Friday night. High School Football in America. Homecoming activities. Princes and Princesses. Roses and tears. Smiles and Photographs. Somehow this is all connected with the American dream. It seems far, far away from politics, religion, work, or almost anything else. In attendance are hundreds of youths and hundreds of parents. The kids group themselves: cheerleaders, pep squads, junior class, guys with painted faces and chests, football players, band geeks. The parents do the same: coaches and wives, dance team and band parents, concession stand workers, ticket takers and gate workers, announcers and scorekeepers, touchdown club members in reserve seats on the 50. There are couples there on dates; groups of boys and girls cruise the stands, eyeing each other. It is a cultural phenomenon. The scale of it all is almost unfathomable. Winning teams draw larger crowds, but crowds arrive to support the losing teams too. In a way, the team's success doesn't seem to matter that much. Some success in nice, but it's Friday night in America and Americans are at the game to have fun. Make the catch in the big game, break free and run for 50 yards and a touchdown and that five seconds will be rerun a thousand times by countless tongues, becoming grander and grander in direct proportion to the passing of time. Maybe the Varisty Glee Club will sing the Alma Mater. Maybe Christy or Rachel or Kaitlyn will smile at you or hold your hand. Emotions run high. On Friday nights anything seems possible.