Once upon a time, my mom went to the Super Bowl. It’s a funny story cause she could care less about football. It was a long time ago in the eighties. My aunt was a huge football fan so my mom got dragged along as a sidekick a lot to Rams games as my aunt was a season ticket holder. Through that channel, they got tickets to the Super Bowl. We always enjoyed hearing about the interesting characters they would sit by at the games and so we were super excited for her to go to the big game. We knew we would get a sweatshirt when she got home, but it was a sweatshirt of the losers. (THE BRONCOS) Fast forward a few decades, I enjoy football. I enjoy the camaraderie, but I really have no idea what is actually going on. Neither one of my brothers played football. They were not exactly hefty. My dad’s sport of choice was walking mountainous terrain and emerging when he was good and ready. This usually involved great distances. It turned off my mom quite early in their marriage so she has always refused to walk/hike with him. My dad and I have had some good hikes together from an early age to now when he has dramatically slowed down. You don’t have to be fast to hike, genetically special, or anything like with football. However, this weekend I will turn on my tv. I will enjoy some nachos, wings, and probably some Coca Cola. I won’t know what is going on during the game and I won’t care who wins, but I’ll enjoy a bit of this classic American past time.