Brian’s Blog – Random thoughts and observations.

September 23, 2024September 21, 2024

Careful Consideration.

I’m resigned to the fact that in life, there are some things I’ll never understand.

It’s said that history is the best teacher, but it’s painfully apparent there are very few students.

So often it seems the masses exercise willful ignorance, blindly rushing headlong into a future destined to costly, completely avoidable mistakes. As though the less than satisfactory results are the goal! Why?? Regardless of outcome, the results are deemed “Progress”. Declared the “New normal.” Really??

On an individual level, problems are often very complex and it’s seldom that one person’s circumstances are identical to another, and yet there are almost always lessons that if properly modified, adapted and applied could greatly enhance the chance of a more positive resolution in the future. It seems however that far too many are convinced that their problem is unique, perhaps far worse, and any counsel provided is old news, out of touch, inapplicable - consequently ignored.

How about the results driven approach? Did a previous effort produce satisfactory results? If not, why not? What should be done differently? Yet so often the original course of action is repeated time and again with identical results. It would only make sense to continue in this fashion if you were attempting to validate consistency, not trying to improve an outcome.

Age brings a wealth of experience. The wise individual takes note of both positive and negative lessons throughout life and applies that knowledge as needed during the ensuing years. It often improves quality of life as one ages and may even have some positive bearing on longevity. Sadly though, when trying to offer some nugget of counsel where it could be aptly applied to the circumstances of a junior acquaintance, it is rebuffed or at best respectfully acknowledged but quietly disregarded.

I get the feeling sometimes that younger generations often go in diametrically opposite directions from prior, simply because they can, not for any credible reason. They persist in this to their own detriment. They whine that life has become so difficult and then wonder why! Clearly adherence to time proven principals could have and would have produced far more satisfactory results, yet they staunchly deny the obvious and proceed resolutely down their predetermined, self destructive path. It makes no sense to me.

This smacks of a grumpy old man’s diatribe against change and younger generations, but it truly isn’t! I’m an advocate for progress - where it makes sense. I love younger folks, I was one once! I’ve been learning a great deal by listening to several recently. Some very thought provoking discussions.

I’m simply trying to understand why historical evidence, and lessons learned have been relegated to the ash heap of irrelevant by so much of society? By whose authority are we instructed to disregard the past? Will history every again be recognized for the invaluable gift that it truly is? Will the wisdom gleaned from experience ever again be considered worthy to illuminate the future?

I sincerely hope so.

Consider your vote carefully.

September 16, 2024August 31, 2024

Maple tree. The story.

Maple Tree. The story.

I don’t suppose that it’s a foregone conclusion that everyone will have to deal with age related maladies as they mature, but I suspect most folks do. I’m no exception although, I admit that in my younger days I shortsightedly smirked - inwardly of course - at my older peers who’s conversations tended to revolve around their most recent maladies and medications. I always made a mental note that I would never do that.

Oops………

Lest you begin to get the impression that this writing is no more than another in the long line of boring discourses on the complications of aging, let me move quickly to more fertile territory.

That being a very unexpected pleasure that could only be realized with advancing age.

Let me paint the picture:

When I was a child, my mothers folks lived in a nice house on a pleasant residential street in Mentor Ohio. Grandpa and Grandma had the house built in the 1940’s and thats where my mom and her siblings grew up. By the time I came along in the late 1950’s, it was a well established neighborhood. Most of the folks had been there for years, and as a kid my perception was that it was generally a great place to live.

I did get knocked off my bicycle once by several neighborhood bullies. It scared me a bit at the time, but left no emotional scars that I’m aware of. Just a part of growing up.

The point is, it was a pretty nice place to be.

Most of the neighborhood was well manicured. That was a time when folks generally cared for their own place and took pride in it. Those were the days of reel mowers. I’m sure that some had gasoline engines, but I remember seeing grandpa cutting the lawn with a simple conventional unpowered one.

I also remember “helicopter” cleanup.

The tree lawns along Case Avenue were lined with Maple trees. I don’t know for sure but I think the primary species was Silver Maple. Probably a mix though. I seem to recall raking, piling and burning taking place in both the spring and fall. Maybe it was Helicopters in the spring and leaves in the fall. Not sure, but I just remember that when the helicopters came along - they were everywhere! Any that managed to make it through the grass and contact the soil tended to sprout and the next thing you knew you had seedlings trying to take over and outgrow the grass, particularly in the tree lawn.

Everyone raked the helicopters from their lawns, cleaned the gutters and piled them all out front and burned them. All along the street when season was in full swing, there would be smoldering fires of helicopter seeds, leaves and various tree debris. The piles tended to get moved around the tree lawns to kill off the growth.

One year around this time when I was probably about six or seven years old I wanted to take one of those little seedlings and plant it in my yard. Save it from annihilation so to speak!Grandma instructed me to carefully dig one up preserving all the roots and a little soil with them. She went inside and retrieved a paper Dixie cup and we carefully “potted” my little seedling. I took it home where Dad and I chose a spot that was suitable to plant it. Far enough from the house to hopefully avoid the gutter clogging mess if it somehow managed to survive to maturity. The first couple years it was there we inadvertently mowed over it, but survive it did!

As is often the case, things that inspire a youngster are frequently forgotten as interests change with age. Periodically as a teen I’d look out back and see a hearty maple growing and remember that I planted it, but it held little sentimental value or interest at the time.

