Category Archives: opinion

Posted in opinion • Sports

TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

There are two camps of people rejoicing this week. No, not because of the upcoming Passover and Easter holidays. I’m referring to baseball fans and those of us who live in Spring Training cities. The month of March is typically known for the “madness” around college basketball. While the NCAA tournament has been exciting so far, it doesn’t rise to the level of watching Spring Training tourists drive. In the past month I have witnessed more sudden lane changes onto exit ramps than I care to think about. All I can say is I’m glad I have a good braking system in my car. March also brings the baseball fans whose indicator light bears no resemblance to the direction the person actually turns, and the ones who fail to move forward when the light turns green because they’re hopelessly lost and consulting Google Maps.

So, I welcome April this week not only because the crowds will thin out and it’s safer to drive, but also because I enjoy the beginning of baseball season. I stress – the beginning – because after April I lose complete interest until the World Series. But at the beginning of the season I enjoy the beautiful green grass, the hopefulness that imbues each team, and the music. Yes, I love baseball music. My dad and his mother were huge Giants fans. Right up until her death, my grandmother would listen to the games on the radio with a team cap perched on her head and a box of See’s Candy on her end table. I don’t have to wonder where I got my sweet tooth. All summer long my dad had his transistor radio tuned to the Giants games. And much to my mother’s chagrin, during one World Series run he hid the radio in his jacket pocket and used a wired earpiece to listen to a game during a church service!

Harry Caray

So unsurprisingly, the song “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” was one of the first songs I learned. Written in 1908 by songwriter Jack Norworth and composer Albert Von Tilzer, the tune was one of many popular baseball songs that made waves at the time. But unlike the others, their composition went on to become a cultural fixture, still played today in many stadiums during the game’s seventh-inning stretch. You would think this legendary tribute to America’s pastime would be written by a diehard baseball fan, but the truth is that neither Norworth nor Von Tilzer had ever seen a baseball game when they penned the song! Norworth wrote the lyrics when he saw a poster for a NY Giants game while riding a NYC subway. Von Tilzer wrote the music, and they registered the copyright for the tune in 1908. Although it was a popular song, it was not played at a professional baseball game until 1934. Even then, it didn’t really gain any traction. But in 1971 Chicago White Sox owner Bill Veeck caught legendary announcer Harry Caray singing the song to the entire stadium. From that point forward it became an essential singalong tradition in almost every ballpark.

Diamond at Fenway

Today, many teams have adopted other anthems to play during games. “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond is played at Redsox games, the Giants play Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin“, and the Pirates’ fans sing along to Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family”. It’s fun to hear these songs played during games and is a lovely way to bring a large, diverse crowd together. God knows we can use more of that. So I say, “Play Ball!”

P.S. Jack Norworth finally attended his first baseball game – in 1940!!

Posted in opinion

SIBLINGS, SONGS, AND SAGEWOOD

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Some weeks are better than others. Last week was not only a “better” week, but a great week because brother Bob came for a visit. I know a fair number of people who would roll their eyes at the prospect of their sibling paying a visit. But Bob and I (and our older brother, Jack) are lucky enough to not only be siblings, but friends. Bob lives a six-hour drive away, which means we don’t get to visit as often as we’d like. So, I was excited when his car pulled into my driveway last Tuesday, only to be outdone by Dooley, who sprang from the front door and raced out to greet him. So much for the “wait” command. Luckily, Bob is a dog lover, so the affection was reciprocated with lots of scratches and hugs. And, oh yeah, he gave me a hug too.

That night we had a low-key evening with my friend Marge and her husband, Bob. I cooked chili and didn’t kill anyone, so I consider the night a success. Marge is like a sister to me. In fact, I think the entirety of my family would like to make her an official member of our tribe, so she is included in all family gatherings, large and small. The next day Bob and I set out for a fun and purposeful day. One of the reasons for his visit was for him to tour the continuing care communities I’ve been considering and to confirm that I have zeroed in on the one that is the best fit for me. But first…we needed some fun. I have long wanted to take him to the Musical Instrument Museum (MIM) because he is such a great musician and has an appreciation for all types of music. The MIM is the largest museum of its type in the world, with a collection of over 15,000 musical instruments and associated objects from nearly 200 countries and territories. It is truly fascinating to see how people from continents thousands of miles apart invented similar drums and string instruments at roughly the same time. My fatal mistake was not allowing enough time for our visit. We were there for a bit over two hours and could have spent all day.

