It happened in a New York minute. Honest. One night I walked into Ann Arbor’s Pioneer gym, sat in the wrong section on the wrong side and watched Rex, the coach of my 15 year old grandson Landon, (Drew to the rest of the world) put him in his first varsity game during the first quarter as a high school freshman. Not a terribly exciting game but Landon played about half of each of the 4 quarters. When the final buzzer sounded, he had 7 points, Pioneer had it’s first victory of the season and Landon had just started his prolific high school basketball career of scoring well over 1,000 points as their point guard. I swear it was last night.

The realization of just how good and how much potential Landon had came a few weeks later when Pioneer was playing their inner city rival, Skyline at home. Landon was still playing about the same amount of minutes, 18-20 per game, but was really starting to make an impact and getting noticed. He swished a long 3-pointer in front of the student section and the kids went nuts, screaming over and over, “he’s a freshman, he’s a freshman.” That’s when I knew. And wanted to make it last as long as I could. But no. His basketball career simply shifted to warp speed and this slow grandma was left with a dumbfounded look on my face thinking, what just happened? It can’t possibly be over. He just started high school. But it was.

This is the same kid, who as a 3 year old gave me a friendly swat on the butt and some encouraging words (Landon was included in this strange sports phenomenon during high school basketball practice where his dad was coach. He actually assumed he was on the team when he was 3). After I finally sunk a shot while getting my ass kicked by him in a game of H.O.R.S.E. this little boy (in my eyes) was suddenly choosing which full ride college basketball scholarship to accept. How in the world did it go that fast?

Landon chose Holy Cross college in Worcester, Massachusetts. (Pronounced “Wooster” which makes no sense, but hey, tell that to Brett Favre, pronounced Farv when it looks like it should be Favor). His first few months as a committed freshman hasn’t been without some drama. The head coach who recruited him retired without warning this summer, plunging the team in dire straights and coach less for a bit. A couple of the upper class players chose to transfer elsewhere (their option when a head coach leaves) so there were relationships, goals, unity, camaraderie that needed to be started all over. (It wasn’t all bad. The dude who wore # 3 left giving Landon the chance to keep the number he’s used during a decade of basketball).

The first non conference game for Holy Cross happened to be against a Big 10 team, Maryland, who’s ranked 7th in the nation. Oh boy. I wondered how Landon would play initially. Would he be hesitant about shooting or go full throttle? He’s always played with and against older, more experienced players and has never been intimidated. Not to worry, he was the same experienced, aggressive player I had grown accustomed to watching. Confident, assured, calm with that unique ability to see the whole floor unlike a lot of players. Holy Cross lost but Landon played fantastic, scoring 24 points. Second game Landon put up 14 points in their second loss and was named Rookie of the week for the Patriot League. First week as a freshman in collegiate ball and he nailed it. Dude. Really. Dude.

The season isn’t getting any easier for the Crusaders. Two more games, both resulting in losses. Holy Cross is essentially starting their basketball program from scratch. New coach with basically a new team of very young players. It’s gonna take some time to mesh. (However, my favorite player is chugging along like a well oiled machine).

The Hubs and I were chomping at the bit to see a game in person. (He’s about 750 miles away-sob-sob). We can get most of his games on our iPads-and a few on TV, but seriously it’s not the same. I’m trying to keep stats while watching on my mini and it kinda sucks. Still better than not watching at all, but during the last several years I’ve only missed a handful of his games and believe with all my heart, he does better when I’m there. I know I do.

We thought the week before Thanksgiving would be great because Landon doesn’t get to come home for the holiday. The Crusaders are playing in a tournament in Florida. A least the weather should be awesome. (And I’ve promised him his favorite meal of turkey and all the fixings when he’s home for 3 days at Christmas time).

We flew in (direct flight from Detroit Metro to Worcester-only about 2 hours) on Thursday, issuing an invitation to take him out for supper after he was through with practice. Man it was good to see him again. He’s acquired some muscle mass in the weight room since we saw him in August and is in fine form. John and Landon wanted seafood so we went to Sole Proprietor and had lobster (I’ve never ordered lobster in a restaurant before because I’m such a mess when we eat it at home. I can barely see out of my glasses when I’m finished). Well neatness be damned, we all ordered different size lobsters, and it was very good!

