Our lives and "Our Town"

   This weeks' blog is simply my thoughts after attending a high school play last weekend.

       I had the opportunity to attend my local high school's performance of the play, "Our Town" this last weekend.  I went, truthfully, because my youngest son Nolan and his cousin Samantha were performing in it, but I suspect I would have enjoyed myself even if I wouldn't have had a vested interest in the cast.  The story, if you

don't know it, revolves around a small fictional New Hampshire town in the early 1900's. It's done in 3 acts, the first featuring a birth, the second a marriage and the third a funeral.   I found it quite thought provoking with a Thoreau-esque kind of quality and during the second evenings performance, I started to realize that I had many similarities to the story line.

     If there is a main character in this play, one could argue that it is George Gibbs, the local baseball player turned farmer that marries his high school sweetheart and chooses to forgo college in order to stay in his small town and by her side.  He explains it simply by saying "I think that once you've found a person that you're very fond of... I mean a person who's fond of you too, and likes you enough to be interested in your character... Well, I think that's just as important as college is and even

The beaches where I could have been in my 20's

more so, that's what I think."   It's a profound statement saying that there is no more important decision in life than choosing your mate, and it's one that I concur with.   In 1983 I was just graduating high school in a small upstate NY town and I found myself making a similar decision for the same reason.  Anyone that knows me now, would not have recognized me back then, I had no drive or ambition, I slept late and contributed little and I was wrapped up pretty tightly in myself (well, OK, that one is still true).  About to graduate high school, I hadn't taken an SAT and was pretty ignorant of the whole college application process, so I decided to take the test for entering the Army.  I scored extremely well on it and got called back to discuss possible duty stations.   They said I was a guaranteed candidate for Officers Training School and that they wanted to send me to Monterey California to live in a pseudo Russian or Chinese community in a total immersion language school.  They had recognized my aptitude for language and at that time I had taken 3 years of French and 2 years of Latin.  I was a budding linguist but truthfully a novice lothario, that is until I met my wife.  We started working together and very soon the idea of traveling 3,000 miles across the country didn't seem so appealing, and I thought I should probably stick around and sort out this relationship and where it might be headed.  It was a decision that I never regretted.  I also got an opportunity to take a peek at what my future might have held one evening, years later when I took one of my broker reps to dinner.  Her husband was able to join us, and over cocktails, he told me that he had attended that exact language school and in the same year I would have attended.  He served his time and when he got out, he started teaching language in a small school in Jamestown NY.  By comparison, I had found a job that paid better, suited my personality and I had not left my girl behind to discover that there were other men, better than me, out there.  She may still hold the delusion that there are not, these 30 or so years later, because I've always been around to reinforce the idea.  Point is, I stayed and married, just like George Gibbs.

     The second similarity of our life and "Our Town" is the quaintness of our communities.  Grover's Corners has around 2,600 people in it.  I grew up in Canandaigua NY that had just under 10,000 people, and then moved to Hall (formerly called Hall's Corners) that has 300 or so people in the hamlet, but coincidentally about 2,700 in

the town of Seneca, in which it belongs, according to the 2010 census.   I know a little about a town that size.  Our post office and diner serve as the poplular meeting places for gossip and news to be exchanged, and I'm sure the talk there mirrors the talk in ""Our Town".  Births, deaths and marraiges are the hot topics but intermixed with current illnesses and ailments, accidents, and the local hot political topics.  Everyone knows your name and your business.  I like to tell the story of going to rent my PO Box when I first moved to Hall, only to be told by the Postmaster at the time, where I lived, how many kids I had, and how I made a living.  She had even set up an appointment for me to talk to the folks that owned the local diner.  That's life in a small town.  Leave your Christmas decorations up a few too many weeks and you are sure to be the topic of conversation at one of these gatherings.  Some folks can't take that kind of closenesss, but it works in the positive as well.  Get sick and your porch soon fills with crockpots and casseroles.  Lose a job and everyone has their ears open looking for a new one for you.  Pass away and a card quickly and silently appears on the counter of the Post Office with a collection box nearby.  It was a shock how things worked when I moved here, but just like the decision I made to marry my wife, I wouldn't take this one back either. 