We had briefly toured one of my “retirement home” options earlier in the day but spent more time, and ate lunch, at the one I am favoring, Sagewood. I tried not to influence his impression, as I wanted to hear his honest opinion, and luckily, he confirmed that I had made the right choice. I won’t be moving for a while because I want to wait for their new addition, but it’s nice to have that major decision behind me. We finished the day with dinner at my club, once again with Marge and Bob, and my good friend Bonnie, who always makes for a fun evening.

The next day we were able to meet our niece Shelley and her husband, Colin, for lunch down in Casa Grande. CG, as we call it, is not exactly a garden spot, nor is it known for its great restaurants, but it does have the distinction of being exactly half-way between Shelley’s house in Tucson and mine in Scottsdale. And in reality, we could have been eating tuna sandwiches on a park bench and still had a good time. They are delightful to be with, and we always leave feeling we haven’t had enough time together. Of course, being the Boomer that I am, I forgot to take a photo.

That night Marge wanted to see Bob again before his visit ended so she and her Bob had us over for dinner. The dinner was delicious, but the best part was the music. Marge played some beautiful songs on the piano while we sang along, her Bob played the banjo, and then my Bob played the banjo while Marge sang and danced. It was truly one of those magical evenings that you don’t plan but remember forever. The next morning Bob headed for home and both Dooley and I were sad to see him drive off. But what a wonderful visit! Usually we have a lot of people around when we see each other, so it was special to have some one-on-one time. I’m convinced there is nothing better than when your sibling is also your friend. I’m a lucky sister.

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COMFORT AND JOY WITH A TERRORIST

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

His first day home

One year ago today I brought my new puppy home. I named him Dashing Doolin, which was a nod to my former dog, Dash, and Doolin, one of my favorite towns in Ireland. I nicknamed him Dooley, which I thought sounded very playful and cute. Cavalier King Charles Spaniels are known as the “comfort spaniels”, bred to sit quietly and lovingly by their owner. So, I envisioned a similar experience to that which I had with Dash the Wonder Dog – mellow, lots of naps (him), endless amounts of time to live a normal life (me). I was wrong. Very wrong. I swear Dooley is part Jack Rusell Terrier. Right from the jump he required lots of activity and almost all of my attention. My idea of keeping him occupied was to throw a ball. His was to nip my arms, toes and ear lobes. Or chew on the throw pillows. Or scratch the front window, begging to go chase birds, bunnies and every errant leaf that blew by. Although he had some of the same lineage as Dash, it soon became apparent that Dooley is a very different dog.

The “convict”

I’d like to say that the last year has been one of happiness and fun. But I’d be lying. What was I thinking getting a puppy in my mid-70’s? I have been frustrated, tearful and ready to give up more times that I can count. I jokingly referred to him as “the terrorist” because my life was dictated by him. In truth, it wasn’t such a joke. At least once a week I gave serious consideration as to whether he might be better placed with a young family with a very large backyard. For six months I enrolled him in training classes, in which he excelled. He was the perfect student and his instructors remarked about how quickly he caught on to commands. But turns out I had a little Eddie Haskell on my hands – a kiss-up around other adults and a complete menace at home. For Halloween last year I dressed him up as a convict for our community’s pet costume contest and several people mentioned how appropriate his outfit was. In other words, he had a “rep”. His saving grace was that he loves to “smoosh”, an activity where he jumps up and practically smothers me while laying his head on my head. It’s his version of a hug and although he doesn’t know it, that gesture kept him in my good graces.

