Mums & Dads

This past weekend I attended the Iowa vs. Indiana football game in Iowa City. It was Iowa's homecoming weekend, so the philosophy and attitude of It's great to be a Hawkeye! was in full force as thousands of alumni returned to campus to attend the football game (or just to attend tailgates with their college friends and family). In addition to the excitement of the football crowd, nostalgia seemed to lay cool, clammy fingers on the back of my neck. A proud Hawkeye myself, my college years are some of my favorite moments of my life. Whenever I return back to Iowa City in the fall, the smell of wet leaves and the changing trees always leave me slightly homesick for a city and campus that was my home for almost five years. My time at Iowa reinforced my love of reading, writing, and learning, and it introduced me to some of my best friends -- the type of friends that, no matter how much time has passed between the last time you saw or spoke with them, you can fall into familiar, easy conversation. It was the Burge Hall cafeteria that allowed me to first cross paths with my husband -- a chance encounter amidst the clanks of dishes and chaotic college kid conversations that brought me to the most important relationship of my adult life.

So while there were plenty of college memories swirling around, it was actually a moment of reflection on my youth that brought tears to my eyes. We tailgated at a friends' house -- a beautiful home just a few blocks away from legendary Kinnick Stadium. My friend grew up in Iowa City, and her parents and some of her siblings still live in the area. At some point throughout these now traditional tailgates at my friend's house, her family members will stop by. With this being homecoming weekend, my friend's dad bought homecoming mums for the women in his life. Big, beautiful yellow mums with black and gold ribbons and a small tigerhawk. During my previous years attending Iowa Hawkeye Homecoming football games, I had never noticed them. However, seeing them at my friend's house brought back a different kind of teary-eyed nostalgia.

Growing up, my stepdad would always buy homecoming mums for my mom and myself. As a member of the high school teaching faculty, my stepdad was always hit up by the high school kids to purchase whatever the kids were selling -- the band selling pizzas, the FFA club selling apples, the Speech & Drama Club selling wrapping paper. At homecoming time, the cheerleaders would sell mums.

My stepdad never failed in buying that homecoming mum -- from the first year my parents were married and I was in kindergarten until the time I graduated high school, I would come home from school on the night of homecoming to find a mum waiting for me in the refrigerator. My mom usually would help me pin it on as my stepdad would have already left to either lead the homecoming parade or to prep for acting as the announcer for the football game. I would wear the mum in the homecoming parade and then to the game. As a little girl, I loved that mum and wore it with pride. Usually none of my friends had a mum to wear, and it made me feel special. Later, like a typical teenage girl, I squirmed to wear the mum when I was 12 and 13 because none of my friends had a mum and it made me stand out. During those two years, I remember protesting when my mom pinned it on me. Both years she leaned in and whispered, "You need to wear it. Jer was so excited to get this for you." By the time I was in high school, I looked forward to wearing my homecoming mum again -- it made me feel special at a time when high school could often make a girl feel overlooked. The homecoming mums of my youth were massive, blooming white flowers; they always smelled slightly of dirt and petals. The center of the mum contained a small gold (or, during my high school years, silver) football, and ribbons the color of my school colors serving as the crowning piece: red and blue ribbons during my elementary years when we were the Eastwood Raiders; red and black ribbons during my junior high and high school years as the school consolidated and became the River Valley Wolverines.

Seeing the Iowa mums this past weekend brought tears to my eyes as a tide of emotions rolled over me; while sadness was a large part -- for time passing, the long-ago days of my youth, the death of my stepdad -- it was mostly happiness and pride that swirled through me. The homecoming mum served as a reminder of how fortunate I was to have a stepdad like Jerry; someone who loved me wholly and who was thoughtful enough to bring a little girl a mum to make her feel special. For me, a homecoming mum will always be tied back to the memories of my Jerry, of high school football days, of my mom pinning the mum to my shirt or jacket (and only occasionally sticking me with the pin).

Today marks the four-month anniversary of my Jerry's passing. I know that eventually those of us who loved Jerry will stop marking the days, weeks, and months that have passed since his death and eventually just mark the time on a yearly basis and with those memories that we hold close. While I have yet to feel closure or that I'm done mourning yet, oddly enough those Iowa homecoming mums yesterday seems to mark that first major step in moving beyond the anguish associated with his death and his absence to a feeling of peace and happiness of those memories that keep him very much alive in spirit. Such as recalling 13 years of homecoming mums and the little girl who appreciated and loved the man who gave them to her.