Turning the Tables

Many of you know my friend Pam Cole for two things, first that she has been battling cancer, and second that she has had to endure over 3000 of my infamous Dad Jokes over the past year and a half. Most of you have a hard time imagining which one of those has been harder on her. Be that as it may, I am happy to report that she is doing great. In fact, yesterday she did something that she had never done before...she sent me a joke!!

A woman accompanied her husband to the doctor. After his checkup, the doctor called the woman into his office alone for a private consultation and said, “Your husband is suffering from a severe disease combined with horrible stress, and unless you do these things, he will die. Each morning fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant throughout the day, and make sure he’s in a good mood. Make him something nutritious for lunch, and at dinner time be sure to make him his favorite meals. Don’t burden him with any household chores; he’s probably had a difficult day. And don’t discuss your problems with him; it will only increase his stress. In other words, do your best to satisfy his every whim. If you do this for the next ten months, I think he will make a complete recovery.”

On the way home in the car, the husband asked, “So, what did the doctor say?”

She looked him squarely in the eye and said, “You’re not going to make it.”

Yes, I feel confident that Pam is doing just fine!

His Eye is on the Sparrow

Today was to be my easy day this week. I’ve nothing on my schedule, no appointments, no paperwork to complete, no calls to make. Thursday and Friday both are packed but today was wide open. So, what do I do? Wake up at 3:30. Beautiful. When I was a teenager and would ask my dad how long I could stay out on the weekends he would always answer the question this way, “I can’t think of anything good that happens at 2 o’clock in the morning, can you?” That was his round about way of saying, “be home by midnight.” Well, I am here to tell you that nothing good happens at 4 o’clock in the morning either. Although, there was this...

I emptied the dishwasher around quarter to five. The sky was just starting to glow with the first faint streams of daylight. I had noticed earlier that it was in the low 60’s so I decided to step out on the deck. I was greeted by what sounded like a bird choir, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir of the Audubon Society. From every direction I could hear them. There must have been ten different songs going on at the same time yet they all blended together to make something beautiful. It was still too dark to make out even a single bird, but the evidence of them was in the air all around me. I stood still for a moment and closed my eyes. What a delight to hear such a thing in the early morning twilight. I wondered for a moment what they were saying to each other...Looks like its gonna be another scorcher...Little worried about the Dunnevant’s feeder, its getting a bit low...Don’t worry, they always take care of us... At least, I hope that’s what they think. They would be right. Every two weeks we reload that feeder with premium, no mess seed. Our feeder has been in the same location for over five years now, attached to the railing of the deck. The first couple of years the birds were more skittish, scurrying away every time we made an appearance. Now, they know us better, they understand that we won’t hurt them, so they come and eat even if we are sitting just a few feet away...

They’re right. It is getting low. I’ll be sure to fill it before the end of the day. 

The squirrels, fortunate enough to not already have been killed, always try to get at the bird’s food and always fail, often hilariously so. The birds in our neighborhood seem to understand that this is theirs. We get an endless stream, all day, every day. Every type of bird you can imagine in every color, shape and size. They are all endlessly fascinating. Sometimes there will be half a dozen are more at the same time. Two or three will be eating while the rest wait on the railing in a line like people at the DMV, only much more patient and better dressed. Sometimes when I’m watching them I think of that old verse in the Bible, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them fall to the ground outside your father’s care.”

His eye is on the sparrow.

So are mine.

How to Write Bad Jokes

Getting that coveted second shot today at a Kroger in Mechanicsville. Pfizer. One step closer to normal...or one step closer to being subconsciously manipulated by the sinister machinations of Bill Gates’ microchips. Speaking of Mechanicsville...

A friend of mine happened to mention this in a recent text conversation, “We stayed in an Airbnb in Mechanicsville last week.” My reply was that that statement sounded like the punch line of a joke, like:

How can you tell when the travel restrictions of COVID have finally driven you mad?

When you realize that you actually stayed in an Airbnb in Mechanicsville last week.

