If you can imagine where I live -- miles from the nearest neighbor, with warm and inviting lights glowing from the lodge across the lake, the landscape blanketed deep in snow and quietude -- and then peek into one of the windows of the “wellness room” where we normally play New Age music and practice yoga, you’ll find five or six men (and two women) lined up in teak rocking chairs brought in from the front deck, all in their Carhartt suits and winter boots, peering at an eighteen-inch television screen, cheering and rocking back and forth on Super Bowl Sunday. 

We have a precarious satellite system at the lodge, and often, with snow, wind and other obstructions, the signal will be lost for a few minutes. Then, the rocking chair choir will all shout a long “Oh” in unison and chatter away to each other until the screen comes back up. Super Bowl is a lively tradition, even all way out here.

Read the full article, here.