Lucy’s Camp

In the Dunnevant family, much is made of the LVV award, given each year to the person who best displays their complete and utter worthlessness while on vacation. Sloth, total absence of initiative, and general laziness are essential for anyone who hopes to snag the Least Valuable Vacationer award. My daughter is the undisputed champion of the LVV, but since she’s not on this trip, my sister Paula has been the runaway winner. However, if there was such a thing as a Most Valuable Vacationer award, this trip’s winner would be equally unanimous…Lucy.

This dog has been living her very best life since we first pulled into the driveway 12 days ago. She loves everything about being in Maine, but the lake is her Valhalla. She parks herself at the very edge of the dock, stretches her nose in the direction of the breeze and sniffs like its her job. She is fascinated by the leaves that float on the water, totally enamored with my lures as they glide across the water’s surface. But swimming is what she lives for. Yesterday, I had been out on the kayak fishing for about three hours when I turned a corner and spotted our dock probably two football fields away. Pam texted me that she was going to let Lucy swim across to meet me halfway when I decided to head back to the dock. When I got a little closer—maybe one football field—I called her name. Immediately, she launched herself off the dock…

Her favorite swimming time is when she gets to tag along with Pam as she takes her paddle board out…

Sometimes, Lucy can’t decide if she should take a nap or not…there are so many things to do!!!

But, as long as Mom is close by, a nap can be taken anywhere.

But make no mistake…this is Lucy’s Camp!

Giving the (Two) People What They Want

Pam and I are taking a drive today to look at a lake house. It has lots of potential but also has several drawbacks, but we are going to take a look anyway. Even if it ends up being nothing, at least we can enjoy looking at the leaves on the way. I’ve been watching this particular house for months on Redfin, as the price has dropped little by little. It is now comfortably within our price range. Of course, I’m suspicious as to why the price has fallen, and I have questions about the lake that this house sits on, but the place is absolutely gorgeous. We shall see.

Meanwhile, it has occurred to me that I have not published any Dad Jokes in a very long time. So, to calm the outcry from scores of readers…well, many readers…ok, TWO readers, here are a few.

My latest book is about all the things I need to do.

It’s an oughtobiography…

How can you tell if an ant is a boy or a girl?

You put them in water. If it sinks, its a girl ant. If it floats….

Luke Skywalker asked Obi Wan Kenobi if he stood a chance against Darth Vader.

Obi Wan said…

“Maybe Yoda, Maybe ya don’t…”

Marijuana and cold coffee is my favorite breakfast combo.

Which might explain why…

Ice mocha lotta weed.

Where do cow farts come from?

The dairy air….

Pam’s Pictures

Pam heads out pretty much every morning on her kayak. Yesterday she was wrapped up like an Eskimo head to toe because it was quite cold. She took some amazing pictures while she was out there. Here are a few of them for your edification on this Lord’s Day…

And finally, a rare photograph of Lucy actually asleep on the dock…

Ivermectin and the Neighsayers

https://www.bbc.com/news/health-58170809

This article from the BBC will change no minds. People who are convinced that Ivermectin is a cure for COVID will continue to believe. By reposting it here, I will run the risk of being dismissed as in the tank for Big Science, or worse…an authoritarian Statist. This, of course, is unbridled nonsense. I am simply trying to rein in disinformation. I would be thrilled to learn that ice cream cured COVID, but it would have to be accompanied by plenty of peer reviewed studies with faultless methodology. In other words, a very rocky road of research would have to be trod before I would believe in the cure. It would appear that the studies done with regards to Ivermectin lacked not only reliable scientific data but also the key ingredient of all research…horse sense.

So, I post this and will gladly accept the blowback. All neighsayers are welcome here.

The Sound That a Screen Door Makes

There are advantages to always being the first one up in the morning. I get to watch the sun come up. Some days are more glorious than others, but they are all delightful.

Lucy had a big day yesterday. She spent a lot of her time in the water, swimming all over the place with endless energy and curiosity. Probably the highlight of her day was when Ron and I did our version of the polar plunge, by jumping in with her. The water temperature was 60 degrees, which for native Mainers would be considered sauna-like, but for southern boys like us felt about as freezing cold as it is possible to get!