     The last similarity I'll mention is one that I have in common with the dead people in Grover's Corners.  They are fast losing all fondness for material things and so am I.  When Emily arrives, she talks like a newly dead person might, about her new Ford and cement pond, but slowly comes to realize that they mean nothing to her

now.  She's stricken with remorse about not taking more time to appreciate the simpler things that God had given her, and although I'm not dead, I've begun this journey too.  I have trouble making Christmas lists, as I can't think of any things that I want.  I end up putting socks and underwear nd wallets and stuff on there, that I'll know I'll need to buy eventually, but the buring desire to buy new and shiny things is gone.  We'll need to replace a car soon and I'm struggling with even the thought of shelling out $30,000 for one when I should be able to buy a nice used one for a third of that price.  On the trip out this week I went cover to cover in the Skymall magazine on the plane and didn't find one thing that I thought my life would be enhnaced by owning. I'm not sure if this is growth or me just being cheap and it may be too soon in the process to tell, but I'm going to count it as a similarity between me and the movie anyway.

     I could throw in a few more, but it's late and I'm tired and the page looks pretty full already, so I won't.  I enjoyed the play "Our Town" with it's deeper meanings and simpler staging, but I think I like living "Our Town" just a little bit  better. 

On turning 50 - A guest blog from Char Yarger

     Author's note:  The following words are my wife's, alone and unedited.  She uses exclamation points like I use commas, but be kind, she has a lot to be excited about.  I did choose each of the pictures that go with this blog and there are even bonus ones at the end.  She does not consider herself to be a talented writer, but I invite you to let her know if you disagree. 

 
"No, I'm not a half-century old, I'm only 50 son!!!"

Let me begin by stating that I am well aware that 50 years IS a half-century. If you have not yet had

The author

the pleasure of turning 50, when you do then you can tell me which sounds better!

Yes, it's true - I just celebrated my 50th birthday. Since it is such a milestone and the normal author of this blog is looking for guest authors, I thought it would be an excellent topic to blog on. After all, I have 50 years of wisdom and knowledge to impart, right?

To me, 50 is just another number. I truly believe the old adage, "you're as young as you feel". I will credit part of feeling good about myself to my friend (you know her as Stretch). She walks by my elliptical machine whenever I am exercising and cranks up the resistance! She has me at 10-12 now! At first, I was annoyed and thought, what is this crazy woman doing? Now I understand! She and my husband were very

Char and Stretch at a concert

instrumental in getting me to participate in an exercise regimen a few days a week. I am definitely in better shape now than I was 10 years ago! Thanks guys!

Another thing I think I am better at now is making friends. As a teenager, I was very shy and not good at making or keeping friends. I can honestly say that I have more friends now than I did in my teens, 20s, or 30s. And these are GOOD friends! I know these people love me for who I am and I feel the same about them.

I am blessed to be part of two large families, mine and my husbands. If you are not married yet, you may not understand this, but once you are, you will see. Your spouse's family will be just as beloved to you as your own. There are people in my husband's family that I would be lost without. They have become as important to me as my own biological family. Speaking of biological family, mine

Char in the center of some of my family

 is special! Oh, yes they are special!! You would just have to know them to see what I mean! I do love them dearly and we are all fairly close. We all support each other in times of need. That's the wonderful thing about family. My husband kids that he would never have moved to this small hamlet we live in if he had known so many of my family would follow us. I think he's kidding? I love having them here!

I am also blessed to have three very smart, happy, wonderful children. As a teenager and again in my early 20s, I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I can't imagine my life without them. They make me proud, angry, happy and even discouraged at different times! I am grateful again to my husband; he had to be the bad cop most of the time. I got to be the loving mommy, and got the hugs and the thanks. I hope they realize the sacrifices he has made for them. I consider my daughter one of my closest friends at this point, but I am not afraid to "scold" her, even now, if I feel it's necessary. She knows she will always be my baby girl! You were the first; not an easy thing,

Char in the center of her family

as we were growing up with you! You have made me very proud! And to my number 1 son, you are a gift! We have leaned on you more often than the others. I was a middle child too, so I know the territory! I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you! To my baby boy, you have given us so much! It's easier to raise you. I would love to say it's because we've done it twice already, but I think much of the credit goes to you. You have made it easy for us! I am so excited to see what you will become! I already feel a great sense of pride when I identify you as my son!

I can say that at 50, I am very happy in my job. I have really enjoyed most jobs I have had, but at this time in my life, working two part time jobs,

Char and Molly in Spain

one at home and one outside the home just seems to fit! I get the social aspect I need from the outside job and the flexibility I need from the home-based job. I like the flexibility as it allows me time for my family, both immediate and extended. I have to thank my hubby for this. He has allowed me the freedom to do this and supported me always, both emotionally and financially.

So, I guess I will close with a bit of advice for you "youngsters" out there who have not yet joined the "club" (my friends tell me it's a club).

