I’m the respectful, stoic kind that wears my green gear with pride, only cursing division rivals under my breath when occasion demands. I cheer or cringe with every down, every week, even from two time zones away. For although Denver is my home, my hometown lies just outside Philly. The Eagles are my home team.
After witnessing an Eagles season filled with inspiring moments, generous athletes, and spirited end zone celebrations, we find ourselves here. Days away from what has eluded us for over half a century. Again.
It was during this most recent season that I recognized the parallels between my life as an Eagles fan and my career. Those same qualities intrinsic to Eagles fandom have, in fact, equipped me for college counseling.
On Halloween in Denver, there is an air of anticipation as the sun settles behind the foothills. The skeletons of aspens and cottonwoods stand sentinel along neighborhood sidewalks, their scattered golden leaves soon to be decimated by the trampling of feet, wagons, and strollers. At dusk, adorable children with painted faces and pumpkin-shaped buckets begin to troll the streets.
At least, this is what I imagine happens.
It’s been years since I witnessed this tradition. I merely handle candy acquisition. My husband: distribution. While he responds to the doorbell with Pavlovian efficiency, I write recommendations and reply to my seniors’ frantic emails as they spend the last Halloween of their youth finalizing applications. Because for seniors, Oct. 31 isn’t Halloween.