Finally, when I was truly at my wit’s end, my friend Joan referred me to her trainer, Tammy Verhas. I took him for lessons twice and at the end of the second session she said, “You know, I think he might benefit from boot camp.” I think when a professional tells you your dog needs to go to military school it’s best to listen. So, the first week of November he went to “camp” for three weeks. I was able to get him home a couple of days before Thanksgiving and at first, I thought she’d switched out dogs on me. The dog she brought me was a perfectly behaved, obedient dog. Surely this couldn’t be Dooley?! Tammy and I had a long talk about his behavior. Turns out I was leading with affection, versus establishing some element of respect. I guess I had a “rep” too. In my defense, she told me he was the most intelligent and high-energy Cavalier she’d ever trained.

It’s been almost perfect since then. He is definitely smarter than me and knows when I’m in a weakened state and not up to being as strict as I should. That’s when he decides to pull on the leash or jump up on visitors. But generally, he is now a really good boy. And I have to say that at night, when he is snuggled up next to my pillow or curled up next to my stomach, there isn’t a better feeling in the world. Now, I don’t know what I’d do without him to keep me company. As Tammy told me, sometimes we get the dog we need, not the dog we want. As I’ve found out, it’s even better when we get both.

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THE HEART OF COMPROMISE

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

I fixed their logo

As you read this post you may think that I’m trying to eke out one more story about football, but really, I consider this a public service announcement. When the hoopla of the Super Bowl died down last week, sports journalists who were not covering the Olympics began to focus on next year’s Super Bowl. While they speculated about next year’s favorites (the Rams, Seahawks, Bills and Eagles) they skipped the most salient fact: next year the Super Bowl will be played on Valentine’s Day. If you think that is unusual, you’re right. The Super Bowl has never been on Valentine’s Day. The closest the game has ever come to wrecking relationships around the world was in 2022, when Super Bowl LVI was played on Feb. 13. But next year, due to the expanded schedule, the season has been extended one week, which is going to cause a lot of problems in households where one member is a fanatic, and one only watches the broadcast to see the commercials.

After all, Valentine’s Day is considered to be one of the most romantic days of the year. It is the busiest day of the year for florists, while candy and card sales go through the roof. Many a spouse has been given the cold shoulder if the day is not commemorated. To illustrate just how romantic the day is viewed, in the United States alone an average of 220,000 people get engaged every year on Valentine’s Day. It is thought to be the perfect day on which to propose, and many young people go to great lengths to tie the Valentine’s theme into popping the question. Somehow, I think next year’s proposals may lose some of the romance usually associated with “popping the question”. It will have to occur between downs but not interfere with a commercial, while trying not to drop the ring in the guacamole dip. I’m not sure any young woman grows up thinking that she will be competing with a Budweiser commercial for the most heartfelt moment of her special day.

To further complicate the situation, there are approximately 15-20,000 weddings that take place each year on Valentine’s Day. Forget about the fact that forevermore those couples will have to fight for dinner reservations and will be subject to overpriced fixed-prix menus on their anniversaries. The specific problem next year lies not with the bride and groom, who let’s face it, would not have scheduled their wedding on Super Bowl Sunday if they were fans. The problem is the cascading one faced by the invitees, especially if their favorite team is playing. People will be scrambling for excuses as to why they can’t attend, or perhaps there will be a lot of married people who attend alone while their spouse is at home watching the game, hands clutching a beer, perplexed as to why anyone would schedule a wedding on such an important day. I foresee a lot of arguments about “priorities” in the offing.

The only silver lining in the Super Bowl being pushed back a week is that next year it also coincides with President’s Day weekend. The day after the Super Bowl has long been one of the least productive days in the workforce so the good news is that next year everyone will officially be able to take off work on Super Bowl Monday. Perhaps that will give them time to look up the name of a good marriage counselor. I have a feeling a lot of people are going to need one. Just don’t say I didn’t give you plenty of warning.

Posted in opinion

WE CAN PUT A MAN ON THE MOON…

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

…but we can’t find a cure for the common cold? How long have we been saying that? Probably since July 20,1969, when the Lunar Module Eagle first touched down on the Sea of Tranquility. After that monumental achievement every other goal seemed like it should be easily solved. Thus, the phrase, “we can put a man on the moon, but we can’t (fill in the blank)” began to be used for every frustrating problem we seemed incapable of conquering. You don’t hear that phrase so much anymore, most likely because we’ve conquered many of those problems. Or maybe we feel confident, or scared, that AI will soon do it for us. But this past week I harkened back to the “common cold” lament because, like so many others, I was brought down by the latest virus going around.

