Hundreds of millions of people around the world are watching the Super Bowl. Fans in Pennsylvania and Arizona are hanging on every play.

I love football, but the Super Bowl doesn’t matter. Not really. And not just because my team, the Giants, aren’t in it this year.

About a half mile from my house, two teenage boys died this morning in a fire. Three others escaped. Apparently the fire was started by a portable generator made necessary because of the ice storm that devastated Northwest Arkansas last week. The boys were the age of my daughter, Amy.

A few weeks ago, one of my other daughters, Erica, was in a car accident that totaled the car. She banged her knee, but she’s okay. The car means nothing. She means everything.

When it comes right down to it, what matters? What really matters? To you?

And does your schedule reflect it?