Fathers, Roosters, and a Rocker

Father's Day 2012 came and went yesterday without much fanfare at this house. Not to worry, though, Coach had a fun-filled afternoon with Tucker (the boy who first made him a father) and a swell father figure whom this Kirk family has all come to know and love over the years. After devouring his traditional Father's Day breakfast of French toast, maple bacon, and grits (prepared with loving hands by muah and Tate)and opening up a few goodies from the boys, Coach K loaded up with clubs, tees, shoes, and Tucker for a drive over to the annual Rooster Classic pre-tournament tournament to spend a sun shiney day with some old friends ( that we now just call family). I wasn't sure at first about this golf excursion on a day set aside for father's and their fams, but after hearing the details from a worn out but enthusiastic Tucker, yesterday's outing was just the ticket for a dad who deserves the best. The Rooster Classic is an annual fundraiser whose goal is to raise money to send kids to FCA camp, kids who otherwise might not have the funds, or the Christian-driven parents, to experience a place where fun is centered around learning about God. Big Jay and the rest of the Bodes have made it their goal to fill that camp every summer with kids who benefit from golfers who want to give back. They (the golfers) also have a pretty good time raising money, golfing, eating bar-b-q, and hanging with former Brave John Rocker. The Rooster Classic also serves as a kind of memorial to Big Jay and Mrs. Margie's son Brent, or Rooster, who died in a plane crash several years ago. Not only do his memories live on with all the folks who gather every year, but so does his name. This year the tournament just happened to fall on the weekend of Father's Day and what better tribute to both Jay and Brent than to bring together dads and their sons for an afternoon of priceless and picturesque memories. We are always told to appreciate every day what we have and more importantly, WHO we have, because we never know when things or people will be taken away from us. Sometimes, as with Brent, that lesson hits close to home. So yesterday, while Billy strolled the links with a great dad, Tucker experienced his first brag-worthy father-son golf tournament, and he learned that family comes in all forms.

Things You do When You're Dating

Thirteen years ago today, I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, weeks before the biggest day of my life (up to that point), checking off my to-do list to become Mrs. James William Kirk III. I'm sure Mimi (back then just Mom) and I were wrapping gifts, stuffing boxes, and licking envelopes on the floor of her much-used living room. Coach (still just Billy back then) was probably at the gym, wedding details the LAST thing on his mind. We would have still been in that cute stage, before cell phones hung on belt loops, and I would have been waiting for Mom's house phone to ring so I could hear his sweet voice checking in with me for the night. Coach was a good courter, always taking me to dinner, movies, heck he used to even walk with me back in the day, round and round the lake, acting as if walking was the next best thing to a 420 pound bench press. Ahh, the good old days, when we went to midnight movies, shared a dessert, and held hands ALL. THE. TIME: the things you do when you're dating:-) And just so the young neighbor couples in the cul-de-sac don't despair when they see their future flashing before their eyes in the form of the Kirk family, I'd like to share the details of my evening, thirteen years after the invitations were stamped and sent out. Once the boys were securely dropped off at the local FBC VBS, I envisioned a quiet evening, or at least a quiet two hours until the noise returned, screechy voices echoing the events of the night. Fold a little laundry, channel surf, wipe down some kitchen counters, maybe. I envisioned wrong. Coach disrupted my bath towel fold to tell me to get in the car, tennis rackets in his hand and athletic clothes adorning his body. Great, right? Well, it was raining, had been raining all day, and is still raining as I write this. "Are you an athlete or not?" he taunted, and y'all know I can't back down from a challenge. So as we loaded up and the rain pounded a little harder on our windshield as we drove to the courts, we laughed, knowing that after thirteen years of wedded bliss (bliss being moving vans, surgeries, preemie clothes, pediatric endocrinologists, mean principals and all the other good stuff), a little rain was NOTHING we couldn't handle. So we served it up, Wimbledon style, only we didn't stop when the balls splashed and died, didn't give second chances because of a slick spot (because life surely doesn't), but finished strong as we always do and walked off the court hand in hand, just like we did almost thirteen years ago.