SUMMER KICK OFF PARTY!!

 It’s easy at this moment in time to become depressed about the state of our country. If you watch the news it’s easy to conclude that we are hopelessly divided over politics, religion, race and basically everything else. But watching the news doesn’t tell you the whole story. It never has but especially now. It’s like when someone visits the United States for the first time and only goes to New York City. Yes, that’s part of America but it’s nowhere near the whole story. If you want to see the best of America, I suggest attending a—“SUMMER KICK OFF PARTY” in my neighborhood.

We got the email a week or so ago. Jinu Patel, the social committee chair of our HOA pitched it this way:

⭐🇺🇸⭐

Hello Neighbors!

This year, America celebrates a milestone — her 250th birthday! To mark the occasion, watch for festive patriotic decorations going up at the neighborhood entrance. If you have flags or patriotic décor at home, now is the perfect time to display them and help make our neighborhood shine this summer!

The HOA would provide pizza and each neighbor was asked to bring either a side dish or a dessert depending on whether your address was an even or odd number. Oh, and there was to be a red white and blue tye-dye station set up for anyone who wanted to bring a white t-shirt, and a giant inflatable frog that the kids could run through to get wet.

All of these neighborhood social events take place right in front of my house. For one thing, our place is on a not so quiet culdesac, but more importantly we have folding tables and 16 metal chairs. The last words Pam said to me before the party started was, “Please don’t throw out your back playing with the kids like you did last time.”

It lasted around three hours or so, the street jammed with young couples, older couples and kids darting this way and that in wet bathing suits. There was Greek salad, pizza, an Indian street food station and a whole host of amazing desserts. I tried a bit of everything and it was all delicious.

We got to catch up on all the neighborhood gossip, all the latest from the kids who were off to college somewhere. There were parents there, grandparents and folks with no kids. There were  white families, black families, Indian families, native Virginians like us and transplants from all over the country.

Funny thing—Pam and I moved here when the very road we were partying on hadn’t yet been paved. We are the only people who have ever lived in our house. Some of the folks at the party have been here just a couple years. I have no earthly idea who any of these people voted for in the last election or any elections before that. I have no idea where they go to church or even if they go to church. None of that matters because…these people are my neighbors. And that friends is what it means to be an American.

Oh…and although I was sorely tempted to take a run at that sprinkler frog thing, I resisted the temptation. 

Sights, Sounds and Smells

 I can’t remember how long ago it was when I first walked down this path. Probably fifteen years ago? This is a place called Owl’s Head, Maine. It looks like a thousand other hiking paths in Maine that invite you in, making it virtually impossible to resist. The woods in Maine are deep, dark and mysterious. For someone who writes and tells stories like me, this path is practically begging me to enter. You just know that there’s a story in these woods. But this is Maine, a place where you never can be sure of anything.

After maybe a couple hundred yards, the canopy of trees clears and there you are standing on a rocky beach of Penobscot Bay, a protected sanctuary of the Atlantic Ocean, a towering cliff of rocks jutting out from the wilderness. You shake your head in disbelief. This isn’t how the ocean introduces itself if you’re a southern boy from Virginia, so your first time seeing it brings wonder. How could you be in a thick forest one minute and at the ocean the next?There’s a lighthouse at the top of that cliff. From the beach it’s hidden, but it’s up there as it has been for 200 years. There’s no charge to visit this place. It is one of 65 lighthouses along the rugged coast of Maine. We visit it every year. It’s a fifty minute drive from the lake. It never changes. It always delights.

Owl’s Head Lighthouse if just one of a thousand places that beguile us in Maine, the sights sounds and smells too many to list.

But, who’s counting?

A Big Day

 It’s a rare thing when one day on the calendar contains three significant events. Such is the case with today, the 25th of May, 2026. 

Memorial Day for me is the first of the Big Three days devoted to patriotism, the other two being Independence Day and Veterans Day. This year being the 250th birthday of our Republic, these days hold special meaning. Of the three, Memorial Day is the most moving, since it asks us to remember the countless fallen, the lives sacrificed on the field of battle. every Memorial Day I think of the words of General Patton. Like everything with George Patton you take the good with the bad, but he said, “It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who die in battle. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.”

My Son’s Birthday. 37 years ago today, Patrick was born, my one and only son. Super smart, super talented, witty and wise. Most of his finer qualities he inherited from his mother, but he picked up a few traits from me, like…his love of baseball, Golden retrievers and his choice of a wife. So, happy birthday to my boy.

