government lessons
Bureaucracy sometimes is a beautiful thing. Of course, I'm being sarcastic, are you kidding? There's nothing worse than having to sit around in an office waiting to do something that would be so much easier to do online. Enter the Social Security Administration and the adventure of a new social security card.
This isn't the first time I've had to do this. I had to apply for a new one in October of last year, in order to take care of my DC registration. It was my first replacement ever from the one I had from birth. However, during the move from DC to Birmingham, it's been put away in a box, and I'm not really sure which one. And, Alabama is a little crazed with the new hire forms and verifying social security numbers with cards (which I've not had to do, this is a new thing… but maybe it's because this is a state job). So, instead of tearing apart every box in storage that I have to find it and making an utter mess in the possibility that I might have lost it, I figured it would be just as easy to reapply for a replacement card.
Now, the downtown office was a madhouse yesterday. So, I opted for the Birmingham "East" office. It was quite a change from the office in DC. In DC, I was the ONLY "white (not hispanic)" person in the place. And everyone was there to do what they needed to, no one talked, and everyone looked hacked off while we were there. But, in the Birmingham-East SSA office, I'm pretty sure every area in state of Alabama made sure to send representation. And what did I do? I sat back and watched… and took in some life lessons.
As the scary looking man that looked like he could kill me, whose fingernails were longer than mine, kept staring at me, this cute, little African-American boy was singing songs into the bottom of his grandmother's cane. The scary man's woman had her kid's names tattooed on her left arm, in about 36 pt font, horizontally, perfectly readable and in flowy cursive. Names like Perthashia and Jameem. I was just amazed at how large the tattoos. Down the row from those folks were an Asian couple that had just gotten married that couldn't keep their hands off each other. And she had some bling on that left hand. A few rows back was an Army man in his fatigues, sitting with his Army son, in jeans and a tight tee, discussing something that had been stolen the night before, apparently while the son had been partying. How do I know the son was Army? When you live in DC and you have family that is Army, you learn to know who's young and within their first few years. A few seats down from them, high-school aged teens, brother and sister, fighting and punching each other. Behind them was a family from the sticks… the wife looked like she was probably on meth, the dad looked high, and the dirty, barefoot kids were running around without any supervision… and as their, albeit cute, little, chubby boy (about 3 years old AND with a pacifier) was about to run out the door, the dad (too lazy to get up) simply yells, "GAGE!" I'm wondering if he's named the kid after a truck or a shotgun. Friends have mentioned that he's possibly named after the kid from the movie "Pet Sematary."
Luckily, my name was called about 2 minutes after the "GAGE!" moment. All this in about 30 minutes. The only part that was comforting was the American-Idol-to-Be singing into the bottom of the cane.
Things running through my head during my experience today at the SSA:B-E…
- If you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you.
- If you want to tattoo your child's name in a font bigger than 10 pt, put it somewhere that I can't (and won't) see it.
- If you look like you're from the movie "Deliverance," I really want to yell "I Hear Banjos!"
- Men, you're not meant to have long fingernails. Leave it to the women.
- Hey, new couple, mazel! But, c'mon… we were about to puke.
- Excuse me, Officer and Son, I don't know what was stolen, but everyone knows about it now, and God forbid that you ever have to talk about a classified mission, because you sir, will fail miserably.
- Also, if you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you. Yes, I felt the need to repeat.
Color me Judgy McJudgerson all you want. But, this is exactly why you should give people that feel like Yankees in the South an option for bureaucracy online instead of having to sit around in an office. This is the result.
I love the South, but after that experience… seriously, paddle faster. I heard banjos.
is it october yet?
In the hockey off-season, fans do some incredible things. Some visit Montreal to go to the draft. Others join in UFA/RFA prediction contests (yes, I'm one, and I'm losing). Almost everyone goes nuts on July 1 on the opening of Free Agency (let the frenzy begin!).
