A Retrospective

One of the benefits and drawbacks of being in your 60’s is the opportunities it gives you to reflect back on your life and take stock of your successes and failures. After all, once you’re 63 or so, you actually have lots of life to examine. You’ve finished some things that younger people are just starting. I’ve already raised two kids and unleashed them on the world. I’ve built a business and made it work for 40 years. I’m on my third Golden Retriever. I survived open heart surgery at 45 and a host of other setbacks without giving in to excessive cynicism or bitterness. I married the right woman and am still in love with her and her with me against all odds. This is not to say that I didn’t make mistakes along the way. On the contrary, perhaps my most valuable skill has been the ability to overcome those mistakes, the miscalculations, the occasional poor choices, the lapses in judgement that are the byproducts of every active life.

A while back I had a friend ask me what I thought the secret to my relatively successful life has been. I think he was hoping for a recipe, a secret sauce, some clever one sentence formulation that could fit on an index card, something he could memorize and repeat as a mantra. Unfortunately I had no good answer for him, primarily because it is an impossible question. What role does fate or luck play in the story? I don’t think I actually know the complete and accurate answer to any question that seeks to get at the secret of success. First of all, its not a secret. There are thousands of men and women far more notable and successful than me who have already told their stories. However, I do think that some things work for some people but not others. There are many routes to success, some more noble than others. Some harder than others. Some people because of education, environment and aptitude have to overcome so much more than others who might have entered the world with the unearned advantages of wealth, class and race. Yet, there are countless stories of people born wealthy who ended up as dumpster fires. Equally, there are legendary tales of Horacio Alger over-comers who started with nothing yet ended up spectacularly successful. So, as the kids like to say…it’s complicated.

But, I have been giving this some thought, particularly since I entered my 40th year of business. I have tried to make a list of the things, ideas, and people who have contributed to keeping me out of jail and poverty. I’ve come up with many things, some that I had almost forgotten from so long ago. I’ve decided to write them down and share them with this audience. But before I proceed, a word of caution.

Many of the items on this list might not work for everyone. Although I do believe in the universal, transcendent nature of many truths, experience has taught me that there are exceptions to just about everything. Another thing, I don’t want to present myself as some sort of paragon of virtue. I have more than my share of flaws. At the same time, there is nothing quite so off-putting as false modesty. I have come to believe that my story, flaws and all, might be helpful to someone out there just starting out in the adult world, and the older I have gotten the more important I think it has become to help others do well and live well. So, I present what follows as a list of things that have worked for me. Do with them what you will. They are listed in no particular order of importance. 

1. Family. My parents were not wealthy. Neither are Pam’s. When my parents both passed away there was very little of monetary value bequeathed to me. It will be the same when Pam’s folks pass. When I was growing up we didn’t have a lot, although I never considered myself poor. However, I never once doubted two crucial things from my childhood, my parents loved me and they loved each other. This, I was absolutely sure about. This gift was of incalculable worth. It made me feel safe and secure. It allowed me to develop a positive self image—I knew I was valuable because I came from a house full of people who loved and cared for me. They gave me the gift of a hierarchy that was simple and undisputed. They were in charge. They were the boss of me. They set rules and expected them to be followed. Although I didn’t always obey, and their rules could be inconvenient and irritating, it was comforting to know that there were rules. I desperately needed them.

2. Manners. I’m not totally sure that I’m using the right word here, but manners will have to do. My parents taught me a long list of behaviors that I was expected to master. These were things that I never would have stumbled upon by accident one day, these were things that I had to be taught, and my mother especially was an unforgiving teacher. Most of them concerned how we were to speak to people, especially adults. Yes Sir. No Ma’am. Thank You. Please. May I? Mister, Miss, Mrs. Look people in the eye when speaking to them. Always eat what is put in front of you when at someone else’s house. But aside from all these rules there was also the issue of respect for all human beings. My parents made sure at a very young age that I was disabused of the notion that I was better or worse than anyone else. “God created all of us in his own image,” they would always say. “Just because someone has money and dresses better than you doesn’t mean they are better than you. And just because someone may be from another country or from another race doesn’t mean that they aren’t as good as you.” Some of what I was taught, especially by my dad might sound outdated and misogynistic to modern ears, “Son, never hit a girl. Never raise your hand against anyone weaker than you. Always open a door for a lady.”

3. Effort. My dad had a saying, Anything worth doing is worth doing well. I soon discovered the truth of this when it came to sports. You can coach someone to become a good ballplayer, but you can’t teach someone how to hustle. There is a long list of things in life that we can’t control. Effort is the one great exception and the greatest equalizer in all of life. I was told over and over when I was a kid that more often than not the person who wins in this life is the person who wants it more. I grew up believing that I might get out-thought, out-smarted and out-maneuvered, but I should never ever get out-worked.

4. Education Never Ends. I wasn’t a great student at any level, grade school, high school or college. It bored me and I was impatient to get started and felt that sitting in a class all day was an obstacle to overcome. But I quickly learned that if I was going to make anything at all of myself I was going to have to constantly expand the universe of knowledge at my disposal. For that reason I have been a lifelong reader of nearly everything I can get my hands on. I have found that knowing more about the world and everything in it helps you to appreciate life and its boundless possibilities. It also builds within your heart an empathy for others. It helps you develop courage when you read of the courage of others, strength when you learn of the strength of others. It brings a greater perspective about life, helps you to become a better, more well rounded human being.

