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Once again, my home town and school are bring it!

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  • Once again, my home town and school are bring it!

    Football - News - Boise State

    Gooooooooooooooooooooo Bronco's!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!My family is having one heck of a party right now back home!I meant bringing it.
    Last edited by CaliGirlRamsFan; -11-29-2008, 01:14 PM.

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  • psycho9985
    Information over due
    by psycho9985

    While our GI's are in Iraq, the supper table at the homes of their parents is a time of somber tones and hidden stress, even if only talking about the weather or the high school football game; a time of listening for a car pulling into the driveway; a time of wanting to watch the news but then again not; and a time of a certain amount of discomfort when thinking of trying to go to sleep at night.

    At least that is the way I remember it at my parents' supper time while I was growing up in southern Middle Tennessee 1967-1971.

    In 1967, my oldest brother John, a 1st Lt. in the Army, came by our home in Tennessee to say goodbye to our parents before leaving for duty in Vietnam. I remember John and my parents having many discussions about the logistics of him being away for a year: who would take care of his car, where his belongings would be stored, what to do if he did not come back, and of many other topics which I do not remember. What I remember most of those discussions was that they were in somber, matter-of-fact tones.

    My father worked at the nearby Air Force base as a weapons engineer. Not long after John left the country, my father made the comment one night at dinner that he knew most of the Air Force personnel out at the base (some of whom were later killed in Vietnam during flight operations) and even knew the officers tasked with bringing the casualty news to local families.
    That last point stuck with me for the next four years.

    Before John had come home safely, the cycle started over again. At Christmas dinner in 1968, my #3 brother James announced to my parents that on his way home from college he had stopped in Nashville and joined the Marines. By late 1969, James was on patrols as a squad sergeant up near the DMV. Fortunately, James also made it home.

    Nightly during those years, my parents and I would eat supper together and discuss the evening news as reported by Huntley and Brinkley. During those years, supper time was a somber, tension filled meal. We discussed the war and the politics. We discussed the student protests, the ministers condemning the war from pulpits, the racial riots, the campuses shutting down. I know my parents (both conservative, both Depression veterans and yet neither probably ever voted Republican in their lives) struggled with LBJ's inability to define Vietnam and make a decision about it. All the contradictions and uncertainties and blatant falsities of the time, however, did not damage my father's principles. I think back at those talks and realize the seriousness of the discussions and my father's insights shaped me into a life long political conservative.

    I also better now remember now the tone of what underlay these talks: the parental angst, the stress, the reduced amount of humor (humor was an endearing trait of my father), and the lack of liveliness in our supper
    -05-14-2005, 10:10 PM
  • RamWraith
    Home safe and sound
    by RamWraith
    Just arrived back from the Bash, and let me be the first to say I am BEAT both physically and emotionally. I had a blast, but of course out did myself the opening night (Friday) with too many beverages and it really slowed me down the rest of the weekend. I did have a ball and will tell you all about it in the next day or two, as I got some stories and some good pics for you. But I need to turn in as I am dragging booty big time. GOD I AM GETTING OLD!!
    -10-29-2007, 03:20 PM
  • psycho9985
    drinking with your friends
    by psycho9985
    Two married friends are out drinking one night, when one turns to the other and says,"You know, I don't know what else to do. Whenever I go home after we've been out drinking, I turn the headlights off before I get to the driveway. I shut off the engine andcoast into the garage. Take my shoes off before I go into the house, I sneak up the stairs, get undressed in the bathroom, stick my foot in the toilet and pee down my leg to prevent splashing sounds. I ease into bed and my wife STILL Wakes Up, and Yells at me for staying out so late!His friend looks at him and says "Well, you're obviously taking the wrong approach. I Screech into the driveway, slam the door, storm up the steps, pee hard into the toilet water, then use the full flush, throw my shoes in the closet, undress in the bedroom, then jump into bed, slap her on the ass And say!, WHO'S HORNY????!!!" and sheacts like she's sound asleep!Works Every Time!!!
    -12-22-2005, 06:30 PM
  • RamWraith
    My Life: Challenges, Choices And Incredible Love
    by RamWraith


    My story begins in the small, blue-collar town of Endicott, New York, nestled between the Susquehanna River and the Adirondack mountains near the Pennsylvania border. I was born in Syracuse and was the youngest of five children. My parents both experienced broken childhood lives in and out of orphanages, neither really having a positive figure in their life to emulate. For my entire adolescence my family lived well below the poverty line. With my mother staying at home with us kids and my father armed with just a high school education to support us, money was never around. Regardless of this lack of money, my mother created an environment for us kids that oozed with love. She protected us from the ugliness in life as much as she could, including the volatile mix of anger, abuse and alcoholism that had seized my father during me and my siblings formative years. It was my mother whose character, gentleness and love prepared me not only to reach for my dreams, but how to be me.