I haven’t felt like doing much and felt sick as a dog. Ironically, I was also dealing with a sick dog, which required me to dress up in something akin to a hazmat suit and take him to the vet. All the while, I wondered that with all the medical miracles that seem to happen on a daily basis, I’m laid low by the same malady that has plagued humankind for hundreds of years. I think there must be a lot of people down with the cold virus right now because last week The Washington Post published an article pondering the same question. Turns out, I guess not surprisingly, that finding a cure is just not that simple. There are more than 200 different viruses that can lead to cold symptoms, with rhinoviruses being the most common. That diversity makes it hard to develop a single vaccine or treatment that would effectively cover all strains.

According to the Post, last week the Yale School of Medicine published the results of a study in the journal Cell Press Blue (you subscribe, right?) about their research into the common cold. They cultivated miniature models of nasal airways to try to understand how upper respiratory viruses unfold, why they can be so variable, and how to make them less miserable. I’m all for that! The details of the study are a little gross, so I’ll forego that in case you’re eating breakfast. The upshot is that after examining thousands of individual cells, the researchers found that it’s not the virus, but the intricacies of the response in thousands of nasal airway cells, that determines whether a cold is quickly quelled or explodes into something more serious. The study showed that the quick production of a protein called interferon by the infected cells kept the rhinovirus in check, allowing it to infect fewer than 2 percent of the cells. When they suppressed interferon, about a third of cells became infected and the rhinovirus proliferated. A different immune sensor kicked in, and molecules related to inflammation increased, mucus production went into overdrive, and the nasal cilia slowed their pulsing. There’s a lot more technical stuff, but that’s the basic gist.

They concluded that there’s a reason that the cold is such a challenge to solve: disentangling immune responses to know which ones are beneficial, which ones help control an infection, and which ones contribute to severity of symptoms, is not straightforward. The lead researcher commented that if the common cold was an easy problem to solve, it would have been solved a long time ago. No kidding. Generations of people have been waiting. Maybe AI will finally be the key to the finding an answer. Clearly, it’s beyond the ken of we mere mortals. As skeptical as I am of AI, I will gladly hail its presence if it can keep me out of the Cold and Cough aisle at Walgreens. In the meantime, I’m going to fix more tea and get drunk on Nyquil.

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SWEDISH DEATH CLEANING MAY KILL ME

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Procrastination is a wonderful thing. Living in suspended reality allows you to blissfully go about your daily life in joyful ignorance. But eventually that “long arm of the law”, reality, catches up. For me, reality hit home last week. I have been giving some thought to moving within the next two to three years. My house and yard have become more burdensome, the people moving into my community are young enough to be my children, and frankly, I know I need some new horizons. But first, my current horizon needs some clearing out. Mind you, I am the furthest thing from a hoarder you could find. I like clear countertops and alphabetized spice racks. My filing cabinet is color-coded and sorted by subject . Some might call me obsessive/compulsive. I prefer to think of myself as extremely organized. But still, I’ve lived in this house for almost 26 years and things do accumulate. So, my New Year’s resolution was to pretend I’m moving next month and then go through all of my belongings and discard accordingly. Sounded easy. It’s not.

Gosh, we were young!