I will say this…when you jump into 60 degree water, there is absolutely no question about the fact that you are alive. 

Here’s a random observation apropos to nothing. There are several screen doors at this cabin. There is a distinct sound that they make when opening that produces in me a profound nostalgia for my childhood. As the rusty spring coil expands and contracts there’s that sound, so familiar and evocative of a time long past. Whenever I heard that sound when I was a kid I knew I was safe. Does anyone else have the same reaction upon hearing it? My house doesn’t have a screen door, so I never hear it anymore. Maybe if I heard it every day it would lose its power. Perhaps its true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder. Whatever the reason, every time I walk through one of the four screen doors in this cabin, I hear it and my heart says…yes.

Perfect

In this life we are not given very many perfect days. There is always something mucking up the works, bad weather, aches and pains…idiots. But yesterday was awfully close to being a perfect day. It started well, advanced beautifully, then ended with the Red Sox eliminating Darth Vader’s New York Yankees from the playoffs.

The morning dawned bright and clear with a lake that looked like polished silver. Pam woke early to take advantage with a morning paddle. My sister Paula, who is famous for not being a morning person, was greeted in an especially warm and affectionate way by her new best friend Lucy, who pounced on her bed at an unGodly hour to welcome her to consciousness…I is awake, you wake up too, hooman!! Thus began a day where the two of them would compete for space on the one sofa in the living room. Lucy is quite particular about her, uh…sofa space. At home, she is allowed on only two pieces of furniture, our bed and the sofa downstairs that has her blanket draped across it. So, at camp we do the same thing. We place a blanket on one of the sofas which tells her that it is ok to sit. Unfortunately, Lucy sometimes interprets this to mean that the entire sofa belongs to her exclusively. Instead of sitting to one side or the other, she plants herself directly in the center. When anyone else decides to sit down, she insists that they don’t get too close. Lucy, being psychotic, requires her own personal space, except on the occasions when she very much wants to get all up in everyone else’s space! After a day of this dance, Paula decided while watching the game that she wanted to stretch out. Ron sat down at one end, Lucy was dispatched to the floor, and Paula got herself comfortable, stretching out her full length. Lucy was about to teach Aunt Paula what having a dog was all about. She walked over to the sofa and began her work. She just stood there, mouth opened, pink tongue out, a devious smile on her face and started staring, her mesmerizing brown eyes locked on to Paula’s. This was going to be no contest. It might take a while, but Lucy was not going to be denied. After several uncomfortable minutes of this Mexican standoff, Lucy pounced, launching herself up on the sofa, on Paula’s legs, then burrowed and shifted back and forth until room was made, then curled up in a tight ball in between them…mission accomplished! Lucy is living her best life.

Once Pam got back from her paddle, we all headed in to Camden for breakfast at the Deli and some shopping. Dropped over a hundred bucks at the Smiling Cow which is actually better than average. Meg, the owner gave all four of us free pieces of a fresh batch of pumpkin fudge, probably because she feels guilty for taking all of our money. Then we walked up and down Main Street for an hour or so, popping in and out of all our favorite shops. More money changed hands…it ain’t cheap being on vacation in Maine.

When we arrived back at camp, we all swore off lunch because of the ridiculous amount of calories we had consumed at breakfast, what with three ginormous blueberry pancakes the size of hubcaps drenched in maple syrup. So, with no lunch to fix that meant that it was time for fishing. I caught six nice sized fish and  had a blast touring the lake while doing so. Eventually I hooked up with Ron who was out on his own fishing adventure. His kayak pulls up to mine and he says…I need some help! He had hooked his lure onto the tie rope at the front of the kayak and couldn’t get it loose. My delicate touch resulted in destroying the lure with a pair of pliers then sending him on his way!

Meanwhile, back at the dock, Lucy was entertaining Paula and Pam with her swimming skills, fetching her frisbee out of 60 degree water like it was nothing.

After fishing, a nap was enjoyed.

Then Pam made a delicious salmon dinner. You might be asking yourselves why Pam would be cooking dinner. After all, we invited Ron and Paula to come up here to stay with us…for free. Shouldn’t that fact warrant some sort of payback which might involve preparing meals? Well, here’s the thing. Paula made a pot of chili before she left Short Pump, froze it and kept it on ice. When they arrived Monday afternoon she warmed it up for our dinner that evening. Apparently that has served as the sum total of her physical labor for the week. She is determined to dethrone my daughter Kaitlin as the LVV…(least valuable vacationer).

