This past week, a dream came true for my dad. Ever sine we were of the age when boys would come up in conversation, my dad would make sure to point out that we needed to marry men who could play tennis, in order for him to be able to play tennis with his son-in-laws. Be it a source of bonding, competition, or just good fun (probably all the above), my dad would usually book ended this advice with the adage that 'couples who play together, stay together', encouraging us to find lifelong hobbies that we would have in common with and could do together with our husbands. And he would elaborate that families who had such activities to do together, no matter the personality differences, would be able to more fully enjoy each other's company. Not surprisingly, the activity that my parents do together - everyday, for several hours per day - is tennis. So what happens when we fast forward several years later to where all of us have these chosen men in our lives and we get together in a house that is right next to a tennis court? Yes, that's right, a family tennis tournament.
After the event, my dad proclaimed that this has been his dream and that it was kind of amazing that it had come true. I thought so too. The men that my sisters and I have chosen are so very different from the other, in so several ways. Some of the commonalities include genuineness and sincerity; another commonality is that they were all down for playing in a tennis tournament on Christmas Day.
I learned that my tennis game has gotten pretty pitiful and that I need more practice. I also learned that my dad was right - there is something sparkly and refreshing about being able to play together as a family. It may end up being an annual event (so Joe and Lois, brush up on your tennis game!)
the pipsqueak wedged in with the men
laying down the rules