First, don't wait until you're my age to make and keep good friends. In order to have a friend, you

Char and Danny at dinner

have to BE a friend. It took me a long time to realize this. Sometimes you have to initiate the call, go to the event you don't want to, or just listen to a long story. Good friends are not hard to find, but like every relationship, you must work to maintain it.

Second, if you are not married yet, when you do find that special someone, talk about everything. Talk about your hopes, your dreams, how many kids you want, what kind of a job you want, where you want to live, and where your parents will live when they are too old to be on their own. Always communicate. It's more important than ANYTHING in a marriage. If you talk about everything, you are more likely to stay together. If you are having trouble

Char and Nolan

 in your marriage, DON'T just quit!!! Don't be afraid to go to counseling. When you got married, you said for life, so stay in it!

Talk to your kids, at every age. Don't be afraid to discipline them when they need it. Remember that they are your children! As much as you want to be their friend, it's most important that you be their parent. They will have other friends, and they may get mad at you from time to time, but they will grow up having learned respect, discipline and love if you guide them as a parent, not as a friend. If you follow this, the friend part will come later, I promise you!

Exercise!! If you get used to doing it now, it will be easier when you get "old". It is true that it's harder to lose weight as you get older. Sigh, that one is a fact!

Char and I at a wedding

Find a job you love! Or learn to love the job you have! It's not important what your job is, but it important to be the best at what you do. Think positively at work and you will enjoy your job much more!

Like I said at the beginning, 50 is just another number. For me, 50 is fabulous!!!

The fabulous 50 year old author

Char and Wilson

Hiking the red rocks in Sedona

Swimming with the dolphins

With Meter Maid and Wilson karaoking

Char with our Scout Troop

With the volunteers at the golf tournament

Book-ended by Ace and me

The family

Cheers !

Oh my Lord, I've become my Mother.....

     My blogs, of late, seem to have been more serious, and I think I'm bumming some people out, so this week I'm returning to the original format of light comedy and a retelling of a family story, and this one about my mother seemed to just fit the bill.  I'll thank sister Peppermint for suggesting it and serendipity for giving me the idea on how to start it.   

     This epiphany came as I flipped open my suitcase on one of my double beds in the 2nd hotel that I has stayed in that week.  As I did that, the coffee K cups that I had liberated from the hotel room that

The stash I got from the Hilton

I had occupied the night before came flying out of the unzipped top section of the suitcase and flew across the room.   As I bent to pick up the pilfered pc's (short for portion control in this instance), I was struck by two thoughts, the first being that I really have to start being less dramatic about opening my suitcases in the empty rooms I occupy and the second was that, like it or not, I had become my mother. 

     My mother's frugality was legendary.  If there was a way to reuse something or stretch it, my mother not only knew how to do it, but she did it better and likely invented doing it.  She may have invented the whole idea of recycling or at the very least was green before being green was popular.  Where most people would see an empty Millbrook bread bag, my mom saw the inner liner of a leaky winter boot. The paper ones would become our book covers or the resting place for hot, greasy cookies right out of the oven. Empty plastic milk jugs became bird feeders hung in trees by their handles, and coffee cans were used for storage of nuts and bolts in the garage.  I could go on and on, but this story really is about her hoarding of portion control condiment packets that you get from restaurants and C-stores, and at that activity, she had no equal. 

     I'm not sure who to credit with inventing the pc packet for restaurants, but if I had to guess it would be McDonald's, Greek diners for jelly packets, or Chinese restaurants.  Whatever the case is,

someone recognized that it was expensive to fill souffle cups with sauces and condiments and see half of them get thrown away, so they invented the 7/8 oz shelf stable packet and started serving them with meals or leaving them on counters for patrons to use.  It surely was a cost savings in most instances, that is, until my mother came through the place.  Now I have to be careful to not mar the memory of a near-sainted woman by implying that she took more that what was coming to her, but I can easily say, that if you delivered it to her table,

Monty quizzing a potential player

she considered it to be hers for the taking and the inventory would be secured in her purse (My mom called hers a pocketbook, not a purse, but I never saw a pocket that would hold that small suitcase sized handbag) prior to the 2nd coffee fill up, and yes she stockpiled everything.   While I was growing up there was a game show on called "Let's Make a Deal" and the host, Monty Hall would challenge women to find obscure items in their purses for the chance to play on stage.  My mom spent her lifetime preparing for that eventual meeting with Monty, and if he had asked my mom for pancake syrup, mayonnaise, jelly, margarine, and crackers, she could easily have supplied these out of the top strata of her purse (I picture archaeologists viewing a cross section of mom's purse at this point and picking out the years represented by the items like Halloween candy and pc's included in each layer or by carbon dating the packets).  There is an urban legend in my family that has my mother making complete sandwiches out of her purse for us one time on a long car trip.  It might be slightly exaggerated but it's highly

likely she would have had crackers, peanut butter, and jelly in there to at least make a snack.  This reminds me of an oddity of what she carried, which was, I always remember her pulling wet-naps from Kentucky Fried Chicken out of her purse to help clean our sticky faces, but for the life of me, I never, ever remember going to Kentucky Fried Chicken as a kid, ever.  I think she may have been having an affair with Colonel Sanders while I was at school each day, it's the only logical conclusion that I can come up with, and have you ever, seen my brother Socrates with a beard?  See, I told you so.  There's another story of mom saving a life with her purse by using a hair scrunchie as a tourniquet, a tampon to stop the bleeding and a travel sewing kit to suture the wound, but that's just silly and not at all apropos to this topic of storing food in her purse, so I won't tell it now.  I think that I've painted the picture well enough now, of my mother's habit and now I have to talk about my problem.

     If there is such a thing as a gateway pc, then for me it was definitely the hot mustard packets at Chinese restaurants.  As embarrassed as I was at watching my mother sweep a table clean of condiments and emptying the roll basket directly into her pocketbook, that did not stop me from

I found this picture buried in mom's candy drawer, weird.

grabbing a few extra packets of the hot mustard for when I had egg rolls at home.  For me you see, lobster is the vehicle that delivers butter directly into you and egg rolls do the same thing with that delicious spicy mustard.  My wife would serve egg rolls at home and I wanted to have the same experience that I'd have at the Chinese place, but I couldn't because they didn't sell jars of that stuff at the supermarket, so I'd take a couple extra each time and stockpile them in my fridge.  I'd rationalize my theft with thoughts like, "I paid for my meal, why can't I take a few for next time that they forget?" or "it's covered in their overhead cost" or finally " They wouldn't put them out there if they didn't want people to take them", but if I'm being truthful, it was the beginning of a slippery slope.  Soon I started taking and stockpiling things that I didn't need like soy sauce and margarine packets from KFC.  I

My 4th grade math book

was beginning to have an issue.  I progressed from soy sauce, to jelly (sometimes you just need a little), to honey and then it kept going.  I'm posting an actual picture of the things that are currently in my fridge but if you can't make it out, they include, KFC margarine, honey, mustard packs, a flavored coffee creamer, picante sauce, soy sauce, Chinese hot mustard (I'm almost out), McDonald hot mustard (it's a backup to the Chinese one, because you know I need a backup), and the makings for a Caesar salad, Italian dressing, Romano cheese and croutons.  God help me, I've become my mother, she could make a sandwich out of her purse and I can make a salad out of mine.  I need help.  I opened this blog with my admission of taking the coffee from the hotel, but truth be told, it didn't end there. I came home with a wrapped bar of soap (handy for backpacking with my Scouts), a shoe shine cloth (and I never shine my shoes), a makeup remover cloth (not going there), a bag of complimentary microwave popcorn, tea bags, small lotion, shampoo and conditioner and finally a travel sewing kit, because hey, you never know when you'll need that.  I've admitted I have a problem, now I just have to find a therapist.

My Last Wishes

I've had a rough time with some deaths over the last few years.  You get used to the elderly dying, but it's the others that wear on you, and I've had more than my share of those, people whose lives were ended seemingly before their times, and at some point my sincerest condolences started to sound like empty platitudes.   The reality of each situation hit me, and it was that I couldn't really do anything to make this better and I struggled with that, because I wanted to try to help and make it better.  I did decide, however, that I could address this topic prior to my passing so at least there would be some notes on how I feel about my own departure. 

     I know there will be sadness, that's the nature of these things.  We miss what we can no longer

have and that is understandable, but do not weep for my loss but rejoice in my life, because you know darn well I'd do it if I could.  There is so much pressure to have a dignified wake and a long receiving line of family, but I want none of it.  I refuse to buy in that it is a comfort for the remaining loved ones to stand and listen to how I'll be missed as if each person that tells them it is imparting some new bit of information.  These are generally somber, long, uncomfortable and hot affairs and I want none of it, thank you very much.  I'd opt for the Irish Wake...  if you please. 

     I'll leave the money behind, but please rent out a bar (one with a comfortable amount of room, like Eddie O'Brien's in Cdga) and place me quietly in a corner and let the liquor start to flow.  I'd like my sister Hummingbird's husband to help negotiate this, he knows the local haunts and he won't them

This would be a good spot

serve the cheap stuff.  You'll have to buy out the bar, but I'd like the libations to flow free and easy and I'd like my family to sit or stand in pockets of areas where the friends that know me and them, can come and share a laugh or two about my shenanigans when I was alive.  Place my favorite drink upon my coffin, and don't be cheap, refresh it when the ice melts and I'm sure I'll appreciate it.  Have Food.  I'm sure my death will be caused by something food related, as it is the one vice I've always had and never, ever, thought about giving up, so have food and make it plentiful and good and for God's sake someone put money in the jukebox.  I like noise and din and the best times of my life I was surrounded by it, so don't let my last outing be quiet.  Does that sound like me?  Of course not.  Let it run until the end of the night.  I was never one to leave a party that was in
full swing and most times I had to be gently reminded by my wife that we seemed to be the last

What I hope it looks like during the wake

stragglers, and so let it be with my last party too.  Make sure people get home safe, but let them eat and drink their fill, and spill their drinks and blame me for their pounding heads the next morning, now that would be a send-off!  Toasts would be in order, sure.  Toast to the memories that you have, toast to my beautiful widow and to my remaining offspring that they should live so full of a life, because I know I had a good one, it's already in the bank.  Sing songs and if you want to, end the night drunkenly singing "American Pie" or "Waltzing Mathilda", arm in arm and swaying to and fro. What a grand night it will be, and the people they would talk.  They'd peer in the windows and observe such a queer affair and they'd whisper how inappropriate such a thing would be (and they would too), but go ahead and let them, for you see you have the honored guest's permission to act up, out, or in any other fashion that you'd like to that evening, I wouldn't have it any other way.  Make sure to give the Last Call shout loudly, and flick the lights to make sure that everyone knows that the party is ending, and this one last time, I hope you won't mind if I skip the party clean up, I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow.

     There will have to be a Mass and I wouldn't want that any other way either.  Don't feel obligated to attend if you aren't religious, you'll just get confused on when to sit,stand or kneel, but to my

Not sure if these guys are available but it would be cool

Christian brethren, come and rejoice, hopefully it's the start of something wonderful.  I'd like my favorite songs to be song, and if my nieces and nephews were so inclined, I'd like them to do it, they have great voices.  Please make sure to do "Amazing Grace", "Be not Afraid", "Here I am Lord" and be sure to "Rock my soul on the bosom of Abraham" too.  If a eulogy would be in order and if I could pick those who knew me, I'd choose my closest brother, Ace, my youngest sister, Wilson, and my friend Drew to represent all my friends that I held so dear (plus I always liked the way he spoke, you'll love it, trust me).  If my wife and children want to compose their thoughts and have them read by the priest or by another eulogizer, that would be nice too, but I wouldn't put pressure on them to speak that day. You can pick the readings, I like them all, but if you can sneak the one in about wives being submissive to their husbands, it'll give Char a chuckle cuz I always poked her in the ribs during this one so that she'd pay attention.  You can end the funeral festivities here, I don't need a crowd gathered around a hole in the ground throwing handfuls of dirt on me, and I kind of like the idea of being cremated so send me back over to the funeral home and let them take care of it (Quick shout out to Johnson-Kennedy in Cdga, please use them, they hired me as a kid, and sponsored the golf tournament each year, so it would be good to give them back some of their money, Hi Jim !). 

     On where to bury me, it's too soon to call, but today I'd pick Hall.  I've made this little community my home for over 20 years and it's as good a place as any to put me down.  My headstone can be

simple, I think they charge by the word, so something like "Here lies a sinner" or "Son, Brother, Husband, Father" would be nice too.  These are ways that I think of myself and I doubt that they will ever change.  If I've got a little money left, I'd like to give a chunk to the local Boy Scout Troop.  The more time that I spent in Scouting, the more that I realized it's value, and if I can leave some sort of legacy to them in the form of a scholarship, a continuing bond, or even a kick-ass log cabin meeting room stuck in the woods somewhere, well, I'd like that, and it would keep kids coming back to Scouts for a while, which I would like even better. 

     These are my last wishes.  There will sure to be a contingent that will try and send me out another
way and argue that this was done for entertainment purposes, but they'd be dead wrong.  The ones that know me best, know that this is the way that I'd truly like to leave.  

As Scouters, we play Taps at the end of the day.

It's good to have a backup....

     I wasn't always this way, I was like every young person out there, flying by the seat of my pants, directionless sometimes, acting on impulse, trusting that it will all work out somehow, but then I changed, and it's tough to go back once you start using backups. 

