Meta-Blogging

I never thought I would be in a position where I’m actually blogging about blogging, but here I am, knee deep in the blogosphere, only to be self-obsessed enough to dare blog on the very subject itself. Since being self-referential went out of style with John Cusack in High Fidelity, I will draw attention not to my own blog, but to a blog with many thousands more hits per day: The Philadelphia Eagles Training Camp Practice Blog.

If you’ve been reading my entries, you might have noticed that thus far the closest I’ve come to sports commentary is mentioning Olympic swimmers in speedos swirling in 50 meter pools listening to Loudon Wainwright. There is a special place in my heart for the Philadelphia Eagles and not because I like horrible public transportation systems, trashy Jersey Shore weekends, or the zesty cheerleaders who accompany these titans on their Sunday conquests.

My passion for the birds comes out of fraternal love for my brother, Michael Frazier, a statistician for this illustrious team. Having a brother who is a coach on a professional sports team is reason enough to blog, but just this past week at training camp my celebrity brother had a run in with the charismatic QB for the team, Donovan McNabb. Michael has mentioned self-deprecatingly several times that he has spoken with the soup-endorsing hometown hero on several occasions, but this recent blog post seems to indicate that the two of them are quite cheeky, so to speak:

“9:41 AM – McNabb bringing laughs again. As he switches fields, he spanks statistical analysis coordinator Mike Frazier while yelling, “WOO!” Took most people by surprise.”

While I’m incredibly proud of my brother, who works more than overtime for his team, I’ve never really been jealous of his job: until now. Donovan’s bold move certainly took me by surprise, though I suppose these sorts of “atta boy” towel-slapping hijinks are common in the male-dominated arena. McNabb is known for being quite the comedian, as the blog further enumerates:

“8:59 AM: Funny moment from who else but Donovan McNabb. As he crosses the field to work with the running backs, McNabb intentionally runs through a wide receiver drill. ‘Hey, stay outside the hash marks!’ David Culley yells. “I AM! I AM!” McNabb shouts back, despite running between them.”

I wish I knew why this was funny, but perhaps it was a “you had to be there moment.” My brother’s entry, on the contrary, really seemed to capture the mood of frivolity with McNabb’s “WOO!” On the phone, Mike maintained that he remained professional, despite an unexpected shot to the fanny.

Now these brethren bloggers for the Eagles are doing an outstanding job chronicling every last detail of the action on the field, refusing to leave out moments some might call banal like, “Practice looked like it was going to get relocated in doors but the weather is holding up. Everyone is out on the field and warming up…stay tuned.” I waited with baited breath, refreshing my page, hoping that everything stayed on schedule despite the impending rain. Tomorrow, I think I might try live-blogging myself:
10:37 am: Wake-up dreaming of Eagles, turn on computer.

10:55 am: Log on to Eagles’ Practice Blog

11:01 am: Second practice of the day begins, no sign of Donovan.

11:06 am: Refresh page.

11:07am: Attempt internet chatting with my favorite Eagles Cheerleader in new browser

11:08 am: Refresh page. Donovan arrives; search for slapping incident #2 commences.

At this point I imagine I will entirely abandon my own site for the superior Eagles coverage, with high hopes for further coverage of any and all hilarity from Donovan. In fact, why are you even reading this? Shouldn’t you be finding out what happens next? Fly Eagles Fly!

 

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

My recent lapse in posting can be most directly attributed to an overdose of farm food and subsequent sugar comas brought on by a visit to see my family in Sterling, Illinois, a town pictured below:

Though it may look desolate, I can assure you that what this town lacks in economy and entertainment it makes up for in starch and carbohydrate consumption.  My primary purpose in traveling hundreds of miles to reach the heartland was not to simply ingest an array of casseroles but to introduce my boyfriend to my extended family, which was all converging on Sterling from as far away as Houston and Philadelphia and as near as down the block.

My mother and father recently migrated to Sterling from our home in Ohio to spend time with my grandparents on both sides, who have been living in Sterling for decades, as have many of my other relatives.  All told, Josh managed to meet my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even my great aunt and her octogenarian love interest, Vern.

In many ways, I had a lot in common with my great aunt Margaret, who dared to bring a lover out of wedlock to a family gathering.  It was really only my same-sex interest, political affiliation, and about 70 years of life that separated us.  Vern has become a staple at recent functions, and his benign presence at birthday parties and graduations gave me hope that a Vern of my own might also be welcome.

Not to degrade Vern, but Josh left a decidedly better impression on my family, despite his latent homosexuality.  In fact, I was almost hoping for a little more drama than our journey brought.  It is hardly worth driving 500 miles for polite conversation and cheesy potatoes.  At times, I longed for the old days of torrential sobbing and empty suicide threats.  Our visit was much more home movie than Lifetime movie, a far cry from the battleground of a coming out scene 5 years ago.

More broadly, the relative non-event of a gay son bringing home his boyfriend to a heavily Catholic rural farming town in Western Illinois speaks to both the ability of a family to adapt to diversity in its own ranks and the credit that is due to such Americans who are so often unfairly branded as intolerant and uneducated.  More than anything my trip gave me the first hand experience of witnessing the racehorse speed at which American values are changing.  Though somewhat tangential, I can’t help but consider how it these same people who will hopefully be electing our first African-American president in a few short months.

It was my 64 year old aunt, in fact, who brought up Senator Obama, and her hopes for his candidacy.  My grandmother, who has only a high school education, similarly piped in on how much she enjoyed the Keith Olbermann Show and his “spicy” commentary.  Though my family has always leaned Democratic, I’d always considered them populists, particularly concerning their conservative Catholic values.  Perhaps it was simply Josh’s clever musings on professional baseball or his adorable poodle mix, Oliver, but even my grizzled grandfather Jack seemed warmed over by the new addition to the family.  Even though the furniture was dated, this family was not stuck in the past, but rather living very much in the present.  One element of the  family that has never changed is our commitment to three solid meals a day, a tradition my grandfather holds particularly dear. 

“Are you a bacon eater?” my grandfather barked at Josh one morning at breakfast.  “Pass that sausage around one more time, will ya, Josh?” he called out to him, as Josh’s plate quickly doubled in pork product.  He sweetly called Josh my “buddy,” and they easily conversed about the Chicago Cubs’ pitcher and my grandfather’s past as a farmer.  The barrier was not difference, but rather my grandpa’s hearing, which has been troubling him for years.

My grandparents were not the only ones who went out of their way to make us feel right at home.  Every single person, whether it was my podiatrist Uncle Lynn giving Josh free orthotics or my adorable little cousin Jacob inviting Josh to play Power Rangers with him. 

Though Independence Day had past, my return to Sterling really strengthened my belief in American democracy, despite the attempts of the current administration to do their best to make me feel quite the opposite.  Here I watched four generations of an Midwestern American agrarian family embrace pluralism for the sake of getting along and moving forward.  So clearly this pluralism has made us much stronger, as my experience makes me more committed to improving our family, rather than breaking away from it.  In our own microcosm, I found faith in the kind of American future I want to see.  I also found a yellow cake with whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries in the shape of an American flag, which was equally delicious.