After dinner we all had a glorious time watching the $230,000,000 Yankees swing and miss their way to ignominious defeat on national television.

I’m telling you people, it just doesn’t get any better than this.

And now for some pics…

Going Back in Time

Although it was overcast, with chilly sprinkles of rain when we arrived here on Coleman Pond, Pam and I were delighted to be introduced to this new house on this new lake yesterday. We have had the privilege of staying on many lakes over the years, in many different kinds of places— camps, cottages, cabins, and big, luxurious houses. The Coleman Pond Cottage is unique in that it is the only place that has reminded me of my grandmothers. Everything from how it is decorated to how the place is laid out makes me feel as if I have walked through a time portal and suddenly it is 1965. Lest anyone be confused by this statement let me be clear…this is a compliment. We love this place and so does Lucy.

As is our custom, the first night in Maine always features either pizza or Italian sandwiches from the closest general store. We have two choices in this regard, Drake’s and the Lincolnville General Store. Since we knew that LGS has a brick oven I drove the 8 minutes it took to visit the crunchiest store in all of Midcoast Maine…

Where I was greeted by two smiling ladies, one masked, one unmasked…which essentially is the Maine way.

I didn’t get a chance to get out on the lake but did spend 15 minutes fishing from the dock where this happened…

This morning the sun made an appearance…

As did what apparently will be an every morning ritual…

This is the only source of heat in this place and this morning it was 49.

Two weeks here feels like winning the lottery.

One more thing, when we arrived there were fresh flowers on the table…

This, ladies and gentlemen is one of the differences between an average rental company and On The Water in Maine. If you guys ever rent a place in the Midcoast Maine region and choose to do so through some other outfit, good luck. 

Slaying it Over Here…

Since this will be my last day in the Old Dominion for a while, I thought I would leave you guys a supply of cringe-worthy Dad Jokes to read while I’m away…

My dad was a Communist.

Whenever he told a joke, everybody got it.

Also, our family was starving…

But his jokes always hit the Marx.

They came atcha from all Engles.

You could always see the punch line coming since there were red flags everywhere.

Still, I would laugh Mao ass off.

A string walks into a bar. Bartender says, “We don’t serve strings here.” The string walks outside, ties himself into a knot, messes up his hair, and walks back into the bar. Bartender says, “Hey, aren’t you the string I just kicked out?” The string says…

“I’m a frayed knot…”

I refused to believe that my dad was stealing from his job as a road worker…

But when I got home all the signs were there.

Some guy just told me he was going to smack me with the neck of his guitar. 

I said, “Is that a fret?”

I asked my brother why he still worked as a mailman for such a low salary.

He said, “It’s not about the money, it’s about sending a message…”

I started up a new business. It was a dating site for chickens. But I had to close it down because…

I was having trouble making hens meet.

Post Season Predictions

Entering my favorite time of year, the Major League Baseball postseason. There’s a week left in the regular season and still some races yet to be determined, but largely we know which ten teams will be playing October baseball. My Washington Nationals are in full rebuilding mode, and my Boston Red Sox are fading fast. But for a hard core baseball fan like myself, none of that matters once the playoffs start. I’m all in. Like every year since 2010 I offer up my predictions around this time. My record has been decidedly mixed in this regard. Some years I seem prescient, other years I’m more like an idiot. For purposes of today’s exercise, I am assuming that the Dodgers and Red Sox will be wildcard teams, two outcomes that have not been assured as of 9/29/2021. Here are the ten teams in question:

From the American League:

Tampa Bay Rays

Houston Astros

Chicago White Sox

New York Yankees

Boston Red Sox

From the National League:

Atlanta Braves

Milwaukee Brewers

San Francisco Giants

St. Louis Cardinals

Los Angeles Dodgers 

Ok, first of all we can throw out the Chicago White Sox. They have the privilege of playing in the most pathetic division in all of baseball, the embarrassing AL Central where all the other teams finished under .500. When half your schedule consists of tomato cans, its easy to wrack up plenty of wins. The White Sox aren’t going anywhere.

