I’m not a big sports fan. I do follow Chicago Cubs baseball, a remnant from having lived in Chicago for four years during graduate school. I often comment that being a Cubs fan is all about love for the game. A team that has only won the World Series once in my lifetime (2016) and only two other times (1907 and 1908) doesn’t inspire its fans with a lot of spectacular victories. A solid double play can keep Cubs fans going for an entire season. What I do like about sports and where I become a fan, is when I know some of the players. My favorite times of watching sports have been games where members of our church youth groups have played. I’ve cheered at hockey, baseball, basketball, volleyball, football and soccer when I knew the players.

During my high school and college years, I attended a lot of sports events because I was a member of the pep and marching bands. My athleticism was limited to a single trampoline demonstration at the half time of a football game - something that I definitely would not be able to repeat these days.

So our children grew up slightly culturally deprived, not having been raised with any team loyalties or passion for games. Our daughter, however, has made up for it with her loyalty to the teams that her husband supports. And he was raised in a tradition of fan loyalty. In his family football means New York Giants football and he and his father and uncles all follow Washington Nationals Baseball with great passion. The Nats, by the way, lost by two to the Atlanta Braves yesterday. Seriously, guys, you had 10 hits to the Braves’ 11. You could have won. Only 3 runs to the 5 Braves runs. Your two errors explain the entire game.

I am, however, currently a big fan of preschool soccer. Yesterday was just a practice day, but I was completely entertained by those three- and four-year-olds learning to dribble their balls, stay inside of the boundaries, and go for the goals. And I must brag that our grandson does show some natural talent. I was proud of the way he listened to the coach and followed instructions. I was delighted at his cheers and applause for each goal scored by both sides of the scrimmage.

It was a great way to spend part of a Saturday morning in South Carolina. It is just one of the privileges of being included in our daughter’s family for the brief time of our visit. And I heard a new name for myself when one of the pint-sized soccer players called me “Mr. Papa.” He heard our grandson call me Papa, and assumed that since that was my name, he should add a title because he is a southern gentleman. I don’t mind being “Mr. Papa.” I kind of like it.

In the early evening our daughter’s neighborhood showed off for us with a gathering of neighbors. One neighbor is being deployed and will be serving overseas for six months, so others needed to say good bye and wish her well. And even though our daughter’s 40th birthday was a couple of weeks ago and her neighbors had wished her will on her day, we weren’t present and wanted to have a bit of a party with our grandson for his mother. After all, since she was adopted into our family when she was nearly a month old, we’ve always been a bit behind with her birthdays, and the month after her actual birthday has always been a time of wonderful memory for us.

One fun part of the informal gathering was that it took place in the front yard. Although our daughter’s family has a fun backyard for children with a trampoline and a climbing structure with swings, the gathering started with kids and bicycles in the driveway and soon moved on to chalk art and stomp rockets and games of hide and seek. Adults carried over folding chairs from their homes and sat around visiting. Our son-in-law had been cooking pulled pork all day in his smoker and rushed off to get hot dogs for the kids when he found out that my wife had baked cupcakes and invited the neighbors over. A few bags of chips came out and everyone had a good time just enjoying being together. We were swept up into the friendliness with lots of conversation about home places and activities enjoyed.

Years ago, when we formed a coalition of organizations to provide suicide awareness and eduction and actively work for prevention of suicide in our community, we chose the name “Front Porch Coalition” after considering several different possibilities. Our idea was that we needed to bring talk of suicide out of the back rooms and private places onto the front porch and public places. We worked hard to change the tone of conversation as we raised awareness and education and invested a lot in trying to prevent suicide. We also became skilled at responding to suicides when they were completed and providing ongoing support to surviving family members. I have loved the name that was chosen. I am proud of the work that we did when I was an active part of the Front Porch Coalition and I’m honored to have served on the board and in several other capacities as a part of the organization.

As a result, I am happy with the front porch nature of the neighborhood where our daughter and her family live. I love the fact that she knows the names of all of the kids who live on their street and I love the fact that the kids in the neighborhood all get out their bikes when one of them starts to ride. I love the fact that a plate of cupcakes attracts all of the kids in the neighborhood and that some of them bring their parents along. I love being included in the informal front porch gatherings. It may be partly the result of southern charm, but it certainly has been extended to us northerners who are here briefly for a visit.

It is a blessing to feel good about the place where your daughter lives and to witness how skilled she is at making friends and building community.