What did I do? Apparently, I jumped ship in a strange, dramatic way. I moved to Alabama… quite possibly the most unrelated place to hockey. Down in Alabama, they worship college football 365 days a year, and attend football games more frequently than church. But, instead of joining the craze, which I do have a team from living here before, I still continued my love for hockey. Less than 2 weeks after I had returned, I met another hockey fan… and not just someone who knew about the Red Wings playing in the Stanley Cup. This guy had PLAYED hockey. Enter: the Goalie.
The Goalie is from Boston, making him a Bruins fan by nature, but an even bigger Red Sox fan. I kid with him all the time, but it's quite similar to the life of the move "Fever Pitch." He knows his players, their lives, and he gets sentimental when he's talking about Fenway Park. It's quite adorable. And while my team, the St. Louis Cardinals, lost to the Sox in 2004 in the World Series, I let him have his fervor for baseball… I just don't like to talk about that year… even if everyone in the entire country was cheering on the Sox. Probably even the Cardinals, just to break the streak.
We talk hockey smack all the time, and he's been amazed that I've followed the free agency. In fact, I've been sending him info since the trades began over text messages and phone calls. But, the worst news ever came a fews days ago when I found out about the opening game of the season for MY TEAM… the Capitals take on the Boston Bruins… in the Garden. This is gonna get interesting.
The Boston Bruins made a commercial about dating within hockey during their playoff run this past season. It's one of the funniest hockey commercials I've seen.
Luckily, the Caps AREN'T in the same division as the B's, but they are in the same conference, which also means that they can't play each other for the Stanley Cup. But, I'm getting ahead of myself…
Since the initial game of the season is both of our teams against each other, we thought we'd make a small bet. Pending the winner, the other has to face the humiliation. If the Caps win, the Goalie has to wear my old Caps jersey on a visit TO BOSTON. If the Bruins win, I have to wear one of his B's jerseys on a visit TO D.C. Either way, one of us is gonna look like an idiot. I'm just hoping since he's a funny guy that it's him, and not me. If I have to wear a B's jersey in D.C., it'll be on top of a burka. But, a bet is a bet, right?
So, with that… is it October yet??? Because I need a good Caps road win to start the season off right! 
UPDATE (8/11/2009): All bets are off.
a spot of tea
In the trend of the oldest child, I don't like to follow the mainstream at times. For the Fourth of July, and as a true historian, I was patriotic to the best of means (and not in redneck fashion). I spent the day with family, and watched "A Capitol Fourth" on PBS (where some of my government funds are best spent), and gazed into the HDTV as the fireworks exploded over the most amazing city I know: Washington, D.C. It was at that moment, upon hearing the fife and drum corps of the United States Army playing along before the National Symphony Orchestra pronounced the finale with the 1812 Overture, I felt the most patriotic I had in years. I remembered a line from the musical, "1776," when John Adams (Fee-hee-hee-heeeeny) sang about how fireworks would proclaim the birthday of the new nation that was hatching on the eve of July 4, 1776.
Of course, since I thought about the musical, days later (read: last night), I watched the movie form of it. I love how they portray the characters. Most people think they are being comical… but in historical memory and readings, it's hilarious that they are almost true to form. The playful Franklin, the uptight Adams, the thoughtful Jefferson, and of course New York who confounds us all. As soon as I finished "1776," I immediately sought out my "John Adams" series since I had Mr. Adams on the brain ("Mr. Adams, leave me aloooooone!"). And the rumblings of rebellion and murmurings of "taxation without representation" got me to thinking.
On the Fourth of July in Alabama, a small group of conservatives chose to gather to voice their opinions about taxation, and have what has been recently called "Tea Parties." Now, pardon me for just a second, if you will… pretend that you're one of those people, and maybe you are. I might like to ask you just a few questions. Do you have a representative in Congress? Can that representative speak on your districts behalf? Can your representative acquire funds for your district for road repairs and other various projects for your area and/or state? Now, my guess is that your answer to that is a yes to each of those questions, and if you were to say no, I'd challenge your answer.
