If I had the eyes of a sparrow

Practically the first bit of advice about optimism on everyone's list seems to be "find something to be grateful for."
So all right. I thank God, thank God this week is finally over.
While others we know were out on ski trips and cruises for spring break, we greeted each dawn with one new (lard) sandwich after another.
There was one glowing bright spot at week's end, though. Saturday night was the season opener for the Kansas City Wizards.
We've been going to Wizards games for a few years, now. But never with full season tickets. We committed to them last year, saved up and, as luck would have it, finished paying them off just a couple of weeks ago. And no matter what happens, those tickets will be the last things to be pried from our clenched fingers.
So we went last night and it was good--so good--to be back.
To be a Wizards fan right now is to suffer some hardship. We're still watching from a baseball stadium (Community America, where the T Bones play). We don't have the posh digs of the Chiefs fans or the Royals, to be sure. And we had a not-so-great season last year.
But being in a stadium full of people (and it was pretty full last night) who are, just by being there, optimists, was priceless, uplifting. We were all together in one place, unapologetically watching the best game in the world.
Before I get too weepy here, though, I have to admit that part of the appeal is the chance to scream swear words at the top of your lungs. Our "seats" are in the benched section called the Cauldron, many of whose members had been in the parking lot since, oh, 11:30 a.m or so.. (Wizards. Cauldron. Get it?) The kickoff was at 7:30 p.m.
So the Cauldron began in full voice. I always smile, a little, when I hear about the scandal caused by chants at other area games. Should the "chop" be allowed? And what about the KU students and "rip their....heads off?" Oh, Agatha, roll up the good doilies!
Cauldron cheers start with group swearing and individual (the guy behind us with the mini megaphone did some expert vamping). They then progress to profane singing. Bringing your kids to the Cauldron (and I wouldn't recommend it until they're at least 12) means having a talk about "stadium language" vs. "everyday language."
My people, in other words.
When we left, my throat was raw from screaming--along with all my cohorts--vile language at a common enemy. Alas, the Wizards did not win (it was Wizards 2, Toronto 3). But there's always going to be a next time. Maybe that's the lesson.

I'll close with this video of Vera Meyer on glass harmonica, which has nothing to do with anything.