    I remember fighting through winter nights with no heat, teeth chattering and blankets bundled. I knew I wasnít alone though. I had my brothers and sisters. My mother would rock me to sleep and sing into my ear to comfort me. I remember times with no electricity and no television and huddling up to the battery-powered radio to listen to the Super Bowl. I remember my friends calling me on a pay phone because our telephone line was shut off for failure to pay the bills. I remember being forced to move for failing to pay rent. I remember living in a cramped tent for a whole summer. I remember living in that same tent for a frigid month in the fall. Sometimes I would wake up--cold and afraid--but all I had to do was to look over and see how strong my family was being and it comforted me. Food stamps couldnít come fast enough as the cupboards were emptied by the end of each month. I remember the feeling of extreme embarrassment as the clerks at the store seemed to giggle as we flashed our food stamps as payment. I remember the points when food stamps werenít enough, when we relied on church baskets. When we relied on the "defects" from grocery stores - food that they would throw into the dumpster in the back that was slightly defective.

    By the time my parents divorced I was nine years old. It never really bothered me. I think even at that young age I realized that the weight of my fatherís abusive alcoholic behavior towards my mother and us kids was too much to bear any longer. My mother took us to live with her in a cramped apartment that was suited for three people instead of six. We struggled, but we were loved. I remember walking three miles to school and back every day in second grade because I was afraid to change schools. I remember assisted lunches in schools and the funny looks my schoolmates would give me because my clothes remained grass-stained...
    -03-01-2007, 04:20 AM
  • txramsfan
    Auburn Tiger seeking shelter from the storm
    by txramsfan

    AUBURN, Ala. -- Hattie Wimberley drowned in her own house. The flood waters chased her into the attic of her New Orleans home and kept rising until the sheetrock ceiling melted into mush and dropped her into the unforgiving darkness. She was the first of Alonzo Horton's relatives to die.

    Four days later, only minutes before midnight, Horton's cell phone began to ring again. Those same hellish waters of Hurricane Katrina had surged into the gymnasium of New Orleans' Marion Abramson High School, which was being used as an assembly point for evacuees, and created another watery tomb. This time it was Horton's younger brothers, Jerry and Delorean, who lost their lives.

    "My old high school," says Horton, sitting on a love seat in the office of Auburn team chaplain Chette Williams. "The water thing was so bad, they said once they opened the door, water came rushing in. It was probably 11:58 when I found out. The funny thing about that is after I found that out, at 12:01 my phone alarm went off to let me know it was game day and that was also my little brother's birthday."

    Jerry would have turned 8. Delorean was 6. Depending on the rumors, second-hand accounts, and Internet reports -- and Horton has heard them all -- very few people emerged from the Abramson shelter alive.

    "September 3rd," says the freshman defensive end in a voice cauterized by nearly two weeks of anguish and tears. "That's a day I'm going to remember for the rest of my life."

    Horton's mother is safe, but his father is unaccounted for. Horton's tiny home on 4635 Dale Street in the city's Ninth Ward, not more than a 10-minute trip to the Superdome and French Quarter, no longer exists. Katrina took everything: family, home, belongings. It even tried to take away Horton's will.

    "When my brothers were dead and I got that call that they drowned ... somewhere still in the back of my mind and my heart I felt they're somewhere safe," he says. "I pray about that every night. But when I got that call my whole motivation to do anything was gone. It was hard for me to function. I was just ready to burst."

    And yet, Horton says he'll remember Sept. 3, not only because of what he lost, but because of what he gained.

    It was on that Saturday, two hours before Auburn was to play Georgia Tech in the season opener, that Horton stood crying by himself as his teammates and coaches assembled for the game-day ritual known as "Tiger Walk." From Sewell Hall to Jordan-Hare Stadium they walk, through streets lined with as many as 20,000 Auburn fans.

    Auburn coach Tommy Tuberville was one of the first to notice Horton standing near the team bus.

    "Tears are coming down his cheeks,"...
    -09-09-2005, 11:27 AM