December 3, 1999

So there I was, shaking off my hangover from a Friday night in Iowa City with my dad and crazy Uncle Joe a couple weeks ago when Uncle Joe looked at me and said, “Boy, it’s time for you to take sides. Are you a Hawk, or are you a stinkin’ Gopher?”

When I tried to explain to him that I’d rather breakdance naked on a pile of rusty nails than cheer for either team, he wasn’t pleased.

He reached into the back of his black and gold van and pulled out two coolers. One was labeled “Hawk Fans,” and the other was labeled “Losers.” Even though the four guys my uncle brought down with him are loyal Gopher fans, he still has a little trouble with impartiality.

“Here’s the deal, boy,” he announced in his much-too-early-to-be-this-loud voice. “If you’re a Hawk fan, you drink from this cooler all day. If you’re cheering for those lousy Gophers, you have to drink from the other one. No exceptions.”

When I asked him where the drinks were for Cyclone fans, he promptly handed me a day-old, half-empty can of Surge. He wasn’t humored by my loyalty.

“Well, Joe,” I said, swallowing my pride with a sip of Surge, “I guess since you and dad are family, I’ll cheer less for Minnesota.”

A wide grin spread across my crazy Uncle Joe’s face. “Well then, dig in, boy.”

Inside the cooler was a dozen 25-ounce oil cans of Foster’s. Now this was Australian for tailgate.

As I appreciated my first of 50 pulls of Aussie brew, I looked over and laughed when I saw the Minnesota quartet sipping from seven-ounce bottles of Miller High Life. That’s right, the champagne of beers, all seven ounces.

I was reminded of this scene a few days later at Taylor’s parents’ house as we enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner.

“So, I heard you went to the Hawk game last weekend,” Taylor’s father said from across a table filled with all the holiday favorites.

“Yes, sir,” I said smirking, knowing that Taylor’s family is made up of diehard Hawk fans. “And I pulled for Iowa from the moment I got there.”

His eyes brightened, he nodded and the feasting continued.

Then Taylor’s grandma turned to me and asked the question I’ve learned to dread. “So, what are you going to do once you’re done with school?”

As she sat there and smiled at me, I couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed at my lack of future vision.

“I’m not sure right now,” I shrugged, “but I do know this gravy is simply amazing.”

And it was. I don’t think I’ve ever poured more of one substance over so much of so many others. Even the strawberry Jell-O salad got a little shot of Granny Smith’s gravy. But the conversation wasn’t over yet.

“Do you have any ideas at all?” Taylor’s dad asked innocently. “What would you like to be doing when you graduate?”

The only thing I could think of doing was to steal a line from “Say Anything” and hope he found the humor.

“I just want to spend as much time as possible with your daughter.”

One quick chuckle, but then, “But what kind of job are you looking for?”

“Well, it’s like this. I want to stay close to Iowa because my family is important to me. I want to make a change and help others instead of just punching a clock and collecting a check. I want to work closely with people instead of getting stuck in a cubicle for the better part of my life. And I want to make enough money so I don’t have to worry about making ends meet, but I don’t want to get so caught up in the paycheck that I forget to appreciate the people in my life and the little things around me.”

Whew.

“So where are you going to find a job like that?” he countered.

“Well, sir, if I knew that I wouldn’t have had to stall with the gravy compliments and the movie quotes.”

He took a bite of turkey, thought as he chewed and then broke the silence.

“Well that’s all right. It’s not like you have to decide this minute. Just keep your eyes open and don’t let it sneak upon you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

And with that, we finished off one of the best holiday meals I’ve ever had with enormous portions of dessert. Pumpkin pie and Granny Smith’s gravy — two great tastes that taste great together.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to wash it down with Surge.