On May 25th, 2026 we are 30 days from Maine, always a day of celebration. It has been over 7 months since last we crossed the great green bridge. But now it’s so close we can smell it. There’s lots to do between now and then, but mostly fun stuff.

So, today might be gloomy and overcast, but there’s a lot to celebrate.

Our Devious Plans

 Last night Pam and I got to do something we seldom get to do. We celebrated our anniversary with Patrick and Sarah. We had dinner at the Boathouse down at Rocket’s Landing and it was wonderful. 

A week and a half ago they drove up from Nashville to drop off their dog Frisco with us so they could go on a long-planned vacation to London. They returned this past Sunday and since this was our anniversary week and since they both work remotely they have stayed here this week. We have enjoyed spending time with them (and Frisco!). The other night after dinner we sat down in the living room and watched over an hour’s worth of pictures from their London trip, listening to their stories. So much fun!

When your adult kids live far away you don’t have many opportunities to just hang with them for no particular reason! This week has just been a normal week. After breakfast they go upstairs, get on their computers and go to work. They break for a homemade lunch with us, then when they are done working for the day we have dinner together. The only downside is I’ve been denied my favorite afternoon napping station (my ancient recliner in the den upstairs) which has been commandeered by Patrick as his work station. Small price to pay to have my kids here all week.

The problem with my kids is that they are too smart. They are both probably on to our devious plan. There we were driving them around Shockoe Bottom, then the canal walk, then Rocket’s Landing, speaking glowingly of how Richmond has become a very popular place for younger couples to live. This morning I may or may not have sent them a link to a delightful condo which came up for sale a stone’s throw from the Boathouse. Maybe one night before they return to Nashville we’ll have a meal at one of the hip and trendy eateries in the up and coming Scott’s Addition neighborhood. 

You can’t blame a guy for trying, right?

The Benefits of Getting Older

 Getting older is a mysterious business. In some ways it doesn’t seem real, as if it’s not even happening. You wake up, go about your day feeling no different than you ever have. Other days every step feels labored. But as soon as you start to worry about decline a new day dawns and you roll out of bed with a thousand ideas. Life starts to feel like there’s a cycle to it, days of growth and days of regression, and each comes without warning and each feels like a surprise.

There are great benefits to be had from getting older. You start to come to some final conclusions about things that have baffled you most of your life. When you were 40 you weren't sure how you felt about politics, now you’re absolutely sure you hate it. You used to worry about what people thought about you, how you were perceived, but now you’ve stop worrying because it’s too late to change anybody’s mind—a monumental relief.

I was fortunate to have inherited a quite reliable bullshit detector from my mother, she being famous for her ability to see through human disguises. I have noticed that this particular inheritance has, if anything, gotten sharper and more powerful with time to the point where I am now much better able to spot my own bullshit. It is often said that it is the young who challenge the status quo and the old who defend it and I think this is generally true. But in my case I have discovered a growing tendency to question my own long-held assumptions. It has been a wonderful thing to discover that so many things I believed as a young man are still solid and true. But, I have also found that I have been wrong about some things, which is humbling.

Everything decays. We are about to get a new roof for our house. The old one has worn out due to a hailstorm and 28 years of weather. Our two vehicles, both of the low mileage variety, are showing signs of wear. They will eventually need to be replaced. I’m decaying and so are you. It started the day we were born, this decaying. You know what doesn’t decay or wear out or grow old? The beauty of a sunset. Seeing the face of a friend across the way. Having a dog jump up beside you on the sofa to take a nap. Hearing someone you love tell you that they are proud of you. The smell of balsam that greets you when you get out of the car after a two day drive to Maine. Being out somewhere and seeing a Mom and Dad walk into a restaurant with their two little boys—wearing their Little League uniforms.

Here’s one thing I’ve noticed since I retired. Most of the things that have the most life in them, the things that give me the most joy, are things that I don’t own.

Forever Neighbors

 It’s funny how life works out. Whether you believe in cosmic chance or divine appointments, there are times in your life where you find yourself in the right place at the right time. Such was the case around 13 years ago when the house next door became vacant close to the time when we were about to become empty-nesters. When you live in the suburbs you don’t get to choose your neighbors so when someone moves out there’s always the possibility that the people who move in wind up being a family full of tuba-playing narcissists. So when the house went up for sale Pam and I were nervous.