Same deal with the Milwaukee Brewers. They aren’t even the best team in their division. They are at or near the bottom in most offensive and defensive categories. They pitch well and they strike a lot of guys out, that’s about it. So now that we have the imposters out of the way, here are my thoughts:

Tampa Bay Rays. I can’t figure these guys out. They have really good pitching and they hit a lot of home runs. But they strike out…a lot, more than any other team in the postseason. You would have a hard time naming anyone on their team. They have no “stars”. They basically have no fans either. Nobody attends their games. They won’t sell out their stadium during the World Series, if they get there. Never has such a good baseball team been cared less about than these guys. And yet, here they are again with the best record in the American League.

If the New York Yankees end up playing the wildcard elimination game against the Boston Red Sox, it will be the highest rated game of the year. These are two teams loaded with All Stars…and yet neither of them could beat out the Rays for the division title, leaving them vulnerable to a one and done exit. Although my hatred of the Yankees is legendary, they will win this game because they are a better team at the moment.

The Houston Cheaters aren’t going anywhere, at least I hope not. It’s going to come down to the winner of the Yankees-Red Sox game and the Tampa Bay Rays. Of those three the Rays feel like the third best team. So weird. My gut says “Yankees”

The most fascinating matchup of perhaps all of this year’s post season will be the LA Dodgers vs the St. Louis Cardinals. It will feature the best team in baseball (the Dodgers, hands down) against the hottest team in baseball,(they with the currently 17 game winning streak) in a one game shootout. Hard to pick against the Dodgers who have the best pitching staff perhaps ever. It will be a great game, but the Dodgers will advance and make it to the World Series with little or no interference from either the Braves or the Giants, yet another team I can’t figure out. They don’t have nearly as many great players as the Dodgers and yet they have won more games. All they seem to do is win. But in a short series it boils down to which team has the best pitching and that’s the Dodgers.

So, there you have it…the Dodgers vs the Yankees in the World Series…what everyone in the Commissioner’s office prays for every night.

Dodgers win.

Romans 12:15

I have not made a habit of writing blogs about Bible verses in the 11 year history of The Tempest. In fact, of the 2,485 posts so far, this might be the first. But I ran across a passage of scripture this morning from the 12th chapter of the New Testament book of Romans, verses 9-18…

“ Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

First of all, what an amazing world this would be if we lived this way. But as I was reading this a phrase right in the middle of the thing jumped out at me. I highlighted it above.

I think that most of us have a far easier time mourning with those who mourn than we do “rejoicing with those who rejoice.” Why is that? I don’t know for sure. I suppose every situation is different. But I have a hunch that it boils down to a combination of three of the venal sins…envy, jealousy, and greed.

Pam and I are blessed with many wonderful friends. Some of them make less money than we do, others make about the same and others make more than we do. Some, a lot more. Of course these are guesses since never once have I asked any friend of mine, “Hey, how much money do you make?” But here’s the thing; the very best friends are those where it doesn’t matter. The best friends are those who make it easy to rejoice when they rejoice. But for some weird reason, the human heart contains a grain of resentment. When we hear of a friend who gets a huge raise, sometimes our first impulse is envy. But why? It’s not as if economics is a zero sum game whereby if a friend becomes successful then that means there are less chances available for you. Still, we have to fight against jealousy and resentment. In my life I have struggled in this area at times. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned a few things that have helped me to put this whole rejoice with those who rejoice thing into practice.

First of all, be careful what you wish for. You have no idea what that person may have had to go through for that promotion. We can’t possibly understand the new pressures that this promotion might bring into their lives. Secondly, from the outside looking in it’s easy to make assumptions like…he’s just lucky, or her parents gave her everything. Maybe, maybe not. But who cares? See, there’s another verse somewhere in the New Testament that says that to whom much is given, much is required. Do you want the added scrutiny and accountability that comes with greater and greater financial success? If so, go for it. But I would tread very carefully down that path.

