Building a Longer Table

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

And thanks, Canada.

April in Short Pump

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

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

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

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

Congratulations to Matsuyama and the nation of Japan.

Boring vs. Chaos

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

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

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

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

Having Fun

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

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

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

Already Up To Speed

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

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

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

Easter Fashion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Easter, everyone.

Spring Break Plans

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

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

1. Crowds

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

2. Restaurants

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

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

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