Lots of people have asked me where in the world I get the thousands of jokes I have shared in this space and others over the years. Well, probably 80% or more of them I have gotten from a handful of awesome dad joke sites. But the rest I have cobbled together myself, mostly using a rather simple formula. Think of the punch line first. Then work backward. For example, the other day I was thinking about Maine and the time I took the family out on a lobsterman boat in the Penobscot Bay to watch a demonstration of how that business works. So, I naturally stated thinking about the lobster pot buoys, of how each lobsterman has his own distinctive color or design to differentiate his buoys from all the others. Then the phrase good buoys popped into my head. The joke that proceeded from this thought practically wrote itself:

You hear about the Lobsterman in Maine who redesigned all his pot markers to look like the face of his dog?

They were very good buoys...

To which my son responded...

..........

By the way, here’s a picture of that Lobsterman boat trip on the Lively Lady:

Raising Them Right

The above text conversation took place yesterday as I was driving down Pump Road. The parking lot in question was at the corner of Pump and Broad. Just in case you’re wondering, it was an entirely hands-free conversation thanks to blue tooth technology. After I read her messages and made my comments, I pulled back onto West Broad Street heading east. Then my daughter couldn’t help pointing out my lack of Instagram Awareness:

I can always count on my kids to point out my social media failings. Honestly, I’ve never been all that interested in Instagram. For one thing, I don’t really get it, and for another I think its balky and not easy to navigate. Be that as it may, Kaitlin was determined for me to find whatever it was that she had sent me on the thing:

What I found were two pretty hilarious Dad Jokes, one a video showing the Joker character as a dad joker, and the second a picture of a dad trying on a new pair of New Balance tennis shoes at a shoe store...

But then, the best part of the conversation was her reply to my fake conversation with the police officer trying to explain why I had caused a five car pile up by pulling over to read her Instagram post:

It’s times like these when I know in my heart that I raised them right...

That’s Embarrasing

Embarrassing Dispatches From the Aging Frontlines:

So yesterday morning I arrived at the office at the usual time and quickly fell into my normal morning routine. I unlocked the front door. I identified myself by typing in my password at the alarm system keypad, turned on the lights and headed back to my office. I checked the two messages on my answering machine, scribbled a note to myself then walked back to the kitchen to make the coffee. It was at this point when I realized that nobody except me had been in the office all day Monday because of the golf tournament that my partner hosted. Since I had left shortly before the mailman showed up I decided to go out to the mailbox and retrieve yesterday’s mail. Upon my return, I settled in for the day.

At approximately 11:45 I notified my intrepid assistant Kristin that I was leaving to go get lunch. She rolled her eyes and made a vague growling sound as she usually does whenever she is busy working and I am not. Then on the way out the front door I stopped briefly to harass Lindsey, our receptionist extraordinaire, which is something I never once have failed to do. Then...the adventure began.

I threw my briefcase onto the passenger seat of my Cadillac XT5, adjusted the rear view mirror out of habit, then casually pressed the ignition button. Nothing. This could only mean one thing...I had left my car keys in my office. Frustrating, but not all that unusual. I walked back through the front door, aimed a sarcastic comment at Lindsey, blaming her for not reminding me to bring my keys with me, then walked back to my office only to discover that my car keys were nowhere to be found. This couldn’t be right. I could not have gotten in the office without them and couldn’t possibly have driven to work without them. Where the heck were they? Perhaps I left them in the bathroom? Nope. Maybe I laid them on the counter by the coffee maker? Nope. Maybe one of my treacherous office mates had hidden them somewhere trying to be cute. Nope. I went back to my office and began a frantic search through every drawer, crack and crevice. Nothing. Then, in a flicker of embarrassed recognition, a thought occurred to me. I quietly slipped out the back door, retracing my steps from four hours earlier...

Lucky for me no one with felonious intent happened to walk by and notice the Cadillac key fob not twenty feet away from my bright shiny red XTS, proof that God indeed looks after children and the feeble minded.

Insomnia

I’m hoping that two nights does not a trend make, but my history of sleep issues suggests that I might be starting a streak. Two nights ago it was crazy, catastrophic, soul-crushing dreams. Last night it was that feeling that you never once actually fell asleep, you just laid there all night dosing in and out of consciousness. In both cases you wake up totally spent, not a pleasant experience.