Here’s another thing I’ve noticed about the accumulation of wealth. Sometimes the more you have the harder it is to let go of it. The scriptures refer to this as the deceitfulness of riches. Although this is totally and completely true, I have some friends who have been blessed with an abundance of money and yet are now more generous, more giving than they have ever been. These are the people who make it easy to rejoice when they rejoice. But what about the people who get greedier and more arrogant with each new success? I’ve learned that who the Lord chooses to bless is one of the ten thousand things in this world that are none of my business.

One more thing about this, it has been my privilege to know several people over the years who at one point or another struggled on the edge of bankruptcy, only to come through to the other side of the scale in miraculous ways. The fascinating thing is that a couple of these people were among the most generous people I had ever known…when they were broke! When they became fabulously successful, their generosity just exploded onto another level. In other words, they were faithful with a few things, so maybe the Lord knew they could be trusted with much more…yet another thing to rejoice about.

So maybe the lesson here is that when your friends are mourning, come along side and mourn with them. It’s easy to do. It comes natural to us. But, when something wonderful happens to them, let go of the resentment that comes from the devil, the envy that springs up in your heart. Lay all that down and throw a party instead. 

October in Maine

This Friday, Pam, Lucy and I will leave Short Pump for our last trip to Maine in 2021. This time it will only be for two weeks, and this time it will be on a lake we have never stayed on before…Coleman Pond. The long term weather forecast for the two weeks in question calls for mostly sunny conditions, with high temperatures in the low 60’s and lows in the upper 40’s. It should be noted that the value of a long term weather forecast in Maine is roughly equivalent to the value of crypto futures in China about now, but that’s another story. The house is old school Maine campy, which is a compliment not an accusation. The lake is way too small for our taste, but complaining about staying on a too small lake in Maine for the first two weeks of October is like complaining that the deck chairs on your yacht are starting to look dated. Literally nobody wants to hear it.

So, why another trip to Maine when we spent a month and a half up there in the summer? This is a reasonable question. The answer is simple. Maine in October is a completely different place than Maine in July. We started adding a fall trip four or five years ago and were so throughly enchanted by the experience that it became permanent. Some observations:

The leaves. Fall colors in Maine are all the more stunning than they are anywhere else because of the reflective power of lake water. Some of the pictures that Pam has taken while kayaking in October are among the most beautiful images I’ve ever seen. Also, there is something extraordinarily breathtaking about the sight of bright yellow and red leaves flittering in an…ocean breeze.

Sitting around a campfire beside a lake while listening to loons calling out, the sky resplendent with a million stars, can’t possibly be adequately described or documented. It simply has to be experienced. 

The crowds have thinned out in October. Sure, there is the leaf-peeper contingent, but there aren’t nearly as many of them as there are summer visitors. We can walk the streets of Camden and Belfast like we have the entire place to ourselves. One downside is the fact that after Labor Day, lots of restaurants and shops have shut down for the season. But even that has a benefit…no crowds

Drinking your morning cup of coffee with sweater, hat and long pants, sitting here…

…is the stuff of magic.

Here’s the house, which goes by the unimaginative name of Coleman Pond Cottage.

And, here’s the little lake…

Lucy is especially excited to be making this trip. Like the rest of us, she becomes a different dog up there, drawn to the water like a moth to flame.

Lots of things to do between now and Friday, lots of details to button up.

Can’t wait.

60 Years of Marriage

Last night there was a family celebration, my in-laws’ 60th wedding anniversary. Pam had been slaving away all week getting everything thought out and organized just so. Kaitlin drove up from Columbia straight from work Friday night. She arrived around 9:30 and the two of them were nonstop. This morning it’s all over and I expect that they both will sleep late.

We had dinner at Tarrant’s West then returned to the house for presents, dessert and a rousing game of the Not So Newlywed Game. Patrick, Sarah and Jon were brought into the festivities via Facetime. In total,16 of us came together to make a big deal over the fact that Russ and Vi White have been married for six decades.

I bought them a card, but I felt like the occasion was important enough for something more. So I jotted down a few observations and read it aloud…

“The card I bought for you guys says that falling in love is easy, its the staying together that’s worth celebrating. Sixty years of staying together is a big deal, not just because it is so uncommon and increasingly rare, but because of the multi-generational benefits that everyone here tonight has enjoyed as a result of your steadfast commitment. I would like to list just a few of those benefits:

—None of us have fallen into poverty. The statistics are overwhelming that when a marriage falls apart, so do the living standards of all involved. Not only did you keep your family from poverty, you were willing to pull up stakes and move over 800 miles away to provide for them, not once but twice, first from Rumford, Maine to Richmond, Virginia, then from Richmond to Baton Rouge, Louisiana where Russ endured the hottest and most miserable summer of his life. Fortunately for all of us at this table, the Louisiana thing didn’t work out!

