I started doing a lot of things in 2017 that I never thought I’d do.

I love books. Fiction. Nonfiction. It doesn't really matter. I've been this way since childhood, when I was sharing the adventures of teenage detectives Frank and Joe Hardy. Soon after that, I was floating down the Mississippi with Huck and Jim, experiencing the Civil War through the eyes of Scarlett and Rhett and learning about racial inequality with Scout Finch.

I’ve made no secret in this space of my desire for more civility in politics and in life. I’m sick of the sniping. I’m sick of the hate. I’m sick of politicians who love party more than nation. News flash, kids: You weren’t elected to represent a political party. You were elected to represent all of the people in your district. And that includes the ones who voted against you.

As anyone who regular reads my weekly effort will know, I hate traffic. I hate sitting still on an interstate highway. I hate sitting through two cycles of a traffic light because there are so many cars on the road.

My mother celebrated a milestone birthday this week. Unfortunately, there’s a law that prohibits me divulging her age. That law is murder. If I put her age in the newspaper, the woman will kill me.

SOUTH BEND, Ind. — We came to this small Indiana town not just for a football game, though that’s exactly what we do on football weekends in the fall. We came – and by “we,” I mean tens of thousands of red-and-black-clad Southerners – to see first-hand the home office of college football. Notre Dame hasn’t been much on the gridiron in recent years, but the history of college football runs deep and wide through this beautiful campus.

I get on an airplane Thursday to fly to Chicago for a dream sports weekend, and I’d admit I’m a little nervous about it.

I have long believed that waiting for football season as an adult is a lot like waiting for Christmas as a kid. It just won’t ever get here.