Football is life

My team has missed the playoffs again, but life goes on and there are still games to be played. Their names will not be mentioned in the same breath with the elite, but yet they slog on, which is what they are trained to do, not to mention paid to do. Yet, what about the fans? We're not paid to root for our teams long after the hope of playoff contention and the hoopla that entails has passed. Fans are made of nobler stuff, we cheer out of love of the game, nobody needs to pay us. After receiving a gift of tickets to a meaningless game, I mustered the energy to attend with my son. After all, time spent with my college age son is a rare treat but I must admit, even though I'm a noble fan with a love of the game, I wasn't too keen on spending the afternoon under an umbrella in the pouring rain with sodden feet in an effort without playoff consequences. The day dawned with dense fog and cloud cover, but I made up my mind to go as far as was humanly possible without catching pneumonia because I knew my son had his heart set on it. Heading to the game as soon as we passed through the tunnel, the skies were clear and the sun was shining. A good omen I thought. We made it to the stadium with time to spare and after paying a small fortune to park in a muddy field, we picked our way hopping over puddles and made it to the stadium parking lot. From some distance away the inviting smells of barbecue wafted on the air, punctuated by the happy sounds of boys playing catch and the echo of pigskin slapping against outstretched hands. People were laughing and not at all troubled that the team had not made the playoffs. There was a game to be played, wieners to be grilled, life goes on. I have to admit the atmosphere started a stirring in my heart, memories of other games, a twinge of excitement. By the time we reached the spot where a wannabe D.J. fan had set up a sound system and the beat of The Eye of the Tiger pulsed through the loudpeakers, I was pumped. I stepped up my gait to the tune as we made our way to the entrance. After a cursory frisking and a brief glance in my bag, we negotiated the turnstile and we were in the stadium. We joined the line of people scaling the escalators to find our seats. The stadium throbbed with excitement and among the throng I felt like a blood cell in an orderly passage to the heart. On our way there, we passed through the bowels of the stadium and the roar of the crowd gave me goosebumps, and as we emerged the bright green grass and the familiar colors of the players' uniforms were just as bright as if they were playing for a playoff berth. The sun shone down like springtime, but there was just enough nip in the air to know it wasn't, and I pitied the poor fans of those eastern teams braving ice and snow. The Star Spangled Banner rang out and 60,000 people were as one for a brief moment and then I knew... there's more to life than winning or losing- it's all about the game.

Mt. Diablo Snow Redux

Mt. Diablo

Sacred Mountain of Indian lore

Of stone primeval history speaks

Boulders rising from the ocean floor

Spirits of the Ancients guard your peaks

Hills cascade like tendrils to your feet

Rolling slopes and golden pastures sweep

Across the fields of acorn and wheat

Vistas of grazing cattle and sheep

Stately beacon from the plains afar

You guide the pilgrim from his sojourn

Framed by the heavens, the moon and star

For your gentle air his heart does yearn

Written by Jeanette Kermaninejad

Snow on Mt Diablo

Can anything make your heart soar like a dusting of snow on the mountain? Such a rare and chilly sight for us, my car had a blanket of snow on it early in the morning.

Manhattan Skyline

Steel ribcages reach upward
Framework of humanity
On a granite bed anchored
Surface of insanity

Gun metal grey enclosures
Border the far horizon
Protect within them treasures
That Gotham so enliven

Gems of culture and fashion
Literature, song and dance
Makind's outward expression
his existence to enhance

Giant Skeletal Vessels
Team with life helter skelter
In each a story nestles
Cradled snug in its shelter

Testament to man's genius
The jagged skyline stands tall
Structures like ancient sphinxes
Scrape the sky witness to all

By Jeanette Kermaninejad

New York, New York

I don't care what anyone says, New York is the center of the universe! Whatever Paris or London have, they've got nothing on New York. Yes, people are not as laid back by California standards, they're in a hurry, places to go, but on more than one occasion a kind stranger helped me out in what can only be described as a friendly way. The streets are teeming with hustle and bustle and the bite in the fall air can sting, but it makes the pleasure of finding an open seat in the jam-packed Starbucks even more intense. And let's talk about the food... there is food everywhere, a bagle shop on every block, chopped salads, delis, gourmet shops, little Italian, Indian, Chinese, German, Spanish, name your country restaurants. New Yorkers live life with gusto and breathlessness in a city that never rests, symbolized by Lady Liberty with a freedom of expression that translates in all forms of art which is the stuff of life. The city is a huge tableau, a work of living art and everyone there adds a splash of color from the most neutral to the most vibrant.