Not Your Average Gratitude List

Thank goodness Thanksgiving is over! There, I said it. Because I’m simply not a fan. I don’t like pecan pie or green bean casserole or yams simmering under melted marshmallows. And now that another Turkey day is in the books, I can focus on what I’m truly grateful for. It sounds strange, I know, like some sort of retroactive gratitude. But who doesn’t notice more clearly the abundance in their lives after a break from professional responsibilities?  Slowing down allows us to reconnect with the people and experiences we truly appreciate, the moments that have contributed to our positive outlook or our life view or our straight up happiness.

So here’s my gratitude confession: I love my family, my friends, my students (though, let’s be real, some individuals have been challenging), and I love the water. I’m fascinated by the ocean, find energy and strength walking on the beach in the Bahamas mesmerized by the bluest water I’ve ever seen, and feel peace sitting near the window at Java Junction in Santa Cruz while drinking tea and grading papers. I love to swim, to boogie board, to snorkle, to enjoy. But the body of water I’ve most appreciated, that has shaped my life the most in the past five years, is man-made. It’s a pool. A pool set up with two cages and one ball.

My oldest son plays water polo and would, without hesitation, identify polo as the activity for which he’s most grateful. He would freely admit the sport has shaped his identity, is perhaps even the most important aspect of that identity. He loves polo. He lives for it. He breathes, laughs, eats, trains, swims for polo. Now he’s Coach Nick; when he began playing in eighth grade, he was Nicolas the neophyte intent on learning and developing and discovering himself.

Water polo isn’t an all-American sport. In fact, not many Americans play (though many are in awe of the athleticism, grit, and stamina the game requires). Polo originated in Europe in the 19th century and at some point crossed the pond, I don’t know when. I’m not familiar with the club or university or school that first adopted the game in the U.S., but I’m glad that group did. My life, and especially my son’s life, wouldn’t be as rich and satisfying without this sometimes crazy -- who literally swims over someone or tries to rip off their Speedo while fighting for a ball? -- sport. I adore it.

Not to be cliche, but. . .  I’ve heard parents’ happiness can only be as deep as that of their saddest child. And I kind of believe it. I haven’t spent much time ruminating on the idea but know that Nicolas’ happiness via polo sincerely creates joy in me. I’ve watched a child who searched for his athletic niche in elementary school, who dabbled in multiple sports -- soccer for six years, baseball and football for two -- move from sometimes questioning his ability to becoming an athlete respected and even revered by his peers.  Water polo has shaped him and afforded him opportunities he may have never otherwise experienced.  For this, his happiness runs deep. And so does mine.

That's my boy!