My folks moved away from that house in 1996. That’s the last time I saw my maple or stopped by the neighborhood.

Fast forward to July 2023. 27 years.

We had retired earlier in the year. For the first time in my adult life I could go about traveling in a leisurely fashion. What an incredible luxury! I finally had the opportunity to consider activities beyond the carefully orchestrated constraints of a customary vacation.

I’m a simple man. The things that interest me most are family, old friends, campfires, music, to name a few. I’ve recently become intrigued by the early things in life that shaped and influenced the man I have become. My old neighborhood. Our family home.

The tree I planted.

Of the half dozen or so families that originally resided in my neighborhood, only one remained.

My folks still maintained contact so I was able to get their info and arrange a visit.

The day arrived and my brother joined me. We had a marvelous time reminiscing, laughing about old events and catching up on family news. Later in the visit, our hosts had arranged for me to see my tree.

It was magnificent!

I can’t begin to describe the emotions and the flood of memories. Thinking about that tiny seedling verses the massive tree it had become. The girth of its trunk is probably 4 times my own! All the years that had sped past.

I saw a large broken branch part way up. I had to wonder about all the storms it weathered. The winds that tried in vain to uproot it. I couldn’t help but make comparisons between its life and my own and how they’ve intersected. In spite of headwinds, we both thrived!

Perhaps this story seems silly or a bit overly sentimental to you. Maybe in truth it is. But to me that tree represents something I did that will most likely endure well beyond my days. Perhaps by centuries. Sure, no one a hundred years from now will know that I planted it or even care, but unless someone cuts it down it remains as a testament.

I realized that this experience could only be attained by virtue of advancing years. While we may be destined to endure various age related maladies, there are also some beautiful revelations. Now that I’m aware of their existence, I intend to actively seek them out!

I hope there are other things about my having lived that remain. My faith in Jesus that I’ve attempted to share with my children and others. Possibly a memory or two about some positive thing I achieved or funny thing I did that will get passed along to my great grandkids.

Maybe someday they’ll stop by that little house on Auburn Rd and see the huge Maple tree great grandpa planted!

Final note -

Of all the songs I’ve written and recorded, my favorite is “Maple Tree.”

You can hear it at: brianandsara.net “Brian’s tunes” or on YouTube at:

https://youtu.be/3gGK2cfolss

Copy and paste the link in your browser.

September 9, 2024August 23, 2024

Reflections on 9/11/2001

Early September 2001.

For a number of reasons, I was quite burned out with the automobile business and particularly disgusted with the fellow that had the majority interest in the dealership I worked for at the time.

A good friend and former co-worker, Al, had been in Florida for a conference with his employer, Parker Hannifin, and spent some time with us.

Al raved about his job, indicated that there was plenty of opportunity if I had any interest in making a career change.

The 1st week of September, with my permission, Al passed my contact info along to the HR department of Parker who immediately reached out to gauge my level of interest in an interview - particularly as the Vice President of the division Al worked for happened to be in Tampa and was eager to speak with me.

Sara and I had talked about it beforehand and decided that I should at least “knock on the door” and see what might happen. A meeting was arranged for the mid afternoon of Friday September 7th.

The interview / meeting went well, was very positive and at the conclusion, my interviewer asked me directly if I was ready to take the next step.

That step would be an interview with the gent that would be my direct supervisor. The company would arrange for me to travel to meet with him.

I agreed.

As Parker Hannifin is based in Cleveland Ohio, I incorrectly concluded that I would be traveling to Cleveland. As I was returning home from Tampa that afternoon I received a call from the HR Department indicating that travel plans had been put in place for the next interview which would be at approximately 11:00 on Tuesday 9/11/2001 in the corporate office in Newark NJ. I would be leaving Sarasota early that morning and flying directly to Newark, arriving about 10:00 and would be met by someone from the office who would fetch me around for the interview.

Everything happened very quickly and as these arrangements were relayed to me, I began to have a great deal of apprehension about traveling on that particular morning. By the time I got home and spoke with Sara the feeling was full blown. I called back the HR contact and asked if they could please postpone by one week to September 18th. She graciously complied.

Tuesday morning, September 11th.

I was at the car dealership at my usual time of 8:00. The mornings were generally quiet - particularly during the week.

I was at my desk catching up on various calls etc. simply hanging out in the showroom waiting for customers. Moments after the plane collided with the first tower, someone ran into the showroom from the service department waiting room where customers had been watching the morning shows, and told us what had happened. We all quickly headed back there to see the news. We were watching the broadcast when the second plane hit at 9:03. From that moment on we were glued to the television and listening to the radio for any updates we could get.

It felt like the world was ending. The uncertainty and rage at what was happening was something I had never felt before. For the first time in my life the sense of security of “being an American” in the United States was shattered. We were vulnerable in ways that we had never imagined.

As the morning progressed, we heard about the attack on the Pentagon and the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. My father-in-law saw what he believed to be that very aircraft as it flew over Middlefield Ohio. Airliners routinely fly over the area at high altitude - this one was extraordinarily low. Apparently it had been hijacked just before it hit Cleveland airspace and circled away from Cleveland heading back toward Washington DC. He was sitting on his front porch when it thundered over.

We couldn’t believe everything that was happening. It seemed everyone was frantically calling their family members - checking on their whereabouts - making sure they were OK - just wanting to get home, to be together. As if somehow being together would re-establish that lost sense of security.