So, what exactly do you think about when you’re laying in bed wide awake at 2 o’clock in the morning? Quite a lot, actually. For me it always begins with things left undone. I need to borrow Ron’s power washer and clean the mildew off the front steps...I can’t keep putting that off! Then usually...inevitably, the mind drifts to business concerns. Did I send Client M that quarterly statement they asked for? What the heck is wrong with Capital Income Builder? When was the last time I put together a head shot and bio? Have I ever?? Somewhere during these interminable nights I will begin mulling over past mistakes, missteps, blunders. There’s a long list. Next comes plot lines for a novel I’m writing. Then finally, just before I give up on sleep, I start pondering the mysteries of creation...where did matter come from? It would be one thing if insomnia involved images of beauty or replays of the best moments off my life. But tossing and turning all night while contemplating existential puzzles is exhausting.

I’ve talked to people who say that they go to the kitchen and make themselves a sandwich. Others have claimed that they actually drink warm milk, which I don’t believe for a minute. The last thing I need to accompany insomnia is vomiting! But, once my feet hit the floor, its over. If I’m to have any chance of falling asleep I have to stay in the bed. So, no midnight sandwiches for me. Some people drink a glass or two of wine before bed. But I’ve heard both sides of that argument. For some people it helps them fall asleep, for others it has the opposite effect. 

When you Google Insomnia you find a lot of helpful hints like:

-No TV, cellphone use, or internet surfing while in bed

-Don’t eat right before bed

-No heavy workouts just before bed, but daily exercise is a must

Check, check and check.

Probably the best way to kick insomnia is to not write a blog about it two nights in, which might serve the purpose of elevating it to a place of importance that it does not yet deserve. It’s only been two nights. Of course now that I have, Lord Darth Zuckerburg will bombard my inbox and newsfeed with advertisements for every sleeping aid ever devised by the mind of man for the next two weeks.

But thats a heck of a lot better than warm milk! 

Minneapolis on the Brink

The week of April 19th has the potential to be a terrible one for the nation. Closing arguments in the trial of Police Officer Derek Chauvin, accused of murder in the arrest of George Floyd, are scheduled for today, after which the case will go to the jury. The city of Minneapolis along with many other large cities across the country are like tinder boxes. Adding to the woes in Minneapolis is the recent killing of Daunte Wright during a routine traffic stop by an officer who thought she was using a taser instead of her sidearm, with disastrous results. Giving all of this an even more sinister backdrop is the spate of mass shootings that have sprung up like mushrooms after a week of rain in the past couple of weeks, making America seem like a nation of lunatics. Considering the fact that police officers who go on trial for killing people have a remarkable record of being acquitted, I’m not terribly optimistic that the city of Minneapolis won’t be on fire by the end of the week. If I owned a business within a five mile radius of Brooklyn Center right now I would be double checking to make sure my insurance premiums were all paid up.

Whenever the subject of police behavior comes up in this country its not always wise to offer an opinion. Whatever you say will infuriate a bunch of people. Unfortunately most people have rushed towards the two extreme positions and will accept no compromises. On one end there’s the ridiculous defund the police crowd. At the other end are the obsequious back the blue folks. I am neither. I suppose it fair to say that I do lean towards a more pro-police position than the average citizen of Minneapolis. But my support and defense of law enforcement abruptly ends when excessive force is used. What exactly is excessive force is the question. Although I am a laymen in these matters I would assume that shooting a fleeing suspect in the back would qualify. But, time after time even this action gets explained away as a justified response...so what do I know?

Still, one would have to be living in a flag-draped fantasy world not to suspect that something is terribly wrong with us as a nation. There isn’t another advanced nation on earth with the amount of gun violence of America. No society on earth murders each other at the pace that we do. In addition—and this should not be swept aside in this discussion—we are the most heavily policed nation in the history of civilization. How many separate police departments do you have to answer to? For me its the Henrico County police, the City of Richmond police, the Virginia State police and the National Guard should they be summoned into my neighborhood. If I were to drift into the surrounding counties I might run afoul of Hanover County’s finest or the dreaded uniforms of the Town of Ashland police force!! Our police industry comes complete with SWAT teams and even armored personnel carriers and in some cities...tanks, or something that closely resembles tanks. I suppose when your legal code is five times thicker than the Bible it takes that many police departments to enforce the law. OR, we have gone off the rails as a society.

So, the nation awaits the George Floyd verdict with great fear and trembling. If Derek Chauvin walks I fully expect two weeks of destruction, riots and chaos from Richmond to Los Angeles. If he is found guilty and the cities still burn, like West Virginia porch sofas after a Mountaineer victory in a frenzied celebratory rave, then I give up!

A Walk-Off Win!!

