Americans live for Super Bowl Sunday. Newly made resolutions to diet, exercise, watch less TV, no “F” bomb dropping are swept under the ottoman. Instead, the 30 day health regimen succumbs to buffalo wings and nachos, permanent ass indents on the couch, a day long of football reruns and commentaries and cursing at refs and bad plays since before the Joe Namath days.
Growing up with the TV next to the dining room table during football season, my sister and I developed a great disdain for football. We ate Sunday dinner at half-time of one game, then my dad would reach over and change the channel to one of the other two channels to catch the other scores. Sunday dinner was a celebration of whatever my mother had been slaving over all morning. It always included meatballs and whatever pasta my father desired that day, as well as some other sides that Americans referred to as a main course like roasted chicken, veal cutlets, pork loin, etc. Football season put a damper on our weekly feast.
My dad sat on the edge of the couch every weekend anxiously awaiting the outcome of the teams on which he had gambled. We had no reprieve. The Blue Law prevented us from escaping to the mall. By Sunday night, we knew if we had to eat at my grandmother’s that week or if Big Nat was taking us to Tello’s in East Boston for a new pair of Jordache jeans. It was a bad weekend when he had to get on a chair and pull the wads of cash out of the dropped ceiling.
The menu on Super Bowl Sunday was different from other Sundays for us. Chinese was the fare. Egg rolls, lobster sauce, pork fried rice, chicken fingers and REAL duck sauce (NO PACKETS!!!!) were just a small sampling. Bostonians love Chinese, Cantonese, that is. Although the day was another “holiday” for us, my sister and I jumped for joy when the Blue Law was overturned. We could now hit the mall while my father chomped at the bit over the spread, the football cards and what he might owe on collection day.
Today, we celebrate Super Bowl Sunday Boston style with a hint of living south of the Mason-Dixon line: great food, fab friends, Patriot’s over sized blow up figures on the lawn and a once a year pool heating. With a husband and four sons (three of which play football), I have had to to relieve the bad flavor of my childhood football experience with enjoying the day for which all Americans anticipate, Super Bowl Sunday. Go Pats!
Tell me what’s going on in your life. I want to hear from you!
Wishing you love, balance and peace.
Amore & Baci (love & kisses),