The emotions of the morning were especially compounded to me. The foreboding that had prevailed upon me to postpone my travel plans was vivid in my memory. There was no denying that I had experienced a Divine Intervention. The Lord had prevented me from traveling that morning. While the flight I had been scheduled for was not part of the terrorist attacks, it would have most certainly been diverted from Newark and grounded somewhere as soon as air traffic control realized what was taking place. It would have most likely been impossible to return home for several days and who know’s where I might have been stuck.

As if that wasn’t enough to deal with we were keeping a close eye on on a tropical system that was just offshore south Florida. On September 13th, Hurricane Gabrielle formed in the Gulf and by the 14th it made landfall in our area flooding streets along with some minimal wind damage. Of course in light of what was happening in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington DC, the storm never really received much attention in the news cycle.

One week later on the 18th I flew out of Sarasota airport first thing in the morning on what I believe was the first flight out - post attack.

The atmosphere on the plane was very somber.

A couple hours later as we were approaching New Jersey, the flight path took us along the Hudson river. As the plane approached New York City and Newark we could see a significant amount of smoke still emanating from the wreckage of what was once the Twin Towers. As we got closer the acrid smell of that smoke penetrated the aircraft cabin. There wasn’t a sound from anyone on the plane - just the jet engines and control noises. We couldn't believe what our eyes were seeing. What our country had just experienced.

Due to the massive increase in airport security it was determined it would be better to meet with my potential new boss at the airport. Logistics of getting into any airport or on a plane had become extremely complex and the company was concerned about my return flight that afternoon.

We met in one of the coffee shops, had a productive time but the number of armed military men, security forces and bomb sniffing dogs was surreal. We had never seen anything that compared in our lifetimes. It was disconcerting to say the least.

I got the job.

We relocated to Massachusetts in early October 2001. It was an uncertain time, particularly for Sara and I, as we were adjusting to the huge reality of a lost sense of confidence in our country’s security, our relocation and adjustment to a new job and isolation from literally everyone we knew. The Lord saw us through some very difficult challenges and as is always the case - He worked all things together for His Glory and our good.

We have a son and daughter in law in Massachusetts and two wonderful grandchildren - Cole and Emmaline!

September 2, 2024August 31, 2024

A replica cannon.

There must be some perfect correlation between imagination, creativity, raw talent, application and productivity that perfectly align to bring about say an Einstein or Tesla or Elon Musk. I think of Walt Disney or much earlier Galileo, Michelangelo, Stradivarius – you can add any number to the list of individuals that have significantly benefited mankind by their winning combination.

Interestingly though, misused they bring about the likes of King Herod, Nero, Genghis Khan, Hitler, Bin Laden just to name a few.

I’m not nearly smart enough or intellectually savvy enough to profess any understanding of how it works, the perfect combination or what turns some toward beneficial use or diabolical misuse. But I do recognize that all of these attributes exist in each of us to varying degrees.

I am presently recovering from surgery on my hand. The Doctor was very firm in his instruction that “He owned my thumb and hand for the next 3 months.” Any, and I repeat, any incorrect use of my hand during the recovery period can severely jeopardize the progress or even negate the beneficial effect completely. In short he put the “fear of God” into me! It’s really hard to sit here in my music studio looking at my guitars that are begging to be played. Even harder to type with one hand – but alas – I find this is presently my lot.

All this to say that for the last week, possibly for the first time in my life, I am sitting quietly, thinking. Remembering things. Contemplating. Wow! Pretty cool!

(I’m actually bored out of my mind – but I digress.)

I’ve been biding my time writing down various recollections. The more I probe my memories, the more clearly I begin to recognize my own strange idiosyncrasies and why I am the way I am. Why I do some of the seemingly pointless things that I do. Take for example a replica cannon I built back in the late 80’s. I built it to sit by our flagpole. The flagpole just looked like it needed a cannon next to it. Here’s a picture.
We’ll come back to the cannon later. (The way this is going it might be much later.)

So all this introspection has given me the opportunity to do some interesting self evaluation.
It would seem that I have a vivid imagination, an insatiable creative bent that takes many forms, Music, construction, writing. It drives me crazy if I am unable to exercise some creative outlet constantly. Unfortunately though, I just have an adequate level of raw talent, and a very low level of understanding practical application. Consequently my personal productivity is almost non existent. Not to say I haven’t been productive throughout life. I’ve been very productive at times, but only within the framework of a clearly defined task. My creativity has never had its own practical application.

(This is getting deep.)

Somewhere along the way we started watching the miniseries North and South. I often worked late and I seem to recall it would be on television around 8:00 in the evening, so Sara would videotape it for me. Of course my boys could then view it multiple times. It wasn’t too long before they were making costumes, collecting toy guns, planning, executing and fighting imaginary battles in the woods. Building forts. Drawing maps.

Dragging my replica cannon into the woods. Leaving it out there for me to hunt for. Arguing over who’s turn to use it for the days battles. It didn’t spend a lot of time near the flagpole!

Since I am blessed – or cursed – whatever the case – with a vivid imagination, creative bent and a passion for American History, I decided that it was necessary to build a second replica cannon. By this the battles would become more evenly matched.
Can’t have one son outgunning the other. Indulgent father? I don’t think so. I did enjoy seeing them play.

It also kept them out of my hair….

