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The energy Saturday morning was positive. The vibe of Friday night still lingered. The joy of watching our boys escorted through our hometowns and sent off to fight for a state title could have been enough. In that moment they were winners despite what the next day’s outcome would bring. They already achieved something no other Warriors that walked the halls before them did.

When we pulled into the parking lot at Hershey stadium the love for these boys, this school, these towns were immediately felt. Men who I remembered being boys dawned their Warrior Pride gear, some even wore vintage jerseys and jackets that made one feel as if they were walking into a time capsule. We were no longer the teenagers walking the halls of the schools, we were now the parents, the aunts and uncles, the grandparents and the fans of the team storming that field.

As we made our way from the parking lot down to the stadium, we could hear the chants of our cheerleaders. They stood outside the stadium wearing their smiles and performing their cheers. They also played a large part in the success of our team. It was their chants that encouraged the crowd which in return pumped up the players. We were all in this together and each of us had roles to play. They picked the appropriate phrase to write on the banner our players burst through. Our tribe. As they rushed through, shedding the banner, hawks soared high above, circling the stadium as if they too were aware that the game about to be played was one to be remembered. Under the blue fall sky, we were banded together in support of our team. We were Warrior Nation.

The afternoon game was chilly but not tortuous. Our bleachers were filled with the young and the old, huddled together, hoping, praying for a good outcome. We swayed to the music and stamped our feet to the motivational tunes played by our loyal band. Nails were bitten, fingers were crossed, and nerves were screaming while we sat, waited, and wondered which team would be the first to score.

The Green and Gold fans gasped as the opposing team reached the goal. When halftime came, a crowd ran to the front of the bleachers to catch a glimpse of the team as they trudged by on their way to regroup. The eyes of the boys walking off the field were filled with rambling thoughts and far away stares. Looking back now, it’s realized that those sullen eyes were seen before, swimming in the depths of the thoughts of the same boys galloping by. The looks were not ones of defeat. Their intense glares were the foreshadows to the resurrection of their team. The comeback kids were rising. An encore that will be talked about for generations to come was moments away from being performed. Together, they were their own army, none of them willing to accept defeat.

The students in the student section cheered their friends and schoolmates on. They wore their jackets, filled their face with their numbers and never gave up hope that their team/our team would pull it off. Half time was filled of strategic conversations, “if only they could do this, or maybe they should try this.” Everyone was collectively sending out thoughts and hoping that fate would twist, and our team would end on top.

The second touchdown made by the other Warrior team in the third quarter caused our heads to fall and hearts to stop. Still there was a magic that lingered in the air. A feeling deep in the pit of Warrior Nation that this was not how the story would end. The bus came to a halt when our Quarterback fell. As he clutched his knee we prayed for his healing. Hurt and bloodied he rose from the ground and limped back to the field. Like Daniel in the last scenes of the Karate Kid this soldier of a boy refused to be taken down. And then… the game changed.

A boy with just as much determination, will and fight swooped in like one of the hawks above and caught the ball in flight that was heading towards a different target. A quick decision being hailed as an “immaculate reception,” was the twist of fate no one saw coming and some couldn’t believe.

With eleven minutes left in the game we were on the board and only one touchdown behind. It could be done; it would be done. Our boys rallied together, tackled hard, deflected key passes and ran down that field protecting their brothers.

Our offense raced towards the goal as the football flew above and we all watched with bated breath as the ball fell into the hands of our star receiver. The catch was the momentum that set them in sync. A pack of champions communicating in a language only they could understand. Another trick about to emerge. The six foot plus tight end pretended to go in for a block only to slip away and head to the corner. As he turned, we became aware of what was about to happen. Touchdown! With a mighty kick from the ever-important kicker the ball sailed through the goal post and tied the game.

