Fight On!

Several years ago my second child, a very gregarious son, applied for college.  We were hoping of course that he would join the ranks of the Ivy League, but barring that, a merit scholarship to one of the wonderful University of California schools would have pleased us greatly.  But my son had other ideas.  He, like the other 1006 seniors in his large public school graduating class, was applying to USC.  USC, for those of you who don’t reside in Southern California and/or don’t watch football, is the University of Southern California, famed for its Trojan football team, its marching band, and, much to the chagrin of university officials, its nickname of the “University of Spoiled Children.”  Those of you who are close to my age will remember the album “Tusk”, released in 1979 by the band Fleetwood Mac who elevated the Trojan Marching Band to rock star status by using it as the “chorus” for the eponymous song on the fourth side.  This was back when albums actually had sides, of course.

When my son got his acceptance letter to the private and very expensive USC, he was very happy indeed.  We were still hoping that he would accept his scholarship to the rival school across town, UCLA, which actually offered him MONEY to attend.  But my son insisted on at least being allowed to go to the USC Accepted Students Day, which turned out to be held on a lovely day in April, the best SoCal has to offer. We sat on lawn chairs as the University President spoke of how USC graduates know each other all over the world by a single “sign”, two fingers raised in a “V” for victory, and the slogan “Fight On.”  And then, preceded by scantily clad cheerleaders turning cartwheels before the drum major, the famed Trojan Marching Band appeared on the lawn.  Before two bars of the Fight Song had been played, we knew we had lost the battle.   Six months later, we sat in the stadium during Parents Weekend, watching Reggie Bush and Matt Leinart play while screaming our heads off with all the other parents who, like us, had hoped for a scholarship.

I think I’ve mentioned here before that I love commercials.  As it turns out, it’s not just commercials.  I love all advertising– television, newspapers, magazines, billboards and even a great movie trailer.  But only if the ads are clever, or catchy, or especially, if they make me cry.  I’m a sucker for a good cry—clears the sinuses right out.  My son graduated from USC in 2009, and still lives in Los Angeles.  I get up there pretty often–for meetings, for shows, and sometimes I even get to see him.  A couple of months ago I was headed up that way and I got off Interstate 10 at Robertson.  There’s a big billboard there that you can’t help but notice and this one jerked my head right up off the road, which is NOT a good idea when exiting from an LA freeway.  On the billboard, there was a picture of a surgeon, larger than life.  He is gowned and gloved and masked, with his hands upheld expectantly in that familiar and particular supplicant’s gesture made only by surgeons, as they wait for their favorite scrub nurse to hand them the scalpel to make that first cut. The surgeon’s face, hands and upper body fill the billboard, covering every inch.  At the very bottom there is a single line of print which read:  “USC Norris Cancer Center.  FIGHT ON!”

Tears came to my eyes, but then I beamed like the proud parent that I am.

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