5 Faith. My parents introduced me to the Christian faith when I was very young. As I grew in my knowledge and understanding of that faith it began to inform the way I chose to live. It still today is at the core of how I see the world and how I understand my place in it. It has taught me the importance of taking care of the downtrodden. It has instilled in me a sense of responsibility for my neighbor not just my own narrow self interest. It has supplied me with guardrails to stay between if I want to live a productive life, don’t commit adultery, honor your parents, don’t steal, bear false witness against others, and a host of others. It has given me an understanding that there are much more important things in this life than my own wants and desires. I am placed in this world to be a blessing to others. I am here to be the hands and feet of Jesus whenever I can. I am asked to deny myself, take up my cross and follow Christ, a lot harder to do than to say, but a noble and worthy goal. I am one of the most imperfect and inconsistent Christians I know. I have a nasty temper, my language can be rough, I have a sometimes irreverent sense of humor and an argumentative manner. But the love and grace of Jesus has covered me in a blanket of forgiveness, so I press on because his mercies are new every morning.

6. Generosity. I honestly believe that whatever success God has allowed me to experience has one main goal attached to it and that is to free me up to be more generous with each passing year. Actually I’m absolutely positive about this fact. It’s the only thing that makes sense. There is no greater thrill than to be able to help someone who is struggling, especially when its through no fault of their own. To be able to give, to help, especially without them knowing about it is as great a feeling as there is in this life. The more you give, the greater you feel, and the greater you feel the more you want to give.

Ok, this is my list. Every one of them has been important to me and each of them has played a role in any success I have been able to enjoy in my life. But, here’s the thing. None of them are easy. All of them are difficult to stay good at, each are easy to forget. I haven’t always practiced what I am preaching by publishing this list. But this is the standard I have tried to reach for. Some days are better than others. Some years are better than others. No matter, these are the stars upon which I map my course.

The Good Guys are Winning…So Far

At this point of the unfolding story in Ukraine—Monday morning the 28th of February at 7:34—there are many encouraging developments. The Russian military machine has proven to be about as dependable as your old 1975 Chevette. Instead of a Blitzkrieg their advance has been slowed to a crawl by fuel shortages, lack of continuity and an inability to establish control of the air. But mostly their goals of conquest have been thwarted by the Ukrainian armed forces, a bad-ass citizenry, and a heroic young leader. The combination of all three has produced a world wide wave of support for their cause and an equally unanimous condemnation of Vladimir Putin that has reached every corner of the globe except the far right of the Republican Party. The world loves an underdog and most of the world at least identifies with the victims of aggression, not the perpetrators of aggression.

Which brings me to what for me has been the most positive development of the past week and that is the sea change that has jolted Europe awake from its naïveté. Suddenly, the heroic actions of Ukrainians has inspired countries like Poland, Latvia, Lithuania and even France and Germany to actually step up to help. Germany is sending tons of military equipment for the first time in forever. Aid and money and even troop deployments have followed. After a halting start, caution has been thrown to the wind with the imposition of sanctions—the real kind that hurt—not some slap on the wrist half steps. Europe, for what seems like the first time in my adult life, hasn’t been waiting around for Uncle Sam to do all the heavy lifting in the defense of one of their own. In fact, our own response has been prodded along by trying to keep up with the newfound backbone of the Europeans. Biden seems always to be behind the curve of the response level needed. For some what I have just described will sound like a diminishment of American power and prestige. For me this is the greatest news in the area of foreign policy I’ve had in ages. Finally, America isn’t the world’s policeman, the first and last resort. Finally, Europe is taking the lead to try and solve a European problem. Finally, NATO is operating like something other than a proxy for the United States military.

Although this conflict isn’t even a week old at this point and the numbers on the ground still heavily favor the invading Russians, the momentum seems to be firmly on the side of the defenders of democracy. And at this point those defenders are 100% Ukrainian. Their courage, tenacity, and unity of purpose has been an inspiration to the world. It has even moved the pacifist hearts of Europe to action. This borders on the miraculous. Many dangers remain. Putin is on a path that leads to humiliation—always a dangerous corner in which to push an autocrat with a nuclear arsenal. Hit squads are apparently in Ukraine tasked with assassinating Zelensky. The military tide may still turn if the lumbering Russian military finds its stride. But, as of this morning Ukraine is winning, Europe is winning, and we are winning by keeping our military out of the conflict.

“I Don’t Need a Ride, I Need Ammo”

Just in case there are any American politicians reading this blog, this is what leadership looks like…

“The fight is here. I don’t need a ride, I need ammo.”

This guy isn’t perfect. He’s had an uneven presidency, made his share of mistakes. Furthermore, by the time you read this, he might be dead. But here’s what I know about Volodymyr Zelensky—confronted with the worst possible scenario, this man has had the courage of a lion and has given a master class in how to rally a beleaguered country. Rarely has there been a combination of eloquence and physical bravery demonstrated by a head of State in modern times, since Churchill during the Blitz. This man is the man of the hour for Ukraine. God bless and protect him and give grace to the Ukrainian army.

One more thing that I hope my countrymen have noticed which I will say without elaboration…this man is 44 years old.

Good News and Bad News

So this falls into the category of good news/bad news, delivered to me by the United States Postal Service yesterday when I received the latest edition of Down East Magazine. On the cover of this fabulous periodical was a picture of Main Street of the winning town in their annual contest—Best Places to Live in Maine…

When Pam and I go to Maine, there are two towns we spend a lot of time in mostly because they are both roughly the same distance from the lake where we live. These two towns are both wonderful, quaint and endlessly charming places to spend a morning, afternoon or evening and they are both on the ocean. One is Camden, the other is pictured in this photograph—Belfast, Maine.