To gain some inspiration I re-read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, by Margareta Magnusson. In essence, she encourages people to clean out their crap before their kids have to after they die. She extols the virtues of embracing minimalism and doing it with humor along the way. Okay, I can get on board with the minimalism, but I found the process to be anything but humorous. Except for the photos of my brothers and me from over 50 years ago. That brought a good chuckle. Especially my outfit which, in retrospect, resembles a cheap shag rug. Anyway, I started in my craft closet, which may sound like a weak place to start but I assure you it was the most over-crowded, full-of-junk, space in the house. I was motivated to start there because it hadn’t been painted in 26 years. Through five major remodels I always managed to avoid clearing out that closet because it was too daunting. It is a rather large walk-in space where I threw things in with abandon. I used to work in a yarn store where I got yarn at wholesale prices. I took advantage of that. Maybe too much advantage. Although the yarn and notions were all in bins that were sorted and labeled, it was still overwhelming. Add to that I had a huge table for my sewing machine, stacks of fabric, and a long shelf of crafting books. I kept a big box of photos and other memorabilia in there, including my second runner-up trophy from the 1968 Junior Miss Contest. And, oh yeah, it also contained all of the exercise equipment that I was certain I would use every day. Somehow that never worked out. And neither did I. In any event, I finally scheduled painters to come this week to spruce it up.

But last Friday morning my contractor called and said the painters had a cancellation and would be coming to my house in two hours. I know better than to turn down a contractor when they’re available, so I rushed into my craft closet and began to work. I harkened back on my lessons from Swedish Death Cleaning. I had to get very realistic about what I would keep and what I would donate. After all, when I do move it will be into a much smaller space, so I resolved to start downsizing now. I put more than half of my crafting materials into the “donate” pile. I did not let myself get stuck in sentiment – yarn that I bought on my magical trip to Ireland eight years ago will now be magical in someone else’s stash. My trophy from 1968 is finally where it belongs – in the trash pile. I took pictures of pictures and then discarded the originals. With steely resolve, I got it all cleared out and sorted before the painters arrived.

It’s amazing what you can get done with a figurative gun at your head. I think Margareta exaggerated the “joyful” part of this, but I will say it feels good to have this major task behind me. I’m thinking that I need to schedule some sort of work to be done in my office and the kitchen. But first I have to recuperate – this death cleaning may be the death of me…or my back.

Posted in opinion • politics

Finding Unity in Everyday Acts of Kindness

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by Bob Sparrow

I think like many of you, I have grown increasingly tired of all the discussing political rhetoric from both sides, spewing from every media outlet imaginable. Through effort, I have found myself paying less attention to the loud, often crude clips we all get exposed to daily. Through more effort, I am purposely paying more attention to quiet, personal conversations. The ones that happen in grocery store aisles, in neighborhoods and over coffee. They don’t make headlines, but I believe they feel more representative of the country we live in than the noise from our politicians that dominates the airwaves.

There’s no denying that America feels divided right now, thank mostly to our politicians and the media that supports them. There just doesn’t seem to be accurate, balanced reporting of any event, it’s always seems to be slanted based on what media you’re listening to or watching. Even in personal conversations, people must choose their words carefully or sometimes avoid certain topics altogether, based on their audience. We must be a good judge of the audience before we mention anything that could be interpreted as politically slanted. But alongside that tension, there’s something else happening, something steadier and far less dramatic, and certainly far less publizied. People are still showing up for their lives. They’re going to work, caring for family members, coaching kids’ teams, volunteering, creating things, fixing things, and trying, in their own imperfect way, to do right by the people around them. Unfortunately, the people who have the spotlight on them are the politicians, and I sincerely believe that something happens to a person when they get into politics. It seems that it’s not about what’s good for the people they represent, it’s about what’s good for their political party and not cooperating with the other side of the aisle, but taking every opportunity to defeat and demean them.

Conversations over coffee

In the previous year alone, I’ve personally seen neighbors help each other through tough times, strangers hold doors and conversations open a little longer than necessary, and small businesses adapt with creativity and grit that deserves more attention than it gets. These moments don’t erase disagreements, but they remind me that disagreement isn’t the whole story. It has never been.

One of the enduring strengths of this country is its capacity for everyday problem-solving. Americans have always been practical at heart. When something breaks, we patch it. When plans change, we improvise. When the road gets bumpy, we complain a little—and then keep going. That instinct seems alive and well, even now and needs to be used to ‘fix’ this divide.

There’s also a quiet generosity that persists beneath the surface. It shows up in donation jars, shared meals, patient teachers, exhausted healthcare workers, and people who check in on one another without expecting anything in return. These gestures may not feel grand, but collectively they form the connective tissue of the nation.

