I'm Not Getting Old...I'm MATURING.

I had a doctors appointment yesterday. Lucky for me, this is a rather rare thing. I don't have a long list of doctors on speed dial. This is a very good thing. However, I am forced to use these people much more often than I did thirty years ago, which is a normal part of the maturation process, a phrase that I much prefer to getting old. I'm not getting old, I'm maturing.

Anyway, so yesterday was typical of these occasional doctor's visits. I introduce myself and explain to her the reason for my visit. I've developed this troubling problem with my...foot, knee, back, neck, bowels, which is causing...headaches, burning, shooting, searing, throbbing pain, acid reflux, unpredictably violent trips to the bathroom, and vertigo. The doctor usually looks up from her furious note writing and gives me an understanding nod or two. After describing my concerns, my favorite doctors sometimes say something like this:

Doctor: Does it hurt when you do this?

Me: Oww! Yes!!

Doctor: Then, don't do that!!

Unfortunately, doctors with this sort of sense of humor are about as rare as Lamborghinis in a Pentecostal Holiness church parking lot. Mostly, it goes more like this:

Me: Yeah, this pain has been getting worse over the past few months, and although I'm not even sure you can do anything about it, I thought I should have it checked out to make sure it wasn't anything more serious than...

Doctor: Mr. Dunnevant, unfortunately, you are 59 and you insist on working out four times a week at a gym, and maintaining the same level of activity which you did when you were 25. This always results in this sort of thing...pain, inflammation, and worried visits to the doctor. As we age, our bodies don't respond as well to physical exertion. You should keep this in mind, and keep plenty of cold packs on hand, and always remember to stretch before and after each session at the gym. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you.

Then, I come home from the appointment and Pam asks, how did it go? I always end up saying the same thing...nothing too serious, just my maturing body acting out again. Then after a couple of minutes I offer up, no cancerous tumors or communicable diseases...so I've got that going for me.

Yes you do, dear. Yes you do.

The Shooting in Washington

A congressman got shot this morning by a disturbed man with a rifle. The congressman was with a bunch of his colleagues at an early morning practice for the upcoming charity baseball game between Republicans and Democrats from Capital Hill. It's a tradition that's been going on for over a hundred years, a break from the political battles to play some ball and raise some money for charity. Now, this.

The shooter is dead. The congressman is in serious condition. The rest of us are reduced to watching the freak show that has broken out on Twitter and other places where insanity breeds. All of us, every single one of us need to be paying close attention to who says what. Everyone of us needs to be taking names. Later, when things calm down, we can all purge these people from our news feeds, our friends list and our Twitter follows. Here's a handy guide for the purge to come:

Anyone who says that the Congressman got what was coming to him because he was a Trump supporter...needs to be purged.

Anyone who tries to suggest that Bernie Sanders is responsible somehow for the actions of someone who voted for him...needs to be purged.

Anyone who tries to suggest that because the shooter was a fan of Rachel Maddow, Bill Maher, and John Oliver, then all three of them are somehow to blame for this...needs to be purged.

Anyone who's hot take involved making the case that since the shooter might lose his health insurance if Obamacare gets repealed, then his actions could reasonably be construed as self defense...needs to be purged.

I've got a news flash for the lunatic fringes of the right and the left in this country. I don't have political enemies, I only have politicians with whom I disagree. If reading that sentence makes you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, then you, my friend, need to check yourself. No political liberal of good faith is my enemy. I am not the enemy of any liberal of good faith in America. We just disagree on things. Are there people from the left who are unhinged and unreasonably beyond the mainstream of progressive thought in this country? Sure there are. There are also people from the right who fit that description. Years ago, when Congresswoman Gabby Gifford was shot, many of them showed their true colors in their gleeful reaction to that attempted assassination. The next day...they got purged. In times of great stresses to our system, the best and worst of human instincts emerge. Take careful notes this go round. My Dad used to make this observation about how people react under stress...What's down in the well, always comes up in the bucket. What's inside of you, what's really inside of you will show itself in times like this. Look around you tonight. Take note of those who care only about the political affiliations of both the shooter and the victims. Avoid these people...like the plague.

