Recently, I had my nails polished, emerald green, to match Grandma Filomena’s May birthstone ring, and to celebrate spring.
Lovely Nails and Spa Salon is on the same street as my apartment. While I chose my color, I heard a man’s voice as he announced his presence for a pedicure appointment, the very fact of which struck me funny, a feminine sort of thing to do, I thought.
His feet soaking in bubbly water, I overheard him say he played football for the Seattle Seahawks (smashing any stereotyping) and that he would be with the team another year or two. Even though I was nearly overcome with curiosity, I did not turn around in my chair to stare.
All of Seattle are Seahawk fans. Number 12 hangs in the Lovely Nails salon and a Seahawk rug is at the front door. I’m a fan too; my boot laces are Seahawk blue and green. When I got up to leave I was able to turn and see a formidable African-American man reclining comfortably. He smiled. I did not recognize him, nor did I ask his name; I would never intrude on the privacy of a man’s pedicure! But if I see him on the field without his helmet, maybe I will know him.
This is not the first time I have had a personal encounter with the Seattle Seahawks. When Mom died, I waited until the mortuary arrived to gather her up. A dignified Black man wheeled a gurney into her room, the buttons of his dark blue suit jacket straining against his girth. He was wearing an impressive diamond and jeweled ring. “That looks like a Super Bowl ring,” I said.
“Where I come from, it means more than the Super Bowl. This is a Texas A & M Southwest Conference Champion ring.” Curtis Madden Sr. introduced himself. He had been a linebacker and played defensive end in his college days. He told me his son, Tre Madden (Curtis Ray Madden III), played for the NFL.
“What team?” I asked.
“The Seattle Seahawks. Look for number 38.”
Go Hawks! Another reason I love Seattle.