Thoughts galore
It’s Thursday. What else were you expecting?
And just like that it’s Thursday again and here I am again…thinking. What’s new? 🤦🏼♀️ The wheels are always turning, which is not always a good thing. But it’s my thing, and it’s about to become your thing. So let us away…
In a stroke of good fortune, Mother Nature finally loosened her death grip on us, the heat broke, and on so Saturday I took my first walk in what felt like forever. It was such a great day. Fresh, dry (but still warm like summer, just not hot like Hades) air. Gorgeous blue sky punctuated with fluffy, happy white clouds. As I walked down Wharf Street, I could smell the salty ocean air and then as I continued along Weymouth’s great esker in Great Esker Park, I swear I saw certain colors for the first time. 5.9 miles of solitude, of joy…tunes cranking, pep in my step, big smile on my face. Only downside was a bad sock choice which ended in a few hot spots, which was annoying. I was *that* out of practice—I didn’t pay attention to my socks. Live and learn.
The greens, the green-golds…all kinds of blue…sigh…and I can almost smell the ocean just looking at this pic. Almost. Speaking of Mother Nature’s death grip, what’s this I hear about a drought-driven tomato shortage‽ If this doesn’t scare you into believing in climate change, nothing will. We’re on the brink of a full-blown pizza problem, about to confront a catastrophic salsa situation. Wake up people. I know our garden showed the impacts of the drought beyond any reasonable doubt—but this worst drought in CA in 1200 years and its impact on the nation’s tomato supply? Unacceptable! I bet Tom “Mr I Don’t Eat Nightshades” Brady is the only one who is nonplussed by this announcement. Make no mistake—COVID hitting was The Universe’s way of warning us that if we don’t shape up, Armageddon will be shipped out.
Lots of chatter in the news lately about millennials (and plenty of folks from other generations) not wanting to work. I don’t think that’s a fair characterization. People are ok with working…but they don’t wanna work for The Man anymore. The pandemic has taught us that there’s so much more to life than work. And for the people who are rising up, well, work doesn’t define them; it totally flummoxes me why so many people have such a violent negative reaction to this notion, of people wanting work-life balance. If the scales are gonna tip, why shouldn't they tip in *my* favor? Frank Bruni wrote a popular college-selection book (which I have not read) called Where You Go is Not Who You’ll Be and I agree with the premise that where you go to college (or not) shouldn’t define the rest of your life. And to extend that a bit, I also happen to feel that what you do is not who you are. In the 1950s, Dad’s career not only defined dad himself but also his family. But it’s not the 1950s anymore, life is way more multidimensional, and for many of us, the 9-5 grind is a means to an end. It’s not a be-all-end-all by any stretch. I’m wondering what’s behind this shift, though. I’m try to avoid making sweeping generalizations and certainly wouldn’t make one asserting that this particular generation as lazy. My current theory is this: there’s a parent-micromanaged trophy generation that was almost-manufactured to fuel the “amateur” kiddie sports money-making machine. These kids played multiple sports year-round in the hopes of receiving a D1 scholarship or playing pro in one of them, a pipe dream sold to them by these “travel teams.” And then, they came out on the other side of it…wait for it…just like everyone else. No scholarship, no D1 fame, not drafted by any team for any sport in any city, maybe playing intramurals at a big school, maybe on a club team, maybe catching on to a D2 or D3 team, or maybe “just” attending college as a plain-old student. That generation is now out of college, maybe they finished maybe they didn’t, and they’re just regular people…regular people who now are so disenfranchised, realizing they went through their childhood and young adulthood on auto-pilot, living out their parents’ dreams (the same parents who devoted their lives to working for The Man) on a lie of a promise (by the greedy “travel team” bastards), and who now are realizing that there is joy in “just” living. They need to slow down, and they want to live. I swear to god some of these youth sports organizations are this century’s version of a Medicine Man—cashing in on hopes, fears, and dreams, no promise too big or important to go unbroken. We (the royal “we,” society) created this problem…so “we” probably shouldn’t frown so hard at it.
If I ever steal top-secret documents, I won’t hide them in my house. I think the odds are slim that I’ll ever have access to them, but still. It’s always good to be prepared.
Speaking of top-secret documents and the thief that hid them, well, that big orange-faced clown is scarier than any clown in any horror movie. The manipulative hold he has on so much of the nation is petrifying. I mean, look at Liz Cheney. She stands up for democracy and most of Wisconsin takes it personally—an affront to their Donald—and sends her packing. It was no surprise that she lost but can we take a step back and think about what it means that she lost, to think about why she lost? I don’t live in Wisconsin but I’m impacted by what’s happening there. We all are. She got her ass handed to her—and I’m sure they’d be happy to go to Mar-a-Lago and serve the Cheeto her head on a platter.