Earlier this week, ironically enough, I read an article by a well known commentator who asked the question Are we about to fall into civil war? I thought his premise overblown and ridiculous, largely because, to me, it's preposterous. The very idea that I would be willing to bear arms against my fellow Americans is lunacy. Perhaps I feel this way because I'm not a political animal. I don't live and breathe politics 24/7. I have much more important things to do with my life. I have a family to love and provide for. I have a business to run, clients to take care of, I have friends to support, a faith to live out, vacations to take, grass to cut, golf to play, baseball to obsess over. If a political party that I largely am at odds with comes into power, I get along with my life. It would  never, ever occur to me to pick up a gun and start shooting random Democrats on a baseball diamond. What is wrong with us??

The one encouraging image from all of this was a picture taken, I'm guessing, at a different field being used for practice by the Democratic team of Congressmen. Apparently, they had just heard the news about what had happened to their Republican counterparts across town. They had all gathered in the dugout and were huddled together saying a prayer for the fallen. It was a beautiful image, the only one of the day. This is what we once were, and it is what we desperately need to become again.

I love this country with all of my heart. Most of the people who I agree with on politics do too. But, you know what?  Most of the people across the aisle love it too.

Let's try to stop listening to the voices who don't.

A Message For My Millennial Friends

For a variety of reasons, I have a lot of Millenial friends on Facebook. Some of them are friends of my two kids, others are kids I taught years ago in Sunday School. Having such a large and diverse group of Millenials on my newsfeed has given me a bit of insight into how many of them think and feel about things. I don't consider myself an expert, by any means, but I have noticed one thing that stands out. Many of them feel isolated between being a "kid" and being a "grown up" and most of them don't think they are very good at the latter. I think they are being way too hard on themselves! First of all, they are doing much better than they think, and second of all, they labor under the false impression that people my age are actually proper adults, and have our adulting act together. Well, for any of my Millenial friends who might be reading this, take heart. Let me tell you about my day...

Tuesday began in the usual way. I woke up without an alarm clock. I brewed coffee, caught up on the overnight business news. Then I wrote a blogpost about a movie I had just seen with Pam at Cinebistro. Then, it was back upstairs for a shower. So far, so good.

Right before I began backing the car out of the garage it occurred to me that I didn't have my wallet with me. I turned off the car and went back inside, sure I had left it on my desk. I searched in all of the usual places I leave stuff and found...nothing. Suddenly, a memory from last night at the movie. I reached into my wallet to get my credit card to pay the waiter for our meal. I was pretty certain that I placed the wallet on the wide arm of the chair instead of back in my pants pocket. I was also reasonably sure that I had walked out of the place without it. I had left my wallet inside of a movie theatre!!!

I drove very carefully to work, the last thing I needed was to get pulled over for speeding. When I
got to the office I called Cinebistro. A recording. Cinebistro will open its doors thirty minutes before the earliest showtime of the day. 2:30?! Not only would I not be able to retrieve it before 2:30, but I won't even know if it's still there until 2:30. What do I do? Should I call the bank and place a hold on all of my accounts? Would that be too rash? Would I regret the hassle if it turned up safe and sound? No way I'm waiting until 2:30. I drive over there at 10:00 and start banging on the door. The early morning cleaning crew was there and came to the door but wouldn't let me enter since the opening manager wouldn't be in until noon, and if anything was turned in, it would be in the safe in his office, and he's the only one who knows the combination. Completely frustrated by events and increasingly pissed at my own carelessness, I headed back to the office.

Once there, I realized that all of the bill paying I had planned on doing couldn't be done at all...because I didn't have my wallet. No worries, I'll just kill some time by going over to Short Pump Elementary school to vote...except I couldn't vote because I didn't have any ID because I didn't have my freaking wallet!!!