Probably the highlight of the weekend was the added bonus of Shannon, Ari and Jovi flying in Friday morning for the game. Jovi loves her uncle Drewy, (they Skype each other) and they belong to a mutual admiration society. We met them (not Landon, he was already with the team) at the Hogan Center, which is home to a huge store filled with memorabilia, gifts, clothing and souvenirs. Everyone found some Holy Cross duds we couldn’t live without (Ari and Jovi got matching purple stocking hats).

After we were done shopping, John and I each got a pop (soda-they’re so weird. Soda is what we use in baking) and sat down for a bit. On our table was the Holy Cross school newspaper (which looks a lot like a shopper or the old Doon Press). I’m perusing collegiate life when I spot the sports section (The State of Hoops on the Hill) written by staff writer, class of 2020, Jack Milko. Here is his take on the young season thus far.

The Men’s Basketball Team

At the 11:11 mark of the first half, Holy Cross held a 22 to 21 lead over the No. 7 Maryland Terrapins. From that point on, however, Maryland outscored Holy Cross 74-49, ultimately winning by a score of 95-71. Although the Crusaders lost its season opener by 24 points, there are some positives to take away from it. Holy Cross managed to hang tough with a national title contender for the first ten minutes of the game. The freshman tandem of guard Drew Lowder and forward Joe Pridgen were certainly thrown into the fire, playing in front of a hostile crowd of 13,633. Nonetheless, they exceeded expectations by combining for 36 points on 16-28 shooting from the floor. 

Four days later, the Crusaders played in a high-scoring affair at New Hampshire, a game in which UNH won 87-83. Lowder and Pridgen combined for 27 points, but the star of the game was freshman guard Ryan Wade, who came off the bench to score a team-high 24. Then, last week, in a tough overtime loss against Fairfield, four Crusaders managed to score nine or more. Lowder again played well as he had 16 points, which included four huge three-pointers in the second half. Pridgen also had a solid game with nine. Junior forwards Austin Butler and Connor Niego also provided some offense, combining for 26 points. Ultimately, the Crusaders will have to continue to lean on their youth movement as they are now the only team in the Patriot League without a victory so far this season. If they keep to their up-tempo style, and continue to play hard, then their first victory will come soon.

We arrive at the gym about 45 minutes before game time. We find the table with our tickets that Landon has reserved for us and start walking around their incredible new facility called the Hart Center. A few feet away I spot a table with assorted paraphernalia about tonight’s basketball and hockey games. Oh Lord have mercy, Landon’s on the front cover of the program. I. Kid. You. Not. I ran (ha-ha) gimped my way over, gushing to the young men sitting at the table. “That’s my grandson Landon on the front cover!” (I’m sure they thought I was a complete wack job since I didn’t even use the name he uses and everyone else knows him by, but they smiled and said, “that’s cool.” Damn straight).

Jovi is fascinated with everything during the game. A baton twirler in her glittery costume was practicing her routine near where we were sitting. Jovi could not pull her eyes away from her and finally convinced mommy to ask to have their picture taken together. As if that weren’t enough, they’re was a dance troupe routine and some holy Cheerleaders. By the end of the game, Jovi ran out to center court, did some pirouettes, holding up her hand to stop mommy from getting too close. The Holy Cross cheerleaders saw the cutie, ran out to her, gave her some Pom Poms, a big white bow like they had in their hair, which then piqued the interest of the team photographer who snapped some shots, asking permission to use them on the website. (And then Jovi told them about her favorite Uncle Drewy).

The Harvard game was a tough one to lose. We kept the lead well into the second half. That’s 2 games the Crusaders should have gotten the W. It sucks for the team and coaches (yet it’s hard for me to feel awfully bad because Landon’s doing great. Much like I felt years ago when I was an avid bowler. If we lost but I bowled at or above my average, I just didn’t feel too bad for the night. Wasn’t my fault and I did my best).

Just read on Holy Cross’ website: For the second week out of 3 during the early basketball season, Landon (Drew Lowder) # 3 was named Rookie of the week for the Patriot League. What a great start for this fabulous young man. “He’s a freshman, he’s a freshman!” Indeed. Go Landon, go…

Obsession. Such a strong word with some negative appeal. I don’t think I’m obsessive. Well maybe a little. I prefer to think of it as liking something very much and sticking with it until I die. Is that the definition of obsessive? These are products I’ve become attached to. Once I find something I really like, my mind (and nose) can rarely be changed. I just can’t imagine my life without said product. Although they’re not essential to my life, they are needed to make my life better. Just call it my relentless product loyalty.