It’s Saturday. Nobody reads this blog on Saturday. Nobody reads this blog when its about baseball on any day, so I’m basically writing this just because I want to. Last night my team, the Washington Nationals, won a game when Kyle Schwarber hit a 463 foot home run in the bottom of the ninth of a scoreless game for the walk-off win. It’s perhaps the greatest moment in baseball, the walk-off hit, but when the hit in question travels that far its even more special. Here’s the video, if you care to watch:

https://www.mlb.com/news/kyle-schwarber-hits-walk-off-homer-for-nationals 

So far this season the Nationals have struggled. Their season started with three cancelled games because 5 of their players had COVID. Since then its been rough. Through 11 games they have only won 4 times. But I am liking what I’m seeing from them. The team seems to get along well as a group, lots of good chemistry. Early on their starting pitchers have struggled except for Joe Ross and of course, Max Scherzer who was brilliant again last night. Lots of guys aren’t hitting much yet, so the record isn’t great. But there’s something about this team that I like. It might have to do with a couple of the new guys.

Josh Harrison. He came over last year actually, but I have liked him from day one. First of all, he can play every position in the infield. Secondly, he battles every single at bat and is constantly hustling. But the the thing I like the most about him is how smart he is. Every time he is interviewed you come away thinking, “Wow, what an intelligent ball player.” He’s just the kind of guy you want on your team..a 100%er.

Josh Bell. He’s the big free agent signed over the winter to play first base. So far he hasn’t done a thing, but he will. The best part of having him on the team is that it will mean getting the very best out of Ryan Zimmerman, the career long National and captain of the team. Ryan can’t play a full season, he is no longer an every day player. But he is still great when rested. So far, his part time status has paid dividends...he’s maybe the hottest hitter on the team. But getting back to Josh Bell, he’s a huge guy, 6’5” 255 pounds, wears his hair in long dreadlocks which makes him look very intimidating. But, listen to him being interviewed on television and he comes across like he could be a financial analyst for Morgan Stanley. Another quality locker room guy as well. I expect big things.

Another thing I like about this club, we got guys from everywhere on this team. We’ve got white players, black players, guys from Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, and Brazil. The team’s best player and only real super star position player is Juan Soto, who also has the distinction of being the hardest worker on the club. In other words, this ball club seems to have that rarest of commodities...a lack of preening, entitled egomaniacs. I look in that dugout and I see guys who are rooting for each other. None of the men on this roster have ever, to my knowledge, been involved in a domestic violence incident, or other run-in with the law. No DUI’s, steroid allegations, no public tantrums demanding to be traded, that sort of thing. Anymore in professional sports, this is an outlier. 

So, I am excited for what is possible for these Nationals in 2021. If they have a great season, maybe it will teach us all a lesson about what is possible when people of different races and different nationalities work together for a common purpose.

Joe Biden’s First 90 Days

We are coming up on three months since Joe Biden took the oath of office and it occurs to me that I have had nothing to say thus far about his performance. Not that it matters what I think, especially since it is not at all clear that any of you care for my opinions on the subject. But this is 2021 and when it comes to political opinions and blogs, it seems that everyone has one, so here’s mine.

First of all it must be stated that not once over the past 90 days have I been embarrassed by a presidential tweet. While the presidential German Shepard, Major, has had several embarrassing moments, that’s about it in the cringe department. This is a big plus.

As far as Biden’s domestic agenda there have been no surprises. Like the big government guy he has always been, he fancies himself the new FDR, believing that every societal problem facing the country can be dispatched if only we throw enough money at it. Bold Government Action is always the cure. First there was the multi-trillion dollar COVID relief package that sends stimulus checks to millions of Americans who will no doubt use the money to buy that new Peloton they’ve had their eye on, or a new set of irons (both real examples from a couple of friends of mine). But, people are suffering, and it’s only a couple trillion dollars that we don’t have. Then, there’s the famous Infrastructure Bill that redefines infrastructure to mean any and every progressive project ever conceived by the liberal beating heart over the last 50 years. (Sure, free daycare is infrastructure!!). But, all of this is who Joe Biden is and who he has always been. Government led and printing press-funded spending sprees are the way to fix all that ails the human condition. There is more of this sort of thing planned, but you get the picture. Just Joe being Joe.