As the miniseries went on for quite a few weeks, the interest in this particular activity continued to ramp up and seemed to have taken a very healthy root. Accordingly I decided that our summer vacation, should lean heavily toward furthering the boys understanding and appreciation of that period in American history. We dutifully headed the family truckster toward Gettysburg, Harpers Ferry, Appomattox and all the various dedicated battlefields in between. It was great – I was incredibly fascinated with the adventure. So were the boys. For about 45 minutes – at which point one or both boys and possibly their mother began begging for Disneyland…

Ah.. we persevered however, and the boys did see a great deal of countryside and acquired a firsthand knowledge of the immensity and human tragedy of the War between the States.
An appreciation and respect for the freedom and rights of everyone regardless of race, ethnic background, education, and economic or social status.

I’m sure they also acquired several toy muskets, costume accessories, and various artifacts to add additional realism to their activities. (If souvenir’s weren’t available to entice, it’s highly unlikely these types of educational forays would ever take place.)

But back to the cannon.

Here we are approximately 30 some odd years, 4 moves and 4 houses later and I’m still dragging that original cannon along. I get it out occasionally and put it by the flag on Memorial Day or some National Holiday. Seems ridiculous. It’s in the way, hard to store and in reality just another thing the boys will have to get rid of at my demise.

I’ve discovered, by way of my recent introspection, that I keep it because along with my vivid imagination, and creativity, I also seem to be encumbered with a healthy dose of mushy sentimentality –
Wonderful memories of my boys playing with it. Outside, enjoying the woods and fields, the home we once had together, the land they grew up on.

I also don’t have the slightest idea what else to do with it…. It does keep the neighbors guessing!

August 27, 2024August 27, 2024

Sunny days and sweatshirt nights.

Sunny days and sweatshirt nights.

I suppose it’s obvious from several of my recent posts that I have waxed nostalgic for Northeast Ohio of late. Honestly, I don’t regret having made the move south all those years ago. The moderate temperatures of a South Florida winter still hold sway over the seemingly endless string of grey sky days, sleety nights, slush and spring mud that are all too frequently the typical snow belt winter.

AdmittedIy, to keep everything in perspective, I do have to remind myself periodically of the straw that broke this camels back; winter that began in October (1995) with snow and freezing temps and never relented for a moment until after Mothers day the next spring. (1996)

After spending an entire day shoveling snow off the roof due to leaks and worse - concern about possible roof collapse. I’d had enough.

Prior to my surgery a few weeks ago, I spent a great deal of time frantically working outside. Stuff I knew I couldn’t do during recovery. Some pretty strenuous projects. Installing pavers, cleaning up flower beds and the yard. I got used to the heat and endless sweat of outside activity here years ago. I’m actually ok with it. It’s just that by early September I’m done. I’ve had enough of the upper 90 degree temperatures. I start thinking about fall. Now that I’m retired and can get away - I want out!

Labor Day in my old stomping grounds has always been accompanied by the Great Geauga County Fair. Warm sunny days and sweatshirt nights. I’m not really a big Fair aficionado, but I’d usually stop by at least once to make a circuit or two of the midway and catch a sausage sandwich. There was always a good possibility of bumping into an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. Sure northeast Ohio weather is pretty unpredictable, but this time of year when its nice - it’s real nice.

When I was in high school, I was in marching band. We always had some part in a Fair Event. I recall parking in the field once with ankle deep mud from incessant rain. Marching on a soggy racetrack in drizzle and trying to keep warm in a soggy uniform afterward, but that wasn’t the norm.

It’s still a little early for any fall color but you’ll start seeing some empty corn stalks. The fall harvests are getting underway.

This always reminds me of my one and only foray into vegetable gardening.

In the early 80’s I had cleared a couple acres of our land. Being the enterprising young fella that I was, I decided that dedicating an acre of my newly cleared ground to sweet corn and pumpkins could provide a nice little nest egg in the fall to help offset the cost of our winter heating oil. I did a bit of homework and found three varieties of good sweet corn that all matured at different times - roughly 2 weeks between each. If I played it right it should begin ripening in mid August and run well into September. We could put a little produce stand by the road and sell it. Between that and a good crop of Pumpkins we could market later, we should make a tidy profit.

I don’t recall who plowed and dressed the field for me but we got it done and dedicated 3/4 of an acre to corn and the remainder to pumpkins. 24 hills.

All went well. The weather was perfect that summer, warm sunny days with just the right amount of rain. I was so excited to see the first shoots coming out of the ground. I recall spending time out there weeding but undoubtedly not nearly as much as I should have. My pumpkin patch was pretty good but I did neglect the corn a bit. Nevertheless, that garden thrived! Row after row of beautiful corn stalks. Pumpkin vines plentiful on their hills.

“Knee high by the 4th of July” was always the benchmark. I was right on target.

The pumpkin vines had begun to blossom.

I don’t recall when the first corn came in but I’m thinking later August and man it was good! I was elated.

But one minor problem.

All of it seemed to be maturing at the same time!

Evidently, it had cross pollinated. Suddenly overnight there was ripe sweet corn everywhere! We started picking as fast as we could but couldn’t begin to keep up. Furthermore it appeared every farm for a thousand miles had a bumper crop. You couldn’t give the stuff away! We ate so much corn we were sick of it! I told everyone I knew to feel free to come by and pick all they want.

I seriously doubt we picked a quarter of that crop.

