A Wonderful Discovery

I still have nothing to say about the results of the 2020 election. Which is just as well since everyone’s Facebook feed is chocked full of opinions. Who needs one more?

However, I do have something important to say. Yesterday at roughly 12:30 in the afternoon, I may have had the best Reuben sandwich of my entire life. I found myself on route 522 in Powhatan County after an ill-advised, spur of the moment decision I had made to go fishing on the James River. Note: don’t go to the James River to fish anytime after a drenching rain. The resulting mud bog makes it nearly impossible to get close enough to the water to fish without having your feet fly out from underneath you, throwing you flat on your back gazing up at the clear blue skies—which may or may not have happened. But, I digress. 

So after my misadventure, I realized I was hungry. As I drove down 522 in the general direction of Maidens, Va. I was thrilled to discover this little hole in the wall:

A converted gas station, in business since 2009, The Cafe at Maidens, is in the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless its parking lot was full, always a good sign. I counted one Mercedes Benz, two pickup trucks, a motorcycle, and now my Cadillac, among the eclectic assortment of vehicles at this unimpressive dump on a country road thirty minutes from my home in Short Pump. Their one unisex bathroom was clean as a whistle, good thing since it took me several minutes and half a roll of paper towels to remove all the mud from my hands and clothes, the result of the unfortunate incident at the river which I can neither confirm or deny actually took place. After cleaning up I took my place in a line of very happy people who all seemed thrilled to be at The Cafe at Maidens. It appeared that everyone except me was a regular, each greeting the other with cheerful familiarity. The woman behind the counter taking orders seemed positively ecstatic to be doing so, smiling from ear to ear, suggesting that everyone try the potato salad which she described as “extra delicious today!” As soon as I saw the Reuben on the chalkboard menu, there was no need to look anywhere else. I have a long history with this particular sandwich. Simply put, the flavor combinations of aged Swiss cheese, Thousand Island dressing, sauerkraut and corned beef on perfectly toasted rye bread is possibly the most delectable such combination yet devised by the culinary arts. At least most of the time. Too often, by the time this classic arrives at your table, the toast has gotten soggy...one of my pet peeves. No worries at The Cafe at Maidens. This thing was a masterpiece, beautiful to the eye with its stacked corned beef, generous and perfectly placed, and a feast to the taste buds as well. Even to the last bite, the toast remained crispy and stout. Appropriately, my fingers were dripping with dressing after the last bite. Oh, and the claim by Miss Sunshine about the potato salad? On point. It was divine.

So, if you should ever find yourself on a whimsical drive in the country on state route 522 between the James River and route 60, between the hours of 6:30 am and 2:30 pm, drop in to the dumpy looking ex-filling station for a bite to eat. 

You’ll thank me later.

State Slogans That Came In Second Place

State Slogans that came in second place:

• Alabama: Hell Yes, We Have Electricity

• Alaska: 11,623 Eskimos Can't Be Wrong! 

• Arizona: But It's A Dry Heat 

• Arkansas: Literacy Ain't Everything 

• California: By 30, Our Women Have More Plastic Than Your Honda 

• Colorado: If You Don't Ski, Don't Bother 

• Connecticut: Like Massachusetts, Only The Kennedy's Don't Own It Yet 

• Delaware: We Really Do Like The Chemicals In Our Water 

• Florida: Ask Us About Our Grandkids 

• Georgia: We Put The "Fun" In Fundamentalist Extremism 

• Hawaii: Haka Tiki Mou Sha'ami Leeki Toru (Death To Mainland Scum, But Leave Your Money) 

• Idaho: More Than Just Potatoes...Well Okay, We're Not, But The Potatoes Sure Are Real Good 

• Illinois: Please Don't Pronounce the "S" 

• Indiana: 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free 

• Iowa: We Do Amazing Things With Corn 

• Kansas: First Of The Rectangle States 

• Kentucky: Five Million People; Fifteen Last Names 

• Louisiana: We're Not ALL Drunk Cajun Wackos, But That's Our Tourism Campaign 

• Maine: We're Really Cold, But We Have Cheap Lobster 

• Maryland: If You Can Dream It, We Can Tax It 

• Massachusetts: Our Taxes Are Lower Than Sweden's (For Most Tax Brackets) 

