cool kids never have the time... Billy Corgin, SmashingPumpkins(Download/Listen)
The year, 1979.  Our country was in a recession, under Carter a President who, in a his "Crisis of Confidence" speech on July 15 said,  "The threat is nearly invisible in ordinary ways. It is a crisis of confidence. It is a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives ..." I was a going into my Junior year of High School. Adrift, in my own crisis of confidence; my life suddenly void of meaning.

I talked about moving to Tucson yesterday.  It comes up every year about this time.  The Pacific NW being what it is, wet, rainy, flooding, windy.  I talked about moving in five years, maybe... when Joe is getting ready to be a Junior or Senior, that way with a year as a resident he can enroll in college, U of A my obvious choice for his palm frawned, blonde haired, flip-flop campus delight.

"You can't move a kid his senior year! That's his year, his friends ... you know that!", Ann retorted.

I woke again tonight, so different than the dozens of other nights, were I was dreaming of sitting on the sidelines of the court.  This time it was an outdoor court, Doug was stretching on the sidelines I couldn't make out many other faces.  I didn't have my sneakers and couldn't find a pair to go into the game.  The difference was the violence, for some reason John was just doing what he thought was a defensive move, on the sidelines, he was actually trying to put himself in front of me so I couldn't see the game. So I hit him in the face.  Then I hit him again, and again ... five times until he was black and blue and slid over so I could see.  "Come on ref" he yelled, the ref came over and gave me a stern warning, to which I slickly replied "I had to ref, he was blocking my view".   The ref let it slide, put in his whistle and ran down the sideline.

Triumphantly, and urgently I ran around the complex looking at pairs of sneakers on the floor, big size 23's could they fit, others in tatters ~ would they work.  Time was running out, it was approaching the second half and although whatever fictitious team I was on had an early lead 16-12, Wyoming had tied it 18-18 and going into half-time was going to have the lead.   Our big man was good, but no match for Doug and I knew I had to get in the game.  Were the hell are my sneakers?!?

Sometimes I wish I could stop having these dreams, nightmares actually, subliminal glimpses into the spirit that transcends the body.  The anger, not typical but still showing that even in the dead of night, the soul stirs.  How good am I?  "In your dreams!"   Probably, not that good.  Probably, never playing Pro ball, college ball, hell even community college ball (like I would've enrolled in that BOCES oriented type program anyway)  Yet the spirit, unable to distinguish between reality and dreams holds on to the fact that you have all the confidence in the world that getting into that game will make the difference.

Ann is right.  Carter was right, too.  Our only hope for the future is to avoid a crisis of confidence arising out of the apathy and broken spirit of our children.  They need to hold onto their dreams, be encouraged and supported in their individual directions.  Our kids needn't be forced to experience their parents nightmarish crisises of confidence. 

Tucson is out, for now ... we'll save it for another rainy day (retirement).