Shhh… The Eagles are sleeping. Last Friday was a little awkward and I don’t mean the occasional cheer from the home side of the Eagle’s stadium. I mean quiet. The kind of quiet that settles over a place when hope feels thin. Friday night’s atmosphere in the Hill Country was subdued, almost somber. I’ve only seen Hillsboro loud once , back when the Eagles took Glen Rose to overtime in a thriller that almost toppled the team that would later give Carthage a run in the semifinals. That night had life. That night had heart. But every visit before and since has carried the same uneasy silence, as if the echoes of what once was have long faded. Maybe it’s the culture, maybe it’s years of missed opportunities , whatever it is, you could feel it in the air. After halftime, the story was already written. The scoreboard told the tale: Tigers 56, Eagles-defeated. Hillsboro never stood a chance. Yet, to their credit, those young men didn’t quit. They helped each other up along with our own players. They stayed composed. There was no cheap talk, no drama, just quiet respect. They may have been defeated before the kickoff, but they handled it with grace. That’s something worth admiring. Meanwhile, the Glen Rose Tigers , our Tigers , looked like school boys during recess. The joy and momentum under that grand Tiger tunnel is building week by week, and it’s getting louder. Venus is next, and though it may be another lopsided night, the real test looms in Benbrook, a team itching for a shot at the top. They want it bad. But in true Tiger fashion, we’ll be ready. On the field, Glen Rose football looked like it was supposed to: fun. Chase Alexander was a highlight reel of pure intensity, flattening an unfortunate defender in the end zone and roaring like a man possessed. The offense looked loose, like a group of brothers drawing plays in the dirt ; confident, fearless, and grinning the whole way. Defense? The same story. It was like watching a bunch of kids playing keep-away, just on a bigger field and under brighter lights. Homecoming’s coming, and the opponent might not test us much , but that’s okay. It gives our Tigers a chance to fine-tune, polish, and prepare for the battles that matter most. ________________________________________ The Heart of Homecoming Since we’re talking Homecoming, let’s talk about the tradition itself, not just the game, but the heart behind it. Homecoming in Glen Rose has a heartbeat all its own. It used to be bonfires behind the admin building. Or fiery rebar signs lighting up the night sky. It’s parades that wind through downtown streets while kids wave at their heroes. Some remember “Tiger Victory,” some remember “Tiger Fever,” and everyone remembers the feeling , that electricity of pride that unites an entire community under one color: red. I’ve had dozens of conversations around town about what Homecoming “should” be. Should the parade go downtown? Should it end at the school? Should there be a bonfire again? The truth is , those details don’t matter nearly as much as the spirit behind them. The joy of a child seeing their favorite athlete wave from a float, the laughter shared between old classmates who haven’t seen each other in years ; that’s what makes Homecoming special. Not geography. Not tradition. People. But here’s the part most folks never see. The unglamorous side. The dirty side. Parades don’t just happen. Someone plans them. Someone sweats for them. Someone cleans up after everyone’s gone home. For years now, that “someone” has been a small handful of volunteers , often just two of us , coordinating every detail, every route change, every float lineup, every traffic cone. We’ve had a few good-hearted helpers like Allan West and Kelly Shackelford step up when we needed it, and we’re grateful. But most of the time? It’s late nights, long days, and a lot of “make it work.” We’ve done it in the heat, in the cold, in the rain , and always for one reason: to give our kids and our community a memory worth having. And yet, for all that effort, there’s another side , the complaints. We’ve been yelled at by business owners about blocked storefronts. We’ve dealt with city workers rolling their eyes when asked to move vehicles. We’ve had social media post about trash left behind, as if two people can clean up what hundreds leave behind. We’ve been told, “Well, you put the event on, you should clean it up.” And we do. Every time. So, when the idea of bringing the parade back to the school came up, it wasn’t out of rebellion or spite , it was out of practicality. No stages, no street closures, no storefront issues. Just a simpler, safer setup. We also decided to follow the city’s own rule from July 4th about candy being handed out rather than thrown, for safety reasons. That one decision turned into controversy. Suddenly, it was “forbidden” to throw candy. But let’s be honest , we all love candy. I do too. What’s a parade without it? But here’s what I’d really love to see: parents reminding their kids to pick up all the candy near them, not just the ones they like. Parents keeping their kids out of the street, instead of letting them dart toward moving trailers. Common sense used to be common. Now it’s optional. We’ve become a society that wants the reward without the responsibility. Entitlement has replaced effort. Respect has been swapped for convenience. Even local businesses like BAKED are dealing with it; broken property, damaged displays, and zero accountability because too many parents can’t say the simplest, strongest word in the English language: “No.” It’s disheartening. It really is. And that’s why decisions sometimes have to be made for safety, for sanity, and for the mental health of those few people who are still out here doing. So with all due respect , if you don’t like it, and you think you can do better , please, step up. Seriously. Take it. I’ll hand it to you with a smile and a full heart. Because if there’s a new generation willing to take the reins, to serve, to do, then I’ll be the first to cheer them on. Because this community doesn’t need more opinions. It needs more doers.