Fly Eagles Fly: It’s About So Much More Than Football

I grew up with the Philadelphia Eagles.

From the time I was old enough to talk, I remember my older brothers teaching me about the game – from penalties to plays to strategies. I never understood the whole concept of women hating football because in our household, my mom was just as passionate about the sport as anyone else — and she passed that along to my older sister and me. In our home, Sundays were about gatherings of family and friends (after Mass, of course), home-cooked meals prepared by Mom (who at 86-years-young is still hosting Sunday dinners), and during football season – Eagles games.

To be fair, we were an equal-opportunity Philly sports family, so our support extended to the Phillies, Flyers, and Sixers. I had the privilege of being in attendance when Tug McGraw threw the last strike to win the World Series against the Kansas City Royals in 1980, and I remember many occasions when my mom would take us to the airport to greet whatever team had just emerged victorious or needed the support of fans in the aftermath of losing a playoff or championship.

When I was 11, my brother Mark took me to a one-day event at Widener University, where the Eagles used to train. I recall how excited I was to meet Dick Vermeil and watch the players practice. Back then, it never occurred to me that I’d ever meet a female who didn’t love the game because just about every woman I cared about did.

But some of my best lifetime memories involve freezing in the bitter cold at the NFC Championship Game in 1981 with my brother Paul and sister Carolyn as we watched the Eagles defeat our nemesis, the Dallas Cowboys, 20-7 and advance to their first Super Bowl. Sadly, they lost 27-10 to the Oakland Raiders, which we witnessed with a houseful of people and yummy food.

My parents had three season tickets and as the years went by, preferred to watch the games on television, creating more opportunities for my siblings and I to cheer on our team from section 242 at Veterans Stadium. Every year when the season started, we’d look forward to hanging out with our friends in section 242, which included a man named Michael Trent whom my dad (a retired general surgeon) once operated on. Often mistaken for former Houston Oilers quarterback Warren Moon, he would often quip that he wished he had Moon’s money. These people lived and died with the Eagles, and though they could be rough and rowdy at times, never beat up the opposing team’s fans. I’d submit they are the true representation of Philly fans — not the bad apples who get all the press and give the rest of us a bad reputation. (For the record, I once went to a game in the Meadowlands in 1989 with Mark and Carolyn, where we were threatened with bodily harm by Giants fans who were displeased that the Eagles beat them).

There have been many inspiring Eagles players, from Harold Carmichael and Bill Bergey to Ron Jaworski and Wilbert Montgomery, to Vince Papale and Brian Dawkins…and this year’s group of Eagles, led by amazing coach Doug Pederson, is no exception. In an NFL season characterized by disrespect of our flag, country, and military, they are a breath of fresh air. In spite of tremendous obstacles — losing their starting quarterback Carson Wentz , along with several key players, to injuries, they never gave up. They blocked out the noise from the media and other “experts” who declared with certainty that Nick Foles could never take them to the Super Bowl. Even loyal fans I know decried the impossibility of carrying on without our franchise quarterback.

But the Eagles didn’t listen to conventional wisdom.

Instead, embracing their status as “underdogs” in true Rocky fashion, they stuck together, built each other up, worked hard, and maintained their belief that it could be done. And here we are today: NFC Champions.

Congratulations Philadelphia Eagles. This fan believes you can and will beat the Patriots. No matter what happens, your integrity, teamwork, faith, and work ethic are an inspiration for all — Philly fans or not.

 

 

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The Writestream with Ima Sumac Watkins: Creating Our Joy During the Holidays

The Writestream with Ima Sumac Watkins: Creating Our Joy During the Holidays

The holidays are upon us!

Does this make you happy or create more stress in your life?

Tune in to The Writestream with Daria Anne on Wednesday, November 22 at 11 AM Eastern when Ima Sumac Watkins, also known as Ima Watkins, returns to talk about creating our own joy. Our families can be our biggest teachers and the holidays can pose our greatest challenges. Ima will talk about healing the expectations we have of our families and ourselves during this time of celebration.

She’ll also share how to create our own holiday rituals, heal past hurts, take responsibility for our own joy, and experience truly Happy Holidays.

To stream the episode, click on this link. Or listen by phone at (347) 945-7246. Press “1” if you would like to ask Ima a question on the air.