It was disappointing but at least we still had the pumpkins.

Or so I thought.

It sure looked like it would be a great harvest - I had pumpkins growing everywhere, but they were the most peculiar looking pumpkins I’d ever seen. Kind of long and skinny. Oh well, I figured they had some time to fill out yet before harvest. I’d go out there every few days to check, keep the hills weeded, hoping to see some improvement. Oh they were growing all right - longer.

I had the sinking feeling that something was amiss.

I’m not sure who finally broke the news to me but it had to be done. I was the unwitting farmer of a bumper crop of Zucchini! It seems the seed house up the street had mislabeled the seeds. I didn’t know wether to cry or go hunt them down and do despicable things to them!

I hate Zucchini! With a passion! As soon as I could arrange it, I had the entire crop plowed under.

Anyway, sorry about the diversion.

This time of year I do get homesick for Ohio. I miss fall.

We were able to go up two years ago for the 200th anniversary of the Fair. They had some really great displays and memorabilia dating all the way back to the beginning! The few times in recent years that we’ve been fortunate enough to be there during Fair time we spend most of it sitting on the front lawn of my brother-in-laws place directly across the street. It’s so refreshing to just hang out with family, see a few old friends, people watch and occasionally scoot into the fair just long enough to grab a sausage sandwich, an elephant ear and get out! Evening rolls around, the sweatshirts come out. So does the wine if you hang around long enough.

Last year we went up in late September. Beautiful days and cool nights. Perfect weather. The trees were in the early stages of autumn color. Saw the most incredible field of sunflowers ever!

Unfortunately we won’t get there this year. Physical therapy on my hand is scheduled weekly through early November.

So if you’re at the Fair this year - I hope it’s nice!

(Enjoy that sausage sandwich! Maybe keep a sweat shirt handy.)

August 22, 2024

Waiting for the rain.

Waiting for the rain.

8/22/2024

There will likely be a few times in most every life that the day to day routines must go on without you. I’m immersed in one right now. It’s hard to just sit by and watch everything transpire without me. According to my Doctor, it will be about 3 months. I’m ten days in as of this writing.

I’m blessed at my age, that I’m not suffering from anything serious or debilitating, but simply recuperating from a surgery that requires extended intentional passivity. Activity during this time could apparently jeopardize or even potentially negate a positive outcome. It’s serious from the standpoint that it involves the dexterity of my left hand. Guitar fingering is hugely important to me. Consequently, I’m planning to stick like glue to my Dr’s counsel, and trust the Lord for the outcome. My guitars are waiting.

The down time has given me an opportunity. The chance to do something I’ve always wanted:

Write.

There are so many things that I’ve wanted to record, life experiences, lessons learned, various events, humorous stories, but routines and responsibility always took precedence. Occasionally I would find the time to make a few scattered notes, but they would quite often be abandon - incomplete.

Waiting.

It reminds me of waiting for rain.

A farmer clears the field. Tills and loosens the soil. Gets rid of the obstacles, rocks, stumps. Puts the seeds into the dry ground and then waits.

My life reflects the same pattern albeit a much longer season. I was young once, got my education, applied what I'd learned in the setting of employment. Provided for my family. And waited.

For what?

The farmer waits for rain to cause the seed to swell, burst and sprout.

I guess I’ve been waiting for the luxury of uninterrupted time. My rain. Time to nurture ideas. To finally record the things I believe worthy of note. To sprout.

Finally the Farmer’s rain arrives and growth begins. But the toil continues. Tending the garden. Keeping out the critters and weeds that would negate the harvest. Praying for the correct ratio of sun, temperature and rain. Working, watching and waiting expectantly.

My rain has arrived! Unexpectedly by virtue of a surgery. The storm caught me without my umbrella. It soaked me to the skin and it appears to be a prolonged event. The seeds have been planted for years. In the fertile ground of my mind. I scramble to tend the sprouting garden. Weed through a jumble of memories, epiphanies. Lessons learned and humor. Determine what is noteworthy. I too work, watch and wait expectantly.

Here’s where the comparison breaks down a bit:

The farmer knows what he planted. He follows time proven methods to be reasonably assured of a bountiful harvest.

I haven’t got a clue what I’ve planted. I just observe the sprouts mature into whatever they become as I write. I have no method to follow. No training, but simply a notion that the pursuit may somehow be worthwhile.

The farmer has a pretty clear expectation of the bounty, based upon how much he planted and the conditions by which it matures. Hopeful expectation of financial return.

My expectations are less tangible. I find the effort extraordinarily therapeutic. It has revitalized memories. It’s entertaining. Filled with humor, poignancy, and yes - even a bit of wistful regret. The “return” for my labor is this newly acquired vantage point from which I can, clearly see and define the outcome of choices, long past. Gleaning wisdom, whose proper application will hopefully stack the deck in my favor at future crossroads.

Lord willing many remain.

I might be the only one that enjoys what I write, and I’m OK with that, but I also have a secret hope that maybe my kids and grandkids, future generations of my family will read, enjoy it and maybe gain some insight.

I know I sure would have enjoyed almost anything written by my ancestors.

Let the rain come!

August 19, 2024August 18, 2024

Just an old lawn tractor.

I’ve often heard it said that “you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.”