• Michigan: First Line Of Defense From The Canadians 

• Minnesota: 10,000 Lakes... And 10,000,000,000,000 Mosquitoes 

• Mississippi: Come And Feel Better About Your Own State 

• Missouri: Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars At Work 

• Montana: Land Of The Big Sky, The Unabomber, Right-wing Crazies, And Very Little Else 

• Nebraska: Ask About Our State Motto Contest 

• Nevada: Hookers and Poker! 

• New Hampshire: Go Away And Leave Us Alone 

• New Jersey: You Want A ##$%##! Motto? I Got Yer ##$%##! Motto Right Here! 

• New Mexico: Lizards Make Excellent pets 

• New York: You Have The Right To Remain Silent, You Have The Right To An Attorney... 

• North Carolina: Tobacco Is A Vegetable 

• North Dakota: We Really Are One Of The 50 States! 

• Ohio: At Least We're Not Michigan 

• Oklahoma: Like The Play, Only No Singing 

• Oregon: Spotted Owl...It's What's For Dinner 

• Pennsylvania: Cook With Coal 

• Rhode Island: We're Not REALLY An Island 

• South Carolina: Remember The Civil War? We Didn't Actually Surrender 

• South Dakota: Closer Than North Dakota 

• Tennessee: You Need Our Help Where 

• Texas: Si' Hablo Ing'les (Yes, I Speak English) 

• Utah: Our Jesus Is Better Than Your Jesus 

• Vermont: Yep 

• Virginia: Who Says Government Stiffs And Slackjaw Yokels Don't Mix? 

• Washington: What Rain? 

• Washington, D.C.: Wanna Be Mayor? 

• West Virginia: One Big Happy Family... Really! 

• Wisconsin: Come Cut The Cheese 

• Wyoming: Where Men Are Men ... and the sheep are scared!

You’ll Have To Give Me a Minute

As the worst case scenario plays out in front of me I am forced to retreat to the safety of Gary Larson. You guys will have to give me a few days to sort everything out. In the meantime:

Let The Eagle Fly

I have been dreading my voting experience for weeks now. Not the pitiful options, mind you, but rather the actual physical act of voting. I have been stubbornly holding out of the 2020 early voting craze. No, I would not slog down to the Courthouse and stand in line for an hour and a half to vote three weeks before Election Day. No, I would not place my ballot in an envelope and trust it to the United States Postal Service. I had been determined to not be hoodwinked into a panicked early vote. But honestly, the closer it got to Election Day, the more worried I have become over my stubborn refusal to adapt to 2020. So, there I was this morning at 9:50 am backing out of my parking space at the office to begin the four minute drive to Short Pump Elementary School, my polling place for the last 24 years. I was fully prepared to endure no matter how long the line or how long it took. In a scene worthy of a Frank Capra movie, as I pulled onto Church Road I happened to glance upward only to catch a glimpse of a magnificent bald eagle soaring a couple hundred feet above me. He followed me all the way to the corner of Church and Three Chopt. I attempted to take a picture of him but my cell phone camera wasn’t clear enough...

Trust me everyone...that’s a bald Eagle, and I took it as a positive sign.

First place I went was Publix to pick up some gift cards for the poll workers. Those people do the dirty work of democracy and I felt that this year especially they could use tangible evidence of our appreciation...

The first thing I noticed upon arrival was how empty the parking lot was. Normally I have to make a couple of laps before a space becomes available. Not this time. I parked and begin walking towards the school, under the breezeway in front, then around the corner to the side entrance of the gym. I saw zero voters. Another first. When I entered the gym I got in line. There were probably seven or eight people in front of me. There were easily two poll workers for every voter. The first worker I saw approached me to let me know the drill. I instantly recognized him as one of my neighbors from around the corner. I glanced to my right and saw what looked like at least 15 individual voting booths, each one having been throughly scrubbed down with germ-killing disinfectant by an earnest looking college student. In less than a minute I was being summoned forward by a serious looking black woman in her 60’s who verified my identity, squinting at my drivers license, then me, and mumbled with a smile, I guess that’s you! She then passed me on to a middle aged white man wearing bifocals who gave me my paper ballot and pointed me in the direction of the college student who was in the process of cleaning out my booth. She greeted me with a big smile and said, Here you go, sir.