These same people with refutable representatives, who ARE and have been elected by the people, DO represent the people of Alabama. However, the constituents of these elected officials are holding "tea parties" in which they claim they are being "taxed without representation." And WHY do they feel they are being taxed without representation? Because their party isn't in office.
Dear people of Alabama who don't understand this concept… let me tell you what it REALLY means. As a legal resident of the District of Columbia [yes, still... my license still states it], you should know that "taxation without representation" is not held lightly in the District. We place it on our license plates for a reason. It is the ONLY remaining area within the landlocked states that is YET to be declared a state, and has YET to be given a representative with VOTING rights on the house floor, and still has to ask Congress to do anything. We don't have a Governor, we have a Mayor… and that Mayor has very little power, since the President is just down the street. That Mayor is under the authority of the Vice President. Anything the Mayor wishes to do has to have the release of the VP and Congress. A million people live within a 6+ square mile area, and we are held to every federal tax that any other American is in the country. And yet in DC, residents also have to give way to anything federal, because it is first and foremost beyond any resident. So, fair Alabamian… if you really want to tell ME that you are taxed without representation because your party didn't get into office, be prepared for a lecture in American and DC history. Unless you've either lived in DC (or the colonies, and I'm pretty sure they've died off by now), don't you DARE tell me that you understand what it's like to be taxed unfairly. Until you can't call your congressperson and complain only to hear that person say they can't do anything because they can't speak on the floor, then get over it.
Also [if you've made it this far], should I remind you that the "Tea Party" in Boston in the colonial days were conjured up by yes, Patriots. But, in that day, they were considered liberals. They were against the ebb and flow. They were the ones strayed from the "right." So, please, for the love of history, don't destroy the beautiful imagery of what our founding father created only to saturate it with protests that don't get anything done. Children and teenagers these days need history that is passionate, and protests like the modern-day tea parties are nothing but a joke that makes history less poignant.
moving tweetlog
- While the CDT zone SAYS it's almost 11pm, my EDT zone body can feel the midnight and then some from the trip/packing.
- Destination reached (Birmingham). Beyond exhaustion. Considering a challenge to Rip Van Winkle's record…
- Music off. #pens / #canes game on XM until I get home.
- Who else has an Alabama song for me?? Unleash 'em. Hahaha.
in my own words
Last night I had to say an unplanned goodbye to my second home. Yes, the move had been planned for a while, but the journey was set to depart today. Instead, my family thought it best to leave last night and drive a few hours out to get a head start. I find myself both relieved and angered at the same time.
I wanted to make a last good walk through my apartment and glimpse through my neighborhood, the neighborhood that I have cherished while I lived in D.C. It's a struggling and redeveloping neighborhood, but it has so much potential. The beauty lies in the people. Instead, I had to quickly grab my cat, Zoe, and put her in the car so we could get on the road. I had one quick walk through while people were waiting on me outside.
I feel robbed of my chance to really get to say goodbye to Washington. I didn't get to see it out my rearview mirror as I had planned, as I had charted the route from Rock Creek Parkway down to the waterfront to catch I-66 out of town. At that time, I figured I'd be able to start mourning my losses… the history, the architecture, the anonymity of the city, but most of all, some of the most amazing people I've ever known. I was also so incredibly busy until the last minute that I didn't have time to spend with the people I cared about. Instead, I had to give quick hugs and goodbyes to the friends that helped me pack the truck as tears welled realizing that I had to hurry because we were standing in the street and time was passing and the clock was ticking.
On the other hand, there's a sigh of relief that comes with it. The last time I left Washington, I cried for 2 hours of the drive. Of course, I had just left SassyBlonde's house right before I left, which definitely didn't help matters. If you know me, you know that I don't like goodbyes… which really means that I don't like to let anyone see me cry. Having to actually admit that I may not see someone again is so painful. It's why I usually make clean breaks and just move without the hurrahs and go. Then, if you see them again, it's great. If not, you always have the memories. But, usually someone is mad at me because I left without saying goodbye. But then I just have to continually explain that I don't like goodbyes. So, there's relief in the fact that while I was robbed of the goodbye, I didn't have time to actually process it.
