Orange Crush

Much of what we appreciate and many of our habits as adults are founded in experiences shared with our parents when we were children.  One of my friends here in Montana, for example, is a rabid Notre Dame Football fan.  He is often so emotional during the games he holds a softball in his hands as an emotion release mechanism.   The softball is alternately squeezed, bounced, stuffed against seat cushions, and on occasion thrown—all depending on the score and the nature of play.

My friend—though Irish and Catholic—did not attend Notre Dame.  The other day, I asked my friend how he came to be such a dedicated and expressive fan.  He told me that he learned his devotion to the Fighting Irish by spending more than a few weekend days watching televised games with his father.

I have not carried forward much from childhood experiences with my father.  My father, though often quite humorous, was a closed and solitary man in most respects.  My father, maybe more than anything, enjoyed spending his free days drinking at the local taverns.  I will admit, I did learn (on those days he dragged me to the taverns with him) which bartenders would push me a free Orange Crush or flip me change for the arcade games.

None of that today, save for the mixed memories.

--Mitchell Hegman