Pam had pulled up a sample ballot online the night before, so I had already had time to get up to speed with the constitutional amendments on the ballot. Voted YES on both, the first one because anything that takes power away from politicians is fine with me and the second one because why isn’t it already the law?? How come people who serve in the military and suffer a complete and permanent disability are still being charged property taxes on their vehicles in the first place?? Geez. 

Moving on from those, I marked my ballot for my “preferred” candidates...but not before noticing something that made me smile and sigh at the same time. There has always been a soft spot in my heart for the Libertarian Party. On many issues important to me their positions and mine are virtually identical. There was a time when I hoped that perhaps one day the Party would become a viable third way, a party able to compete with the two big boys and provide people like me with...a choice not an echo. But, I looked down at their candidates and notice that the Libertarian Party actually ran someone for Vice President whose middle name was in quotation marks, “Spike”. Heaven help us.

Each of the five poll workers who I came into personal contact with got a gift card. Each of them were surprised and thanked me profusely. One was an immigrant, two were white men, one a black women, and one a female college student. Among the other workers I noticed scurrying around the place were middle aged women and men, one who looked like ex-military, another who looked like a farmer from the sticks, yet another an elderly woman who walked with a cane. As I walked outside the gym into the bright sunshine I thought to myself...Yep...That’s America. That right there is my country.

Now, we all wait for the results. Unlike most political television, I will actually watch the results for as long as my blood pressure, heart, and general mental health can withstand the thing. An adult beverage or two might be consumed. But, no matter what happens, it won’t take away the feeling I had inside that gymnasium, one of pride in and love of my country. May the eagle fly every Election Day.

The Words of Children

I’m not exactly sure what it is but the words of children are getting to me of late. Yesterday I posted a picture of a Thank You note delivered to my mailbox by the kids next door. I found out later that their mother had no idea they had written it and had been reduced to tears upon seeing it on Facebook. This morning I shared it with my friend in Buena Vista. Her response was to show me a note that her granddaughter had sent her after her COVID diagnosis had placed her grandmother in quarantine...

“Can we be together again becues I lov you and it fells like frever sins we herd the news The Cronuvirus and I miss you and love you.”

As a writer I love the way children express themselves on paper. There’s no embellishments, no unnecessary words or phrases. There’s no agenda, no hidden meaning. With phonetically correct spelling they just pour out exactly what is on their minds and when we read their words they cut us to the quick. What if all written communication was this crystal clear and honest?

A Fearful Week

I cant remember a time in my life when I have felt more apprehension to begin a week than I feel at this moment on November 2, 2020. All the ingredients are in place for what could be the most tumultuous week in our nation’s history in my lifetime. For those of you who have been reading this blog for a long time, this may sound strange coming from me. I am generally the guy who guards against over-statement. I’m usually the guy scolding people for overreacting, reminding everyone that things are never as bad as they appear. There is still a chance that this week won’t be the horror movie of my dreams. Hope springs eternal.

What is it that I’m so anxious about? It’s probably not what you think. Regular readers of this space know my opinion of the two candidates. I consider Donald Trump unfit for public office of any kind for a whole host of reasons. His opponent is too old, too feeble-minded and a lifelong government employee who after collecting his salary from the taxpayers for the past 47 years now says he’s just the guy to fix what’s wrong with government. Faced with so impossible a choice, I have made the decision to hold my sizable nose and pull the lever for the career politician over the career grifter, not exactly a shining moment for democracy. It is my opinion that Biden will win. Practically every pollster in the country tells me so. Yes, I am aware of the silent Trump voter theory. Trump could pull the upset. It is, after all, 2020. But who wins the election isn’t what’s keeping me up at night. It’s what happens afterwards. Here are a couple scenarios...

