How to stop the time.

I used to play soccer.  All my life.  In CT with bunch of ex-soviet guys.  After moving to GA, I located a team, which at first seemed ex-soviet-esque contingent, later realizing that it was more like the united nations.  There were players from every corner of the world, certainly covering 4 continents.  Or 5. I stopped playing a couple of years ago due to injuries.  My newly discovered love for tennis filled any desire for sport.  Tennis is supposedly less injury-prone.  Although I managed to throw out my back (twice), break a bone on my pinky, knee surgery, achilles and a couple other injuries, but it’s considered safer sport than soccer – go figure.  After 3 or so years not playing soccer, I decided to give it another try, dressed up in the soccer gear, and drove up to the Alpharetta park on early Sunday morning, sat in the car and watched and listen the players for about an hour and a half.  Amazingly, all the screams, curses, jokes, screams again (those, neanderthal sounding noises, expressing the disappointment of not getting the ball or someone loosing the ball)  – all remained the same.  I felt like I went back in time.  They were dressed the same.  One guy, who always wore one long soccer sock and one regular white was wearing just that.  It literally was like going back in time.  I thought to myself: this is how you stop the time.  You create something: Sunday morning soccer, Thursday afternoon drinks, Tuesday morning Bible study, or anything else with mostly the same group of folks, and you do that year after year, even if you don’t particularly like it anymore, but you’re in your time-stopped-comfort-zone.

I’m going to stop my time now.

On an unrelated note, a great friend of mine completed the Marine Corps Marathon today (yesterday) in Washington, to benefit the American Institute for Cancer Research (AICR).  He did this to support and honor his amazing daughter Chrissy, who just kicked her cancer away.  God willing, for the last time for many decades to come.  Awesome job, my brother!  May God continue looking after Chissy and your entire family.

On another unrelated note, another gem of 60’s, that I didn’t know much about.  Thanks to Louisa’s email, now I know Timi Yuro: