Watching my Dawgs take down the Tennessee Vols to rise to the top of the College Football Playoff rankings and then follow that up with clinching the SEC East title took me back a few years – 41 of them to be exact - to Jan. 1, 1981. That's when I realized I have a long-overdue thank you note to write. Here goes:
Dear Susan,
Thank you so much for inviting me to your house for your New Year’s Day Sugar Bowl party. I had what was, undoubtedly, one of the best times of my life, and the spinach dip that you served? Wow. You and your mom were so hospitable. Your home was beautiful and comfortable. I so appreciate the invitation, and I am incredibly grateful for our friendship.
I confess now, 41 years later, that I had never had spinach dip before. I only tasted it at your party out of a sense of obligation. I’m sure glad I did. You didn’t know it, and I was too embarrassed to say, but I had never been inside a home that nice before. When I pulled up to London Lane and saw those two stories of stately brick, I felt like I had been invited to the Governor’s Mansion.
I can’t remember now whether I brought anything to contribute to the party. I doubt that I did, and I apologize for that. In my defense, this was my first invitation to a party that didn’t involve a birthday cake, outside of the Christmas party Wesley Walraven hosted in his basement when we were in middle school. I didn’t know that you were supposed to bring hostess gifts, chips or drinks when you’re invited to a get-together like that. The fact is, I had no idea that football-watching parties were a thing. The only football game I had ever watched was our senior homecoming game.
I didn’t know a single thing about football that day. I didn’t know about Vince Dooley or Hershel Walker. I didn’t know that Alabama and Notre Dame were legendary, and I didn’t know a man named Bear Bryant had ever done anything anybody cared about. I spent my middle school and high school years without television, the uber-conservative church my family went to said that TVs were one-eyed devils. I may be inclined to agree these days. I didn’t know the scoring options, the positions or the concept of downs to advance. I had no idea that college football games were televised or that people watched them. And, I sure as heck didn’t know colleges offered scholarships to athletes. Other than our teachers, I didn't know anyone who had ever gone to college. Mine was a small world that you opened up with your kindness.
Your invitation may as well have been a college-acceptance letter. The little house my parents rented was at the top of a rutted dirt driveway. My mom had just taken a job folding towels at a laundry that kept hospitals stocked. My dad was making minimum wage or a little better working at an aluminum foundry. His history of alcoholism had cost him more jobs than I could count. I didn’t invite my friends to my house. The sad, but honest, truth is that I was embarrassed.
I had learned to navigate my life with care, meeting people at school or at their homes, and I watched all of you as closely as I could, aiming to avoid miscues and missteps. You were an excellent teacher. The button-down shirt you complimented me on was a hand-me-down from Dale Childs. I didn’t realize until I looked it up that “button-down” referenced the collar on the shirt. I had never paid attention to whether collars had buttons, and sure as heck didn’t have the money to buy clothes because they were on trend. Within a year, though, I discovered The Preppy Handbook and quickly educated myself further.
What do I remember about that evening at your house? I remember watching Herschel run, jump, then fly over the defense to score a touchdown, and I remember our friends going wild when the game ended with Georgia on top. I remember your sweet mama and that delicious dip. Surprisingly, I don’t remember who else was there. I’m pretty sure Linda, Marlene, Keith and John were there. I feel certain there were more. I think that part of the memory is clouded by the fact that I spent most of the day in awe that I miraculously wound up in your circle. I felt completely accepted and completely safe. That is what I treasure most about that day, and that is why I am writing this belated letter.
We never know how the simple, quiet things we do speak vociferously in the lives of others. I just thought I should tell you that your party, after all these years, still resonates as one of those special days that I always will cherish.
Thank you, Susan. Your gift was and remains priceless, and I am grateful. Go Dawgs!
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