And speaking of the Cheeto, we’re somehow managing to get even more polarized as a nation. Consider that Cincinnati FBI attack, and what devastating consequences that could have had. Bottom line is that political violence is never, ever the answer…so politicians everywhere should be taking big loud stances condemning it, not fanning the flames of discontent. FYI, The Universe is not conspiring to take away anyone’s constitutional rights. And I for one am sick and tired of bigoted racist homophobes (as well as those wielding countless other -isms and -obias) hiding behind this as if it justifies their abhorrent behavior.
Speaking of flames, anyone catch Baby Clown DeSantis’ announcement of his teacher recruitment plan? He said that Florida won’t become a woke dumpster fire. For real—the Governor of
Mar-a-LagoFL said that. Proudly. While I’m not sure what a woke dumpster fire is, it’s clear that he is perfectly content for FL to be a literal (the Everglades) and figurative (political stuff) swamp. (He also said that FL is where woke goes to die, so I would think a dumpster fire would be a good place to carry out the death of anything, but what do I know? Politics like this confuse me.)Speaking of death, well, does anyone else have somewhere between three and eight near-death experiences each summer due to driving in flip flops? Not any sandals. Flip flops. Why is that? Birkenstock Arizonas? No problem. But Birk Gizehs? And any other brand of flip-flops that can be considered a thong? It’s like driving with a death wish. There’s something about the way the strap and the sole work together to tie up the gas and/or brake pedal…not always, but sometimes. Fortunately I can always get them dislodged in time. Phew.
Speaking of driving, yesterday I realized that I can drive to Granite Liquors, grab (and pay for) some beer, and be home in 9 minutes.
And also speaking of driving, albeit a different kind of driving, let’s talk a bit about golf, which we played yesterday. It was the annual Widow’s Walk Member-Guest event, and in the morning the meteorologist gave a forecast for rain (after a Sahara Desert-dry summer, Mother Nature picks yesterday?) and temperatures that wouldn’t get out of the 60s, as he said “first time in a long time that it’s a jeans day and not a shorts day.” But the weather held (though there were a couple of aggressively misty holes), we played pretty ok, we laughed a lot, the after-party was tons of fun, and we got to revisit an important plot point of our origin story—which always makes us smile.
And to go back to speaking of the weather, kind of…this time of year always finds me a bit forlorn, a bit bereft…I don’t know why summer ending feels like a hard end of something to me. To what exactly I don’t know, though I do know the end of the calendar year has zero impact on me. And don’t get me wrong, I love Fall. But when the cooler mornings and evenings creep in, the sky turns dusky well before Final Jeopardy, talking about when we’re going to get the pool closed, those things always leave me feeling a bit blue. And so it goes.
But this time of year also is a particularly good time to talk about safety. Many of you have kids going off to college for the first time, or living in off-campus apartments. Make sure that you check where they are living and verify that they have working smoke alarms and working carbon monoxide detectors. Yeah, it might embarrass them, but it also may save their lives. A few years back when my nephew moved into a new (to him) place with a dozen other guys, I sent my sister off with this advice. She tested the alarm in his room and it worked. The house was hard wired, all the alarms sounded, and when the other families wondered what was going, my nephew informed them that it was just a test that his aunt made them do…the other kids went about their business, but the parents were all very appreciative, because they never would have thought of it. It’s a small thing you can do that can have a big (life-saving) impact. Fire burns so much faster these days and you have only minutes to get out. And if you’re an empty nester looking to spend time at quant Airbnbs or VRBOs, take care of yourselves too. Traveling with portable devices may sound nerdy but it’s never a bad idea. Just saying!
Stopping at a dozen thoughts feels like a good termination point for the random thoughts train, plus it’s time for a cup of coffee, plus it’s late. Though now that I’m thinking about things that come in a dozen, I’m suddenly craving a donut. 🤦🏼♀️ This is how my mind works, in real time.
Before I go, I want to share some great words I read in a piece in yesterday’s Globe where Renée Graham remembered Anne Heche. When Graham interviewed Heche in 1997, Heche said this: “Here’s the formula. You tell the truth, you always say what you want and what you feel, and you will live in bliss. Don’t hide, don’t lie, don’t manipulate, and you’ll get blessed.”
I can get behind that kind of math, and I bet you can too.
Thanks for spending some time with me, thanks for reading, and thanks for being you.
Happy Friday Eve and until next time, love you too.
outstanding as always and spot on about the siren song of the youth sports machine. Watch for the baseball madness to replace the hockey madness as they pivot from "the next charlie coyle" to "the next cal ripken team" scramble.
Good stuff, man, good stuff.