I grew up in a small house my dad built on an acre of property in northeast Ohio. Big virgin forest across the street and a dairy farm behind us. Very quiet neighborhood - about 7 or 8 houses on the street at that time. In the summertime - the aroma of fresh cow manure was often prevalent! Funny how some things as distasteful as they may seem, bring back fond memories! I remember lots of lazy days hiking past the cow pastures into the woods beyond, just to see what was there. Single shot .22 over my shoulder just in case I came across an old bottle or can that needed shooting. Nobody back then gave a second thought to a kid with a rifle.

As if that wasn’t quiet enough, my wife and I eventually purchased a total of 8 acres in a small northeast Ohio town that was predominantly Amish. Talk about quiet!

We pretty much raised the boys there until they were both in their teens. Family around and some forever friends. Idyllic setting in many ways.

Some years later, we moved from that rural 8 acre spread in Northeast Ohio to a postage stamp size lot with a nice house in Sarasota Florida - October of 1996. All the reasons you would expect - tired of hard winters and grey sky. Long drives into town for just about anything. Because we lived in such a rural area the joint high school with our town and the next one combined only graduated 15 to 20 students per year. You can imagine then how limited were the educational opportunities for our boys. These things had all begun to contribute to a desire for change. A chance to provide more opportunity to the boys and the idea of a ”clean start” has always held some allure.

Sara had relatives in Sarasota, so we occasionally spent time here and were somewhat familiar with the area. While it was a city, it was still relatively quiet, far more educational opportunities for the boys, everything you could possibly need, within walking distance or only a short drive. At that time the cost of living was lower than up north. (Definitely not the case today) Work was available, but pay scales reflected the lower cost of living. Overall though - lots of positives.

Sara had come down to Florida on a “house hunting” expedition, just to see what was available and to evaluate wether or not she thought we could adjust to city life. Initially she came up empty. She knew we would not like the idea of a neighbors house within sneezing distance of our own and that’s about all she was finding.

A day or so before she was to return to Ohio she came across a place she really liked. Nice setting - big oak trees and although the neighboring homes were close, this house offered some privacy not afforded by most of the others she had visited. It had a swimming pool and a free standing building we could use as a music studio. Basically it ticked all the boxes. The best part was just the rural feeling even though it was conveniently located in town. We bought it and made it our own.

The move and lifestyle adjustments were much harder than anticipated though. True - we loved the convenience of city life - quick access to everything - but we discovered it was very difficult to make friends. To feel like we were a part of things. Admittedly we aren’t the most outgoing people, but I suspect that just the transient nature of a large percentage of the population was the root cause. “Snowbirds” generally come complete with their own social circles and have little need to get to know those that aren’t already included. At times the longing for something familiar could become overwhelming.

Fast forward almost 28 years and some 4 moves later and we find ourselves in our 3rd house in Sarasota. Even less property and more densely populated. Overdevelopment throughout the area is rampant.

For several years now I’ve begun to really miss the quiet northeast Ohio lifestyle. A bit of property where I’m not scrutinized by “Code Enforcement” if I want to park my camper in the driveway for a few days or if I want to build an additional shed on my own property. We have nice neighbors, and of all the neighborhoods we’ve lived in - this one is by far the quietist. Really strange in light of the fact we’re just outside a very busy airport.

Since retiring in 2023 we’ve had the luxury of spending extended periods up north with family and friends. Sure there have been some changes to the area but it's still very rural and feels like home. We've entertained the desire to move back more than once. We’ve thought about maybe buying a few acres where we could park the camper - possibly stay up there for a good chunk of the summer, but admittedly, I’m not made of money. Yes, we could probably swing the right situation if it came along, but is it really practical? I’ve been around enough to know that “dreams aren’t always what they seem to be.” (A line from one of my songs.)

Reality however, always seems to bring us back to center. My folks live about 5 miles away. Recently my older son and family have located to our area.

For the first time since the boys grew up and moved away, we have family nearby! Grandkids! Suddenly after all these years there is no lack of activity!

Our gatherings are becoming what they used to be many years ago when we all lived near each other in Ohio. It’s fun!

Funny thing though, I haven’t been able to shake that desire for some more land. It nags at me. It’s been years since I began hiring my yard work done and had to spend any time working in the little yard we do have. I blamed it on allergies and lack of time while I was working. My off time was more valuable to me than the few dollars a month that I spent paying for lawn care.

Until recently.

Sara has been working on our yards for years, She’s always wanted the back yard to feel secluded - private. Not with privacy fence, but rather with trees and plants. She had a vision and was actively pursuing it. This spring we splurged and had an additional paver area installed directly behind the house along with some new flower beds and plantings. Suddenly we have that secluded back yard she had been envisioning. We sit out there evenings and it’s quiet. I included up lighting in some of the trees. it’s quite peaceful.

I’ve actually begun to spend time working in the yard again. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ve enjoyed it! It’s incredibly satisfying to see the results of a dirty, sweaty day while enjoying a glass of wine out there in the evening.

Recently I purchased an old lawn tractor. That really makes me feel like I’m in the country again! In some strange way - complete…

Just an old lawn tractor…..

August 12, 2024August 12, 2024

My Best “Close”!

I never really understood why people like to mess around with car salespeople. I guess I’m just one of those “cut to the chase” kind of people.

I was in the automobile business from July 16th 1984 until the end of September 2001.