Finally, the noon hour arrived and once again I was banging on the doors at Cinebistro. No one was answering. I walked all the way around the mall to find the service and delivery entrance to the place where I proceeded to bang on some more doors. Eventually, after soaking my shirt through with sweat because of the 90 degree heat, someone finally opened the door. I tried to explain to this young man about my lost wallet, but he didn't look like he was buying any of it. I demanded to speak to this elusive opening manager. After what seemed like half an hour, he showed up on the scene and checked his office safe where he found...nothing. "Perhaps it was left at the front desk," he offered with zero conviction. Nothing. "Do you remember which theatre you were in and which seat?" Yes!!!
There it was, lit up by the opening manager's handy flashlight, under the chair I had been sitting in less than 18 hours earlier, every card intact. I had wasted literally half of the work day, but I had finally found my wallet. Unfortunately, this would prove to be the highlight of my day.

The following 3 and a half hours were spent on the telephone with my bank, and the DMV's of two different states, trying to fix a problem of my own making which involved my son's car. It's a long
and boring story which could have been completely avoided if I hadn't made a boneheaded mistake three years earlier when I failed to put my son's name on the car title. Now the car couldn't be registered in his state because it was registered in another state, my state, and oh by the way, my son can't get his license renewed for another 30 days because of essentially dad's screwup, and so far he's already gotten one ticket for driving on expired tags!

I am 59 years old. I have been successfully married for 33 years and have fathered two children. I own a thriving business, a certified adult by any measure...and I still have days like today. I still have days where I'm a complete screw up.

So, to all of you Millenials out there beating yourselves up about how you are horrible at adulting? 
Give yourselves a break.

Wonder Woman

Saw Wonder Woman last night. Pretty cool. I'm not normally a super hero/comic book movie fan, but this one seemed better than most. It was full of special effects shock and awe scenes, as one would expect, but surprisingly sweet and tender in places. The writing was decent, even downright witty in spots, and while Gal Gadot isn't the greatest actress I've ever seen, she is plenty athletic...and smoking hot, with the sort of eyes that have been the inspiration for roughly 75% of all the poetry written in the history of civilization.

Apparently, the fact of Gal Gadot's stunning beauty has been a problem for some feminist reviewers, who have complained that Wonder Woman wasn't cast as a more plain Jane, perhaps a Lena Dunham type. Sure, that would work...in about the same way as casting John Goodman as Superman would work. Of course, back in the day when they were casting about for a new actor to play James Bond, I was bitterly disappointed that the studio big shots chose Sean Connery over my man Marty Feldman. But, what are you gonna do?

  

So, basically, people tend to prefer actors who are easy on the eyes in big heroic roles. Why is this? I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure it's not because of sexism. It's probably more because, movies are escapism, and one of the things we like to escape from is...ordinary. Face it, most women in the world don't look like this:

So, if we are going to drop 15 bucks on a movie ticket and watch strangers emote, most of us would prefer that those strangers were attractive. This is so far down the list of bad things that need to be fixed ledger, I'm thinking that feminists need to give this one a rest. Nobody is going to pay a nickel to watch Lena Dunham doing slow motion flips in the air while shooting a triple-arrow bow at three German soldiers on a beach. Quit trying to make frumpy happen!

A Quirky Back and an Election

I threw my back out this past Friday and there's an election tomorrow. Coincidence? I think not.

First, the back thing.

Yeah, I have what is known in orthopedic circles as...a quirky back, that is to say that every so often, for no apparent reason, and at the slightest provocation, my back will seize up, accompanied by extreme discomfort and dramatically reduced mobility. This unfortunate event often brings on bouts of acute ill-temper in it's owner. Such was the case Friday morning at the office. I had just finished a meeting with a client, and had shifted my chair around to face my credenza where my computer sits. I pulled up my broker dealer's website and was trying to read a bulletin which had been posted there in smaller than normal print. As I leaned forward in my chair to get a closer look, I felt a fimiliar snap. Immediately, I knew what had happened. I must confess that my one word reaction, which I muttered with more resignation than anger, was the word often used to describe human excrement. It seemed the most appropriate one word modifier available in the English language to describe the situation.