 

The good news is that this award is well deserved. Belfast is a wonderful place filled with great shops and restaurants and a variety of quirky co-ops and breathtaking views around every corner. The bad news is that with this added publicity now more people than ever will want to move here, which will send real estate prices skyward—the very last thing you need when you’re trying to buy a lake house.

Just in case you’re curious, I have circled below all the different lakes we have rented cabins on over the years. The one with double circles is our beloved Quantabacook.

Our crack real estate agent, Tiffany Ford, sent me a text this week saying, “I’m feeling like we’re going to find your lake house this year.”  When I asked on what she was basing this optimism her answer was, “Because I feel it.” This is in sharp contrast to my feeling that I have never been more discouraged about our chances, to which she cracked in that quintessential Maine way—“Stop being a pessimist!!”

What Guts Looks Like

And now for your daily dose of bravery. This Ukrainian women delivers the goods…

She walks up to this random Russian soldier and demands to know, “What the f**k are you doing here in our land with all these guns?” The soldier then tells her to move along but she persists, “You’re occupants, you’re fascists.” The soldier responds that their discussion will lead to nothing and once again tells her to leave. Then the woman puts some kind of Ukrainian curse on him and hands him a small bag of sunflower seeds—the national flower of Ukraine—and drops the mic with this, “Take these seeds and put them in your pocket. That way at least flowers will grow where you die here.”

I nominate this amazing woman for the Nobel Peace Prize.

What Was Old is New Again

The images of tanks streaming into Ukraine this morning is a visceral reminder that what was old is new again. These were the images that our fathers grew up with. Back then it was grainy black and white news reels between shows at the movies, screaming headlines in dark black letters splashed across the newspapers. Now, my Apple Watch buzzes me awake with the notification that war has begun in Eastern Europe. I come downstairs and see the live stream from the border, rows of military vehicles, spent missile fragments in town squares cordoned off with police tape, long lines of Ukrainian men signing up for military service, silver streaks across the sky then a flash of orange in the distance followed by billows of black smoke. I listen to some official at the UN holding a live press conference talking about solidarity, contingency plans and a virtual summit meeting scheduled for later today.

I read of the denunciations coming in from all over the world, from practically every country I’ve ever heard of including my own. My President calls it an “unprovoked and unjustified attack” that will result in “catastrophic loss of life.” Leaders of Europe are talking about severe sanctions and economic isolation, to which Vladimir Putin’s reaction so far seems to be communicated clearly in this photograph…

Now we all will get to see what happens when the New World Order meets an Old World strongman with nuclear weapons. Maybe Putin overreaches. Maybe the Ukrainian military surprises him by their fighting spirit. Maybe he has vastly overestimated his strength. Maybe the sanctions eventually prove too much for his backwater economy to handle. Maybe he pulls back. But, there’s another possibility. Maybe he succeeds and within months or even weeks, Ukraine falls. Will that be enough to assuage his appetite for conquest? Or will he then turn his eyes towards other former Soviet client states like Lithuania, Latvia, or Georgia? Then what?

Whatever happens, we better get used to seeing photographs like this of a woman injured by an air strike in Kharkiv…

Knowing exactly what to do in moments like this is far beyond my education, training and experience. I wouldn’t know where to begin in crafting a response. Geopolitics is beyond my pay grade. All I know is that I don’t want to see pictures like this one where the bloody face is an American Marine. But still, the heart goes out to the innocent civilians who will absorb the brunt of Putin’s ego trip. My heart is with the Ukrainian military who will muster their defense against an overwhelming, hostile force. And my prayers this morning are for the leaders of my country that they will find the wisdom to make the right call in response.

My Wife Saves the Day

Here we go…

Russian tanks enter Ukraine on Tuesday, 2/22/22, the very same day that my wife celebrates this numerically significant date by wearing a tutu to school.  

Something tells me I will never forget this day and what I was doing the morning that Vladimir Putin launched his campaign to reintroduce Russian power and control over Eastern Europe. I was worried, concerned about the impact of events on the markets and my clients. I was consumed with reading everything I could find about the situation on the ground in Donetsk. I was checking out the overnight numbers from Hong Kong and Japan, the early morning movement in London and Paris. Then, Pam came down the stairs…

Ladies and gentlemen, there are times in this life when the day is saved by the serendipitous. One of the founding pastors of my church, Pete Bowell likes to say, “You go nowhere by accident.” Well, this morning it was no accident that my wife came downstairs looking for all the world like a blond sunflower. I went from existential angst to whimsical delight in an instant. A verse I just read from Psalm 30 came to mind—Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Then, from this morning’s reading in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun…”

There have been Vladimir Putins in the world since the dawn of time. Naked power grabs by the strong against the weak are practically a proverb. This too shall pass and when it does, the lasting memory I will take from it will not be of a Russian tank silhouetted in the predawn mist, but of my amazing wife creating for her students a very special day.

Who Won?

What follows is from a text conversation I had with my daughter yesterday. I was attempting to explain to this child why all of her many wonderful traits were bequeathed to her by my superior genes. She countered with the assertion that many of her best qualities probably came from her mother. As an example she brought up…poise.

Who won this argument?

A Very Jon Thing

The women in my family have a Marco Polo account that the men are prohibited from participating in—a blessing of incalculable worth. Everyone knows that the quickest way to ruin any social media tool is to open it up to men. Anyway, Pam let me watch my daughter’s most recent contribution this morning in which she told the following harrowing tale.

