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I typically don’t read many Facebook status updates—and I especially don’t read them multiple times—but this particular one stopped me cold. It was an observation shared by my friend Nicki Salcedo. Whether penning a novel, an op-ed piece, or a Facebook status update, Nicki’s words never fail to provide enlightenment and introspection. This was Nicki’s informal, yet powerful observation:
“Nighttime soccer practice. I see a family I know. They have back-to- back practices for their girls. That amounts to three hours of soccer on a Tuesday night.
Me: “Wow, you guys have a long night.”
Dad: “Yeah, but I’ve got to head over and cut my son’s hair. He has cancer. He’s in the hospital. I’m going to Northside.”
It is 7:30pm at night. We live across town from that hospital. The dad leaves. He calls his daughter the best nickname when she plays. He admits he doesn’t know much about soccer, but he’s learning.
I think about all these angry parents. Angry people. For what? They have everything and want more.
The quiet ones simply enjoy seeing their kids kick a ball.” –Nicki Salcedo
It was no mystery why I read Nicki’s observation three times.
Nor was it any mystery why her words made me cry.
I was that angry person.
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