From where I am sitting, which is in front of my Computer, it is agreed I may write whatever suits my fancy, right? And share innermost thoughts and secrets, right? Confessions? Bet you are sitting back right now and thinking to yourselves, "Oh, boy, Betty is coming clean after all these years!" As much as it pains me to think it, let alone share with the maddening crowd (?) of readers , I feel there is something I must "fes up to!" I might have the makings of a "Stalker" with a capital "S"...let me explain:
In November, 2007, I awoke one particular morning...the one I am going to tell you about in full detail (of course!) and living color...resolved to call my youngest child, Dana, to tell her to go on to the Campus of USC without me after peering out the window and seeing Drizzle! here in sunny Southern California where it never rains in the summertime, but it does come down a bit in November, December and January, if the weather gods smile down upon us and Fritz, the Channel Four Weather Man, reads his script correctly. Shoot! This kind of weather brings out the IPOD Looney Toones who did not learn to drive on Iowa's rutty country roads, do not remember that oil and water mix not, especially on fast freeways. On top of that, my hair frizzles when it is dampish outside, and a "bad hair day" is punishment for all my past sins as far as I am concerned.
But, Dana is a convincing persuader. Casey and Cole, the grandkids, and their other grandmother, Laurie, were all up for this journey into proper Los Angeles so I dug deep down into my Duke's mixture heritage to get the wherewith all to "brave the storm," so to speak. Dana and the gang arrived promptly at 9 a.m. and into her SUV I hoisted myself onto the reserved-for-grandma seat and off we went, sightseeing the urbane world on both sides of Freeway No. 10. Dana is an excellent freeway driver so I left my immediate worries behind at 5529, contemplating, with appropriate sighing, instead how many USC buildings we would scan and enter, what would I order for lunch and how long would we have to stay before heading home. (On most occasions I am a worry-free passenger, please know, and give me another 40 years, I will come to ignore those drivers who tailgate on the freeway and those who lift their hand in that cute and friendly little salute of goodwill!)
Soon we were headed into the parking lot of the Campus where Dana found parking on top of the roof (it was still drizzling a bit); we headed off to the Book Store where Christmas Gifts were to be purchased for the die-hard USC fans in our family. It had to be about a mile to the middle of the Campus where the Book Store, eating establishments, bathrooms, and the learning centers were situated. Dodging students on bicycles, garbage containers, campus cops, faculty members, lovers entwined as if vines, we arrived breathlessly at our point of destination and purchases were made. I bought a USC coffee cup which has its place of honor on my coffee table when the football team plays, at home or away.
Lunch time came and went but not until we had generous portions of what the college kids eat on a regular basis. While chewing away, I remember thinking I would have greatly enjoyed the "college experience" after high school, but that was not an option for me. I know I would have relished learning all about creative writing at the University of Iowa School of Journalism; but, in reality, it was what I absorbed during the two years I had in Journalism Class at the Atlantic High School, and working on 1943's "The Needle" as humor columnist and submitter of human interest stories that have proved to be the springboard for other writings and this Betty L. Blog.
Anywaaaay...someone in our group happened to remember that we did want to visit the Heisman Trophies in Heritage Hall...oh, no! (Not going home anytime soon, you caught that, didn't you?) Heritage Hall is just "down the road apiece" from where we were resting and picture taking. Tommy Trojan looked down at us and seemed to say to me..."Where is that USC Spirit?" And did he dare transmit the worst of all descriptive words: "Wimp?" Gathering up my shoes and all the inner strength I could muster, I joined that pack of four and off we went...straight into several moments of time that will enthrall me for the rest of my years. (For your information...Tommy Trojan is a statue, but his ability to stir the spirit is legendary!)
Walking up the steps of the Heritage Hall is a lot like entering the sanctuary of a church. One can be almost in awe of the beauty of the building, the pictures of the football teams of yesteryears and other sports figures that have plaques displayed in their honor. Heisman Trophies are encased in glass and are truly memorable to see. The Hall reeks of history!