The nation of Warriors was on their feet. This team, this dynamic, this love for each other, this bond that can never, will never be broken unleashed their power of revival. An amazing thing to be able to witness but could be felt outside of the walls of the stadium as well. Their hometowns exploded with cheers, hugs and sobs of joy. Families and friends who were unable to travel circled their televisions to watch our team claim Victory. But we weren’t on top yet, another touchdown needed to be made with less than minutes to spare.

Another long pass from our resilient QB floated across the sky into the hands of our smooth but fierce receiver but fell one yard short from the goal line. One more huddle, one more plan made before they took their spots and rested their palms to the turf. A shuffle then a collapse of uniforms fell to the ground. The Green and Gold resurfaced with their arms to the air. The third and final touchdown along with history was made, but still, there was time for the opposing team to fight back. The white and blue QB threw his ball into the air landing mid field and closer to their chance to tie up the game. The clock counted down but not fast enough, there was still time for anything to happen. As our boys rushed the QB he threw his football into the air and it was met by the palm of our  6’3 defensive end.

They had one more chance and only one more yard to go but the pack charged in and the opponents were knocked out of bounds before they could move forward. Our fearless QB took his injured knee to the ground and Warrior Nation erupted.

Our heroes became heroes because they weren’t only thinking about themselves. They fought for their friends on the sidelines that endured injuries throughout the season and were unable to play but still showed up to support, coach and encourage them to keep going. They fought for the ones that worked just as hard, sweated just as much and dreamed just as big but didn’t get too many chances to jump into the game. They fought to show the up and coming athletes what it meant to be tough, what it meant to persevere. They battled for their coaches who spent hours, days and months shaping them into the champions they would become. They rallied for their fans both young and old who refused to stop believing. They kept going for their families. They did it, and when they did, they gave each other credit without one of them asking for the glory.

As the celebration on Hershey’s field came to an end and we made our way back to the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of something that summed up who this team was. A line of yellow school busses waiting to escort them home. It was that moment when it occurred to me that our boys were humble like the transportation used to take them to the State Championships. And as I passed the busses, I thought it was appropriate that the number bus they rode in on was number nine.

I’ve walked the roads with drifters, sinners, lovers and misfits. I’ve cried with the beaten and struggled with the damned. The battles I listened about were ones I’ve never endured, but yet I felt their pain. In every single face I saw my own. I understood that the situations that felt so unimaginable to me could become my reality too. I’ve learned never to judge because when you do, funny things happen. You find yourself in your own version of their struggles. It’s in those moments that their behaviors make perfect sense. And you say to yourself, aah I thought I would handle this differently.

You walk paths and take journey’s meeting members of your tribe along the way. You share stories of youth, sing to the music, spend days passing time doing what’s required of you in order to survive. Just as you think things will never change or people will never leave they do. It doesn’t set in until a handful of those people are gone that you realize they were important in your life at one time. They’ve disappeared from your now, becoming your past, while continuing to be someone else’s present.
Tribes come together then drift apart but sometimes we’re lucky to have those chance encounters where we all meet up again. And when that happens, a part of us that was missing returns and we remember how good it once felt to be together.

Remember every choice has a consequence. You may kid yourself by convincing yourself that a bad choice feels right. The bad choices are the easiest ones to make. It’s the right choices that feels like work.

You can fool some people but there are others who will always know your true intentions. Often, they are the ones that keep quiet.

Don’t fool yourself, you are not fooling them.

Tonight friends and I engaged in a deep conversation about relationships. Everyone has had relationships that they needed to end for one reason or another. After listening to many different stories I came up with a conclusion. If you see a quality that you hate to love about yourself inside someone else maybe it’s best you choose to let that person go before you become the worst that you could be.

Hey everyone, I started a new blog. This blog will be dedicated to my writing endeavors and the process of trying to have my first middle-grade novel published. I will keep this blog Moments and Memories seperate from my writing blog.
But, please feel free to stop by Writing Like Crazy and accompany me on my journey to publication.

Love,

Maribeth.

