Except for that moment, it was all males all the time here, as eight of us (three grown men and five growing boys) gathered for a ritual Super Bowl party today. I had to leave for the airport with under a minute left, and the game in the balance, so I heard the Giants' winning touchdown pass over the radio, but that was easily as exciting as it would have been watching it on TV.
It conjured memories of my childhood, 1957 to be precise, when I listened to NFL games on my transistor radio as we were finishing our house on Morin Drive the outskirts of Bay City, Michigan. I built rich impressions of the San Francisco 49ers and the Los Angeles Rams in my mind, based on what I heard over the crackling airwaves from announcers, but I do not think I ever actually saw either team play football.
Radio is such a superior medium for imagination. I can still "see" Y.A. Tittle dropping back to throw another long pass...
This afternoon, I scrounged up chips, fresh hot salsa, cornichons, sharp cheddar cheese, crackers, garlic hummus, baby carrots, sweet cherry tomatoes, sliced cucumber, sunflower seeds, and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks for our party -- not exactly your red-blooded American BBQ'd-ribs-and-beer delight, but hey, this is San Francisco, after all.
Anyway, we later validated our collective male credentials with three huge pizzas as the main course. And by then, the cheering for the underdog Giants hereabouts was downright deafening.
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It may not look like much now, but this is the beginning of central heating in my flat. We've been freezing here since the failure of the electric wall heaters. This week, a new system will get installed, so we'll move from the 1890's to the 21st century. Woo-hoo!
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