     My wife laughs at me.  Well, not at those critical times, but she does laugh at me, especially about my backups, but you see, I need them.  There was a time when the notion of a backup seemed ludicrous to me, and I think I can recall the turning point.  I was assigned to work with an old timer at the pie company where I was employed, so early on a Tuesday am, I found myself pulling

into his garage in a small suburb of Cleveland.  He lived in a modest ranch house with a postage stamp size front lawn, and the backyard looked to be the same size.  As we pulled in, I looked up on the peg board wall and directly in front of me, hung at a 45 degree angle, was an old fashioned aluminum 3 bar sprinkler and just beneath it sat an identical one. I had just seen the size of the lawn so I immediately queried my companion in the car about the need for the 2nd sprinkler, and he said simply, "Well, you see,  you got your original sprinkler on top, and then below that, you got your backup sprinkler !" as if it was the most normal thing in the world to buy two of something when the immediate need would have been well covered by one and likely for a long time.  I shook my head and thought what an odd duck he was, and that thought stayed with me as we worked a few days together, and on my flight home, and right up until his system started working itself into my head.

     It was a few weeks after that when one of my toilets in the house broke and while attempting a repair I realized that I needed a ball flapper kit.  It was late enough that I wasn't going to drive the 20

minutes to the hardware store and hadn't I just had replaced one of these on another toilet a few weeks previous?  I turned off the water and got the expected comments from all the other residents of the house but as I settled back into my easy chair, the thought hit me that if I had only purchased two of them the last time, I could have had it fixed by now, but alas I did not have a backup. The next morning, however, I went to the hardware store and bought not one ball flapper kit, but one, plus a backup.  I was hooked.  From that point on, while making repairs I started stockpiling backups. If I needed a spark plug, I bought two, one screw became a handful, and little by little my garage began to look like the hardware store, but I had my backups.  My wife questioned, one time,  why I ordered 2 fog free shower mirrors, and my rationale was that wasn't I saving the $7 shipping by ordering 2 and if I replaced it once, wouldn't I need to do it again?  Oddly enough, the first one leaked like a sieve when I installed it and I haven't quite gotten around to replacing it with its backup (I think a part of me is afraid it will leak too, and my wife would be right in that I have no need of two leaky shower mirrors). 

     Soon my backup planning started working itself into other parts of my life.  I now rarely go out without throwing a backup shirt in the car.  Sound silly?  Have you ever gone to a party and immediately dripped something onto your shirt?  Had someone spill wine on you?  Noticed a stain

that you didn't see when you first put the shirt on?  I'm covered if this happens, and I know the shirt will match my pants.  Although I rarely have need of them, I started throwing a coat in the car, just in case.  This habit has backfired on me, you can read about it here (I could live vicariously through my lost jackets ).  Although I own a GPS and swap it up every few years, and my car has built in navigation, I regularly bring printed directions with me, as a backup.  I've noticed, in big cities, that the GPS's get funky around the tall buildings, so I just need to glance at my backup

copy, if that happens, to make sure I'm on track still.  On a trip a few months ago, one morning I found myself standing in the wrong borough in NYC because I didn't get my schedule in advance and that's where the GPS took me when I punched in the address I was given.  I lost a whole morning's work due to the lack of a backup.  My cell phone belt clip broke shortly thereafter and I had my wife order 2 replacements for me (of course she questioned it, I suspect she thought about my backup shower mirror as she did so).  Although the original clip lasted over a year, I ended up snagging the new one on a chair within a few weeks and have already started using the backup (Of course I did a victory lap when I got home from that trip proving to my wife how important my backups were).   I swap out my travel suitcases before I need to, and use the old one as a backup.  There's a shelf in my bathroom that has half a dozen of my travel sized shaving cream, deodorant, and toothpaste on it (They can be tough to find).  I own 2 solar chargers for camping for charging my phone and other electronics, there's a cabinet in my house full of backup coffee and blender carafes, some of which are kind of useless, since the base parts broke and I didn't back them up.  I may have to admit that I have a problem or have a garage sale like everyone else.

     Last week I heard my wife ordering a remote control helicopter for my son and I yelled up the

What's probably coming to the house today.

stairs that we could probably use a backup one but it was strangely quiet up there after I directed her.  Fed-ex should come today, and I'm hopeful that she's come on board with my plan.  It's time to post this blog now, but rest assured, if anything funky happens to it, or if it disappears off the Internet mysteriously, there is no need to panic, for you see, I've got a backup.  For the record though, I still own just one sprinkler, buying another one would just be weird, right? 

