writing for self-discovery

I guess it’s good sometimes, not to know what you missed. It’s a place of acceptance, content with what is because there’s no awareness of anything else. The safe familiar bubble affords no surprises, avoids restless yearnings for what isn’t there, fosters predictability.

But when an alternate reality comes crashing through that sleepy haze, it’s wake-up time! That’s what 80,000 roaring fans did to me.

I’d never been to a college football game like this one. Leave it to Southern Hospitality, and an invitation to spend the weekend at a friend’s lake house to change all that.

Early on a Saturday morning, my daughter, two granddaughters, and I, loaded our overnight bags and settled in for the 4-hour drive north. Fall was doing its thing – trees were in full color and lowlands melted into mountains, gently, seamlessly.

As we neared our destination, it was clear that these weren’t typical weekend lake cabins. Gated drives led to architectural wonders, two, three, and four stories high. Wow! I said, over and over again. Wow! Wow! Wow!

When we pulled into our friend’s leaf-covered drive, her home did not disappoint. She’s an architect and had designed every intimate detail of the house herself.

Three generations of hunting rifles adorned the wall of the Bourbon Room – that cozy loft featured an impressive collection of whiskey brands, both familiar and rare.

From the home’s many windows, Lake Keowee stretched for miles – clear, crystalline blue.

After touring the premises, it was time to head to Clemson College. Once again, my shabby expectations were put to shame when I experienced tailgating southern style. Securing a prime spot for a tent costs tens of thousands of dollars in donations plus a purchase of season tickets. Our hosts had two gigantic tents with orange Tiger paw prints in keeping with their team’s mascot.

There were tables of catered food: beef sliders, pork sliders, chicken salad in phyllo dough, pigs in blankets, every kind of fruit, potato salad, homemade potato chips (I could have eaten all of those chips by myself. They were delicious!) Dessert trays of cookies, bars, and brownies were far too abundant. Soft drinks filled some coolers while others overflowed with beer, White Claw, and similar offerings. Of course, there were bottles of vodka, gin, tequila and appropriate mixers for those as well.

At one point in the afternoon, a sampling of the Clemson band entertained us from a balcony high above the parking lot drumming up team spirit and shouting C – L – E – M – S – O – (pause…wait for it…) N! We newbies learned fast and screamed our lungs out with the best of them.

Then………

The stadium! The fireworks! The marching bands – their formations and rousing music! The cheerleaders, twirlers, football players, and…

THE GAME!!!!!

Fireworks exploded into the sky at both ends of the stadium every time the Tigers scored a touchdown. Since Clemson won 45 to Furman’s 10, we were treated to fiery skyrockets multiple times that afternoon.

I now have an understanding of the sensory overload, the explosive energetic potency of 80,000 people sandwiched together for a single cause. Even without the deafening sounds, the visual by itself was monumentally magnificent. Heart-stopping.

So, you see? I’m ruined. Now I know what I’ve been missing all these years and I crave more. Not the TV variety – it’s really not the game that delights me, although I love to cheer for the winning team. I want to be part of the thrill of all those people having so freaking much fun!!!