I sat there for the better part of thirty minutes accessing the situation, making probing movements to determine the extent of the damage. There is always a fit of anger that comes with these back tweaks. Did I throw my back out while helping a friend move a piano down three flights of stairs? Was I in this predicament because I foolishly tried to lift an anvil without bending my knees? Was I trying to shot put a filing cabinet? Nooooo! I was squinting to read something on a computer screen, people. The last time this happened, I was brushing my teeth, the time before that I was plugging in a lamp!!!  I'm sorry, these are not activities that should result in a trip to Patient First to visit your Nazi doctor from Pakistan, who, after taking a couple of X-rays, informs you that your back is Very, very spasm! You need cold press and stay off your feet. You need shot now? I give you shot if you need shot. Otherwise, take these pills and cold press and lay down quick! There was no way in Dante's inferno that I was gonna let this woman give me a shot. So I wedged myself back into my car and drove home, muscle relaxers and high dose Motrin in hand. Although I was able to make it through a car ride to D.C. to watch a baseball game, I had to beg out of a round of golf which had been scheduled for this afternoon. I am on the mend, and hope to be at full strength within the week.

Speaking of frustrating personal discomfort, there's an election tomorrow. We Virginians are being asked to make judgements on a variety of subjects about which the average Virginian(including me) knows virtually nothing. The Republican and Democratic Party primary elections for Governor and Lieutenant Governor are on the ballot, along with candidates for the General Assembly. You don't have to be a registered member of either party to vote. Luckily for me, you don't even have to know what you're doing to vote. My knowledge of these candidates are limited to the amount of annoying junk mail I have received from them, and their way more annoying television commercials, which have sprouted up like mushrooms after two days of rain lately. Here's what I know:

The contest for my district's General Assembly representative on the Republican side is between somebody named Eddie Whitlock and another guy who is black, but whose name slips my mind. Ok, this Whitlock guy has spent a small fortune on mailbox stuffing drivel. Vote For Eddie...he will fight for you, that sort of thing. He also has been the only candidate from either party who has showed up at the end of my driveway, alone, to hand out a pamphlet and personally ask for my vote. Kinda creepy, actually. Anyway, no offense to Eddie, but all things being equal, I might as well vote for the black guy. Diversity, and all. All of the other races are like white noise. I have no idea what any of the Democratic candidates stand for except that they hate Trump. The Republicans, as is their habit, are running a proven loser in Ed Gillespie, against two other guys who I've never heard of. My nephew has been volunteering for Gillespie, and has managed a tepid endorsement. But I've gotta say, that commercial I saw last night for Frank Wagner was strong. What's an uninformed citizen to do? Part of me doesn't like voting in primaries. It's like, it's none of my business. I'm not a member of the
Republican or Democratic parties. Why should I get a say in who they nominate? Won't I just muck up the works with my ignorant, random, game time decision? Probably.

But, I'll go vote tomorrow anyway. You probably should too.

The Comey Show

Yesterday about this time, a bunch of United States senators were standing in front of their bathroom mirrors in their expensive Georgetown town homes, practicing their I'm gravely concerned facial expressions, in preparation for the big James Comey hearings. This was to be the big event of the season for the government set. It was all that anyone who was anyone had been talking about for weeks now, a super bowl for the chattering classes. I didn't watch it for the same reason I don't watch soccer...tediously long periods of time passing during which, despite great expenditures of energy, nothing of consequence happens. Besides I have a business to run. So, I figured I'd watch the highlights on ESPN later.

This morning it appears that everyone is happy. Everyone, on each side of the barricade, apparently got what they wanted out of the event. Comey managed the remarkable feat of both exonerating and excoriating the President. Trump lovers are feeling vindicated, while members of the resistance are convinced that impeachment is now in the bag. Meanwhile, John McCain wants to hear Comey's views on the chances that Marie Antoinette will become the mayor of Düsseldorf.