—Neither Pam, Sharon or Angie ever had to go through the debilitating pain and self doubt that accompanies watching your parents go through a divorce. All three of them grew up with the assurance that each of you loved them and each other. That stability allowed them to grow up in an emotionally safe place, something that continues to pay dividends in the lives of their husbands and their children.

—Both of you have taught all of us through the example of your lives that service to others is what makes a good life. Between the two of you, I count over sixty years of teaching Sunday School, Children’s Church and Awana. The countless hours of planning and executing over 9000 lessons to young children is the kind of selfless act that makes an indelible impression on those with a front row seat…your family.

—Bernadette, as the latest person to marry into this family, you too are the beneficiary of this legacy. You have married a man who grew up with this example before him, grandparents who loved him, and parents who love each other and share the same life long commitment to each other. This makes it possible for you to live your new life with Isaac with confidence and trust in the power of his character. When it becomes your turn to have children you will get to experience what it is like to have the full support of your in-laws, something that Pam, Sharon, and Angie have all experienced.

So, Russ and Vi, thank you from the bottom of our hearts for doing the hard work of making your marriage something worth celebrating.”

The Power of Smell

Last night I asked Pam what was for dinner? She answered by handing me step by step instructions for Brats with Stewed Spicy Peppers, a recipe she got from this amazing book…

I had made this a couple times in the past but it had been a while. Of course, she had done all the heavy lifting. All I had to do was follow these instructions:

…which I did.

Yes…that is a Baxter, one of Maine’s finest adult beverages.

It was pretty easy to grill this all up, but it took a while. The three steps took up a total of 40 minutes. But there was a tremendous side benefit associated with this dinner. For nearly an hour my backyard and by extension probably the entire culdesac…smelled like the State Fair. I remember when I was a kid, going to the State Fair was a big deal. This was back when it was over on Laburnam Avenue. We would walk through the big field that had been transformed into a parking lot towards the ticket booths off in the distance. The closer we got, the more smells there were, the aroma of the barnyard, of farm animals. Then the sweet whiff of cotton candy. But as soon as we were admitted onto the premises we would be bombarded with the powerful force field of Polish sausage, fried onions and green peppers. For a ten year old boy, this was an exotic aroma. We were a meat and potatoes family, not a lot of foolishness at the dinner table. But this…this smell… was the smell of the other, something European, something from far away. It made me think that the State Fair was somehow an international extravaganza, even though there was nothing in the entire world more uniquely American than the State Fair of Virginia. But I didn’t know any better. To this day I remember the first time my parents allowed me to actually buy a Polish Sausage to eat. They had warned me that I wouldn’t like it, that it was too spicy for me, that I would take one bite then be pestering them for a hamburger five minutes later. Lies…all lies. When I took the first bite of that gigantic, greasy feast of flavors that was three sizes too large for my mouth the first thought that went through my mind was…I wonder what else my parents have been lying to me about!!”

Thus began a life long love of sausage. Links, patties, pork, spicy, mild, Polish, German, Italian, brats, it matters not. If there was a Pakistani sausage I would probably love it too. To this day whenever I go to a restaurant for the first time and am confused by the menu, I simply look for the word “sausage’ in the entree description and go with that, a strategy that has seldom failed me.

So, to all of my neighbors who may have been wondering where that heavenly smell was coming from at 6:30 last night? You’re welcome!

Why Do I Run?

I have a presentation to make at 8:30 this morning so naturally I’m awake at 4:30, drinking a cup of coffee and getting ready for a four mile run at 6:00. I have no idea why I do this. I am not fond of running, have never been. I am still sore from my last run two mornings ago. But here I am. I think it has something to do with the angst brought on by my advancing age. When a man turns 60 he becomes keenly aware of time…of how short it is. You become aware of subtle changes happening to your body. You can feel yourself getting soft. You can actually see the softness in your skin, how it has suddenly become stretchy and thick in places. So partly out of vanity and partly out of anger you step up your exercise routine, part of which involves hitting the road at ungodly hours to do something that you have always hated…running.

