College Football? What a Waste of Time!
In the American South, people structure their entire existences around college football. It’s like going to mass. Every weekend there’s a home game, people climb into their mascot-themed vehicles, drive hours in traffic, spend hundreds or even thousands of dollars on a buffet that would rival a royal marriage reception, and generally cannot be relied upon to do anything other than worship at the Altar of Football.
As the daughter of a rabid University of Georgia Bulldog, I grew up watching college football. I am a graduate of the Ladies’ Football Clinic at the University of South Carolina. I probably know the rules of the game better than YOU.
These days, I don’t even know who’s playing. Or when the season starts. I try not to pay attention to how much coaches make, because MTM is a former college professor.
I know what he was worth to Clemson University.
Imagine my dismay when I walked up to the Columbia Museum of Art last week, pumped and primed to fill my Creative Tank, and saw this banner:
But it was 4pm, and the museum closed at 5. I was already there. And the Columbia Museum of Art has a decent collection of ancient artifacts. I figured I could stare into old marble eyeballs and garner enlightenment.
Only I never made it upstairs.
I was captivated by the artwork on display. Old Japanese block prints featuring tigers. Multiple works by John James Audubon. A chair crafted of steer skin and horns. An owl whose one eye captivated me enough to record the name of the artist for the day I can afford his work. A glass elephant the size of my hand. A steer made of nails.
Wonder lurks in places we think we won’t like.
This post is part of a series. To read the first post, click here: Desperately Seeking a Shepherd.