Last night, we had a bunch of kids over to watch the World Cup championship: America vs. Japan, so naturally we had hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, root beer floats, and edamame.

During the pre-game preparations, the kids were still in rumble-around mode, talking about soccer, World Cup history, and, bizarrely, World War 2. That last one was a surprise. It started when one of the kids mentioned that if America won the World Cup they would have done it by beating both Germany and Japan. Someone else said his family was German, and the conversation went from there.

I was only half-listening to the chatter. My attention was mostly focused on the subtle science of preparing the perfect batch of hot dogs.

I was so intent on the hot dogs, that I didn’t notice the conversation stop, didn’t even see the kids stand up.

My wife tapped me on the shoulder and gestured toward the den. The kids were all on their feet, silently facing the television as it played the Star Spangled Banner.

I wiped my hands on my jeans, moved the hot dogs off the heat, and went to stand with them.