First thing I remember becoming (alarmingly) attached to was in Davenport, 35 years ago. I loved to sunbathe (I know, my bad) and my lips were always as dry as a popcorn fart. I stopped at our neighborhood Perry Drug store and bought a small tube of Mentholatum Natural Ice lip balm. A strange feeling accosted my lips when I smeared some on. There was a slight tingling/burning sensation. Oooh-that’s the way-ah-huh, ah-huh-I like it. Since that fateful purchase, I can’t remember a solitary day in my life hence where a tube of Mentholatum has not been in my possession. Choosing my favorite (and only) cologne for the past 25 years would not be my top priority if I were stranded on a desert island but rest assured tubes of Mentholatum, my toothbrush and toothpaste definitely would be.

I panicked a few years ago when all my local haunts stopped carrying Mentholatum in Michigan. Damn Burt’s Bee’s and Chap Stick and their 50 freakin varieties take up half the store shelves. I finally found Mentholatum online and ordered 20 tubes at a time (since I cannot face the possibility of ever running out). A few years ago I discovered several stores in Iowa still carry Mentholatum so we’d stop at every Hy-Vee store from Davenport to Sioux Falls. (Often when we made this trip it was hotter than Hades in the Midwest). There I was traipsing across 4 states lugging little bags of Mentholatum with me to eat or antique because I feared they would melt in the hot car until we finally settled in a cool hotel or back home.

My next loyalty award arrived by accident 15 years ago. A span in my life which consisted of driving from mid-Michigan to northwest Iowa every couple months. Sometimes I flew but usually drove the 750 miles. Mom was slipping and it was harder for Dad to care for her. He was out of his element in the caregiving department. But they both made due for as long as they could, until they couldn’t.

On the way to Iowa I usually made several stops. None were out of my way but an excellent excuse to get out of the car and stretch for a bit. Two stops were Outlet Malls, one in Michigan City, Indiana, the second in Williamsburg, Iowa. The other 2 were huge antique malls, one close to the Michigan City Outlet, the other near Peru, Illinois.

I had been watching (longing/coveting) a Waterford lamp in Michigan City for a couple of years. It was a bit out of my price range and I kept hoping when I stopped that the price had either dropped or someone had finally put me out of my misery and bought the dang thing and it would be gone. No such luck. There it sat, lit like a lifesaving beacon during a storm. Taunting, exquisite and dusty. Shoot, it wouldn’t get dusty at my house. Oh alright, I lie, dusting is right up there with root canals-but still, the lamp would look far better lighting up my cozy little nest. Same stinking price, dealer wouldn’t come down a nickel. Well then rot on the shelf. (I have since snagged 2 Waterford lamps).

Before heading west again on 94 west and weaving my way around Chicago I was ready for some lunch. I’m almost done eating when I picture my makeup bag on top of the dining room table at home. Don’t know why that image popped in my head but it did. Are you kidding? No makeup, shampoo, conditioner, brush, nothing. Did I actually forget to pack it in the car? Trot out to the car, pop the trunk and go through everything. Nada. Well there’s money I don’t want to spend. Shoot.

I’m trying to get by as cheap as I can. Stop at Walgreens, pick up a small deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, and shower gel. Can’t get chintzy with moisturizer for my dry skin but buy the smallest jar, adding the bare essentials for makeup, eyebrow pencil, powder, concealer. Now I just need hair stuff.

I don’t want full size bottles, they take up too much room. On a shelf I spot a package introducing a line of new products. Tiny 2 oz. bottles of hair care products, shampoo, conditioner, gel and hair spray by a company named John Frieda. On sale for $4.99. Enough to get me through a week. Sold.

This particular trip I’m spending one night in my old stomping grounds, Davenport for a rousing night of double deck Euchre with my former bowling buddies. We have a great time catching up, eating, playing cards. I spend the night at Jeanne’s. I still have a good 6-7 hours to drive so no dawdling in the morning. Fine except for one problem. I can’t get out of the shower. Nothing physical, it’s that new shampoo. The smell is incredible. Damn I smell good. Really good. I’m hooked. Where can I buy this stuff by the gallon?

