“So, do you have any goals for 42?” my wife asked me over dinner. She and my daughter had taken me out to celebrate the day of my birth, some 42 years ago. Forty-two is an odd, neither-here-nor-there age. Basically, the only thing that happens when you turn 42 is boring, mundane stuff — you take up eating barbecue potato chips, you have conversations about mutual fund expense ratios and you start to ponder deep, universal questions like: Why do we have concrete AND asphalt roads? It’s getting serious in my world! So the question at dinner really kind of stuck with me. “Goals for 42?!?” I said out loud, thinking about it for the first time. I hadn’t even considered it. Well, aside from taking up barbecue potato chips, but that’s legislated. There’s no choice in that.
A Floridian’s apology for thinking it’s ‘cold’
I’m sorry our cold isn’t really cold, but the fact is, I’m still cold, and I’m not sorry about that. This is the lament of a Floridian every winter. How we poor, wretched, warmth-deprived beings have to fear how our commentary on the temperature will be taken the wrong way if mentioned in the wrong company. Know what I’m talking about? Happened to mention to a visitor from up north how you feel about our weather — even casually. “How am I doing? Well, it’s cold enough outside to freeze the freckles right off my body!” I will say. You know pretty quickly you’ve made a mistake by the indignation on the person’s face. It is as if Mount Vesuvius is about to uncork. That you are about to be beaten to a pulp for something you have said that is so insulting, so degrading and so blatantly ignorant that it could freeze the freckles right off your body. “Cold?!?” comes the reply, and it’s icy. “You call this ‘cold?!?’ It’s 134 degrees BELOW zero back at my home in Boston. It’s so cold, the ice got frostbite.” Ouch! And then, shivering Floridian that you are, you have to apologize and blush and feel awkward and say things like, “Well, shucks, that is cold! I just meant for us, we bronze-skinned Southern natives who don’t own any clothes that don’t incorporate flip-flops and shorts. We just find it a little … you know … chilly.” By that point we have […]
A little advice on turning 40
As my younger brother prepares to turn 40, I thought I would take a moment to hand down some sage advice that I have acquired after two years in the “Enchanted Land of Four Decades:” ? If you’re going to have a mid-life crisis, make it a cheap one. I’ve been fortunate because my indecisiveness means I’ve never settled on the ideal mid-life crisis for me. And I will probably draw it out until I’m 62, when it will seem silly, absurd and just too time-consuming. But if you’re going to choose one, don’t go the expensive route. You know, crashing Ferraris or anything like that. Just take up drinking milk straight from the carton or diagnosing other people’s illnesses. Much cheaper that way. ? If people ask your age, don’t get upset. Just politely reply that “it’s none of their (insert curse here) business” and to get away from you because you’re about to have an unmedicated episode. That should solve it pretty quickly. ? Remember that 40 is only half way to 80. And consequently, 80 is only half way to 160. And if you calculate the square root of 160, it will require going and finding your calculator. By the time you find a calculator, you will have forgotten what you were thinking about in the first place. ? Remember that turning 40 is not the hard part. No, that’s actually quite easy. The ticking clock does all the work. The hard part is actually BEING 40. […]
Some brotherly advice on turning 40
As my younger brother prepares to turn 40, I thought I would take a moment to hand down some sage advice that I have acquired after two years in the “Enchanted Land of Four Decades:” • If you’re going to have a mid-life crisis, make it a cheap one. I’ve been fortunate because my indecisiveness means I’ve never settled on the ideal mid-life crisis for me. And I will probably draw it out until I’m 62, when it will seem silly, absurd and just too time-consuming. But if you’re going to choose one, don’t go the expensive route. You know, crashing Ferraris or anything like that. Just take up drinking milk straight from the carton or diagnosing other people’s illnesses. Much cheaper that way. • If people ask your age, don’t get upset. Just politely reply that “it’s none of their (insert curse here) business” and to get away from you because you’re about to have an un-medicated episode. That should solve it pretty quickly. • Remember that 40 is only half way to 80. And consequently, 80 is only half way to 160. And if you calculate the square root of 160, it will require going and finding your calculator. By the time you find a calculator, you will have forgotten what you were thinking about in the first place.