I worked just about every position available from sales to finance to General Sales Manager. I spent time running the used car department, purchasing cars at auctions, arranging for whatever renovation was necessary. I ran the leasing department for a while. Eventually I worked my way up to become the “manager” everyone had to go to for final deal approval. In those days that “maneuver" was legitimate. I was truly responsible to the owner for the profitability of each and every transaction. It wasn’t just some kind of sales gimmick.

I was fortunate to work for dealership owners that were honest. A couple of the folks they employed were less than honorable, but when it came right down to it, the owners did their best to keep the customer happy and provide a quality product / fair deal to each customer.

There are so many stories I could share about car sales - some hilariously funny, others not so much.

I learned a good many life lessons in the automobile business. One of the most valuable was not to prejudge anyone about anything - particularly regarding their ability to purchase - a very common character flaw of far too many salespeople. Maybe sometime I’ll share how I learned that one, but for now I’ll stick to one recollection that always brings a smile of satisfaction.

First let me provide some context -

As in many transactions that require negotiation, it’s important that the salesperson is prepared to take whatever time necessary to provide a customer with any information that helps them make a good decision.

(Preferably to purchase!)

This meant that quite often, even though the dealership closed at a specific time - an active sales effort / negotiation was never shut down just because the hour was late. I personally found this to be quite irritating as well as very disruptive to my family life, but I always considered it a necessary evil to be grudgingly tolerated. Not only did it rankle me, but my wife was far too many times left sitting waiting for me by herself for a dinner engagement, or even worse, handling outings with the kids - solo. Not a good way to keep a marriage healthy.

It was early June of 1993.

I was at the pinnacle of my career in the auto business. I oversaw the sales departments and was involved in a great many individual transactions. I kept a desk in the front of the showroom rather than cloister away in the corner office - unlike most of my contemporaries. The idea was to be readily available to both the customer and salesperson. This gave me the opportunity to become acquainted with many of our long term and repeat customers personally. More importantly, I was able to observe most everything that was taking place.

My older son BJ was 13 and younger son Brooks, 11.

The movie Jurassic Park was released on Friday evening June 11th. The movie arrived in our area by midweek the following week and I promised my boys that I would get them to the theater to see it right after work on Friday.

Our dealership closed at 6:00 and I knew I would have to leave work immediately, head home grab the boys and hightail it to the theater by about 7:00 to be sure we could get tickets for the evening show.

Generally Friday, late afternoon was a slow time at our dealership as folks were getting off of work, maybe going out for dinner and lining up their weekend plans.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

Right.

Mid afternoon a gent came in and began looking at several new cars. I casually observed he and the salesman off and on. Around 5:00 I could see my salesman was getting exasperated. He’d brought me several ridiculous offers from the man at this point which of course I had no choice but to decline.

It was becoming painfully apparent that this was the type of guy that liked to play games with a salesperson, whittle them down to the barest bones deal possible, then all too often walk away without purchasing. I guess they must consider it some kind of sport.

It was obvious that this fellow knew we were fast approaching closing time, but had no intention of letting up. It was apparent he didn’t care how late he kept us or how many people he was inconveniencing with his antics. He was clearly having fun.

I let this nonsense continue to about 5:50 then I walked over to the salesman's desk, introduced myself to the customer and politely told the man that we were closing at 6:00. He looked at me with a bit of a smirk and replied “so what?” I explained that I have two young sons and I promised to take them to the movie, and that I needed to leave right at 6:00 - closing time. He replied to me in a very sarcastic manner, “you would honestly shut down a serious negotiation so you can take your kids to the movie?” I smiled back at him and said “Nope, but you two will have to continue this ridiculous game outside a locked showroom. As far as I’m concerned you can stay there all night, but either way, the doors are locked at 6:00 and you are on the other side of them.” He looked at me in silence for a while and quietly replied “you’re serious aren’t you?”

I responded “Serious as a heart attack.” He drew a long breath - smiled and said “I’ll take the car. I’ll come back in the morning and complete the transaction.”

He did.

August 5, 2024

Funk Buster!

I’ve been in a funk lately.

Not depressed or anything like that, just a funk - for lack of a better description. It was triggered in early July while on vacation due to a couple unfortunate events and it seems to be constantly fed by political overload, election exhaustion, being on a stricter budget since retirement, concern for friends and family with health issues, my own upcoming surgery, and perhaps some personal floundering about exactly where I fit into the whole scheme of things since retirement.

Don’t get me wrong - I am enjoying the freedom of retirement immensely, but there is some truth to the feeling of irrelevance once the responsibilities of employment are gone.

I’ve tried hard to shake it off.

Sara and I have a regular morning routine of taking a walk and reading and praying together. We are diligent about counting and recounting our blessings and thanking the Lord for all He has done. I make it a point to be conscious of my attitude and try to choose a a good one.

(Sometimes I’m even successful!)

Generally playing my guitar and singing is quite therapeutic. At this time however, while I enjoy it, it’s adding to my lethargy due to the fact that I’m facing several months of recovery and therapy before I can commit to taking on a gig or participating in any musical endeavors.

To complicate it even more, in the last couple weeks my new CNC machine began having some issues and our microwave broke.

It gets even better.

Go ahead - call me stupid now and get it over with.

For a while I’ve been thinking I need a lawn tractor.

Multiple reasons.

I could probably afford a new one but in effort to be frugal, I found an old one on Facebook Marketplace, pulled the trigger adding yet one more item to the list of things needing repair.

