Soccer and anniversaries

Twenty years ago, when Holland won the European Championship for the last time, I would have never guessed that I would be watching the 2008 Quarterfinal from my home in Middle Georgia, but here I am. It’s another fifteen minutes before “oranje” (orange) starts playing, but I’m ready. I’ve warned husband-dear about possible eruptions of cheering and yelling, and have told family members I will not be answering the phone or engaging in any serious discussions until the game is over. In other words, short of a total emergency, I am staying put on the couch.

To be honest, I was never really a big soccer fan when I lived in Europe. Sure, whenever Holland made it really far, say to the semi-finals, I would watch the game, but otherwise I tended to think of the whole brouhaha that surrounded every European and World Championship as slightly over the top. I never quite related to the people who decorated their entire house with orange streamers, banners, balloons, and flags, and thought that the public outpouring of rage or grief (or both) that would follow a loss was always a little startling. I was the kind of person who would turn on the TV, and then walk away to do something, only to become aware of the national team scoring by the raucous cheers that would erupt from the apartments in my building. But, as explained when talking about Queen’s Day, when you live overseas, most people suddenly develop an orange streak. Unable to watch any of the previous matches because of other obligations, I have now marked the upcoming games in my planner, and should Holland make it, I will be there, watching them. If it means going to a local Hooters to watch the game, I will, trust me. Heck, Hooter’s colors are orange, so hey, why not, right?

Interestingly, today, the day that I have installed myself on my American couch in my American home to support my “other home”, is also the first-year anniversary of our move to Georgia. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in this neck of the woods for that long already. Most of the time, it feels much shorter. I still struggle to find certain roads in our town, and still don’t know all the ins and outs on base yet. I also still talk about Georgia as an outsider, which although being a great source of inspiration for this blog, doesn’t help when it comes to trying to feel at home here.

I think a lot of this has to do with moving here because of the military. Part of being a military spouse means never really putting down roots anywhere. You don’t have a much of a say in where you end up living, so perhaps that is why I don’t feel really attached to my home. Yet. For I sure hope that one day, I will feel that connection with my hometown.

For now though, you’ll have to excuse me, I want to go and sing along with the anthem of that other home.