Once, my baby brother said if I got married on Game Day, he wouldn’t come. And it’s probably true.
’Cause where we’re from, college football alliance is something like religion. “The Cliffords. . . they’re Presbyterian,” you might say about an entire, extended family, “and Tech fans.”
But maybe it’s more like ancestry. Us, for example-- we’re Scottish and Irish and some Cherokee on my maternal grandmother’s side. And we’re UGA fans (though I didn’t go there, and most of my family didn’t either), but we’re Auburn fans on my paternal grandfather’s side.
And on a Friday night, when I said, “Oh, tomorrow’s Game Day,” Ted said, no it’s not, because to him Game Day is Sunday.
So he cares about professional football and he doesn’t play golf and he’s never had a Christmas tree.
“If you ever live with me, you’ll get to have a Christmas tree.”
“Yeah. You can put whatever you want on it.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Yeah, if you want. We always had a Star of David on our tree.”
Which is true because one Christmas Eve my dad brought home two department-store presents, one in in red and green with a Christmas ornament, and one blue and white with a Chanukah ornament. They turned out to be gloves for me and my mom, but they didn’t fit and we returned them.