At two o’clock in the morning, Jon and Kaitlin were awakened by the shrill piercing sound of sirens, several of them coming from somewhere very close. Soon the house was flooded with blue flashing lights. They both stumbled out of bed only to discover that their culdesac was full of police cruisers and their own driveway was blocked by a strange Jeep. Jon opened the front door and walked out onto his front porch. It was then that he noticed one of the police officers approaching the Jeep with his weapon extended! Suddenly my daughter’s peaceful culdesac looked like a scene from Criminal Minds.

For the next two hours the drama continued to unfold. A canine unit arrived unleashing bloodhounds into their backyard! Apparently, there had been a pursuit of the Jeep-driving suspect which had ended with the driver stopping directly in front of Kaitlin and Jon’s house, after which the suspect fled the scene and according to the neighbors security camera, made his escape through their backyard, jumping the fence twice and disappearing into the thick woods. The police were never able to find him, soon after jumping their fence, the trail went cold rather quickly, suggesting that he may have been picked up by an accomplice.

But as crazy as this story is, this isn’t the purpose of this particular blog post. No, the best part of the story was a small detail that Kaitlin shared that actually made me smile. During the midst of the drama playing out in his yard, my son in law did something so typical of him, so uniquely a Jon thing, that I have to share it. With police officers crawling all over the place outside, Jon quietly made his way back into the kitchen. There he prepared a tray of freshly brewed coffee with containers of sugar and several flavors of creamer, walked outside and presented the tray to the grateful police officers at 3 am in the morning, in the middle of an active investigation. Who in the world does that? My son in law, that’s who. This dude can always be counted on to disappear in the middle of a crisis and reappear with help in his hands. I could tell you one story after another of times where something like this has happened. He has a knack for it, a natural proclivity for thoughtfulness. We have a word for it in my family…clutch. 

Ladies and gentlemen, Jon Manchester is clutch.

Sometimes You Need a Little King James

So, the other day I finally made it to the book of Psalms. On that same day I had an appointment with a client down in Charles City, so I was in for a 55 minute drive down and another 55 minutes back, an excellent opportunity to use the audio book feature and knock out a couple days worth of reading. As soon as I got on 295 I hit play and the voice of a 20-something guy began reading Psalm 1 to me from the quite enjoyable translation called The Message…

“How well God must like you. You don’t walk in the ruts of those blind-as-bats, you don’t stand with the good-for-nothings, you don’t take your seat among the know-it-alls…”

Ok, here’s the thing—I like The Message. It has been an enjoyable read. It’s modern, conversational and easier to understand. But, something about this passage clicked something in me that said, “wait, wait…what?” There are some parts of the Bible that don’t sound right to me unless they are in the old King James Version. The reason is simple, it was the translation of my youth, the version of the Bible from which I memorized scripture as a child. Consequently, when I come to familiar passages like the one in Psalm 1 anything else sounds weird and not altogether right. So..because I’m a weird dude…I pulled over to the side of a busy highway so I could change the translation to the King James Version for the rest of my trip. When I hit the play button I was blown away. Instead of the nice kid who had been reading the message in his freckle-faced monotone, I was greeted by the deep baritone of some Shakespearean actor with a rich and majestic British accent…

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.”

A big smile appeared on my face as I thought, “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

For the rest of my trip I was treated to all the elegant words I’ve been missing, spoken to me by a guy who sounds like he might be God himself! 

“For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: But the way of the ungodly shall perish.”

You bet it will! And hearing this guy tell me, I have no choice but to believe it!

“Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?”

Why indeed??!!

Look, as soon as I get through Psalms, and thanks to that road trip I almost am, I will go back to The Message. It has been a pleasure reading it so far. But, sometimes man…you just need yourself some King Jimmy, baby.

P.J. O’Rourke. 1947-2022

I got the news that P.J. O’Rourke passed away late this afternoon. Although I knew he was battling cancer, I had assumed he was winning. His death feels like a blow, a loss of someone important to me. No writer has had a more enlightening and hilarious impact on my thinking than O’Rourke, although I’m sure that most of you have never heard of him. Here’s a clue of how much he meant to me…

He was that writer with the rarest of gifts, the ability to seamlessly combine cynicism with joy. His ability to illustrate the absurdities of life while still maintaining a zest for life made him unique. It was O’Rourke who first persuaded me to consider a Libertarian view of politics, usually right after I had composed myself from laughing out loud at something he had written. This juxtaposition of wit and substance was not an accident. It’s exactly who he was. 

I was first introduced to him through his work at National Lampoon back during my college days. He would later become a foreign correspondent for Rolling Stone, for which his dispatches from some of the worst war torn hell-holes on the planet were legendary. But then, Parliament of Whores came out and I was dazzled. Soon after came Give War a Chance, then All the Trouble in the World and Eat the Rich. Each new book seemed better than the previous one. Half the time you couldn’t tell who he hated more, the socialist left or the war-monger right. He had the singular gift of unflinching honesty, which meant that whenever he was confronted by the absurdities of a political view he at one time held, he would gleefully rip himself. His famous line was, “ One of the problems with being a writer is that all of your idiocies are still in print somewhere. I strongly support paper recycling."

Only ten of his books have survived to live on the shelf in this photograph. All the others—there were twenty in all—were either loaned out and never given back, given away, or live on in a dusty box in the attic in obedience to my strict no paperbacks library rule. Somewhere up there is Republican Party Reptile, yet another classic.

In closing I’ve collected several of my favorite P.J. Witticisms from his over fifty years of writing incredibly witty things…

“Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely.

It's better to spend money like there's no tomorrow than to spend tonight like there's no money.

There are no kinder or better people in the world than those who listen to you when you are 18.