But in the arena of foreign policy, Joe Biden has been amazing. First off, the recently announced sanctions on Russia for their state sponsored hacking and election skullduggery were long overdue. Finally, we have a President who sees Vladimir Putin for what he is, a totalitarian police state thug. Then there was the announcement yesterday of the President’s decision to pull all U.S. troops out of Afghanistan, ending the Forever War. His two most recent predecessors had stated this as a goal and both failed to follow through. If Joe Biden gets us out of that hell-hole, we will forever be in his debt. In other developments in foreign policy, 90 days have gone by without the President belittling our allies or praising the hidden virtues of the world’s henchmen, another splendid development.

So, my three month report card would look like this:

Domestic Policy....C-

Foreign Policy......A+

Family Dog Behavior....F

Playing With Fire

My wife and kids did a very nice thing for me for my birthday...

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, this is a Weber Spirit 300. My old grill had succumbed to the ravages of overuse, wind, rain and other miscellaneous  tumults of nature. It was a far lesser Weber-Wannabe and I have always wanted to upgrade. It was delivered yesterday. I read every word of the manual...a first for me. In it I was informed that I needed to perform an initial 20 minute burn, whereby I was to light the grill, place it on the highest setting, and close the lid. 

Just short of 600 degrees. My old grill never once hit 500 in nearly ten years of use. Last night for it’s maiden voyage, I decided on hamburgers. Using a new grill for the first time is not always a pleasant experience. Every grill has its own quirks and idiosyncrasies. But the Weber made it easy on me by providing me with this handy cheat sheet...

Their suggestion for hamburgers was followed and they turned out perfectly. As a bonus, the good people at Weber provided me with two other copies of this cheat sheet...in Spanish and French!

I am looking forward to years of delicious meat sizzling on this baby, the smells, the sounds, the carcinogens!

A New Diet

Ok, when I got home from the beach I received a rather rude message from the bathroom scales. It was not altogether unexpected since I did spend the week indulging myself. There were after all, bags of chips, not to mention two dozen Krispi Kreme doughnuts and more adult beverages than normal. I had nurtured the hope that some of the damage would be mitigated by all the walking/running I did all week on the beach, over 12 miles of it...but alas, the digital number staring back at me from the scale was the largest such number ever recorded...202.7 

However, there is good news to report. This morning that same scale says...197.7...the results of this fabulous new diet I’ve discovered. It’s called the, Stop Shoving Everything That Isn’t Nailed Down Into Your Piehole All Day Diet. For me this means no chips, chocolate, ice cream, airheads, or doughnuts. In other words, I only eat at meal time. My only “snack” is an apple or orange once a day. Of course, five days does not an effective diet make, but so far, taking myself off grazing mode has been quite effective. If I can get down to 190 by that blessed day when we leave for Maine, I’ll be thrilled. For those of you keeping score at home that would be 78 days from now.

Speaking of Maine, yesterday we discovered that a beautiful piece of land on Quantabacook came up for sale, 17 acres on the West Bank of the lake. Two problems...we don’t need 17 acres and its on an island, so to come and go would require a boat, which sounds charming but would be annoying after a while. But people...its on one of the most beautiful parts of the lake. Pam has that look in her eyes every time she speaks of it. It would mean, building a house on a piece of land 800 miles away, picking an architectural plan and a contractor. A couple years ago we watched a crew of workers cross the lake every morning building a house on the point of this island. We heard stories of them hauling truckloads of heavy equipment across the frozen lake during the winter. The finished product is beautiful. Our Realtor is scouting out the details as we speak. If this piece of land was on any other lake we wouldn’t even give it a second thought. But...its Quantabacook.

Building a Longer Table

“No matter how well things are going in life, there are always reasons for pessimism.”

Somebody famous said this, I’m sure of it. I just can’t remember who. Nevertheless, it came to my mind this morning as I was catching up on the news. In particular, the familiar story out of Minneapolis involving yet another black man getting shot and killed by a police officer. What’s the deal with Minneapolis? Anyway, as tragic as this shooting is, I will not here adjudicate the case. It’s too early and too much is unknown. However, I would like to discuss one aspect of the case which I, as someone with Libertarian leanings finds appalling. Mr. Daunte Wright, age 20, would still be alive right now if not for the state law of Minnesota which makes the hanging of an air-freshener from the rear view mirror of a vehicle...illegal.

