Part VII

Written on Tuesday, October 4, 2011 at 1:00pm

On any given Tuesday night, my college boyfriend and I would pile into the car, leaving behind our university, homework and other worries in order to brave three hours of rush hour traffic with the outcome of ending up on a soccer field in Elkhart Indiana. Having never had the opportunity to play an organized sport while a child, I was amazed when as a freshman in college, my boyfriend first included me in his Tuesday night ritual.  I followed him hesitantly, cleats dangling from his shoulder, as we made our way from the parking lot to the field and I stood in awkward shock as I beheld moms, dads, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and grandparents!!! I held back nervously while hungrily observing the easy banter, teasing sideline smack talk, and obvious comfortable love radiating from this family.  They allowed my awkwardness to last all of two minutes before wrapping me in their warmth.  Cleats were laced, bets were placed and play began.

Fourteen years later, with a few years of coaching, a few years working for the local MLS team, and over a decade as a referee under my belt, I laced my cleats, stepped onto a field once again, and blew my whistle, signaling the beginning of play.  By the end of the game, I was shaking with rage. After having spent an hour listening to parents cruelly taunt me and make loud snide disrespectful comments ... after having dealt with an out of line British coach who felt the need to shout at me as though I were a hated bastard stepchild, I had had enough. This was what refereeing a game of U9 girls travel soccer in the north shore had become. (that’s right, this game was to be about 8 year old girls..) I searched hopelessly for any feelings of camaraderie or happiness from any of the game’s participants, but only came away with perfect examples from parents and coaches alike of lessons NOT to teach young impressionable female players. Perhaps the time had come to hang up my cleats. I no longer wanted any part of this game.

I walked slowly to my car trying to shake off the nastiness of the game so to enjoy the rest of my day as it was a beautiful sunny afternoon. I tossed my bag in the trunk and proceeded to drive home via Sheridan road, past the massive mansions with their massive cars. I continued to drive south, clearing my head, and said mansions merged into the more humble city abodes. However, upon reaching home, my carefully built equilibrium was shattered by the knowledge that the corner a block away was roped off with police tape. While I was standing on a field in the north shore, shots had been fired steps from my house. (thankfully, no one was hit!) As it turns out, people are ugly..everywhere. 

The last few weeks have been very quiet in the neighborhood and it is thought that with the start of the school year, many of the kids are now thankfully occupied at school. Lately though, my husband and I have been fighting bitterly with a considerable amount of irony. He is dead set on moving from this area and is now fighting as ferociously as I had fought moving here a year ago.  However, in my mind, moving at this point is tantamount to taking a $50,000 hit and admitting defeat.  After all, where would we move..to the North Shore?  To Andersonville..where we can put our heads in the sand and ignore that just a mere twenty minute walk will bring us to where life is a mess?  

On a lighter note, I have had to reintroduce myself to many of the people I say Hi to as I recently cut off about 12 inches of hair.  I have had to transform from ‘that crazy long haired white girl who plays ukulele on her doorstep’ to ‘that crazy short haired white girl  who plays ukulele on her doorstep.’  I have also been gaining weight since my doorstep sitting time has directly replaced my workout time. Perhaps I could take a jump rope to the doorstep.. (or perhaps I could be institutionalized) Due to cold rainy weather and streets empty of people, I managed to take most of last week off from sitting. However, as lovely weather has blissfully returned this week, I suspect I will once again sit outside.  I have been watching for the young woman who sings beautifully though I haven’t seen her in a while. My hope is that she is back in school, studying diligently.  I am still hoping though to work with her and her voice at some point.  Our weekly Friday night positive loitering has continued and is resulting in some good friendships and as always..cupcakes and cookies.  The weekends are still a little busy though as usually at least one weekend night is spent watching out the window, counting how many corner kids are stopped by the police to be searched.  C’est la Vie. Through all of this, I am having vague feelings of homesickness, but oddly enough, I have no idea of where I am homesick for...