How dry I am....

     I'm taking a little breather from alcohol lately and I thought this am, I'd chronicle the start of this adventure.

     Hello, my name is Bill and I'm a....  blog writer.   Gotcha, you thought you knew where I was going with that first line, didn't you?  That's kind of the reason for my self-imposed departure from drinking.  You see, the opinions of my friends, relatives, co-workers, and blog readers matter to me, and of late, they were connecting me and drinking and sometimes excessive drinking together a little too easily, and I didn't like it.  Now anyone following this blog, my exploits on Facebook, or me

coming out of most establishments on Saturday nights, can tell I'm a fan of alcohol, but that doesn't mean that it's a vital component of my life, so this stint of sobriety, for me, is like hitting the reset button.  If I've set a bad example with my drinking habits, which admittedly I probably have, well this will help even the scales a little, or so I hope.

     There was no "aha" moment that led to this decision, but there were a series of them that helped me to this choice.  I'm to blame right off the bat because  I celebrated my drinking exploits loudly to everyone.  Here's a quick test to illustrate my point...

1.  Name my favorite alcoholic spirit (type and brand)
2.  What is my favorite mixer?
3.  Where's my preferred spot to be on a Friday night in summer?
4.  Name 5 bars that I frequent.

I'd be surprised if most people don't get these answers right, because I talk about these things a lot and maybe to a fault.  If I asked similar questions about other aspects of my life, they wouldn't be as easy to answer, for example.....

1.  How many boys in my Scout Troop?
2.  What is my job title and area of responsibility?
3.  Name 3 books that I've read
4.  Name 3 TV shows that I follow

     How did you do?  That's why I'm taking the blame, I'm a victim of my own poor PR campaign.  I

spend a lot of time each week involved in these activities too, but I tend to advertise my drinking habits first and loudest, so I shouldn't have been surprised when the advertising campaign worked.  Another component of this is my choice of drink, which is a hard liquor, gin. I like to order double, tall, drinks to avoid going back to the bar as often, but I know some people don't get the distinction of what a double, tall is.  They hear double only, neglecting the fact that the drink I've ordered has the same ratio of alcohol to mixer as if I've ordered a single.  If I drink one of these and my companion has two craft beers during the same period, our blood alcohol contents are almost identical.  It's true that a shot and a half of a spirit has the same alcohol content as a 12 oz bottle of beer, but craft beers are typically served in a pint glass (16 oz) and can have 30-70% more alcohol content that standard beer, but I'd argue that no stigma is attached to drinking those.  It is easier to protect and monitor yourself from the "overpour" with beer though, as I truly can't know how much alcohol I am consuming when I am at bar but beer drinkers can.

     Back on point, some people had mentioned my drinking, my "need" to drink as much as I did sometimes, and I was even mistaken for being drunk one time when I was completely sober, which
made me take a step back and analyze my behaviors.  My wife and I had a candid discussion of my habits and hers, and we both decided we could do with a scheduled departure from drinking and we arbitrarily picked the end of the year as the target and that was 8 weeks ago.  I've had planned periods of sobriety before, I've given it up for Lent a few years, 2 years ago I went the first 45 days of a diet without it, and every weekend I dedicate to Scouts is alcohol free, including the week this summer that I went to Jamboree, but this is the longest time that I've chosen to not drink.  It' s a long enough time that I am also looking at how drinking and not drinking may affect my chronic arthritis too and I am looking forward to this experiment.

     It's been going smoothly so far, but I can already see how alcohol has become a habitual part of  a lot of my outings.  I was in Canada recently with a peer, and it just seemed weird to not drink with him in the evenings, and frankly I miss my bar time overall.  As an extrovert I get edgy if I don't have a large amount of social interaction each week, and this is where I had traditionally sought it.  I still

go out to them, but not as frequently, and I drink club soda or non alcoholic beers, but it seems strange to do so.  I've attended 2 weddings and it turns out that I can still dance and make as big of an ass of myself and overstay my welcome, without alcohol involved, go figure.  I went out for mocktails with my wife last week and I tripped on a rug coming out of the bathroom of a bar and I was cold stone sober, so I've discovered that I've just gotten clumsier with age, alcohol or not, but admittedly I don't feel as bad now when I spill my drinks as I would if they had alcohol in them.  I get asked a lot if I feel better, and truthfully I don't.  I used alcohol to help manage my arthritis pain, especially at night, but it's way too early to tell if I can manage it better somehow through a new diet or more exercise and try to prevent the inflammation versus medicating it afterwards.  An added benefit has been more time spent with my son who is still at home.  We've done some family game nights and some hiking on the weekends that would probably not have happened if we hadn't changed our habits.  I've been able to interact with my older children, in venues with alcohol successfully, although alcohol consumption when they visited had become the norm previously.  I hope I am setting a better example for them, as they live in Buffalo and the bars there don't close until 4, so drinking in excess is pretty common.  Lastly I was able to go to my sister. Meter Maid's pig roast, an event for me that was tied to drinking all day and night, and had a fantastic time with everyone there, sober or not (and to my niece who claims I never mention her in my blog, Hi Kelsey!). 

