Goodbyes are always difficult. Goodbyes are usually not a matter of good timing. Rarely do the participants really want to say goodbye at all. Some goodbyes are for the short term, but others are forever. Those goodbyes are the most difficult. I haven't met a goodbye yet that I was really fond of in the long run. This weekend, however, I was ready with one in particular. The one in the photo. Many months ago a severe storm forced the basketball backboard to come crashing down only to impale itself on the fencing, resulting in utter catastrophe. At that time I was willing to call it a day, but my sweetheart of a husband was not so inclined as he does not part easily with old trusted friends. (Which I guess is good for me in the long run.) I don't know what it is about men and their love of basketball. It defies explanation. I understand that when you are 6'4" tall, it is expected that you will play basketball. This is, after all, Indiana, basketball capital of the world. I understand there must be a certain amount of excitement when you first have that ball placed in your hands and someone yells, "Shoot it!" I understand the excitement and thrill of watching the game...from the simple pick up game, to elementary, to junior high, to high school, to college, to professional. I get it. I love the game, too. What I don't understand is the attachment to this broken mess of a backboard. Any discussion of taking down and replacing it was met with a quick change in subject. I was patient. I was kind. I was trying to be understanding. Months went by. The neighbors were beginning to make inquiries. I was beginning to feel like the Clampitts of Beverly Hills fame. I gently led my husband to the driveway and said, "Jed, it's time. It must go." It appeared that he did not quite comprehend what I was asking. "Jed, the neighbors are starting to get worried. There is always the fear that Ellie Mae will tie a goat to the picket fence and Jethro will be floating ducks in the swimming pool if they let a thing like this go by without comment." Slowly he nodded, realization hitting hard. And down it came. A little less monumental than the Berlin Wall, but still fraught with memories of all that had transpired over the years at that particular shrine. A passing of an age...apparently no replacement in sight at the current time. Will he survive? Too soon to tell. Goodbyes are difficult...I think I will make his favorite dinner tonight to help ease the pain. And maybe, if it is not too soon, we can talk about a replacement.