That’s correct. The politicians of the Land of Lakes decided at some point to pass a law making that new car smell against the law. Someone, somewhere in the government of the State of Minnesota thought that air-fresheners hanging from rear view windows posed some sort of public safety risk, a risk that the people of Minnesota needed legislative remedy to mitigate. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I so detest governments. It is one thing to be a nation of laws. It’s entirely another to be a nation drowning in laws. This Air-Freshener Protection Act is the perfect encapsulation of why all legislatures should be part-time. Of course, the fact that police would actually pull someone over for a potential violation of such an absurd law is another question with only troubling answers.  But let’s not take our eye off the ball here...somebody, somewhere thought this a worthy new addition to the legal code of the State of Minnesota. I have no idea how many laws there are on the books up there but the 2020 Minnesota Statutes guide is 648 pages long, so its somewhere in there. Ignorance of the law might be no excuse, but I say that knowledge of the law is nearly impossible anymore. 

Here’s another thing to contemplate. A week or so ago I ran across one of those message board signs people use on the side of the road to advertise something or to put jokes on and whatnot. Can’t remember where I found it, but the message was stunning in its simplicity:

Leave it to the Canadians to post something this great. Many of you upon reading this for the first time and noticing the Canadian origins might have thought that this was about immigration policy. Maybe it is. I saw it differently though. I saw it as a message to individuals, to you and me. I’ve noticed something in my 38 years in the financial planning business. Many times, as people become more and more successful and financially secure they tend to drift towards greater isolation. Gated communities. Exclusive, members-only enclaves. Bigger homes, more land, more privacy. More and more attractive...fences. But how great would it be if wealth had the opposite effect? What if with great prosperity came a greater desire to help those still trying to find their way? What if we all built longer tables? What an amazing thought. But then it dawns on me that I’ve already seen this in action...all my life actually. This is how I grew up. In the house where Emmett and Betty Dunnevant lived there was always an extra plate set for someone. My parents, who never once in their entire lives made more than $45,000 in a year somehow found the resources to feed a long line of troubled people who happened to fall into their sphere of influence. No questions asked, just, “Sit down brother. You look like you could use a good meal.” 

I have tried all of my life to follow their example of generosity. When I have it has been the most rewarding times of my life. When I have failed, when I have clung too tightly to what’s mine, I have grown restless and uneasy. Let’s all find a way to build a longer table.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

And thanks, Canada.

April in Short Pump

Back to the grind today. Actually looking forward to it. I haven’t seen my office peeps in a while due to the recent unpleasantness. I’ve spent quite a lot of time worrying about them. It will be nice to see their faces. What will not be nice for the next couple of weeks is this:

Yes, the middle of April can only mean two things, baseball and pollen are back. This is the table on the deck in my back yard. I sprayed it off late yesterday afternoon, woke up this morning and it looked like this. Yet another reason to wear your masks, people. Can you imagine what the inside of your lungs looks like after a day out in this?

So yesterday was supposed to be the day when my birthday present from the family was delivered, my brand spanking new Weber Spirit 300 gas grill! We got the call from Lowe’s that it was on its way. Pam had made a grocery list for five dinners to cook on the grill. I was psyched. Then the truck arrived and there it was, tethered to the side panels of the truck...the wrong grill. Calls were made back and forth. Their mistake. When would we have the correct grill delivered? Maybe by Thursday. Pam on the phone to Lowe’s: “What am I supposed to do with all these meals I’ve planned that require a grill?? All was not lost though, we did get this:

One last thing...yesterday was probably the worst Master’s of all time. First of all, without the grandstands up, you could see, gasp!, brown patches. Second of all, the greens looked patchy and weedy. But worst of all was the last group of the day which included the eventual winner, the Japanese golfer, Hideki Matsuyama. It took the two of them nearly two hours to play the first six holes. I’ve seen faster play during Octogenarian’s Day at Belmont! Both of these guys need to actually watch footage of themselves taking five minutes to decide whether or not to hit a gap wedge or a sand wedge. Painful. However, this was pretty cool:

Congratulations to Matsuyama and the nation of Japan.

Boring vs. Chaos

We’ve had a wonderful week with perfect weather. Played golf yesterday for the first time in forever, at a beautiful place called Blackmoor. Surprised myself my playing rather well...for 16 holes. The other two holes featured very crooked numbers, but otherwise it was a fun 91.