We both hoped that a young family with kids would move in rather than an older couple…er, like us. I mean, I’ve got nothing against the elderly, in fact I hope to be one some day. It’s just that having children around brings life. It also brings noise, chaos and a yard full of toys, but that’s part of the grand bargain. So we prayed that God would send us a young family with kids who could help us deal with having just spent the last 25 years of our lives raising our own, then watching them grow up and move away. We got exactly what we prayed for…and last night the doorbell rang and there they all were standing on our walk telling us that they had just put a contract in on a house and would be moving a few miles away. The Mom told us that the three kids would only sign on to the move if their parents promised to have us over for dinner at least once a month! 

When they moved in they had a a toddler and Mom was pregnant. Now that toddler is damn near as tall as I am and he has two sisters. We have watched them grow up. It has been a joy and an adventure. One of them fell out of a second story window, there have been multiple broken bones and tons of noise. We went through COVID as neighbors. They looked after Lucy a thousand times for us over the years. We have filled their house with trinkets from Maine, bought every single thing the kids have sold over the years from lemonade to raffle tickets. We’ve watched each of the kids change over the years both physically and emotionally. Each of them have developed unique personalities. We’ve also watched their parents navigate the impossible job of parenthood, from wide-eyed terror to fierce confidence. The fact that they are moving is perfectly predictable and proper. They need space not just for their kids but for their friends. Mom very much wants to be that house where everybody hangs out, just like we had for years before they all grew up and disappeared.

Before I became an actual grandparent last June, I had been honing my Pop-skills with the three goofballs who lived next door. I have enjoyed every minute of it. But now they will be moving out soon and Pam and I will be bracing for whoever replaces them. But on some level nobody ever could. 

I’ve always loved the expression used to describe when a family adopts a pet from an animal shelter. It is said that the dog or cat has found their “forever home.” Well, when The Garlands moved in 13 years ago we didn’t know it at the time but we found our “forever neighbors.” 

The address doesn’t matter…

My Encounter With a Gas Pump

 I have spoken many times in this space about my cluelessness about how much things cost. For one thing most of the buying of things required for daily life in the Dunnevant household is done by Pam. But I do my share of grocery shopping while she is away and I never notice the price of anything. I just put it in the cart and pay for it at the register. End of story.

But the other day I had a moment. I had not bought gas since returning from the Columbia trip and my dashboard was hitting me with lots of flashing red lights and pictures of near empty tanks with the words WARNING: LOW FUEL LEVELS. So I pulled in to a Shell station on Patterson Avenue. I flashed my debit card and selected regular. Then, as is my custom, I busied myself with cleaning the windshield and gathering up trash to throw away. Then I heard the familiar click informing me that the fueling was over. It was then that I removed the nozzle and put it back in place. I almost missed it, but something made me glance up at the meter where I was confronted with the picture which accompanies this post.

First of all, you will notice that I pushed this particular tank to the brink. It’s never wise to drive around with less than a half gallon of gas in your tank! But the top number grabbed my attention. $83.41…for gas. If you do the math that comes out to $4.25 per gallon. Yes, I’m aware that the price is currently inflated due to Straight of Hormuz difficulties, and could just as suddenly drop back down to previous levels when an end to hostilities can be found. But…man-o-man.

I can remember like it was yesterday the very first time I drove my 1966 VW beetle to the Gulf station across the street from the ball field at Hunton Baptist church to fill up the tank myself, with my own money. I was 16 years old or so and feeling free as a bird in the heady days of first responsibilities. My old Beetle had a 10 gallon tank and it was close to stomp empty (clearly an inbred character flaw). I filled it up to the brim, put the nozzle back in place and walked into the store, reached into my wallet and gave Mr. Higgins a fresh, clean five dollar bill. He gave me change back. It was .36 a gallon.

Before we get all nostalgic, I should point out that 1972 was the last year of the cheap gas era since 1973 would produce the Arab Oil Embargo and the rest is horrifying history. Still, if you were to adjust that .36 per gallon price for 52 years of inflation, in today’s money that would be $2.60 a gallon—which, I should point out isn’t far from where gas was priced before the current war with Iran. So…not bad.

Still, it was a bit shocking to see that $83.41 price staring back to me. I looked at that number and thought about a young couple with a kid or two just getting started and wondered how this would hit them? Then I thought about older folks less fortunate than me. What other necessities will they have to forego to fill up their tanks?

While the cost of things might be an irritant to me, it’s make or break for a lot of other folks. We all need to keep that in mind as we go about our daily routines. Keep your eyes open for people who might be struggling. If you are in a position to help, do so with wisdom and discretion.