What gives me hope isn’t the idea that everyone will suddenly agree, or that complexity will magically disappear. Hope comes from watching common people navigate uncertainty with resilience and humor. It comes from the understanding that a country isn’t defined solely by its political arguments, but by how its people live between them.

Mixing Red & Blue makes a beautiful color . . . and country

After fifteen years of writing this weekly blog, I’ve learned that the most meaningful stories, which are mostly written by my sister, are rarely the loudest ones. They’re steady, human stories about persistence, kindness, curiosity, and simple desire to make tomorrow a little better than today.

America, for all its contradictions, is still full of people trying. And in times like these, that effort counts for more than we sometimes realize.

Posted in opinion

A Year of Diet, Socialization, Exercise and Pumpkin Pie

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

As my brother pointed out last week, this is the time of year when we are full of resolutions. We strive to eat better, drink less, lose ten pounds, limit social media, and be kinder to everyone. To be honest, I don’t think I can do all that. At this point in life, I have to make choices…and face reality. I’ve made the same resolution to lose the same ten pounds for the past thirty years. In 2026 I’m not even going to try. In fact, as I’ve watched countless friends whittle away to bare bones due to the “miracle” of GLP-1, I’ve consoled myself that those extra ten pounds will serve me well if I ever get sick. Basically, they serve as my cushioning in more ways than one. I have rounded third base, and though I hope it will be a while before I slide into home plate, I intend to do so clutching a big piece of chocolate cake.

I actually do eat a healthy diet except for the occasional sweet. Okay, maybe more like a daily sweet, but always in moderation. Except when I buy the pumpkin pie at Sprouts and consume the whole thing in four days. But pumpkin is very healthy for you, and it is seasonal, so I have to take advantage while I can. So… I have the eating part of things figured out. I also don’t drink much these days. I love the socialization that usually is entwined with it, but the waking up at 1 a.m. part? Not so much. I can’t have a one-year-old puppy and drink at the same time. I simply don’t have the energy.

Being kinder to people is an admirable trait – one that I strive to exhibit. I try to remember that you never know what people are going through so everyone deserves some grace. Except for the people who tailgate me in a 45 MPH zone, then zoom around me and give me the finger because I was only going 50 MPH. I don’t think that person deserves my kindness, but in 2026 I will try not to flip them off in return.

Social media usage has become a problem throughout our population in general, and for me specifically early in the morning because I find catching up on dog videos and recipes preferable to the news. I fix myself a big cup of coffee, turn on Good Morning Football or ESPN, and peruse Facebook and Instagram. So, you can imagine my annoyance when people take to social media platforms to “school” me on the latest political events. I get it from both sides, but one person in particular posts at least five times a day, alerting me to Trump’s every movement. I actually am insulted by these people – do they assume that I am so uncurious and ill-informed that BUT FOR THEM I would wallow in total ignorance? I worry about people who spend so much of their time thinking about what to post. The phrase, “get a life”, springs to mind. So, I will save some time spent on social media in 2026 because I plan to block them. Nothing gets between me and my dog videos.

I DO intend to exercise more. I recently finished the book, Outlive, by Dr. Peter Attia. He specializes in helping people have a long health span, vs a long life span. After all, what’s the use of living to be 100 if you have been confined to a bed for ten years? One of the staples of Dr. Attia’s program is to increase strength as you age. He acknowledges that it’s more difficult to build muscle mass after age 70, but not impossible. I have saved about 50 exercise reels on social media platforms. I even created a folder on each one and carefully filed each reel away for future reference. So far, my only exercise has been whatever energy is expended by my index finger to move to reel to my files. But today – TODAY! – I am starting with a trainer at the gym, who also read Outlive and we are going to set up a program to help me live healthily to 100. I’m good with that as long as I don’t have to give up my pumpkin pie.

