Just because you don’t know Ohio State

Doesn’t mean you should stop reading and hate.

Smith, Pryor, Krenzel and Greene

Watch those QBs, because they’re lean and mean.

Vrabel, Cousineau, Spielman and Springs

Our linebackers will clip your wings.

Been listening to Keels since I was knee-high

I love that dude, he’s a stand-up guy.

The ‘Shoe is the best place to watch a game

TBDBITL will put your band to shame.

You’ve never eaten such a poisonous nut

We’ll roll you, and stomp you, and kick your butt.

We have skill, we don’t need any luck

Just ask Brutus, we are the BUCKS!

Tonight we’ll win and we’ll capture your Sparty

And, you should know that we call him Sharty.

So, give it your best, and we’ll see if you bend

But, the B1G Ten we’ll be ours in the end.

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I am a Buckeye born and bred. Even though I would move from this state in a heartbeat if I could get my husband to move west, I would still be, and will always be, a Buckeye. You can be proud of the state in which you were raised and still hate winter. Just sayin’.

Ideally, I would only move away for the cold months – and maybe some of the hot ones – but, spring isn’t bad and fall is just gorgeous around here. It would be hard to be away from September-November because the trees turn fiery, the wind is crisp, and Buckeye football rules all.

In Chicago recently, I was at a group dinner when I was introduced to a man sitting on my right. He asked where I was from and I said, “Columbus.”

He replied, “Columbus…Ohi0?

I nodded and he said, “O-H!”

And I answered, “I-O!”

Then everyone else at the table looked at us like we were crazy.

Don’t judge us! We spell it so we’re not confused with Iowa.

In a few weeks, when football season begins, I will don this shirt from The Home. T and wear it with pride. And, comfort. I boast my allegiance to all things Buckeye in softness. Buttery softness.

At the same time, I’ll be showing my loyalty to my country (every Home. T is made in the U.S.A.) and my family and friends (a portion of profits is donated to Multiple Sclerosis research). I’m covering my bases in one fell-swoop and one very soft t-shirt. Ohioans rock at multi-tasking; we can watch football, drink beer AND milk a cow at the same time.

Where do you consider home? Would you wear it proudly across your chest? See if your state’s shirt is available, here!

Disclosure: I was sent a free Home. T for review. I also disclose that I love this shirt!

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Saturday was your birthday. I thought about you all day in between cutting dead branches off of the twisted dogwood tree behind our garage. It felt good to break sticks and tear off limbs; it even seemed right when I broke the saw blade. I did a lot of sweating, burning wood, raking and…living. I breathed big and deep and thought of you.

I can’t believe it’s been 21 years since I walked off the elevator at the hospital and those same lungs had the air sucked from them like the hallway was an enormous vacuum; my vision and the air swirling around me and wooshing down the corridor past the rooms with beeping machines and nurses going about their business. And, you were gone.

There was death before that, but there was no death like that until that moment. I don’t know what I was thinking. That a grown man with Muscular Dystrophy would live forever? Yes, I think that’s what I believed. You were bigger than any disease. In this universe, among billions of people and planets and stars, you were a giant and as strong as any force I had ever known.

I think of you so often; when the house is quiet except for the buzz of a Reds game on TV, when I look at the closed end of Ohio Stadium and spy the spot where you used to sit behind the scoreboard and watch the Buckeyes, when I see someone in a wheelchair and know there is a human being – not a disabled person – sitting in the seat.

A couple of months ago I asked your sister if I could borrow a pen and she handed me this…

I remember this pen cradled in your hand as you wrote. I wish I had saved every scrap of paper that touched it and that I still had your words to read. You and I were kindred spirits with our writing, though as with everything, you were better at it. You would have been a great sports blogger, what with your knowledge and snark. I’ll do my best to post enough of the latter for both of us.

It didn’t really surprise me to know that this pen has never run out of ink; that your sister has carried it in her purse for more than two decades and it’s still working without ever having been refilled. You have ways of making sure we remember you.

Though, I can assure you, we wouldn’t ever forget.

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If you aren’t familiar with TBDBITL (The Best Damn Band in the Land), this will show you why they have earned that distinction. Trust me that this is worth your time (don’t miss the 6:00 mark) and trust me that you will never look at a halftime show without comparing it to this one. WHICH IS TO SAY THAT NONE WILL COMPARE TO IT. EVER.

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