It’s a win-win I stumbled upon these hair products. They’re actually for color treated hair. I’m cruising through year 20, using L’Oréal every freakin month (another loyal awards user, hadn’t received “the sign” to stop yet. That would take this slow poke another 15 years-sigh). This was just the best accidental find in my life. Until it was snatched from me 10 years later. I’ve always been a quantities buyer. A sucker when something I use regularly is on sale. So I always had 3 or 4 bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the linen closet. But it had been a few months since I bought any. I was checking the shelves and prices at Meijer. The usual spot was sporting some other dead bed-head crap. I looked in clearance, zip there too. Drive over to Rite Aid and find one bottle of hairspray. Grab it and have an awful feeling that Neese is not going to smelling nearly as awesome very soon.

I’m (still) not an online shopper. When I need something I go to the most likely stores which should carry what I’m looking for. (I’m hopelessly outdated). But for this delicious, deliriously smelling shampoo and conditioner, I am the ultimate online shopper with a goal. And it wasn’t hard to find. I ordered a dozen bottles of each and guarded my stash in a hermetically sealed safe at an undisclosed location. (Which only accepted my iris to unlock).

That was in 2014. After repeated trips to the underground, 12 inch thick, reinforced concrete facility, my world changing shampoo was disappearing at an alarmingly fast rate. Went back online to all the surplus outlets which carry discontinued (hurts my heart to even write it) products. After an hour long search I found 3 bottles of shampoo. Three bottles for 99 bucks. That’s right folks, 99 dollars. And I gave it careful consideration. Tried to convince myself that 30 bucks for an 8 ounce bottle of shampoo was worth every penny. Who am I trying to kid? Could not do it. The conditioner however was readily available much cheaper as was the hairspray. So I bought a dozen bottles of each (Such a creature of habit-it’s disgusting).

Now I’m down to days using my favorite smelling shampoo. Mere days. I’m adjusting to the change in my life without my signature smell. (Actually with enough conditioner and hairspray that’s gonna last way past my expiration date, I will still probably have the same scent wafting off my countenance). But it’s the shampoo I attribute the smell with. But it’s not all bad news. I woke up one morning a year ago and made the simple decision to stop dyeing my hair. (Only took me 35 years). And my John Frieda ‘root awakening’ shampoo is for color treated hair-which I no longer have! Got off that miserable train wreck. Yay me. Just another sign that this well adjusted grandma (ha-ha no one is ever gonna buy into this old dinosaur is adaptable) can easily change too…

I wasn’t always like this. From the time I was quite young, the magnitude of my beliefs were well rooted and firm. What the heck happened? When I think how I’ve changed I just shake my head. How did I get to this hopeless point? Was there a pivotal turning point somewhere that I’ve not yet realized or recovered?

I’m not content. I wanna be but there’s this restlessness inside. I’m searching for something. Every few days when I weigh the pros and cons and end up no closer to an answer or relief, I simply put the whole matter on the back burner and coast. I’m a good coaster. And very good at ignoring issues I’m uncomfortable dealing with. I’ve never been good with confrontation-even when I’m confronting-me. It’s painful, distracting, frustrating and causes negative feelings to surface which puts me in a funk. I don’t do well in funky town.

From junior high until I was about 40, God had a steady presence in my life. It’s not like I stopped believing after that, I just stopped going to church for several years. Just as suddenly I started attending again, but not the Reformed Church of America where I had been raised (aha, maybe that’s my problem).

This last span of time, I went to church faithfully for about 15 years, but those years were filled with conflict and angst. (Here I am, trying to be churched, contented and filled with the Holy Spirit. Why am I then so conflicted)? Well I can spot one huge issue. I got too involved-my fault. Volunteered too much, heard too much and witnessed too much, including the uglier side of organized religion-politics. Politics within the church from the movers and the shakers. During this time I worked for 4 pastors while I was Parish Visitor. Four. All had some good qualities, either with the youth, could preach a sermon which helped and made you think, had a real soft spot for the elderly or community outreach.