Everybody wants to save the world but nobody wants to help mom with the dishes.

There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences.

Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.

If government were a product, selling it would be illegal.

There is no virtue in compulsory government charity, and there is no virtue in advocating it.

When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators.

Microeconomics is about money you don't have, and macroeconomics is about money the government is out of.

The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn't work and then they get elected and prove it.

We had a choice between Democrats who couldn't learn from the past and Republicans who couldn't stop living in it.

Politicians are interested in people. Not that it is always a virtue. Fleas are interested in dogs.

Never wear anything that panics the cat.”

RIP, P.J. O’Rourke

The Invasion of Ukraine…a Primer

A tumultuous week ahead, as the world faces the imminent prospect of war in Eastern Europe. Russia gives every indication that it intends to launch an invasion of the independent nation of Ukraine with the 130,000 plus troops that it has assembled on three sides of its border. If this happens, death and destruction will follow, along with turbulence in financial markets all over the world, including sharp increases in the price of oil and other commodities. Of course, the possibility exists that Vladimir Putin is bluffing or some eleventh hour combination of concessions/ face-saving exit strategy will be cobbled together. Although this is unlikely, it is not impossible, and if the crisis were to be averted, those same financial markets would skyrocket in jubilation and relief. Such is the nature of high stakes geopolitical gamesmanship.

Regardless of the outcome, life will go on. The prices of equities and commodities will eventual revert to the mean once the emotions of the moment fade. My views on what the role of the United States should be in this situation have been articulated here many times and will not be repeated. But, my heart goes out to the citizens of Ukraine, those whose lives and fortunes lay in the path of Russian tanks and infantry. The fact that Europe has endured this sort of thing on a ghastly scale twice in the past 90 years is noteworthy in that it has failed to deter the aggressor or properly motivate the intended victim in this case. In other words, instead of learning from history, mankind once again seems destined to repeat it. Russia, who lost more people to the ravages of 20th century wars than any nation on earth seems particularly undeterred by this sad fact. But what of Europe? Where is their urgency to prevent such naked aggression? They seem to feel like it is somehow the responsibility of NATO—by any measure a proxy for the United States—to prevent an outbreak of war, although Ukraine is not a part of NATO. 

What of Poland? Romania? Hungary and Czechoslovak-Slovakia? All of these countries used to be a part of the old Soviet Union, and are the focus of Putin’s ambition. While he is no Communist and doesn’t long for a return to that disaster, he is a nationalist and longs for a return to Russian hegemony and dominance over Eastern Europe. In other words, he’s your basic garden variety despot who wants to gobble up anything he thinks belongs to Mother Russia. None of this should come as a surprise to anyone with even an entry level understanding of the history of civilization—not to mention anyone who is spending time reading through the Bible! Modernity has not repealed the laws of power. All of our vane ideas of woke-ness, all of our naive assumptions of some new world order of enlightenment fall to pieces when confronted with a couple divisions of infantry in the hands of motivated Nationalist. To quote that great philosopher, Mike Tyson, “everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

Super Bowl Thoughts

I have an on-again, off-again relationship with professional football. Sometimes I watch, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I care, most of the time, I don’t. I much prefer the college game because it’s more fun. The professional version is too often consumed with Rushmore-sized egos and political preachiness for my tastes. However, like most Americans, I pay attention to the Super Bowl. This year, especially so because of one player…Joe Burrow.

My introduction to the NFL happened when I was eleven years old and this super cool, swaggering quarterback named Joe Namath guaranteed a victory. He played for the New York Jets, perhaps the biggest underdog in the history of the SB. The Baltimore Colts were better at practically every position, so Namath’s cocky guarantee was all that anyone was talking about in the days leading up to the game, and I was mesmerized. Well, Joe pulled it off and became a legend. Now, another Joe is on the scene and although he hasn’t guaranteed anything, he has the swagger, the cool, and the talent. It’s all very Namath-esk. He even has the same swag…

So, for today, I am a Bengal fan because of Joe Burrow. The Rams are a better team. They should win going away. But, there’s something about this kid that tells me to watch the game. Something special might be about to happen.

Plus, I will be pulling for the Bengals because they are playing a team from…Los Angeles. Why is it that I so detest any team from Tinsle-Town? It’s the city of Stars. It’s where every athlete with a big ego wants to play. The Rams are a team loaded with stars, but so is every other professional team from LA. The Lakers, the Dodgers…all full of big stars. I hate it. Like everything else from the west coast it seems fake, contrived and artificial. Ram fans have the attention span of jellyfish. They are in the stands up until the minute when they get distracted by whatever new thing turns their heads. Half of them probably became fans like ten minutes ago. All the beautiful people will get screen time during the broadcast today. The announcers will gush, “Many stars out tonight, Bob. There’s Ben Afflack. Oh..and is that J-Lo?” Sure enough, there she will be sipping her mimosa from the luxury of her private suite—the quintessential football image from the City of Angels. Barf…

Yeah, so…GO JOE!  

Bengals 31

Rams 28

Context is Everything

One of the great comedic opportunities of everyday life is overhearing someone, or being overheard, completely out of context. The possibilities are endless. 

As my wife and I sat in a restaurant one morning, she announced to me, at the precise moment our waitress happened by, “He didn’t sleep with me last night—I really hope he sleeps with me tonight.”

            The “I don’t think I was supposed to hear that,” amused-but-quizzical look that appeared on our waitress’s face made me laugh so hard I almost choked on my omelet. She didn’t realize my wife was talking about our cat, Otis.

            Context is everything.