The board game switcheroo
My daughter and I will have to come to terms with something pretty soon. For her, she will have to understand that for much of her life I’ve been mostly letting her win at games, or at least giving her a fair chance. Parents do that, right? Don’t want to discourage their children, so they let off the gas. Give them a shot. Feign exasperation as they’re completely dismantled by their little one. It happens. But me, I will have to come to terms with the fact that she’s 9 years old now and none of that matters anymore. Those days are gone. Letting off the gas is stupid because it makes me look stupid. She can beat me out right. I learned that the other day playing Monopoly. When I didn’t have to feign anything and was completely dismantled by a not so little one. At one point she had a stack of $100 bills that must have been a foot tall. I had $32, mostly in $1 bills. I don’t know if it’s her getting smarter, me getting dumber, or just the natural order of things. That I should start asking her to cut up my chicken and drive my friends and me to the movies. Boy, some of that could be great. But for now it’s disorienting. To have lost fair and square in Monopoly! She had a hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue when I went out. A HOTEL on Pennsylvania! And she owned all the railroads. On […]
The official St. Augustine chalupa rowing team
“Do you want to row a chalupa?” I was asked. A strange question. Not one you get every day. And not one easy to take while keeping a straight face. “A chalupa?” I thought to myself. “The Mexican dish? Like a taco! How do you row a taco?!?” No, no, no. Not a taco. That would be good, wouldn’t it? But this is a chalupa — a 16th-century, 37-foot Spanish longboat. Early settlers used them for all manner of purposes as they navigated local waters, offloaded supplies from larger ships and explored Florida’s uncharted coastline, probably looking for taco shops. I’ve been informed there were no engines in the 16th century. Men rowed these boats with their calloused hands and strong, bulging arms. The St. Augustine Maritime Heritage Foundation, with the help of the Lighthouse Archeological Maritime Program, has been building a chalupa at the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park for a while now. It’s to commemorate St. Augustine’s 450th anniversary, and they plan to float it soon. “We need people to row it — this ‘nontaco’ chalupa,” I was told (added emphasis was placed on the “nontaco.”) “You want to join this historic team?” A million questions raced through my mind. I set them all free. “Do you need to know your starboard from your port?” I asked. “Because I always thought ‘starboard’ was up — you know, where the stars are — and that ‘port’ was where you parked your boat. I’m told this is incorrect and could […]
Re-learning the childhood game of ‘playing’
It took me a moment. Or a few. It always does. We had walked down to the churchyard to knock the soccer ball around. That was the promise from my daughter. The plan. “Want to kick the soccer ball?” I distinctly remember her asking. She knows I’m a sucker for it. Like an overly excited dog who learns he’s going to the beach. “YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! Oh no, I just wet myself.” She got a World Cup replica ball for Christmas — a swerving wave of color that screams, “kick the stitches out of me, will ya?” I planned to. But I forgot children don’t make plans. They break them. They lure you in with one thing, then pull the carpet out from under you in a classic bait-and-switch. How quickly our simple game of kick evolved into something that involved no kicking whatsoever. It started subtly. “OK, so here’s the thing,” she said. “My goal is from there to there…” She pointed from Lawrence, Kan., to outer Ft. Myers “… And your goal is this tiny twig that I’m going to snap in half and bury 11 feet underground.” Huh? “Ready? GO!” she yelled, and the game was on. It lasted for exactly 13 seconds before she stopped, thought about it and then tried to convince me to play chase instead. “Chase?” I said. “I don’t want to play chase. I thought we came here to play soccer!” and I tried to steer us back to simple kicking. Sensing […]
Beating the January Blues
You’ve got ‘em. I’ve got ‘em. We’ve all got ‘em. It’s like the flu. Spreading. Overcoming. Pummeling us into some sloth-like state where we slump around, dragging ourselves out of bed each morning and answering every question with a mopey, “I don’t care!” “Here’s that $1 million you won in the lottery.” “Nope! I don’t care!” It’s the January blues. Got ‘em? Feel em? Hard not to when the holidays are over, the weather’s turned cold, gray and gloomy, and your credit card melted from overuse. There are a lot of tips from so-called experts on how to beat January blues, but they’re all balderdash. Here are my tried-and-true Blues Busters: ? Launch a massive yard project — Nothing eliminates January blues quicker than undertaking some overwhelming, and equally depressing, yard project. We’re thinking about one right now that has me dreading spring so much I would much rather stay right here in crummy January. ? Plan a trip — We always do this coming back from vacation — right when the realization sets in that the good times are almost gone. Perfect time to plan the next trip — something to look forward to. You don’t even have to go on it; just plan it! Cruise to the Mediterranean. Bungee jumping with penguins. A trip to the International Space Station. Feeling good already, huh? ? Take up exercise — That’s what I see a lot of experts recommend in advice columns and website posts. But no one ever specifies […]
A high tech, on-the-grid runner
A high tech runner? Oh no. Now I’m one of those people. I’m not even sure who those people are. But I’ve always thought I wasn’t one of them. You know, the type who is totally plugged in while exercising. Music playing. Incoming texts beeping. Their GPS always mapping. The latte machine strapped to their back foaming. The ones who couldn’t free themselves from technology for five minutes. Had to take it with them wherever they went. Even to exercise. But running for me was always the escape. The chance to put all of my wretched gadgets — the ones that follow me, and bug me, and tell me where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing and who I need to be talking to — away. It was liberating. A chance to just strap on my shoes, look at some squirrels and run. Then I went and did it. I got a running watch that talks to some satellite in the sky and tells me where I am. (Because I couldn’t figure that out myself.) Now I’m one of those people. And I loved it! “Check this out,” I told my wife, plugging the watch into my computer after finishing a run. Up popped all kinds of data on me. Miles covered, my pace, calories burned, my favorite color, how to crack my online security codes. “Look! It even has a map of my run. You can see exactly where I went!” My wife stared at it. […]
Big changes with New Year’s resolutions
I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions. Never believed in them. Never thought they were worth making. Yet, as 2015 approached, I found myself resolving to make big changes in the New Year. Big ones! So, I thought I would share my list in hopes it might also help loyal readers like you as we embark on this brave New Year. ? Start listening to my wife. Turns out, unbeknownst to me, she knows what she’s talking about. And likes to remind me of this when she’s right. And this is fairly often. And fairly embarrassing. And could be prevented if I just listened… once in a while. Like that Amazon Prime membership that gives us free 2-day shipping. I finally signed up and turns out: It’s awesome! Or the refrigerator with the water dispenser and automatic icemaker. Again: Awesome! But every time I use them I have to hear, “See? Told ya!” Oh, what a little listening would have prevented. ? Do fewer do-it-yourself projects. DIY is so 2014. Let this be the year of do-it-someone-else. Let some other chump climb into the scary attic with all the nails sticking out of the rafters like dragon claws. Let someone else fix un-fixable plumbing leaks and take on terrifying electrical projects that usually involve me wondering if I flipped off the right circuit breaker before slicing through wires. Too many times I’ve told my family, “I’m off to do [insert project name here.] I’ll probably die, so don’t forget […]