     So that's the sober truth of this little experiment and I'm looking forward to the last few months of it and what we can discover.  I pride myself with looking for ways to improve and this falls right in line with that thinking.  So wish me luck with the rest of this journey, and not for nothing, if you need a DD, I'm likely available, Cheers.

    

Make some time for giving back.....

     As I contemplate the impending end of this blog at the close of this year, I want to make sure that I've hit the high points and since the blog will live beyond me on the Internet and possibly in written form, this will become some lasting advice to my children and any of their future offspring.  This morning I talk about a topic of utmost importance to my family and that is the obligation to give back.  

     My children were all taught this lesson both by word and deed, because we were taught this lesson first. For us, it was never an option not to get involved in our community,church, civic and school organizations

and to make the best use of our God-given talents, it was our duty to.  My father worked 2-3 jobs for most of his life and supported 12 children through his efforts.  He could have easily sat idle for those few hours each day that he got to himself, but he didn't.  He pitched in, and gave back.  If it wasn't doing pro bono electrical and plumbing work for families in need, it was helping his church set up for their festival, or calling the bingo numbers at the local Knights of Columbus hall.  He made marinades and flipped chickens at BBQ fundraisers and whenever asked to help, he answered yes, if he possibly could.  My mother did the same.  Aside from raising the 12 of us, she volunteered at the church, she counseled pregnant women at the Birthright Center, she participated in Mother's Circle and shared her child rearing secrets with the ladies there.   They both set a powerful example to their children, that no matter how busy you were, there should always be time dedicated to giving back and to making the world a better place.

     The next generation carried the torch too.  My children's aunts and uncles (on both sides of your family) have joined the Knights of Columbus, Kiwanis, the Sons of the American Legion, Sports and Drama Boosters and

scores of other civic organizations.  They've coached teams and led Boy and Girl Scout Troops.  An aunt of theirs continues in her mother's footsteps and is on the board of a pregnancy center and another participates with the Big Sister program.  A few of their uncles volunteer to serve Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner at a local Salvation Army and another of their uncles has been known to donate his labor doing electrical work for the indigent, reminding me of my father, and he's not even on that side of my family.  Not all the work is with an organization, some of it is just one person helping another, like my sister who makes casseroles and such for funerals of deceased neighbors.  Another donates the proceeds from an auction she has at her annual pig roast to different charities, and when her area experienced some major flooding, she was one of the first to pitch in and one of the last to stop helping.  I have a sister who is not fond of crowds  but has volunteered for the St Vincent de Paul Society sorting clothes for the needy.  A brother of mine is a local volunteer fireman, and he donates some of his catering time each year to the needy.  Another brother and his wife work the local tomato festival where they live and that's in addition to all the work they did for drama clubs and schools.  Every one of my siblings and a lot of my wife's too, donate time and money to our charity golf tournament each year.  I'm sure I could fill 2 more paragraphs with more specifics but I think you get the point, my children and their cousins are surrounded by great examples of how one should use their talents to improve their community.  It's becoming their time to pick up the mantle now.

     I'll admit some worry on whether this next generation will be able to match the generosity and charitable works of the previous ones.  I think they were all raised in a time where "attention to me" became the mantra that

was taught and we rewarded attempts at the same level as successes, which cannot be a healthy combination.  They face more problems than my generation did, a crushing US debt load, rising college costs and shrinking job markets, and increased competition for those jobs on a global scale now.  They would have a lot of excuses to not pitch in, and that worries me somewhat. I worry too that they may choose to work in fields where the needy are helped, but stop there short of doing additional work.  That would be a shame because it's never the same being paid to perform as it is to do it without compensation.  A job, no matter how noble, has a tendency to become just the means to a paycheck.  Volunteers, however, choose each day to go out and do, or sometimes not.  I'll close with a challenge to this new generation, to rise above the toils and turmoil that we left you with and pitch in to make it a better place.  You are going to need to give something back, in order to see improvement in your communities, and after all your parents set the example for you already.