For more on Ima and her professional services, visit aboutme.com/iwatkins.

 

UPDATE: Thank you, Ima, for a great show today! Missed it live, click below to listen.

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Excerpt from The 30 Year Secret: A Journey of Self-Discovery

Excerpt from The 30 Year Secret: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I’m working on multiple projects right now, one of which is a fictionalized version of a client’s real life. Titled The 30 Year Secret: A Journey of Self Discovery, it follows the main character Theresa’s awakening after she receives earth-shattering news about her origins.

From the book description:

Does the truth really set you free? What if you discovered one day that everything you believed about your life was a lie?

For Theresa Chianti, the revelation of a 30-year secret rocks her to her core and initiates a journey of self-discovery where the pursuit of truth threatens her relationships and forces her to draw upon courage she never knew she had. Will her quest for answers lead to peace of mind or usher in more heartache?

Armed with a mother’s example of enduring faith, she’ll come to appreciate the transcendent power of maternal love on her quest to achieve a level of self-awareness never before experienced.

Here’s an excerpt:

The thick, distinctive aroma of incense hung in the air as Theresa made her way into Our Lady of Lourdes, the large wooden door creaking shut behind her. In the late afternoon of a weekday, the pews stood empty, save for a few devoted souls – most of them on bended knee – scattered throughout. She scanned the massive room with her eyes, taking comfort in the biblical scenes depicted by stained-glass windows and the presence of an enormous, intricately carved crucifix hanging above the altar.

She couldn’t remember the last time she walked into church simply for prayerful reflection. Since Toni Ann’s birth, she’d made a conscientious effort to attend weekly Mass, but it often felt rote and forced. Being here in the quiet, observing the pure devotion of the elderly folks who made it a daily practice to connect with the Lord on their own filled her with a sense of wonder.

She smiled as she thought of her own mother, whose faith in God never wavered. Would this time here alone help her to summon the courage she needed?

Satisfied that the few people present either didn’t know her or were too wrapped up in their own meditations to notice her arrival, she made her way to the altar. After genuflecting and making the sign of the cross, she proceeded to the assembled collection of candles to the right, a few feet in front of the statue of Mary. She pulled a dollar out of her pocket and slid it into the donation box. Taking a long match out of a container of ashes, she dipped it into the flame of a burning candle and murmured a prayer as she lit a new one for her special intention. Then she settled her knees onto the cushioned kneeler and closed her eyes.

God, please give me the strength to do what I gotta do, she pleaded. Help me to be calm and get what I need from Sara, for the sake of my little girl. And God, thank you for Ma. Thank you for letting me end up in a home with love. Thank you for giving me such a strong woman for a mother. Please keep her healthy. Please keep her from ever finding out about this meeting. I know, I need to see Sara in person; I just don’t want Ma to ever find out because it would hurt her too much. Help me keep this secret, God. I know it’s wrong to lie, but I love her so much, I can’t tell her the truth.

Uncontrollable tears poured from her eyes, smearing black mascara on her pale skin, but she didn’t care as she prayed with an energized passion and purpose, her hands covering her face. When finished, she took a few gulps of air and held onto the bannister for a few minutes to steady her shaking shoulders. Once composed enough to walk, she took a seat at an empty, nearby pew, where she remained in peaceful silence until an involuntary flash of memory startled her.

A knock on the door.  A man and a woman smiling at her. Her father, Joseph Chianti, enraged.

“She’s either ours or yours; get the hell out!” she heard him bellow in the theater of her mind. The scene then faded into a marina, where she saw herself as a child sitting on a raft with her brother Joseph. Her body felt the steady rise and fall of the water as she watched this younger version of herself squeal with delight under the warm summer sun. Drifting, drifting, drifting away, until…panic. In her head, she heard the children screaming in terror, two young captives on their way out to sea when a rope securing them to the dock somehow unraveled.

“Grab the pole, Joseph; grab the pole!” the seven-year-old girl yelled out to her brother. Theresa felt her entire body convulse with fear as she watched them cling helplessly to the only thing preventing them from becoming shark food.

A moment later, she almost screamed out loud when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Ghostwriting fiction tends to be a much longer process than nonfiction, but I’m working hard to complete this incredible story soon. Stay tuned for updates.

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