Tennis with Levi

Tuesday evenings are my one-on-one times with the Quads.  Last night, it was Levi's turn.  When I asked him this past Saturday what he'd like to do last night, I was surprised when he replied that he'd like to play tennis.  So that's what we did.

It has been years and years and years since I have played tennis.  As I stood there on the court last night, I was trying to remember just how long it had been.  I might have hit a ball around once or twice on the courts near our house in Bountiful, but I know I never played in Vancouver (I basically never did anything in Vancouver except work, raise kids and do Church work).  So, as I thought about it, I concluded that it has probably been at least 30 years since I played.

I used to have a tennis racket.  Perhaps it is still over at the house somewhere.  Who knows.  I didn't want to go out and buy new tennis rackets to play with Levi - at least not yet - so I checked at Deseret Industries (thrift store) and, sure enough, was able to find two rackets.

As it turns out, last night was the first time Levi has ever played tennis - at least "non-virtual" tennis.  (He told me he is really good at Wii tennis.)  That made me feel special, as a dad, that I could do something with him that was his "first."  We attempted to get a volley going, without much success, but it was fun.  Levi has good form, particularly in serving.  He also told me that Esther plays with her older brother Micah, so I think we have a new activity to do when the kids are here (and perhaps I'll need to purchase a racket).

It was interesting, being on that court with Levi.  As I attempted to hit the ball back to him, I started thinking about how to hit backhand, then forehand, reaching back into my memory.  I recalled playing tennis in Carmi - the little farm town in Southern Illinois where I grew up - on the courts over at Eckerle Park (the only ones in town).  I would have been in grade school or junior high then.  I think I played a fair bit at the time; it was an individualized sport that I thought I could play, having banned myself forever from team sports.

Memories then came back of me taking tennis lessons at the country club in Zanesville, Ohio (where my dad had moved while I was in high school).  It must have been over summer vacation while I was in college, when I worked for my dad, and that must have been when I purchased my now-missing tennis racket.  

It's funny how activities, places and people can bring back memories.  Sometimes I have felt like an archeologist in my own life, uncovering hidden layers of life that were later built over, submerging previous eras until they were lost to memory.  That's why such simple, innocuous things like remembering tennis lessons provide a little thrill:  I feel like I am re-assembling my life, discovering parts of me that had lay buried, forgotten.

You were born with potential. 

You were born with goodness and trust. 

You were born with ideals and dreams. 

You were born with greatness. 

You were born with wings. 

You are not meant for crawling, so don’t. 

You have wings. 

Learn to use them, and fly.

~ Rumi