I grew up in Chicago, so I've always been a Bears fan. Dad used

Hear, O children of memory and passion, the words of Kyle Chandler, who said: “I grew up in Chicago, so I've always been a Bears fan. Dad used to take me to Bears games and Cubs games. My brother used to ride me over to Lake Forest College on his Honda Supersport and we'd watch the Bears practice. I remember those guys out there as monsters—they were the biggest things I've ever seen!” Though spoken as a recollection of youth, within these words lies a testament to the sacred bond between family, place, and identity, and the awe that shapes the heart of every child who beholds greatness for the first time.

This quote is not merely about sport—it is about heritage, the invisible chain that connects generations through shared experiences. Chandler’s memory of his father and brother is a universal image: the elder guiding the young, showing them the rituals that define belonging. The stadium, the cheering crowd, the scent of popcorn and cold air—these become not just the backdrop of childhood, but the forge where loyalty and memory are born. The boy does not yet understand strategy or fame; what he remembers is the warmth of family, the magic of being together, and the feeling of wonder before something larger than himself.

To call those players “monsters” is not to speak of fear, but of awe. Every child sees heroes as giants—figures whose power borders on the mythic. In that moment, the young Chandler saw the players as gods of motion and strength, embodiments of the dreams that stir every young heart: to be strong, to be brave, to be part of something greater. This is the first lesson of admiration—that to witness greatness awakens the desire to grow into it. The men on the field were not just athletes; they were symbols of excellence, and through them, the boy learned reverence for mastery.

The ancients understood this power of spectacle. The Greeks gathered in their stadiums to honor Zeus through sport, believing that physical strength reflected moral virtue. The Roman youth, watching gladiators, saw courage and discipline embodied before their eyes. Even in distant lands, warriors trained under the watchful gaze of their children, who learned through vision before words. Chandler’s childhood memory, though modern, springs from this same ancient current: the initiation of youth through the sight of greatness, guided by the hands of family.

But the quote also speaks to place—to the soul of Chicago itself, a city of grit, resilience, and loyalty. To be a “Bears fan” is not just to follow a team, but to embrace an identity shaped by endurance and pride. Chicago, with its cold winds and working-class spirit, produces not merely spectators but believers. In remembering the “good nightlife” and the friendliness of its people, Chandler celebrates the communal warmth that binds a city through hardship and triumph. His childhood memories are not just his own—they are echoes of a collective story, the song of a city that lives through its people’s hearts.

There is a deeper wisdom here, too: that the greatness we perceive as children becomes the foundation of who we are as adults. The admiration Chandler felt for those “monsters” on the field was the seed of his own drive for excellence, his own reverence for dedication and craft. Every child, when shown the extraordinary, carries a piece of it forward. And so, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters—remember this truth: when you share your passions with the young, you pass on not just knowledge, but meaning.

The lesson, then, is this: celebrate where you come from, and cherish the moments that awaken your wonder. Take your children to see heroes, not because they must imitate them, but because they must feel what it is to dream. Honor your roots, your mentors, and the places that shaped you, for they are the soil from which your strength will grow. The games may end, the stadiums may quiet, but the memory of belonging—the sound of your father’s cheer, the thrill of the first sight of greatness—will remain eternal.

Thus, through the words of Kyle Chandler, we are reminded that greatness begins not with the self, but with gratitude—with the memories that molded us, the hands that guided us, and the moments that taught us to stand in awe of life. For in remembering the “monsters” of our youth, we remember the heroes who taught us how to become our best selves.