Plano Profile February 2010 : Page 95
my drift Hoping against hope T he magazine business is all about deadlines. as this issue arrives in your mailbox, we’re minutes away from the copy deadline for the next issue. it creates complications with the timeliness of subject matter, and often a My Drift inspired by a holiday experience has to be saved until that same holiday rolls around again a year later. i’m not waiting to write about SMU’s Christmas eve victory in the Hawaii Bowl, however, because that particular event was not about Christmas, nor was it about football. indeed, my alma mater’s very appearance in a post-season bowl game after 25 years is a metaphor for that most timeless of themes: hope. i’d be lying if i said we never gave up hope waiting for the Mustangs to recover from the death penalty the nCaa handed them in 1987. But we kept buying season tickets, attending as many games as we could get to, and staying for as many quarters as we could stand. it’s been a long 25 years, though, which is why we basically skipped Christmas and went to Honolulu for the game. it was a pretty radical move, but the Mustangs rewarded us with a decisive win over the 11-point-favorite nevada Wolf Pack. looking ridiculous in our red and blue plastic lei and Santa hats, we basked in the thrill of it all. Speaking of basking, we managed to catch a little sun while we were in Hawaii. Step-daughter Whitney was soaking some up when she fell prey to an unexpected wardrobe malfunction; the clasp on the top of her swimsuit broke. aiming to avoid wearing tan lines with her strapless wedding gown and only owning one strapless swimsuit, she hadn’t packed a spare. You’ve no doubt been swimsuit shopping before. Can you imagine trying to find a new suit quickly in a strange town? Did i mention it had to be strapless? We killed a little more than an hour of prime sun time before she finally cried uncle from inside the dressing room. She’d wear a sundress the rest of the day. Just then a woman walked by carrying a navy and just- a-smidge-off-white striped strapless two-piece. i resisted the urge to knock her down and grab it, instead politely asking where she had found it. i rooted it out in Whitney’s size from its hiding place; it looked so much like her i half expected it to have her name embroidered across the seat. it was a perfect fit. We didn’t give up hope. and i realize swimsuits and football are of little to no importance in the scheme of things, but they are symbolic of the things that really do matter. Serious challenges abound in this life, and hope helps us get through what we would have trouble enduring if we thought it would never end. f or my beach reading i took along annie Barrows and Mary ann Shaffer’s The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, my book club’s selection for the month. Set in post-war Guernsey, it brings to life the hardships the residents of this tiny island in the english Channel endured during wartime occupation by the Germans. That the citizens of Guernsey, abandoned by the British and cut off from the rest of the world, nearly starved is a fact. Who knows if, like the characters in this novel, they really found their hope in books, but i like to think they found it somewhere. The hope theme dominated our trip, up to and including my hope that son Brad’s surfing lesson would be injury-free. (it was.) That’s why i didn’t wait until next fall or next Christmas to write about it. Who doesn’t need to be reminded not to give up hope? Hope will get us through whatever obstacles life tosses into our path. at least i hope so. ■ patsy morriss February 2010 Plano Profile 95
My Drift
Patsy Morriss
Hoping against hope
The magazine business is all about deadlines. As this issue arrives in your mailbox, we’re minutes away from the copy deadline for the next issue. It creates complications with the timeliness of subject matter, and often a My Drift inspired by a holiday experience has to be saved until that same holiday rolls around again a year later.
I’m not waiting to write about SMU’s Christmas Eve victory in the Hawaii Bowl, however, because that particular event was not about Christmas, nor was it about football. Indeed, my alma mater’s very appearance in a post-season bowl game after 25 years is a metaphor for that most timeless of themes: hope.
I’d be lying if I said we never gave up hope waiting for the Mustangs to recover from the death penalty the NCAA handed them in 1987. But we kept buying season tickets, attending as many games as we could get to, and staying for as many quarters as we could stand.
It’s been a long 25 years, though, which is why we basically skipped Christmas and went to Honolulu for the game. It was a pretty radical move, but the Mustangs rewarded us with a decisive win over the 11-point-favorite Nevada Wolf Pack. Looking ridiculous in our red and blue plastic lei and Santa hats, we basked in the thrill of it all.
Speaking of basking, we managed to catch a little sun while we were in Hawaii. Step-daughter Whitney was soaking some up when she fell prey to an unexpected wardrobe malfunction; the clasp on the top of her swimsuit broke. Aiming to avoid wearing tan lines with her strapless wedding gown and only owning one strapless swimsuit, she hadn’t packed a spare.
You’ve no doubt been swimsuit shopping before. Can you imagine trying to find a new suit quickly in a strange town? Did I mention it had to be strapless? We killed a little more than an hour of prime sun time before she finally cried uncle from inside the dressing room. She’d wear a sundress the rest of the day.
Just then a woman walked by carrying a navy and justa- smidge-off-white striped strapless two-piece. I resisted the urge to knock her down and grab it, instead politely asking where she had found it. I rooted it out in Whitney’s size from its hiding place; it looked so much like her I half expected it to have her name embroidered across the seat. It was a perfect fit.
We didn’t give up hope. And I realize swimsuits and football are of little to no importance in the scheme of things, but they are symbolic of the things that really do matter. Serious challenges abound in this life, and hope helps us get through what we would have trouble enduring if we thought it would never end.
For my beach reading I took along Annie Barrows and Mary Ann Shaffer’s The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, my book club’s selection for the month. Set in post-war Guernsey, it brings to life the hardships the residents of this tiny island in the English Channel endured during wartime occupation by the Germans. That the citizens of Guernsey, abandoned by the British and cut off from the rest of the world, nearly starved is a fact. Who knows if, like the characters in this novel, they really found their hope in books, but I like to think they found it somewhere.
The hope theme dominated our trip, up to and including my hope that son Brad’s surfing lesson would be injury-free. (It was.) That’s why I didn’t wait until next fall or next Christmas to write about it. Who doesn’t need to be reminded not to give up hope? Hope will get us through whatever obstacles life tosses into our path.
At least I hope so.
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