Both churches stated frequently, “the church is the people.” To which I say hogwash. Of course the congregation is vitally important, but unless you have a dynamic speaker who can lead a flock (and encourage new folks/families into the sanctuary on Sunday), give a meaningful message to help get people through another tough week of life, your flock is going to seek guidance elsewhere or just stop going through the motions.

Which is what happened to me. I was hurt, angry, resentful, unfulfilled and felt organized religion was out of touch. Maybe even vindictive. Overall attendance was in a tailspin. I simply stopped going. It’s awful to say but I didn’t want to miss the things that are included with a Sunday morning worship service. But I miss those very things so much. I miss saying the Lord’s Prayer in unison. Long to be among those reciting the Apostles Creed even more. I miss hymn singing (I only lip sync the songs since losing most of my hearing-can’t carry a tune to save my soul). This old-fashioned doxology fills my heart with hurt and happiness.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Praise Him all creatures here below

Praise Him above ye heavenly host

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.

Since 2013 I have been in a few churches-but very few. Several funerals before I left North Muskegon. A couple years ago, Angie, a devout Christian and a coworker invited me to her church for their annual Christmas program because her 2 adorable kids were part of their large children’s group participating. I didn’t tell her I was coming (that way it was easier to chicken out and stay home). I thought I could snag a back row seat, be in and out without anyone noticing me. As it happened Angie was walking through the narthex as I waltzed in the door. (Thanks for that God). So I was included with the whole family, taking up 2 entire pews. But I didn’t go back. Knew God was nudging me but I can be very dense when it comes to subtle hints. It’s called denial. See I didn’t realize there’s a problem with me-it’s everybody else involved with church who has a problem.

More recently I saw a Facebook post from my friend Sabrina. She posted two of her four daughters were being baptized a few weeks ago. Don’t know why that post hit me so hard but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Never uttered a word to Sabrina, just looked up the address of the church and showed up for worship. This time I made it through the door unnoticed and was slinking towards an out of the way ‘Russian seat.’ (‘Rushing’ to be first out of the door afterwards). Well Sabrina rushed me like an all American linebacker before I was even seated! I sat near the family group congregating for this momentous occasion when someone plops Sabrina’s new grandson, Greyson on my lap. Darling little guy was full of smiles for this virtual stranger. Kortni and Ali’s baptism was sacred, touching and heartwarming. (Don’t know the girl’s exact ages, maybe 14 and 11). But again I didn’t go back. The minister was young and had a good message but the service was very contemporary. Just not what this old dinosaur is longing for.

So that’s been the extent of my worship participation in 6 years. Not a very good record or anything to be proud is it? If I’m searching so hard for ‘something,’ it can’t be found if I’m not even willing to look. What’s prohibiting me? My regrets, sins, old grudges which are still simmering near the surface? Probably all of the above. I don’t want to be part of the world’s Christianity decline, yet here I am-living the nightmare.

I’m what’s wrong with Christianity. I long for/expect the perfect church, the perfect preacher and a united congregation that loves/respects each other. Well none of that is feasible in the real world is it? Life is messy. We’re all sinners and preachers are just as human as the rest of us. So how can I break away from these high expectations I seem to cast the church and its inhabitants on? How (and where) can I find peace? Yes, I’m conflicted. Big time.

I need to recognize the church for what it really is. A mish-mash of assorted sinners coming together to worship God. Period. People with differing opinions, beliefs, goals and gifts. A church whose needs often are monetary. I’ve got to stop giving up on God because the pastor does not meet my stringent specifications. Period. God has hope for me and has stuck with me-warts and all. How come it’s so hard for me to do likewise with my fellow man?

Although it sounds lame, shallow and insincere, I’m church shopping. Sigh. Trying to find my own niche with God by my side rather than leaving Him at my back door. I feel like I’m just going through the motions without a home church. I’m lost and alone. I need a closer connection. So I’ve been jotting down some church addresses and times of worship. Last week was my first attempt. Not impressed, but the list of churches in Jackson is significant and I’m going to keep trying until I find what I need. It’s not been a hymn recently looping through my head but a twist on Del Shannon’s song, Keep searchin’.

I gotta keep searchin’, searchin’, find a place to stay

Searchin’, searchin’ every night and day

If I gotta keep on the run, I’ll follow the Son-wee-ooh,

Follow the Son-wee-ooh…