            Another time, I passed by just as an irritated woman snapped into her cellphone, “What do you mean, ‘Is Kyle still in a coma?’ Kyle’s never been in a coma!’”

            I would love to know the context for that one.

            I thought about this recently as I tried to understand and appreciate some of the things Jesus said, because without context I often don’t do a very good job of either one.

            One of his best-known parables is the one about the good Samaritan. For years, I thought of it as a nice story about an unlikely hero. Then I learned a little about how the Jews Jesus was telling to story to really felt about Samaritans. There’s a long territorial and historical backdrop, but suffice it to say that most Jews thought Samaritans worshipped God wrong, were unskilled and uneducated, weren’t true Israelites, and were likely half-breeds, too. One of the worst insults a first-century Jew could hurl at someone was to call them a Samaritan (which the crowds later did to Jesus himself). Maybe the best analogy I can come up with is how many Americans today feel about members of Isis.

            So, Jesus hits the crowd with a story about some very upright priests and ministers who are too busy doing “important” things and so won’t stop to help a man in distress—but a Samaritan who goes above and beyond to show God’s love to a fellow human. The parable had to shock and offend his listeners. 

            It also underscores the completely radical way Jesus presents faith for his followers, something I often and easily lose in much of what he says and does.

            And if accepting and praising a filthy Samaritan wasn’t enough, Jesus goes here, too: No one actually enjoys paying taxes, but in Jesus’ day it was especially hated because of the people who served as tax collectors. The much-hated occupying Roman forces hired your friends and neighbors to collect your cash, and they made their living by gouging you. The Romans didn’t offer a salary and benefits package; tax collectors overcharged you and kept as much of your money as they could. As a result, most of them were wealthy, which further separated them from the general population. They weren’t just disliked because they were IRS agents, they were unanimously reviled as traitors, backstabbers and cheats. 

            So, Jesus makes a point of having meals with and befriending them and even invites one to join his most intimate band of disciples. Again, this had to be shocking and offensive to most everyone. Many of us have grown up thinking of Jesus as the ultimate nice guy, but “shocking and offensive” was often his M.O, as he made room for society’s worst outcasts and forced folks to rethink their lives. It’s a hard lesson, both for first-century types and for us.

            Just a few days ago, I heard a woman I know telling someone something about “exposing myself.” Turns out they were talking about COVID. Context is, indeed, everything.

 

            

This is How my Wife Rolls

So, a few weeks ago my wife agreed to join the board of the Wythe Trace Homeowners Association in the capacity of Secretary in charge of communications and other stuff. At the time, I felt a great disturbance in the force. I knew full well what this meant. My wife was given a task and the authority to complete that task which could only mean one thing—Pam Dunnevant’s skills were about to be released at Death-Com 5, meaning that each night after dinner she would pull out her laptop and get to work recreating the world of homeowner association communications for decades to come.

First, she took a look at the WTHA Facebook page and mumbled, “Oh no…this won’t do.” She went to work redesigning the thing, making it “more fun” Now, the new and improved version has 55 members and ten times more engagement. Then she turned her almost creepy laser focus to the business of creating a newsletter. The inaugural edition of which was sent out last night…The Wythe Trace Times.

I fully admit to my biases where my wife is concerned. I consider her one of the most creative and talented people in the universe. Any person or organization that has benefitted from her gifts would offer no argument. She sent me a copy of the final product late last night and I just now opened it this morning. Even I, someone who should not at all have been surprised, was blown away…

Pam decided that what the newsletter needed was a special section to devoted to pets. Taking the liberties that go along with responsibility, she volunteered to demonstrate for everyone what she had in mind…(notice the friendly poop reminder!)

Of course, we do have an association and as such, there are rules. Leave it to Pam to make even that seem benign…(Covenant Corner, indeed!)

So, yeah. This is my wife, a woman who has not had one second of computer graphics training, or computer background of any kind, yet this is how she rolls.

February…God’s Only Mistake?

I am firmly in the grip of February. I have written many times of the phenomenon that is the second month of the Gregorian calendar. It is the month best known for an Al Capone inspired massacre in Chicago, which tells you everything you need to know. It is the shortest month of the year that feels like the longest. It has the worst weather. It is the month when football ends and baseball hasn’t started yet. Spring is not just around the corner. Enduring February is like standing in a line at the DMV for a month…you’re waiting for something, you just can’t remember what. There’s Valentine’s Day, which feels like a cruel joke. By the time President’s Day comes around you can hardly contain the euphoria. Of course this year we have the Winter Olympics to distract us. Yes, that international sporting event run this year by Communist China which features empty stands, crying athletes and isolation hotels. Perfect.

This year it just so happens that February has me reading Biblical history, the sort found in 1st and 2nd Kings, 1st and 2nd Chronicles. This seems right and proper. There’s lots of names, lists of stuff I could have sworn I just read last week, repetition of stories already told. Like Groundhog Day, another February staple, whereby we are asked to believe that how much more winter we must endure hangs on whether or not Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow. Its as if the entire universe has lost its collective mind. This morning my weatherman warned of something called freezing fog and I thought, why not?

I realize that this all sounds quite defeatist. You are probably thinking that I need to adjust my attitude, try to accentuate the positive, start viewing the glass as half full. I tried that, but the thing slipped out of my hand, water went everywhere, and I sliced my foot open on the broken glass. 

Then, there’s Leap Year, a perfectly Februrarian kind of thing. Could something that happens once every four years— which confuses everyone and serves no discernible purpose beyond screwing people born on that day out of a proper birthday—happen in any other month? No.