So far this year my handy running app tells me I have logged 382.5 miles, burning 51,886 calories in the process. Have I lost any weight? Not really. But I haven’t gained any either which feels like a victory. The only good thing about running is that when you arrive back at the house dripping with sweat— it is a profound paradox—you feel great for about fifteen minutes. You feel like you’ve accomplished something. You ask yourself, “How many 63 year old men can run 4.25 miles in 41 minutes?” You ignore the companion question…How many 63 year old men die every year trying to run 4.25 miles in 41 minutes?

You take a screenshot of your latest run and send it to your son in Nashville who is training to run a half marathon this November. Running has become something that brings you together with your boy. Out of nowhere he decided that he wanted to run a half marathon, this from a kid who has never been in to fitness or exercise. You worry that you have passed along your tendency towards dangerous schemes of self destruction to your children. But, its been fun to compare our running struggles. You are proud of him. This isn’t his thing, but he’s sticking with it and working his tail off, yesterday running in a driving rainstorm. Chip off the old blockhead.

Somewhere around the 2 mile mark this morning I will think to myself, “Why are you doing this? You hate running.” By mile three my hips start to hurt. I am no longer asking myself questions by the time I get close to the end. For reasons that escape logical inquiry, I am sprinting at this point. When I’m done I will consult my running app and discover that once again my fastest mile was the last one. It’s like I have somehow convinced myself that if I sprint to the finish I will have taught running a lesson…not to mess with me! But the only real lesson is that I am a weird dude with strange motivations.

At some point I won’t be able to do this anymore. I will have to find a less physically punishing exercise regimen. Unlike my son I have been into exercise all of my life. When I was younger I would often quote that tired old gym mantra—pain is weakness leaving the body. But there is an addendum to that hackneyed phrase once you become a man of a certain age…pain is stupidity entering the body.

Scandaleux!!!

Suddenly, submarines are in the news. Normally, this would be a topic about which I would have no opinion. But if you throw the French government into the discussion I’m all in. Also, I’m not much of a Joe Biden fan. I mean, I voted for him and everything but only because the other guy was nuts. So, the best thing I can say about Joe is that he isn’t nuts. But when it comes to this submarine thing, I’m 100% Team Biden.

Ok, since most Americans are too busy talking about Nikki Minaj’s cousin’s friend’s testicles, I’m thinking an explanation might be prudent. Yesterday came news that the United States had entered into a strategic partnership with Great Britain, and Australia to provide nuclear submarines and related technology to the Land Down Under. In so doing, the French 60 billion dollar contract with the Australian government was scrapped. The French Government was so outraged that they cancelled a gala dinner in Washington, accusing us of treachery and some kind of anti-French bigotry.  Scandaleux!!!

I probably should have a better reason for being in favor of this Anglo-alliance thing other than the fact that the French are so pissed about it, but honestly, there’s nothing that makes me happier than French angst. Ahh yes, the gallant French, with their vaunted Maginot Line, their Vichy capitulation, and their seven decades long whining about lack of respect. I’m thinking that if somehow your country earns a nickname as bad as cheese-eating surrender monkeys, it may take a century to live it down.

So, I’m delighted that the French got hosed in this deal for two reasons. First, I’m all for the English speaking countries sticking together here. Great Britain and Australia have been stalwart allies of America for a very long time. And secondly, we will get to hear Macron’s whiny little voice crying about how terribly unfair it all is for months now. Talk about entertainment!!

What Has Happened to Men’s Fashion. Part II

“Fashion contributes to pollution of the earth and the exploitation of workers to an unparalleled degree; the fashion industry makes, say, manufacturing fridges look like growing wildflowers on an Alpine mountain in terms of its war against nature. The Met Gala will increasingly become a wake for the Woke wealthy, as their mockable costumes and sad faces say ‘We may be rich famous but look – we’re not having any fun – please don’t burn our gated communities down!’.

                                     Julie Birchill

Seeing as how it no longer matters how anything looks anymore, I’ll just leave this wacky script running off the page…