Of course, today as I drive, I'll probably think of everything that I'm leaving behind and bawl like a baby, as I'll finally have some rest and start processing it. But, so far, that opportunity has been taken from me, since my family, who had 2 of the 3 vehicles in the caravan got the majority of the votes.
If I didn't get to see you before I left, please know that you are near and dear to me still. Washington and the people that I associate with the city, those friends that I accumulated there, will always be a part of my heart. I'm touched by your generosity and offers to help pack and load my truck, by hanging out, by simply showing up. I'm also thankful for the kind notes and thoughts for safe travels and even the sarcasm about Alabama not having the interwebs.
No worries… I'll still be around. I'm sure you've got my contact info. If not, it's on the main site page, and you can find me somehow, whether on Facebook, Twitter, or email. Some of you even have my cell, so ring it on up! I will see your D.C. faces very soon, I hope! And when I come in, you should sound the horns.
P.S. Driving in a multi-car caravan SUCKS.
the time has come
And so it is, just like you said it would be… life goes easy on me, most of the time. -Damien Rice
Except now. Now, I’m in the end of a chapter, one which some know, and one which some don’t, but one which is now going public for all to know.
A few weeks ago, I made the decision to return to Alabama to work on my Master’s Degree, which is only 12 hours shy of completion. I had high hopes of finishing it in Washington, D.C., because it is a city that I love so much, but things never worked toward my favor. It was a difficult decision to make, but one that I feel is the best in my situation. I’m going to work with one of the best urban historians in the country, and with great hopes, I’ll be headed toward an amazing doctoral program in the fall of 2010. I move the Friday of Memorial Day weekend.
The hardest part of all of this is leaving behind some of the people that are so near and dear to me. My neighborhood that I love: the CVS with the snazzy pharmacist, the bodega, the restaurants, the stoops where politics are discussed. The public transit that is so accessible, which continually ran me late for work because I had to transfer twice just to get to work, even though I live and work in D.C. My beloved Capitals… man, what do I say about a team that I have followed so passionately with all of my heart and soul, and now I have to leave behind to go to a city without hockey (blasphemous, I know!)?
To my dear friends that I have always had here before and always: you are amazing, and I thank you for your continual friendship. You’ve held me steady in hard times and kept me strong when I couldn’t think to hold my head up. You have kept me here as long as I have been here… it’s been a rough ride this time through… and you know the story.
To my hockey tweeps: It’s amazing that in just a month or more, I could create an incredible bond with such phenomenal people. Through wins and losses, you have shown me what it means to be loyal, truly loyal (and that’s saying something to a southern gal!). You have no idea how much I will miss you and our tweetups at Old Dominion. It seems my life will be somewhat incomplete without you, since you’ve been such a part of it for the last month during playoffs.
To my Alabama friends, that’s right, you heard it, I’m coming home for a while… Cue “Sweet Home Alabama.” It will be good to see you.
But, don’t worry… I will be up to D.C. to visit, you can rest assured of that! J And when hockey season rolls around, I’ll be up for some games. And to play tourist in general at other times. This city is my second home. I love it so much, and it was so difficult to make the decision to leave.
So, be gentle with me for a while. I’ve been fragile for quite some time with the decision, and I will be for some time yet. I go with some mixed emotions, but I am excited about school, hopeful for the future, and also hopeful that our paths continue to cross.
sweet sweet home
I left Alabama in 1961 and never went back to live. Not because I don’t like it, but because living outside it, I can see it more objectively. –William Christenberry
I've told people before that I have a love/hate relationship with Alabama. Jokingly, I tell them that I love it when I'm away, and I hate it when I'm there. It's halfway right, but mostly wrong, too.