Today is our last full day. We have no plans. Probably more of the same, late breakfast, lounging around getting ready for the beach, spending time walking and reading on the beach, taking a break for lunch back at the condo, more time on the beach, quality nap time etc. etc...Looking back over that sentence, the reader would be excused for thinking us very boring people. But honestly, with the pace of the past three months and the crazy resent COVID scare at our office, I was kinda looking forward to boring. In fact, now that I think about it, boring gets a bad rap. If the opposite of “boring” is “chaos”, then we all need to give “boring” some respect. Chaos has gotten old.

One more observation about my beautiful wife. Although she will not hesitate to cast out in her paddle board at the lake in Maine when its 40 degrees, down here at the first hint of a breeze off the ocean, this is how she rolls...

Like mother, like daughter. meanwhile, Jon and I were happily enjoying the 70 degrees and bright sunshine! But...check out that awesome beach tote on Pam’s chair. That baby was bought in Camden, Maine at a shop which uses old clipper ship sails to make designer tote bags! It's her go-to bag and always reminds me of the lake.

Having Fun

My family wasn’t able to be together for Easter this year, but my wife put this little thing together to make it feel like we were...

Upper left is Kaitlin and Jon standing on their new front porch in Columbia, South Carolina. Upper right is Patrick and Sarah in front of their church in Nashville, Tennessee. Lower left is the two of us at my sister’s house for an after church picnic. 

Tomorrow morning I am meeting with a couple of clients for an annual review, then I will attempt to play my first round of golf in nearly 9 months. That leaves Pam here at the beach for much of the day to her own devices, since Kaitlin and Jon left to head home after dinner tonight. The rest of the week it will be just the two of us. Lucky for me, she’s my favorite human being, so it should work out quite well!

Already Up To Speed

Made it to Garden City safely and without incident. The condo is nice and clean and smelled of bleach when we walked in which was a huge relief to Pam. Our place is a half mile walk from the Garden City Pier, a monstrous thing that looks like its a quarter mile long. Sunrise this morning was beautiful. Another crystal clear day with high temperatures in the mid to upper 70’s.

We were unaware that South Carolina had recently lifted many COVID restrictions, so when we arrived at Hamburger Joe’s last night it was unsettling to see twenty people waiting outside the place with zero masks and no social distance. The four of us looked like graduates of the Dork Academy standing out in the parking lot. We might as well have had a sign around our necks, “Weenies From Virginia” When we finally got a table, Pam noticed that all of the cooks and waitresses were also maskless. She got that same look on her face she gets whenever I tell her about some hair brained scheme I’ve come up with for killing squirrels. But, as they say, when in Rome. Pretty sure there will be some awesome take out meals in our future! Other than the What, Me Worry approach to public health, everything else down here is beautiful and relaxing. We now have a full pantry and fridge plus an entire week’s weather forecast that features bright sunshine and warmth.

This week also marks the end of our COVID-induced dieting habits, which have included lots of snacks loaded with ingredients that wage war on the waistline. When we get home next week, we will have less than 80 days until Maine. There will be no more salty snacks, no more sugar drenched crunchy things. By the time we leave for the Pine Tree State we will be slim, trim and fit. But this week, our last hurrah will be such delicious fun...

Easter Fashion

Like everything else in this world, fashion is changing. Nowhere can this fact be better illustrated than in the fallen status of the dress suit. When I entered the working world as a recently graduated college student back in 1981, a dress suit was my required uniform. Every day, Monday through Friday, I wore a suit and tie with brightly polished dress shoes. (Of course, I also shared a 10x10 office with a smoker...so there’s that.) Every once in a while when I was feeling frisky I would wear a sport coat and tie with khaki pants. But those were only allowed on the days when I wasn’t scheduled to be meeting with clients. On the weekends, the suits were given a rest. Most Sunday's, I would wear a dress shirt and tie, without the coat, except for the times whenever I was to play the guitar on the stage for someone to sing. Then, it was once again with the suit. My, how times have changed.

These days, I wear a dress shirt and tie maybe once or twice a week at the office, but never a suit. In fact, with the passage of time, there are now only three events where I still wear a suit:

1. Weddings. Yeah, I don’t feel right showing up at a wedding dressed like I just finished a round of golf. It’s hard to imagine a more transformative ritual in all of human life than the joining of a man and a woman in holy matrimony. It seems like one of the still solemn occasions left to modernity. I dress in a suit to communicate the importance of the moment.