While I lagged a bit behind, searching for a chair upon which to hoist my body once again, Casey, Cole, Dana and Laurie (herself a USC graduate) being naturally curious and not about to miss anything, oohed and aahed and then (while I was ogling some athletes who were passing by) slipped upstairs in search of more good stuff to eyeball. I found a choice spot and plumped myself down on a nearby chair, promising to stand watch over the recently-purchased packages. The Hall had, just that lunch time, been the place where the football team had partaken of a meal that is part of a Pep Rally just for them led by Coach Pete Carroll and others of his coaching squad. Some of the players were milling about as was a well-stacked slightly older man who strolled by my chair on his way to the men's bathroom...I know that because I watched him. Anyway, as he passed by, I smiled...he smiled...and just to make small talk, I asked him if he was a coach. He smiled...I smiled...and he said, "Yes." Now for someone who has interviewed people for newspaper articles and my now-defunct column, this could have been a banner occasion, but what did I do....nothing! Turns out the coach was Lane Kiffen, now head coach at Tennesee, and I blew it! But, then I remembered...I am retired and I don't do interviews.
Once my new acquaintance left my presence, time again began to drag. Evidently the pack of four had completely lost all track of time and had probably forgotten all about me...Nope, they did remember and sent Laurie down the stairs to tell me that THEY HAD TALKED TO MATT LEINERT AND DID I WANT TO MEET HIM? Grabbing all the packages, up the stairs I scrambled and walked into the outer office of Pete Carroll, hoping that my frizzled hair had calmed down and wishing the same for my erratically-beating heart. The receptionist said that Pete was not available (he was in a Meeting talking about a salary increase we learned later) but that Matt Leinert was still in the next room with some of the football team members. He had been so sweet and gentlemanly about Dana taking some pictures of her boys and Matt, that we dared to ask him if he would consent to having his picture taken with their Grandma. Those pictures show Matt in a sweaty T-shirt (what is it with these college boys and their beguiling T-shirts?) with Moi literally tucked under his left wing, my frizzled hair barely reaching his armpit, and I have to ask you, how many of you can say you were smeared with Matt Leinert's sweat? Well, not many of the older generation.... (And, yes, all you doubters, I do have pictures and they are for publication once I learn those ropes!) (And the next day's newspapers carried the story that yes, Pete Carroll got a nice pay raise but, again, all you doubters, that smile was genuine and just for us!) (And let me tell you now, guys and dolls, television does not do justice to his eyes, hair and skin tone and that was just from a quick observation...)
One of the neat things about going into Pete's office is that we were able to spot two pictures of the football team of which Tom Mallory, Laurie's father, was a member. He was a part of the 1929-1930's Thundering Herd football team, quite a hero one year when they won the Rose Bowl game. Tom has since passed away, but what an all-around athlete he was while attending USC. Poppa Tom was Jackie Robinson's baseball coach at Pasadena City College, and his bronze bust is situated between those of Jackie and his brother on the PCC campus.
As we were about to stroll out of the receptionist's office, I looked up and spotted Pete coming out of his office. Calling upon that Duke's mixture determination once more, I called out to Pete, "Oh, Pete, would you do me a favor?" (I know, I know, don't even think it! So pedestrian, right?) He smiled and said, "Depends on what the favor is?" (Now that is flirting if I know flirting!)
Timidly, I asked if he would be so kind as to have his picture taken with me. With no hesitation whatsoever, he came over, shook hands and made some small talk like we were good friends meeting once again. You know the drill...I gushed inane words some more, and looked faint evidently, as Casey said to me while he was snapping away with the camera, "Grandma, you are shaking!" I truly was. I think it was then that I won Pete Carroll's heart because he asked if I would like to have my picture taken with the entire football team! I can't be sure but I think I said, "Only if you know how to give CPR!" Anywaaay, I didn't faint as there was no Kodak moment, and, once more, began to amble out of the office..."float" would be a more apt description. As we reached the door, we heard Pete extend an invitation to watch the team practice that followed immediately. Now, how many die-hard USC fans in their right minds would turn down this kind of an invitation? We were among the few. We, graciously, replied that we did have to be on our way but would like to accept another time, of course. And left.... Once back in the SUV, we all commiserated that that was a most stupid thing to do...turn down an invitation of that magnitude, from Pete Carroll, himself.
There is a moral to this story, of course, as you well know there would be. The moral is this: No matter what kind of a day it looks like it is going to be, rain or shine, take a deep breath and hoist yourself up mentally, physically and emotionally 'cause you could have a day like the one I had when I met Pete Carroll and Matt Leinert and the greater part of the USC football team, year 2007! Entirely unexpected, the events that transpired live on as vividly as they were experienced on that fateful day a couple of years ago. We've not been back to accept Pete's invitation but we have "stalked" his television nterviews, his blogs, his Twittering, one or two of his Quarterback lunches held after each game, and, upon occasion, I am the one with the high-powered binoculars in the top section of the Coliseum furtherest from the scoreboards. GO TROJANS!
