A surprising juxtaposition of the seventeenth century with classical times.
Looks like there’s lots going on this weekend. The college football game that should have the whole country watching—Ohio State/Michigan—is especially exciting for me because I’m from Ohio. I remember while I was growing up that the whole state went crazy for the week before the game. Radio stations played the Ohio State fight song every other track it seemed; I still have a scarlet and gray scarf to wear during the game. This year I’ll miss the first half or so—we have another concert to attend at Kennedy Center. This time it’s a young Russian I think playing music I don’t especially care for, the dreaded Tchaikovsky for instance. But if it’s played well, it will be a great time.
To keep the frenzy going, Cleveland and Pittsburgh play in the NFL on Sunday. Since I’m from Cleveland and my wife is from Pittsburgh, this is one of the two Sundays every year that we don’t talk to each other. For a change, the Steelers this year are playing just about as poorly as the Browns, so we won’t be able to watch the game. We’ll be dependent on another game to show updates or on webcasts.
I am always amazed by what I can recall and what I can’t. Football doesn’t seem to be important enough to claim such an active and large part of my brain space, but it does. I can still remember watching last year’s Super Bowl while I was still in the hospital. I guess old preferences and choices can still claim my attention, even when I’d rather put it elsewhere.