Posted in Holiday observations • opinion

LONGING FOR NOSTALGIA

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

As Christmas approaches this week and we prepare for the holidays, it’s easy to find yourself swept up in a wave of nostalgia. At Christmas, nostalgia is everywhere: in the music, the movies, the recipes passed down through generations. We seek out the flavors and rituals of our childhoods, hoping to recapture the magic of simpler times. We remember sticky fingers from candy canes, the glow of tree lights, and the anticipation of gifts. Or if you were like me, you’d already peeked at your gifts and couldn’t wait to officially receive them. Today, nostalgia is a cherished part of the holiday season, a gentle ache for times gone by. But did you know that, centuries ago, nostalgia was considered a dangerous illness—one that could land you in the infirmary, or worse?

The word “nostalgia” was coined in 1688 by Swiss physician Johannes Hofer, who combined the Greek words nostos (“homecoming”) and algos (“pain”). Back then, nostalgia wasn’t just a wistful longing for the past—it was a serious medical diagnosis, closer to what we now call “homesickness.” Hofer observed the condition most often in young people far from home: soldiers, servants, or children sent away to the countryside. The symptoms were dramatic: melancholy, loss of appetite, disturbed sleep, even heart palpitations and, in extreme cases, suicide. Autumn, with its falling leaves, was considered especially dangerous, as it stirred memories of home. Hofer’s cure was simple: send the patient home. Until that was possible, treatments ranged from vomiting and mercury to opium—remedies that sound more like punishments than comfort. Swiss soldiers feared that singing traditional cowherd songs could trigger nostalgia, so performing these songs was reportedly punishable by death. Wow – even the America’s Got Talent buzzer isn’t that draconian!

Fast forward to today, and nostalgia is no longer something to die from—just something to sigh about. And studies show that people between the ages of 20-30 suffer the most from it. Perhaps because they are at the age where the “magic” of the Christmas season is either swept away by the grind of a full-time career or they are responsible for creating memorable Christmases for their own children. But why does Christmas, in particular, evoke such powerful feelings of nostalgia? The answer lies in the holiday’s traditions. Christmas is a time when families gather, stories are retold, and memories are made and revisited. The sights, sounds, and smells of the season—gingerbread baking, carols playing, pine needles underfoot—act as triggers, transporting us back to moments of warmth and belonging. Not to mention childhood, when Christmas meant we just showed up, and everything was wonderous.

It’s remarkable to think that what was once seen as a weakness or even a disease is now recognized as a source of strength. In the 19th century, nostalgia faded as a formal diagnosis, absorbed into broader concepts like melancholy and trauma. Today, psychologists see nostalgia as largely beneficial—a resource that can boost mood, inspire optimism, and strengthen social bonds. So, as you hang ornaments on the tree or sip hot cocoa by the fire, let yourself feel nostalgic. Remember those who are far from home, as well as those who are no longer with us. Reach out to friends and family, share stories, and create new memories.

Nostalgia, once feared as a deadly disorder, is now a gift—a way to honor the past while embracing the present. This Christmas, let’s celebrate the bittersweet beauty of memory, and let it bring us closer together.

As I have done for the past ten years, I am sharing one of our family’s most nostalgic memories – Pop’s Christmas Ice Cream Fizz recipes. Enjoy!

POP’S CHRISTMAS ICE CREAM FIZZ

Fill a blender 1/4 full of ice cubes

Add 6 jiggers of gin

Add 4 scoops of French Vanilla ice cream

Add 1 small bottle of soda water (the size you get in a 6-pack)

My brother Bob adds an egg, so the white adds some froth, brother Jack doesn’t add an egg.  Personally, I’d add it just because you can then claim it’s a protein drink.

Just blend it well and – voila – you have a concoction sure to put a positive spin on everyone and everything!

Our mom served them in a wine glass with a dash of nutmeg.  As we got older, we would conspire with Pop and ditch the wine glass for a chilled beer mug from the freezer. Saved having to go back for seconds…or thirds.

My brother and I wish all of our readers a very happy holiday season, blessed with all the presence you could ask for.

Your authors, Christmas 1972
Posted in opinion • Sports

What Happened to College Football?

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by Bob Sparrow

2025 College Football Playoff Bracket

I can appreciate the fact that college-age kids must like what’s currently going on in college football. Recent changes have provided them with more choices as to where to play and, best of all, financial reward for playing. Let’s look at what’s happened over just the last few years . . .