P.S. Wish me luck

I have not written a blog post in months. Today, I am inspired to write one because September is my favorite month. The number one reason I love this month is because it is my b-day month and the number two reason is because of the Writer Mama’s September Giveaway. The Writer Mama writes a fantastic daily blog and each September has a super fun giveaway. Be sure to stop by and leave a comment.

Good Luck.

Happy September 🙂

Hello everyone. Have you missed my Friday’s Song? I have. Today I took a quiz to see what Dave Matthew’s song I would be and the result was Grey Street. I love the song and was pleasantly pleased. After listening to the lyrics more deeply I realized that yeah, this could have been me. But the difference is, I am happy with the life I have been given and do believe that someone hears my prayers and they listen.
Have a great Friday and enjoy listening to some Dave. He always sings to my soul.

Lyrics

Grey Street lyrics
Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out on to Grey Street.
She thinks, “Hey, how did I come to this?”
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can’t get out of this place.
There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’ll do anything to fill it in
But all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart
How she wishes it was different
She prays to God most every night
And though she swears it doesn’t listen
There’s still a hope in her it might
She says “I pray But they fall on deaf ears,
am I supposed to take it on myself?
To get out of this place? ”
There’s lonliness inside her
And she’ll do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It feels like cold blue ice in her heart
When all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart
There’s a stranger speaks outside her door
Says take what you can from your dreams
Make them as real as anything
It’d take the work out of courage
But she says “Please
There’s a crazy man that’s creeping outside my door,
I live on the corner of Grey Street
And the end of the world. ”
There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’ll do anyrthing to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It’s more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her
Using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together – to grey
And it breaks her heart
It breaks her heart
To Grey

Today is one year ago that my father passed away. Not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought about him. I will miss that man forever and wish that other people have the chance in life to meet someone as extraordinary as that man.
I wrote a poem for him.

It has been a year but in our hearts you remain
Time heals wounds but doesn’t lessen the pain

You were a man that so many aspired to be
We were blessed to be part of your family

There were so many things that made you unique
A giant smile, a genuine laugh, an honest critique

A man of virtue who eloquently guided his clan
A man God sought out to follow his plan

Heaven’s gain, unfortunately was our disaster
We were left behind. We lost our master

No one will ever replace the man you became
Even a sunny day will never be the same

All the riches couldn’t buy the happiness you supplied
Our lives forever changed the day that you died

Until we meet again, our sweet, kind, loving man
Save us a spot on the other side
If you can

Reflections and Recollections stir in my mind
What I am searching for, I cannot seem to find

A day, a year, a second, they have all gone away
If only a thought could invite a memory to stay

I would dance longer, hug tighter and recognize
That everything worth loving meets its demise

One of my most embarrassing moments happened at a roller skate rink when I was about eleven-years old. Tonight, twenty some years later, I had another experience that will forever make me cringe. Or maybe laugh out loud.
Let’s rewind a bit and go back to the first occurrence. I was an overweight pre-teen doing to the best I could to look graceful on a pair of roller skates. It was a school sponsored event and everyone was there. I was zipping around, noticing a group of very good looking teenagers huddled together at one of the side resting places when I felt myself lose control. I desperately tried to regain my balance as I flew across the floor toward the very good looking teenagers. “Please don’t fall into them,” I repeated to myself.
They frantically waved their arms screaming, “No!”
I plowed into them like a bowling ball. They were struck down one by one by the overweight chick on skates. I am certain at least one of them never forgot that night.
Tonight I was at a roller rink with my children for a birthday party. My husband, being the sport that he is laced up. He took the three oldest out while I stayed back with my ten month old. I pushed her stroller over to an indoor picnic table and attempted to sit down. Immediately, I realized I misjudged where the seat was in relation to where my ass was. One cheek grazed the edge of the bench and I felt myself losing balance. I desperately tried to stabilize myself. I spun around and tripped over my own feet and slammed against the floor. Directly in front of me was no other than a group of teenage boys. So, if you suddenly find a you-tube video of a mother falling flat on her face at a roller rink, chances are it is me.
To think, I wasn’t even wearing skates.

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