I honestly didn’t get overwhelmed by any of it, but it all did kind of “feed the funk feeling.”

Yes - there is a point to all this.

Stay with me.

Last Monday I had received new parts for my CNC and began replacing the items that we suspected were faulty. Mid afternoon I broke off and went to look at the lawn tractor which I ultimately purchased. Brought home the tractor which of course wasn’t running and parked it.

Tuesday I finished the repairs on the CNC. I ran it through a basic operation a couple times and it worked flawlessly.

Wednesday I gathered everything I needed to start working on the tractor. By mid afternoon after having taken the carburetor off about a dozen times and cleaning it I realized there was a small deteriorated “O” ring. Called around and found a shop that was familiar with the carburetor and happened to have the part.

Took the carb with me and showed it to “Billy” the owner of the establishment. He quickly looked it over, showed me yet another ring that was bad, got me the parts and told me how to fix it.

About a half hour later the old tractor was purring like a kitten!

I was elated to say the least.

(Thanks Billy!)

A little aside here -

While I’ve generally been able to successfully “pull a wrench” now and then, it’s definitely not my forte’ nor do I enjoy it. This time however I didn’t really mind it. I attribute this to the fact that every time prior, I was up against a deadline. If I couldn’t get done in the allotted time, the project would have to be put on hold, incomplete, until I could get another day off of work.

That always frustrates the heck out of me! This time - for the first time ever, it didn’t really matter if I got done. I could resume the next day. Wow! Very cool!

Thursday I cleaned up the tractor and tried it out a bit. Worked great! I decided to mow the lawn with it on Friday. Went even better!

Saturday the new control board for the microwave arrived - almost a week ahead of schedule.

With a certain amount of trepidation I tore into that project and about a half hour later the microwave was working great!

Here’s the point - Saturday afternoon it suddenly dawned on me that my Funk had disappeared. I’m sure that having successfully completed all three projects had something to do with it, but I suspect more than anything else it was simply staying motivated, regardless of how I felt. Moving ahead even when I didn’t really feel like it.

Maybe the verses in Ecclesiastes and Colossians that refer to “doing everything with our might” and “whatever we do in word or deed” to give thanks in the “Name of the Lord Jesus” are indicative of this principle.

Keep going - and be thankful that you can!

At any rate it apparently worked for me!

What do you do that works for you? How do you get out of a Funk?

I’d enjoy hearing! Leave me a comment!

July 29, 2024July 29, 2024

Caladium Festival

I’m scheduled for surgery in a couple weeks to correct a very sore arthritic thumb. The recovery and therapy is about 3 - 4 months long during which time I basically can’t use my left hand. This presents a plethora of complications and limitations which we need not review at present - you can use your imagination.

In anticipation of all that downtime, I rashly decided we needed to enjoy one last short camping excursion beforehand.

I looked at a number of event listings - things to do within a couple hours of home.

Being that my wife loves plants and gardening I was particularly interested in anything that might encompass these elements for her enjoyment.

I came across the Caladium Festival in Lake Placid Florida. Wow! I thought! What a perfect occasion! (As an added bonus I noticed a steam train excursion during the festivities, but of course that was purely secondary to my desire to find something pleasing for my wife to enjoy.)

We planned our adventure meticulously. We would leave Friday morning, take in the festivities all afternoon Friday, go out for a nice dinner, relax for the evening then return the next morning and continue perusing the displays etc. Mid afternoon Saturday we would deviate and take a short train ride, then return to the festival for the remainder of the day. We would have a casual dinner and evening out then head home on Sunday.

Perfect plan.

So last week after having made all the arrangements, purchased tickets, paid campgrounds, we discovered we were already committed to a prior event on Saturday evening.

Oops -

That’s what calendars are for but I neglected to write that one down. Several emails later I was able to reschedule the train trip to an earlier time slot. We decided that since we were able to rearrange the train ride to the morning, we would pack up and head home early Saturday afternoon in time to make our prior evening engagement.

No problem.

Friday comes. Travel went as planned. We got to the event on schedule. All seemed well until we started walking around the festival in approximately 350 degree heat.

Occasionally we would get a few moments of relief due to the intermittent cloud cover, during which time the temperature would drop - about a tenth of a degree or so.

After about two hours of profuse sweating and pretending we were enjoying ourselves we purchased a few plants and headed to the truck.

We regrouped and decided to run back to the camper, freshen up a bit and relax until dinner time.

Fine.

Found a pleasant local bar and grill nearby. The place offered indoor or outdoor seating. Considering the earlier circumstances, indoor seemed the wiser choice.

The sign read seat yourself.

We went in and selected one of the few open tables.

*Here’s a tip - when you go into a busy restaurant with few remaining tables you might take a moment to evaluate why they’re available. (You can thank me later.)

We chose a nice open high top by the window. Also (as we soon discovered) directly in line with the primary air conditioner for the entire establishment. Temperature was approximately 20 to 30 degrees below zero with a wind chill of an additional negative 20.

At least the waitress was pleasant and the food was good.

Went back to the truck turned the heat on high and drove around looking at the area and thawing out for about 45 minutes or so.

As we were heading back to the campground, our route took us by the railroad station. To my surprise - there sat the steam engine and train. All shined up awaiting the next day’s excursions.

After a day that didn’t quite live up to my expectations, it was admittedly an exciting sight!

I’m sitting here early Saturday morning writing this.

With each new day, there’s fresh hope!