white. I immediately assumed it was the Ducks game, and my excitement grew as I had no hopes the Ducks could survive to the last play of the game. I anxiously watched the final play and, when the yellow team emerged victorious after a wild defensive stop, I shot out of my seat screaming and dancing in unbelief. I had actually picked the Ducks to win their first two games, but no way would I have picked this big of an upset. Meg asked if

If you asked me at different points in my life to name my favorite season,  I would have given different answers. As a child: Summer . No school, near-total freedom, and shorts and no shirts every day. I'll ignore the fact that I had to spend what seemed like an eternity weeding our huge garden on Saturdays. As a teen-ager: Autumn . Working nearly 60 hours a week on the iris farm, exposed continually to the sun and who knows what kinds of chemicals, was hard. Going back to school proved to be such a relief, and running on the Cross Country team was the frosting on the cake. As an adult: Spring . Death has begun creeping into my life, and I don't like its finality, so the concept of a rebirth soothes my soul. The subtle smell of the cherry blossoms, the days stretching ever-so-slightly longer, and the splashes of color returning to Western Eden fill my soul with hope and optimism that have become something of a rarity for this normally pessimistic and sarcastic fellow.