Even Air Balls are Something

1 Jan

I turn 39 years old this year. It’s cool. I’m great with it. I used to put crazy expectations on myself. All the things I want to do before the next year. Goals are good and healthy. Pressures and beating of yourself for failing (or not even attempting) are not. 

When I was little, my grandma and grandpa had this ping pong basketball boardgame I think was my dad’s or uncle’s when they were younger. At least, that’s what I told myself. It was awesome but yet so simple. You aimed for little hoops attached to two thin pieces of cardboard that were inserted on either end of the boardgame box. A small metal lever let you fling the ball through the air to the hoop. I played it for hours while grandma and grandpa cooked (argued) in the kitchen or watched their beloved Sanford and Sons and Mama’s Family while grandma played solitaire on the folding table permanently set up in the living room. 

I keep thinking of that game. I wonder what ever happened to it? Such a piece of my memory. How many times I would try for the hoops. Over and over. Not caring if I missed or scored. Just trying and repeating no matter what the outcome. 

Something to help me through a new year of challenges and adventures. Take a shot. If we miss, try again. It’s in the try after all, right?

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