We were walking somewhere downtown...pretty sure we were near 16th, or on it. Not sure our direction. Might've been Friday which would mean we were headed to Paris, but it seems like Orlo had something to do that night. Anyhow, he looked at me and said something like, "What the fuck am I supposed to do, start watching football?" It seemed like a non sequitur, so I stopped. "huh?...what in the hell does you watching football have to do with anything?" (you must know that at the time Orlo was struggling with a lot as far as the nuclear family goes. Trying to put food on the table for 5 people, while also managing the shop, while also trying to be in a band that the crew had formed, but really he was the only responsible one in the band as far as equipment and organization, etc.) So we stopped messing with our bikes long enough for him to explain. "Isn't that what guys do? They get the wife and have the kids and go to church and after church they watch football. That's it. So is that what I should do? Just quit trying to live life and start watching football? And without any sense of an actual answer, and just to be a dick I say, "Yeah why not? Football's not terrible. There are worse things to spend your time doing. Take care of your family, and watch football." I was laughing just getting the words out because Orlo was the farthest thing from a Broncos fan in Denver. And with that, and not even looking back at me he said, "I hate football." Then he rode away...
That story haunts me as I embark on Parenthood. I've done my best to stay away from all the things most people would call responsibility, and here I am facing several things all at once that will thrust me right into that thing Orlo was so afraid of becoming. Funnily enough, while I used to care about Sunday afternoons, I no longer hold any desire to watch or follow football. I was single at the time I fielded Orlo's no doubt rhetorical question, and saw from the outside what he must be dealing with, but now I feel like I understand his query. Must I settle into a pre-made mold and become Mr. football-watching, god-fearing, polo-wearing American doofus? Or is there something more that I can aspire to? I do know that my time is no longer mine, and that is mostly okay with me. What I fear, is losing myself entirely; but that is a fear I've dealt with before now, and have fought on so many fronts that I believe I will continue to fight. Fight not only to find myself wholly, which will likely not happen until death, but fight also to maintain myself and that which I have found inside of me thus far.
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