It Was All Good

The 2016 college football season has begun.

We do not have season tickets to the UW-Badger home games at Camp Randall for the first time in over 35 years.

It has taken awhile to understand the Camp Randall experience. Yeah the football games were good, but it really about family.

Initially we traveled to Madison on Saturdays to watch Grasshopper No.2 perform in the Marching Band starting in 1980. Grasshopper No.2 performed for 4 years and was awarded a UW blanket to prove it. Siblings No.1 and No.3 (I think No.4 got to see his sister perform but he was really young) would join in. Each Saturday was filled with music. A day began by meeting No.2 in the morning, we would congregate at the South Union to enjoy a pep rally, march to the stadium with the band playing music, we’d watch the pre-game and half-time Band performances and then march to historic Bascom Hill for a closing pep rally. Yep, we’d do all that. Oh, and there were football games besides. Don’t forget dinner afterward. It was a day of family and it involved fun.

There were many games where Nana and Grandpa would join us. They endured the same rigors of a long day and enjoyed every moment. Reflecting back, Nana and Grandpa would have been in their early 70’s. They lived to see a Grandchild perform for in the Band and be included in family outings. How precious is a family gathering that includes Grandparents?

After 4 years of watching the career of No.2 at the football outings, tradition and nostalgia “kicked in”. We continued to buy season tickets for the next 30 years.

In the years that followed, it was still about our family joining together but it got extended to son-in-laws, daughter-in-laws, Grandchildren (Dano, Grant, Mitchell, Collin, Dominic and Tommy), and Uncles and Aunts. There were occasional guests.

There was always anticipation.

There was always upbeat music.

There were championships and outstanding football players.

But there was always the family getting together to make it special. Thanks to all for the all the memories.

Love,

Dad