In November, 2007, I awoke one particular morning...the one I am going to tell you about in full detail (of course!) and living color...resolved to call my youngest child, Dana, to tell her to go on to the Campus of USC without me after peering out the window and seeing Drizzle! here in sunny Southern California where it never rains in the summertime, but it does come down a bit in November, December and January, if the weather gods smile down upon us and Fritz, the Channel Four Weather Man, reads his script correctly. Shoot! This kind of weather brings out the IPOD Looney Toones who did not learn to drive on Iowa's rutty country roads, do not remember that oil and water mix not, especially on fast freeways. On top of that, my hair frizzles when it is dampish outside, and a "bad hair day" is punishment for all my past sins as far as I am concerned.
But, Dana is a convincing persuader. Casey and Cole, the grandkids, and their other grandmother, Laurie, were all up for this journey into proper Los Angeles so I dug deep down into my Duke's mixture heritage to get the wherewith all to "brave the storm," so to speak. Dana and the gang arrived promptly at 9 a.m. and into her SUV I hoisted myself onto the reserved-for-grandma seat and off we went, sightseeing the urbane world on both sides of Freeway No. 10. Dana is an excellent freeway driver so I left my immediate worries behind at 5529, contemplating, with appropriate sighing, instead how many USC buildings we would scan and enter, what would I order for lunch and how long would we have to stay before heading home. (On most occasions I am a worry-free passenger, please know, and give me another 40 years, I will come to ignore those drivers who tailgate on the freeway and those who lift their hand in that cute and friendly little salute of goodwill!)
Soon we were headed into the parking lot of the Campus where Dana found parking on top of the roof (it was still drizzling a bit); we headed off to the Book Store where Christmas Gifts were to be purchased for the die-hard USC fans in our family. It had to be about a mile to the middle of the Campus where the Book Store, eating establishments, bathrooms, and the learning centers were situated. Dodging students on bicycles, garbage containers, campus cops, faculty members, lovers entwined as if vines, we arrived breathlessly at our point of destination and purchases were made. I bought a USC coffee cup which has its place of honor on my coffee table when the football team plays, at home or away.
Lunch time came and went but not until we had generous portions of what the college kids eat on a regular basis. While chewing away, I remember thinking I would have greatly enjoyed the "college experience" after high school, but that was not an option for me. I know I would have relished learning all about creative writing at the University of Iowa School of Journalism; but, in reality, it was what I absorbed during the two years I had in Journalism Class at the Atlantic High School, and working on 1943's "The Needle" as humor columnist and submitter of human interest stories that have proved to be the springboard for other writings and this Betty L. Blog.
Anywaaaay...someone in our group happened to remember that we did want to visit the Heisman Trophies in Heritage Hall...oh, no! (Not going home anytime soon, you caught that, didn't you?) Heritage Hall is just "down the road apiece" from where we were resting and picture taking. Tommy Trojan looked down at us and seemed to say to me..."Where is that USC Spirit?" And did he dare transmit the worst of all descriptive words: "Wimp?" Gathering up my shoes and all the inner strength I could muster, I joined that pack of four and off we went...straight into several moments of time that will enthrall me for the rest of my years. (For your information...Tommy Trojan is a statue, but his ability to stir the spirit is legendary!)
Walking up the steps of the Heritage Hall is a lot like entering the sanctuary of a church. One can be almost in awe of the beauty of the building, the pictures of the football teams of yesteryears and other sports figures that have plaques displayed in their honor. Heisman Trophies are encased in glass and are truly memorable to see. The Hall reeks of history!
While I lagged a bit behind, searching for a chair upon which to hoist my body once again, Casey, Cole, Dana and Laurie (herself a USC graduate) being naturally curious and not about to miss anything, oohed and aahed and then (while I was ogling some athletes who were passing by) slipped upstairs in search of more good stuff to eyeball. I found a choice spot and plumped myself down on a nearby chair, promising to stand watch over the recently-purchased packages. The Hall had, just that lunch time, been the place where the football team had partaken of a meal that is part of a Pep Rally just for them led by Coach Pete Carroll and others of his coaching squad. Some of the players were milling about as was a well-stacked slightly older man who strolled by my chair on his way to the men's bathroom...I know that because I watched him. Anyway, as he passed by, I smiled...he smiled...and just to make small talk, I asked him if he was a coach. He smiled...I smiled...and he said, "Yes." Now for someone who has interviewed people for newspaper articles and my now-defunct column, this could have been a banner occasion, but what did I do....nothing! Turns out the coach was Lane Kiffen, now head coach at Tennesee, and I blew it! But, then I remembered...I am retired and I don't do interviews.