While I shouldn't joke about how my home state, there is a lot that I feel really proud that the state has accomplished. For one, I am in love with the governor right now. Gov. Bob Riley is the best governor the state has had since Big Jim Folsom. Of course, Big Jim was pretty crooked, so technically, Riley is the cleanest governor so far that the state might have had… pretty much ever. But, Riley has brought some amazing industry to the state, and most of all, he has put honesty, honor, and dignity back into the governor's mansion, something that has been missing for far too long in the state of Alabama (plus, he wears cowboy boots with his suits, and rides a motorcycle). I'm also excited to see about the prospects of 2010 for the Governor's Mansion. It will be interesting to see what kind of impact Artur Davis can make on the state and its voting habits.
I grow incredibly homesick at times… with all of my family there, it is harder and harder to be away and to see my niece growing up just by pictures seems so unfair. It's difficult to have lived there and know everything about daily lives to just talking a few times a week and the conversations are short-lived. There are also people there that I have dear friendships with that I have really grown to miss our connections. While I have been gone, one friend has birthed a beautiful son, a few have gotten married, and others, well, I'm not gonna lie, I miss their stories. I miss the lunch gatherings at regular spots. I miss getting to see friends do stand-up. I miss the BBQ. Oh, dear sweet Lord, do I miss the BBQ. I mean, not as much as my family, of course, but I can call and talk to friends… there's no connection with BBQ here. None. Nada.
At the same time, when I do go home, because of my seeming "black sheep" status in the family, or even in the state, I feel out of place because I've been in D.C. and lived a life completely separate from that of everyone in Alabama. There's a sort of disconnect that happens at gatherings and functions. Once again, it becomes small talk, which I can't stand. Much of it is my fault, because I become so busy that I don't stay in touch with friends, but it's only half my fault. Still, it's painful to have a disconnect in a place that I consider my home. I sincerely want to know what is going on with people and their lives. Sadly, instead of conversation, we've let technology in the form of Facebook and Twitter replace those meaningful exchanges. I love knowing what is going on, and it's helpful, but a simple message on the 'book or a tweet in 140 characters can't exactly divulge every emotion of the heart.
In retrospect, I am on and off the fence with Christenberry's view of Alabama. Being away from it, I don't know that I can always see it more objectively. There are times when I can, and times when I can't. It's like a power switch. Perhaps I didn't stay long enough before I departed to have a connection to be able to hold my objectivity. Maybe that it why I yearn to visit so much, and I long for home much more than many of those around me. Or, maybe Christenberry is off base, and has no idea… and we are all critics of our home, no matter where this life takes us. It's what we do with that criticism, positive or negative, that shapes our viewpoints.
Either way, I suppose that since I have been such a nomad in my life, I will be forced to live by the old adage, "home is where you are." And, I need to learn to get used to it. But, I secretly still count down the days when I get to visit my dear sweet home Alabama.
wishes
First off, yeah yeah, it’s been a while. Bite me. I’ve been busy. Now on to the story.
This has to be one of the most memorable Christmases that I’ve had in a long time… mainly because my parents are freaking hysterical. I haven’t laughed so much with them in a long time, and I why I love my family so much. I wish I could put them in a box and keep them with me all them time when I’m in D.C., except of course when I’m screaming at some moron who is crossing the street and causing traffic to back up. I’m sure they wouldn’t approve then.
Anyway, my parents are always throwing out one-liners. My dad is the king of them. He’s been creating them since I was a child. I’d say that I’d have a headache and his response would always be, “Well if I had a head like that, mine would hurt too.” Ha, like we haven’t all heard that one – typical dad, right? Anywho, my dad is constantly providing quips that keep us giggling, or we revert back to when I was 10 and he used to have the “horse eat corn” (he grabs my knee with no avail, and I swear it tickles so much and I just can’t get loose no matter how hard I try). Well, I make an epic fail to do the same to him, and then he usually chases me around the house until we’re yelling for my mom for an intervention. Then she usually chimes in with her one-liners. Our house is chaotic when everyone is home, can you tell??? Add to it one brother, a sister-in-law, and an 11 month old girl who is insanely mischevious (like her daddy), and it makes for one hilarious party.
Today I went shopping with my mom just because we had nothing else to do. We had our family Christmas gathering yesterday because of my brother’s family schedule, so we set out to do the unmentionable at Christmas: shop for ourselves… oh the horror! and the deals! 
She is even helping me pick out a New Year’s Eve dress, which has actually been pretty painless… My mom, who often says things without thinking them through completely (no, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree), blurts out as we’re walking to the car, “I need a drink.” Now, in normal world, that means, “Hi, I’m (fill in your name here), and I’m an alcoholic.” But, to my mom, she was thirsty. But, it was the way she said it that opened it up for the greatest rapid fire of liners. Oy, it was hysterical. My mom, the trooper just played along, even braving the line that yes, she did indeed have a problem. Later in the car, her profanity then kicked in (apparently after she got her drink on), as she complained that there was “no more ass” in her drink… Unfortunately to her dismay, she totally mean ice, but the damage was done, and our family can never let it go.
My favorite Christmas memory so far now this year, though, has to be the refrigerator magnets that have become a new tradition here in the exended family of the Muse. We have the letters of Christmas spelled out in individual calligraphic letters with beautiful decoration. They’ve been around for about 10 years or so. Well, this year, the T went missing. And, instead of just not putting them up, my mom thought it would be funny to make it someone risque and vulgar, spelling “Chrimass” instead. So, this year’s joke has been wishing everyone in and out of the doors a “Merry Chrimass” instead of an actual greeting. People look at us funny, but we can usually tell them that we’re from Alabama and no one should expect anything less.
Before I know it, my parents will be pulling out Jack Daniels to celebrate and my world will be turned upside down.
It’s been the most amazing Chrimass this year. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I’m spending time with family and finally getting some downtime, just before I’ve got to scoot back to the district.
So, now with all the care and love in my heart, to all my Christian friends – Merry Christmas, to all my Jewish friends – Happy Chanukah, to the rest of us – Happy Festivus, and to those who have no soul and wish to believe in nothing, hope that you have fun working. Happy Holidays everyone!
you’re not joking?
So, lately the buzz (and snickering) around Birmingham has been about Mayor Larry Langford's proposal to the City Council to present the City of Birmingham as a site for the 2020 Olympic Games. No, seriously… he really did. And this is exactly why we're all still laughing.
Apparently, he believes that since he's pushing for the dome stadium (that we are still unsure will be built… and why, too), and for an olympic-size pool (for what reason, might I ask?), Langford believes that we would be a perfect place. Besides, we held the soccer events for the 1996 Atlanta Games, so that makes us ready, right? I mean, since our air traffic is about to be possibly severely reduced, it makes complete sense… 
What I love is that, according to Musings on Birmingham, Langford prefaced the proposal with: “This is not a game or a joke." Again, seriously??? If you have to say that, shouldn't you reconsider it altogether? If you know they're gonna laugh and giggle, you should know it's a bad idea. I mean, this is SO out in left field, it's not even funny.
Yes, Birmingham needs some good positive PR and something good for the economy, but having to put millions (probably billions) of dollars into building for the Olympic games when the city is already in debt in so many areas is SUCH a bad idea. And, if people are already upset with Beijing's pollution problem, I can't imagine what they will think about Birmingham's smog and ill-consideration for a greener city.
However, maybe I'm skeptical, because there are some like Musings and Andre over at the Terminal who think that a push like this could be good for Birmingham. I suppose it could be a good thing for Birmingham… I've just seen things continually flop that we thought were good ideas. See: Birmingham Fire, Birmingham Stallions, Birmingham Bulls, Alabama Slammers… and that's just the professional sports realm. The only things that work here in the state are college sports and racing. I could go on, but I don't have the time or the desire to be negative. I want to see Birmingham get out of its rut. I'm just not sure that the Olympics are the way to go.
this is alabama football
I had to share the following, which was passed along by Mrs. Merlin to me today. It makes me wish for the summer to pass, and football season to arrive. I'm not gonna lie… Every bit of this bit below sent chills down my spine, and I loved reading it because every word of it is true.