2. Funerals.  At the other end of the solemn scale is the ritual that accompanies the passing of a human soul. To this event I never fail to not only wear a suit, but specifically a dark suit. It is a tradition probably as old as death itself, mourning being associated with black clothing. I wear a suit to funerals out of respect not only for the departed, but also for his or her family. Showing up in jeans and a t-shirt would be the very definition of disrespect.

3. Easter Sunday.  Which brings me to this morning. I showed up at Hope Church’s 8:00 am service in my blue seer sucker suit and bright orange tie. As far as I could tell I was the only man in the crowd so bedecked. It doesn’t bother me at all that I was alone in this decision. I am not nor do I ever wish to be in change of the dress code at my church. My feeling is that Easter is a celebratory occasion, the most joyous day on the entire Christian Calendar. If I can’t get dressed to the nines to commemorate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, when on Earth can I??

It always tickles me when I watch old movies and television shows from the 1950’s when every man, no matter his station in life could be seen wearing those thick wool suits with skinny ties. Old Ward Cleaver would come home from a hard day at the office in his three piece suit, then to unwind he would let his freak flag fly by peeling out of the coat and vest, replacing them with a sweater, tie still stubbornly in place. Ward would spend the entire evening this way. Heck, half the time, the dude would still be wearing the sweater and neck tie ensemble while raking the leaves!! One couldn’t help but wonder if he slept with that tie, old June in the twin bed across the way still in her ubiquitous pearls.

So, no, I have no desire to go back to those days. I generally like the less stuffy way we dress now. Far less pretentious fashion nonsense than there used to be. Still, there are some days, like Easter Sunday, when I miss the suits, and those outrageous hats the ladies used to wear back in the day. Easter was about celebrating the return of life and along with that new life, the vibrant colors of Spring plumage. It was a special day which called for special clothes. For me, It still does.

Happy Easter, everyone.

Spring Break Plans

It is a happy coincidence that my birthday usually coincides with Spring Break. It allows me to celebrate by going away somewhere for an entire week. Last year was of course the exception. Like everyone else, our 2020 Spring Break was spent at home, lock-downed, learning to use Zoom. This year will be different. Pam is fully vaccinated, I have had one shot, and for the first time since Maine, we are planning to venture out for a week away near Murrells Inlet. Given the circumstances at my office of late, a week on the beach might be safer!

Here’s the deal though, traveling anywhere during a pandemic is fraught with peril. It won’t be the same. The beach is still the beach, yes. The ocean will be just as beautiful and beguiling, sitting near the water and listening to the waves will be just as comforting. But everything else will be different. How?

1. Crowds

Nobody likes crowds. Especially me. But this year crowds will not only be annoying, but potentially dangerous. I’m thinking if I see a large pack of octogenarians with walkers shuffling along the beach heading in my direction, I’m giving them a wide berth! If the beach in front of our condo looks like one of those Where’s Waldo paintings, we just might stay on the porch!

2. Restaurants

Murrells Inlet is where all the great restaurants on the Grand Strand are located. But I’m not the only one who knows this fact. Although I would love nothing more than a deep dish of shrimp and grits at Drunkin Jack’s, if there’s a two hour wait shoulder to shoulder with that loud blowhard from Jersey along with his maskless family...hard pass. We will have to be selective not only about where we eat, but what time we eat. The avoidance of large crowds of total strangers, half of whom might include people who believe that COVID is a media creation, would seem to be a priority. If we discover that Murrells Inlet is totally overrun with teeming masses of anti-vaxxers, we will hit up the closest Piggly Wiggly and stock up on groceries for the week!

However, despite the risk, we are still going for a week to a beautiful place that has the advantage of not being Short Pump. All of life is, after all, a risk. The living of life is in many ways always been about risk management. To live a risk-free life would not only be impossible, but excruciatingly boring. So yes...after Easter Sunday, we will pack up the car and drive down to this unassuming little place where we will be joined by Kaitlin and Jon for a few days...

Unfortunately, Miss Lucy must remain in Short Pump. She isn’t aware of this sad news yet but might suspect something is up when she is introduced to our newly found pet-sitter tomorrow. Patsy claims to be a dog lover and can’t wait to meet Lucy. Let’s hope she’s a neurotic dog lover!