Once my new acquaintance left my presence, time again began to drag. Evidently the pack of four had completely lost all track of time and had probably forgotten all about me...Nope, they did remember and sent Laurie down the stairs to tell me that THEY HAD TALKED TO MATT LEINERT AND DID I WANT TO MEET HIM? Grabbing all the packages, up the stairs I scrambled and walked into the outer office of Pete Carroll, hoping that my frizzled hair had calmed down and wishing the same for my erratically-beating heart. The receptionist said that Pete was not available (he was in a Meeting talking about a salary increase we learned later) but that Matt Leinert was still in the next room with some of the football team members. He had been so sweet and gentlemanly about Dana taking some pictures of her boys and Matt, that we dared to ask him if he would consent to having his picture taken with their Grandma. Those pictures show Matt in a sweaty T-shirt (what is it with these college boys and their beguiling T-shirts?) with Moi literally tucked under his left wing, my frizzled hair barely reaching his armpit, and I have to ask you, how many of you can say you were smeared with Matt Leinert's sweat? Well, not many of the older generation.... (And, yes, all you doubters, I do have pictures and they are for publication once I learn those ropes!) (And the next day's newspapers carried the story that yes, Pete Carroll got a nice pay raise but, again, all you doubters, that smile was genuine and just for us!) (And let me tell you now, guys and dolls, television does not do justice to his eyes, hair and skin tone and that was just from a quick observation...)
One of the neat things about going into Pete's office is that we were able to spot two pictures of the football team of which Tom Mallory, Laurie's father, was a member. He was a part of the 1929-1930's Thundering Herd football team, quite a hero one year when they won the Rose Bowl game. Tom has since passed away, but what an all-around athlete he was while attending USC. Poppa Tom was Jackie Robinson's baseball coach at Pasadena City College, and his bronze bust is situated between those of Jackie and his brother on the PCC campus.
As we were about to stroll out of the receptionist's office, I looked up and spotted Pete coming out of his office. Calling upon that Duke's mixture determination once more, I called out to Pete, "Oh, Pete, would you do me a favor?" (I know, I know, don't even think it! So pedestrian, right?) He smiled and said, "Depends on what the favor is?" (Now that is flirting if I know flirting!)
Timidly, I asked if he would be so kind as to have his picture taken with me. With no hesitation whatsoever, he came over, shook hands and made some small talk like we were good friends meeting once again. You know the drill...I gushed inane words some more, and looked faint evidently, as Casey said to me while he was snapping away with the camera, "Grandma, you are shaking!" I truly was. I think it was then that I won Pete Carroll's heart because he asked if I would like to have my picture taken with the entire football team! I can't be sure but I think I said, "Only if you know how to give CPR!" Anywaaay, I didn't faint as there was no Kodak moment, and, once more, began to amble out of the office..."float" would be a more apt description. As we reached the door, we heard Pete extend an invitation to watch the team practice that followed immediately. Now, how many die-hard USC fans in their right minds would turn down this kind of an invitation? We were among the few. We, graciously, replied that we did have to be on our way but would like to accept another time, of course. And left.... Once back in the SUV, we all commiserated that that was a most stupid thing to do...turn down an invitation of that magnitude, from Pete Carroll, himself.
There is a moral to this story, of course, as you well know there would be. The moral is this: No matter what kind of a day it looks like it is going to be, rain or shine, take a deep breath and hoist yourself up mentally, physically and emotionally 'cause you could have a day like the one I had when I met Pete Carroll and Matt Leinert and the greater part of the USC football team, year 2007! Entirely unexpected, the events that transpired live on as vividly as they were experienced on that fateful day a couple of years ago. We've not been back to accept Pete's invitation but we have "stalked" his television nterviews, his blogs, his Twittering, one or two of his Quarterback lunches held after each game, and, upon occasion, I am the one with the high-powered binoculars in the top section of the Coliseum furtherest from the scoreboards. GO TROJANS!
GO AUNTIE BETTY!
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