What is Alabama Football?
By Derek Camp
It is Wallace Wade. It is Bear Bryant. It is not Bill Curry.
It is the Rose Bowl.
It is hearing Keith Jackson call an Alabama game.
It is watching George Teague running down Lamar Thomas in the 1993 Sugar Bowl then rewinding it and watching it again.
It is hearing the first notes of Sweet Home Alabama.
It is the desire to beat Auburn at any competitive event that exists.
It is a houndstooth hat.
It is having enough pride to fight for your school but having enough class not to.
It is cheering the same amount for a first down on second and 6 as on fourth and 1.
It is watching Cornelius Bennett give Notre Dame quarterback Steve Beuerlein a concussion on that October day in Birmingham in 1986.
It is determining who you are going to date & marry by which team they swear allegiance to.
It is watching The Bear on the jumbotron before a game in Bryant-Denny Stadium and almost seeing him leaning against the goalpost in the end zone.
It is spending a day at The Bryant Museum and still not seeing everything.
It is cool crisp autumn Saturdays where you can smell football in the air and feel it whenever there is a slight breeze.
It is watching The Bear get number 315 against Auburn.
It is watching The Bear get number 323 against Illinois.
It is hearing Paul Kennedy do the play-by-play when Van Tiffin kicked the 52-yard field goal against Auburn in 1985.
It is knowing how many days until the start of a season year around.
It is driving down Colonial Drive to see Bryant-Denny Stadium not the sorority girls.
It is getting chills up and down your entire body whenever you hear anything about the 1993 Sugar Bowl and the pride you feel because that night tradition ruled.
It is hearing The Bear's voice and having all the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up because you know no matter what he said, it was something special.
It is hearing The Million Dollar Band play "Yea Alabama" and knowing it
just does not get any better.
It is imagining hearing Penn State Quarterback Chuck Fusina ask Alabama linebacker Barry Krauss "How close is it?" and hearing Krauss say "About an inch, you'd better pass" right before fourth down during The Goal Line Stand in the 1979 Sugar Bowl.
It is almost coming to tears whenever Alabama loses to Auburn or Tennessee.
It is The Kick. It is The Goal Line Stand. It is The Desperation Block.
It is purposely not wearing any clothes with the colors orange and blue.
It is the Third Saturday in October.
It is not needing an alarm clock on game days, you sit bolt upright in the bed long before the alarm goes off because you know that it is a gameday, you can sleep after the bowl game.
It is walking into a stadium and knowing Alabama will win the game no matter who they are playing because is just the way it is supposed to be.
It is the saying "Offense wins games, Defense wins national titles."
It is the Bear Bryant 'A'.
It is getting to the stadium hours before the game just to be there.
It is walking into another team's stadium and having those fans hate you
because you are from Alabama.
It is the pride that a father has when he brings his children to a game
so they may cherish the tradition.
It is beating LSU in Baton Rouge.
It is hearing the crunch as a linebacker dressed in crimson and white hits a running back dressed in orange and blue.
It is the pride you take in being every team's rival.
It is pulling for any team that is playing Auburn.
It is pulling for any team that is playing Tennessee.
It is hoping for the stadium to blow up when Auburn plays Tennessee.
It is knowing that the SEC Championship is a birthright.
It is being respected and feared at the same time.
It is holding up four fingers at the end of the third quarter.
It is knowing what "Mama Called" means.
It is having 21 Southeastern Conference Titles.
It is having 12 National Titles.
It is more than I can ever mentioned in this article.
It is class.
It is tradition.
It is Alabama Football.
Oh, good gracious. It's so true. Tide, get ready to roll. This. Is. Alabama Football.