There are days in life when everything that happens feels like crushing disappointment. Yesterday was one of those days. I mean, it's not the end of the world or anything, today being a brand new day and all that. But, yesterday was a doozy. At every bend in the road, a setback. Around every corner lurked a blow of some kind. I recovered from each of them, because that's what I do. I roll with punches. I allow sadness into my life in small doses, then I shake it off. I have no choice. It's too exhausting otherwise.

So, I didn't watch the Comey Show, something I never would have missed twenty years ago. To do so would have been like extending an engraved invitation to depression, here, come on in to my life and stay a while. Watching my government in action isn't good for me or my mental health. It makes me feel smaller and more petty. Anger starts to build. Resentment bubbles up from some hidden place. So, I make the decision to look away...at virtually anything else. If this makes me a bad citizen, so be it. I vote, pay my taxes, and avoid law breaking behavior. What else do they want from me? 

Hawk Gazing

Yesterday, I received an email from the pastor of my church. This paragraph stood out:

"With today's technology, we have so much news, and so much information that comes to us with a threatening tone - that it can seem the world is collapsing and may implode any day. Often, it's more information than our emotional wiring can handle. Much of the news and its tone contributes to fear, the fear contributes to anger, and it all becomes a worrisome recipe. Avoid this trap."

Easier said than done, but he has a point. All of this "news" is hard to avoid. When I was in college, if you wanted to get caught up on the news of the day, you only had a few options. You could pick up a newspaper and read news that was 8-12 hours old. You could turn on the car radio (at the top of the hour only) and listen to a five minute update. Or, you could tune in to one of the three major networks  thirty minute newscasts which aired at 6:00 every week night. Depending on which network you chose, you would hear either Walter Cronkite, David Brinkley, or Howard K. Smith give you the news. That was it. If something crazy happened, like a President getting shot or a moon landing, a scary banner would flash across the television screen alerting the viewer that there was Breaking News!! I say "scary" because whenever you would see that screenshot, everyone's heart would  beat a little faster because you knew something big was happening, otherwise they wouldn't dare preempt freaking Bonanza for something trivial. But, that was about it, a few short interruptions of everyone's day at agreed upon times to get us all up to speed on world events.

Now, I'm sure that the world was still a screwed up place back then. There was political chicanery all over the place, along with incompetent Presidents, womanizing congressmen and international intrigue aplenty. But mostly, we were only tangentially aware of it because the news wasn't an industry. Today, you can't go five minutes without being drowned in news. Entire channels are devoted to broadcasting it 24/7. Every social media outlet on the internet spreads some version of it all day, every day. I can consume it from every device imaginable on demand. With such a saturated marketplace, news sellers have to compete for eyeballs. To do so, news often has to be sexed up. Enter advocacy journalism and news celebrities. Throw politics into that witch's brew and my pastor is right, it can seem the world is collapsing and may implode any day. But, it's not and it won't. How do I know? Call it my trick knee and the fact that my highly refined bulls**t detector, bequeathed to me by my no nonsense mother, knows hyperbole when he hears it. Also...this:

"Often when I'm outdoors, I think something like, 'That hawk flying way up there - he doesn't know what year it is. He doesn't know about politics or terrorism or a million other fears. He soars like hawks have done for thousands of years and will for thousands of years to come....' Do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow has enough cares of its own.' In other words, "Do not give your heart to all the fear and worry, give your heart to the one who is powerful over all things, living each day in the present"

Again, easier said than done. To pull this off requires discipline, a willingness to unplug from all of the noise. This doesn't mean a retreat from the world, a cowardly escape from reality, but rather being selective on what noises and how much noise we allow into our lives. Maybe eliminate the highest pitch screamers, pass on the shrill voices. Kick the Chicken Littles to the curb in favor of a little more hawk gazing.

So, thanks, David Dwight. Thanks for breathing some life into my week.