As the long, hot days of July give way to August, my mind starts to wander. The dog days of summer are upon us indeed. Here in D.C., it’s approximately 7400 degrees outside – roughly the same temperature as Dante’s infamous Inferno.
And so my mind wanders to a different time, a different place – roughly one month and 500+ miles away. From the bustling metropolitan of Washington, D.C. to the sleepy college town of Oxford, Mississippi, I close my eyes and I’m back on the Square.
I love D.C. I really do – I mean, why would I live here if I didn’t love it? Some people prefer the speed and crowds (ughhhh, the crowds) of New York, or the Hollywood style of Los Angeles – not me. I’ve been both places, and I think once was enough for me. D.C. is a city that feels like a small town.
But sometimes, there’s no excuse for a real small town.
(Hey, lookie there – a tangent. Me, get off topic? Never.)
So my wandering mind and wandering thought processes move back to their original destination, that miraculous period at the end of August that heralds in that most blessed of times:
I was rereading one of my favorite ESPN.com features by Wright Thompson. If you are an SEC fan of any shape, form or fashion and are not following him on Twitter, you’re missing out. (You can follow him here: @WrightThompson). He’s an Ole Miss fan, but he writes about stuff that sports fan universally can appreciate. Some of his gem tweets (in my totally non-biased, Hotty Toddy opinion):
Literary puns plus hating on Mississippi State? What more could a girl ask for?
Anyway, if you haven’t read his ode to SEC football, stop thyself in thy tracks and get thee over there!
It’s a few years old (hey, we fired Coach O, hired Houston Nutt, fired him, then hired Hugh Freeze! We are Ole Miss!), but it’s still a moving piece about football in the South.
August is almost here, and I’m ready for football season. Even though I haven’t made it to a game since I graduated, I can close my eyes and perfectly remember every detail of the Grove. Pulling my cooler along behind to the tent Elizabeth and I had set up the night before, right where the Walk of Champions splits into a fork. Fraternity boys with their SEC hair (y’all know what I’m talking about) offering to help my mother and grandmother carry our food to the tent. Girls in either five inch stilettos or flip flops with matching sundresses and red Solo cups. The sounds of “From Dixie With Love” echoing through the trees before the band led everyone to the stadium.
(Also, if someone wants to buy me this print from Catherine Ann Herrington, I’d love you forever.)
On days like today, I can’t help but miss my beloved Oxford. And even though they’ll likely be at the bottom of the ladder (again) this season, I can’t wait to cheer for my Rebels. I think Elvis said it best.
I wish I was in Dixie…