But, no matter how pointless February is, every year it shows up right on time. Each year I end up writing a snarky blog about it, and each year I make it through. I’ve always thought that if I ever end up coming down with COVID it would be in February because…well, just because. Come to think of it, my last colonoscopy was in February. I’m due another one, Pam keeps reminding me. The irony involved in getting colonoscopies in February are truly cosmic.

Valentine’s Day Planning

Valentine’s Day is one week from tomorrow. This means that I am in the idea creation phase of the planning process. Since this will be the 37th Valentine’s Day we have celebrated as a married couple, that means that I have had lots of ideas over the years. Some were great, others were disastrous. Here, I am thinking of the time I put a table and chairs next to the fireplace in the living room to make it look like a restaurant, and made a fancy dinner from scratch which included homemade cappuccino brownies. I don’t even remember what the dinner was like but those brownies were disgusting!

Then, there was the time when we both made separate trips to Hallmark looking for the perfect card and ended up buying the same one.

Last week, I sent Pam one of the Holderness Family videos which I thought was funny. It was called “Chores Are Sexy”. In the video they made fun of cheesy things like chocolates and flowers as V-Day presents, preferring doing chores as the ideal gift. Pam’s response was swift and decisive, “There is nothing romantic OR sexy about doing chores! I love chocolates and flowers!” Duly noted.

So, I will put my imagination to work trying to come up with something fun and unique. To serve as motivation I will keep the following photograph front and center…

This isn’t a picture of us when we were kids and didn’t know anything. No, this was taken on the day of our daughter’s wedding, 30 years in. We had endured all the pressure and expense associated with the weeks and months leading up to an event as big as a wedding when the photographer snapped this one. Just look at her, heck…look at us. I’m not sure either of us has taken a better picture since. I look at this and I think, those two people belong together. We have taken on the best and worst that life has offered us and made it through together. There may be a few wrinkles here and there. We made our share of mistakes along the way, but we still belong to each other. For better or for worse. Luckily for me its mostly been a whole lot of better.

Now, if I can just come up with an idea that doesn’t involve cappuccino brownies.

In The Bleak Mid-Winter

Highlights and lowlights of my week:

Made it through 1st and 2nd Kings in my 90 day read through the Bible, the upshot of which seemed to be that morally corrupt and incompetent leadership is the rule of civilization, not the exception, offering further evidence against seeking earthly power over spiritual faithfulness—as if we needed any further proof. Even a casual reading of the history of the kings of Israel and Judah makes you wonder why they didn’t at some point say…Wait a second, why don’t we try a woman?

Business is booming which means that paperwork is booming and along with it, opportunities for mistakes. As a consequence, stress level is on the rise.

My daughter and her husband both came down with COVID. Although their symptoms have not at all been pleasant, neither have they been hospitalized, neither is on a respirator. Thanks, vaccines. Kaitlin had it first and just about the time she was getting better, Jon got it. Then something heartwarming happened. My GrandPup, Jackson demonstrated why it is that human beings don’t deserve dogs. When Kaitlin was the sickest of the two, he wouldn’t leave her side, insisting on snuggling up close to her wherever she happened to be. But as soon as she improved, it was Jon’s turn to be on the receiving end of the incessant snuggles…

It’s at times like these when we miss living in the same city as our kids. We can’t cook them a meal, we can’t run errands for them. All Pam could think to do was send them a Door Dash gift card. It stinks.

In other miserable February news, I made my first Winter canvassing of the back yard, spending nearly an hour gathering fallen tree branches, pine cones and a full grocery bag full of Lucy’s bowel movements—always a rollicking good time.

BREAKING NEWS***

THIS JUST IN…My other GrandPup Frisco, just made his first trip to Old Navy where he behaved like a champ and made a new friend. Then he got rewarded with a quick trip to the dog park where he posed for pics and was available for autographs…

Meanwhile, here at home, when asked what she thought about the job I did tidying up her back yard, Lucy replied, “About time…and where is my after dinner treat?”

Racism in the NFL???

Generally, I have always hated any type of quotas in the area of hiring. Any criteria for hiring someone which is other than the most qualified candidate for the job is in my opinion a fool’s errand. A perfect example is President Biden coming out and saying that his nominee for the next Supreme Court Justice will be a black woman. Why would he say such a thing? Why not just nominate a black woman? By announcing to the world that his only candidates for the position would be limited to black women, he has unnecessarily called into question the qualifications of whoever he picks, who will forever be labeled the quota pick. So, yeah…not a fan of box checking. However…and life is all about the however’s, there are times when you look around and have to ask, what the heck is going on here? Take the National Football League for example.

Former head coach of the Miami Dolphins, Brian Flores has filed suit against the New York Giants and the NFL for racial bias in their hiring practices. The story he tells sounds horrifying and even includes allegations that the team owner offered to pay him $100,000 for every game his team LOST, in order to improve the team’s position in the draft. Soon afterward, former Cleveland Browns head coach Hue Jackson came out with his own accusations of bribes offered to tank games. Although the owners of these two teams are innocent until proven guilty, a quick Google search of their business careers will leave no doubt about the fact that both of them made billions doing business right up to a fine line over which lay criminal activity. At this point my presumption of innocence favors these two coaches.