Biden Wins In A Landslide

This is the best case scenario. Why? Because the outcome will have been predicted and certain. The results will reflect accurately the polling data collected over the past six months. It will, for the vast majority of Americans be, believable. Trump supporters will be disappointed, but the outcome will not have come out of the blue.

Trump Wins In A Landslide

This is the second best case scenario. Why? Although the winner will be a surprise as it will have made all the pollsters look ridiculous again, The margin of victory will have been wide enough to make even a surprise victory believable. It will have been the second time that Trump has pulled a rabbit out of his hat on Election Day. 

Trump or Biden Win In An Agonizingly Close Election

This is the stuff of my dystopian nightmares, the worst of all outcomes. First of all, the sitting President has spent the last year claiming that the 2020 election would be rigged and illegitimate, hinting at some shadowy deep state conspiracy to rob him of his rightful reelection. Any close outcome will feed nicely into the conspiratorial mindset of his voters. Biden supporters will never accept any outcome other than a Biden landslide and will claim that an equally Byzantine conspiracy involving the Post Office, Russian Bots and Amy Coney Barrett has subverted the will of the people. What happens next will be the ultimate test of our fragile and increasingly strained democracy.

It’s hard to admit that your country has gotten to the place where a violent response to an election outcome is on the table for discussion. This is what happens in banana republics, not the most powerful nation in the world. But America feels at a precipice of some kind, teetering on a ledge, everyone on a hair trigger. COVID hasn’t helped...we have all had more time to consume news, more time to get mad, too much time for our anger to simmer and ferment. We have all seen the violent clashes between far right Proud Boys and the far left Antifa. We’ve watched it and thought, “just a bunch of radical goons in the street.” My fear is that a tight election outcome will result in an outbreak of violence not restricted to a few radical goons. When the stakes are this high, the rhetoric this hot, the divisions this deep, with social media serving as the fire-stoker, America could find itself in the middle of the greatest social unrest since the 1960’s.

So yes...This week has me worried. If none of this turns out to be true, if each side accepts the outcome peacefully, no one will be more relieved to have been wrong than I will. 

This week, I pray for my Country, and hope against hope that this blog will sound ridiculous and overwrought a week from today.

Time For The Halloween Hustle

Halloween. Trick or Treat. It’s perhaps the most family oriented of all holidays, being based as it is on the concept of extortion of the old by the young. Throngs of toddlers and other miscreants roam the neighborhood cleverly disguising their identities, approaching house after house demanding that adults hand over candy under the threat of the disturbing yet undefined trick that will befall anyone who doesn’t pony up. This, of course, is the infamous protection racket made famous by the Cosa Nostra of the Old Country and the Mob in this country during the late 19th and early 20th century. Despite its roots in organized crime, Halloween still persists and in recent years has even grown in popularity as more and more adults have started getting into the spirit of the day. One can hardly walk into any public accommodation on Halloween these days without seeing full grown men and women decked out in all manner of outrageous outfits. From personal experience I can attest to the fact that it’s quite difficult to take seriously a dental hygienist dressed as a tube of toothpaste...

But, I suppose it is all harmless fun, especially in 2020 when we have all been living in a virtual Halloween for the past 8 months. So, tonight Pam and I will participate in our neighborhood’s new socially distant Halloween protocols. We will set up our candy station at the end of our driveway. All of the candy will be prepackaged in individual bags to prevent the little darlings from thrusting their filthy, germ-besotted mitts into a communal bowl of treats...

Pam and I will be seated at a safe distance behind the extortion table, where we can see their adorable little outfits without fear of contamination. Behind us I will have made a roaring fire in our Solo Stove. This serves two purposes, to keep us warm and also as a place where I can place my blinking sign pointing into the blazing fire...

...warning what will befall any age-inappropriate participants.

Of course, we have set aside special treats for the three darlings who live next door. We can’t help ourselves. They are the sweetest things you ever saw. I apologize in advance to their long suffering parents for how we consistently spoil them rotten at every opportunity...