The Portal – In 2018, the portal debuted as a compliance tool to manage college athletes’ transfers more transparently. The portal allowed student-athletes to change schools after playing at one school, but the athlete would have to sit out for a year before becoming eligible to play. In 2021 that rule changed allowing transfers to play immediately, which opened the flood gates. There are a number of examples of players playing for a different team each year of their college career: Eyabi Okie-Anoma played at five different four-year schools – Alabama, Houston, UT Martin, Michigan and Charlotte. Chandler Morris played at four schools – Oklahoma, TCU, North Texas and Virginia, and Robby Ashford played for Oregon, Auburn, South Carolina and Wake Forest.

Curt Cignetti

I’m concerned that the next step might be to give the player more freedom (and money) and allow them to transfer during the season?

How has the portal affected this year’s college teams? Indiana University, this year’s #1 team, had a 3-9 record in 2023, and then hired Curt Cignetti. In his first year, 2024, they went 11-2 and this year they went 13-0. Don’t get me wrong, Cignetti is a great coach, but he knew he needed better players, so last year alone, Indiana added between 20-23 players to their roster through the portal. One of those players was quarterback and this years’ Heisman Trophy winner, Fernando Mendoza, who played two years at Cal, then was given $2.6 million (more on NIL in a moment) to play for Indiana this year. He still has one year of eligibility left, but he’ll be in the pros next year.

How the portal works today has dramatically changed college football . . . it may be better for a few select individuals, but, in my opinion, not for the game – the rich will get richer.

NIL – In 2019 California passed the first state law allowing athletes to get paid by the colleges for the use of their Name, Image and Likeness, now referred to as NIL. A year later, the state of Florida passed a similar bill. In 2021, in a unanimous decision, the Supreme Court affirmed that the NCAA violated antitrust laws by restricting student-athletes’ compensation for education-related benefits. So, paying a player for his/her NIL became legal, and is now being practiced in every state. Some payments are made all up front, others can be annual installments and still other can be for appearances or wearing certain athletic gear.  

18-Year Old Millionaire, Cooper Flagg

Some of today’s top NIL deals:

  • Cooper Flagg – Duke basketball player, $28 million. He’s 18 years old
  • Arch Manning, Texas quarterback – paid $5.3 million
  • AJ Dybantsa, BYU basketball player – $4-$5 million. He’s 18 years old
  • Jeremiah Smith, Ohio State, wide receiver – $4.2 million
  • Livvy Dunne, LSU, gymnast, $4 million
  • Carson Beck, Miami quarterback – $3.1 million

There are plenty of other young ‘Million Dollar Athletes’ and there are many who are getting a mere $4-$500,000 to play.

Where does all this money come from you ask? It can come from several sources, such as third-party endorsements from apparel companies, social media promotions, appearances, autographs, boosters and businesses – I’m thinking mostly from school boosters/wealthy alumni and local businesses!

Will the ‘Empty Bowl’ turn into the ‘Toilet Bowl’?

The other thing that is happening to college football is the lack of emphasis on bowl games, except for the national championship tournament. The national champion used to be determined by a vote by sports writers and football coaches, so every game was looked at, especially the bowl games where top teams were usually playing against other top teams. This year the national champion will be determined by a 12-team playoff. So a number of teams, who are not in the tournament, have decided not to play in a bowl games. Here’s a few: Notre Dame, Iowa State, Kansas State, Baylor, Auburn, Florida State, UCF, Rutgers, and Temple. Why? Some because it’s not for the national championship, some because their coach has already left for another job, and some because too many players are opting out of the game and/or are looking to go to another school next year.

Even for the teams that are participating in a bowl, many of their 18 – 20-year-olds, who are making millions as a collegiate athlete, are deciding not to participate in a post-season bowl game, unless it’s for a chance to win the national championship. Why? Because the millions they are making as college athletes doesn’t compare to the millions they could make over their lifetime as a professional athlete, so they don’t want to risk an injury in a meaningless bowl game that could jeopardize a lucrative pro career.

The answer to the headline question: It turned pro.