But with the recent firing of Brian Flores, this means that the National Football League currently has exactly one black head football coach. There are 32 teams. The Pittsburgh Steelers coach, Mike Tomlin is the only black head coach. This, for a league where a full 70% of its active players and probably 80% of its best players are black. How is it then that in a league which is notorious for coaching turnover, that teams are willing to hire untested coordinators, unknown college coaches, or even mediocre former coaches before they are willing to hire a black coach? Has the current black coach in Pittsburgh proven himself a colossal failure? Mike Tomlin has been coaching the Steelers for 13 years, has taken his team to the playoffs nine times, won one Super Bowl and never had a losing season. So, no it can’t be that. What about past black coaches? Well, there’s Tony Dungy. All he did in his 13 years of coaching was win a Super Bowl, take his teams to the playoffs and win 65% of his games. Can’t be that. So, what is it? It’s difficult to come to any conclusion other than race. Many of the best white coaches were former players. Does anyone expect a rational person to believe that out of the literally thousands of black players who have played in the NFL, none of them are qualified to coach a team? None of them would do a better job than Mike McCarthy? Come on now…

Many years ago, the NFL adopted the Rooney Rule that mandated that at least one black candidate be interviewed for every coaching position. The 32 teams and their billionaire owners have made a mockery of the rule by bringing in a black candidate for a sham interview after they have already picked their guy. It is both humiliating and shameful for everyone involved in such a thing. What is behind all of this is the blackness of the heart which refuses to even consider a black candidate out of some perceived deficiency of intellect or leadership. That’s the issue that now hangs over the NFL as well as Major League Baseball, and many other sport leagues in America. On the field of play we demand the best players and if that means that 70% of them are black, fans never bat an eye. Why don’t those same fans demand the best candidates for the position of head coach instead of always hiring the same old retreads?

Searching For New

For the past several years I’ve been confronted with a rather existential question concerning the nature of motivation, ie…what is it that motivates a person to get up every morning? What drives a person to continue the routines of life? For most of my adult life it has been a combination of financial necessity and a sense of responsibility. Like practically everyone else in the world, I wake up each day and go to work because work is necessary. Without work, there is no money and without money life becomes very difficult very quickly. But its more than that, I also go to work each day out of an overwhelming sense of the responsibility I feel for my clients and my reputation. It would not be a good thing for either if I suddenly stopped showing up at my job, instead choosing to lay about the house all day doing nothing. A lifetime spent building a reputation for reliability and competence would be destroyed by such laziness.

But, what happens when you get to the point where you no longer are driven by necessity? What happens when what you have been building all of your life gets built, when you discover that you no longer need to pursue money? Building anything, the construction of anything is far more exciting and inspirational than standing around admiring the finished product. 

When I was a young man, newly married and a brand new parent, a fire of urgency burned bright within me. I couldn’t wait to get to work because I was terrified that I might fail. I had a wife and kids counting on me to provide for them. Failure would have meant total humiliation as a man. So I needed no manufactured motivation to get me out the door every morning, I had plenty of the real thing—fear of failure. Although there were gigantic obstacles in my path and many setbacks along the way, I was able to overcome all of them one way or another. I had lots of help along the way, mentors who inspired me, friends who cheered me through downturns in my fortunes, and an amazing family. My faith in God sustained me through the darkest moments of the journey. Now, having built a business, I have entered the maintenance phase of the thing, a far less urgent endeavor and one that doesn’t exactly inspire great excitement.

So, what becomes the driving force to replace the fear of failure and ruin? This is the search I find myself in the middle of, trying to figure out next steps. Each year, my business takes less and less a share of my time, the end result of a meticulous plan set in place years ago to give myself more opportunities for other pursuits at this stage of life. I love writing and have done quite a bit over the last five years or so. Eventually, I intend on trying to get something published. That will be a construction project of sorts, the kind that takes renewed energy and purpose.

But, I also would like to spend the next 15 years or so helping young men and women, just starting out in business, find their way. I could encourage them through their setbacks, help them find courage when they endure the downturns in their fortunes. I think I would be good at it, actually. So, that’s a possibility. There’s another thing that I want to do. I want to get really good at generosity. Finding struggling people to help financially has always been extraordinarily satisfying to me, and at this stage of my life I’ve arrived at the point where I should be getting better and better at it. I want to make it a priority instead of an afterthought.

I firmly believe that every man needs a battle to fight, an obstacle to overcome, a problem to solve. Otherwise, life loses its challenge, and each day becomes a paler version of the day before. I’m determined to never let that happen.

Five More Months

February 1st has arrived and with it comes an opportunity for me to check January off the list of months I have to live through before I get to go to Maine. It’s the fourth such month I’ve checked off since last we left—leaving five more to go. After February gets checked off, we’ll be closer to going than we are from leaving—always a happy occasion.

Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean to suggest that our life here at home is something simply to be endured while waiting around for Maine. Far from it. I love Short Pump and am thankful for all the special things and people that make it our home. But, Maine is the reward, the reason why I work. 

This year we will spend six weeks on Quantabacook, from the 9th of July through the 19th of August. The first two weeks Pam and I will stay at Summer Dreams, an adorable camp we stayed for two weeks last summer and fell in love with. Then on the 22nd of July we will move six houses down the lake to our favorite cabin in all of Maine, Loon Landing. For those four weeks we will have guests at some point. Kaitlin and Jon will come to visit, maybe Patrick and Sarah. Six weeks is a long time, but flies by in an instant.

Right now the place is under a 20 inch blanket of snow, the beautiful lake a massive block of ice. The temperatures will be in single digits for another couple of months. But slowly but surely, the warmth will return. Sometime in the month of April, the ice will implode on itself, collapsing into the depths. The trees will begin to bud, the grass will grow. Then all the shops in Camden will open for business, in every window sill, every pot and hanging from every street lamp flowers will appear. The Smiling Cow, Once a Tree, RiverDucks Ice Cream will all spring back to life. And we will be there, eager to hand over our money.

Five more months.