Routines

At our age, routines are great.  They keep us on track. I have a basket by the front door and when I enter, I put my keys in the basket.  I don’t always remember doing it, but when I’m looking for my keys, I find them in the basket.

I have my eye drops right next to the bed.  And when I get up, I make the bed, lie down and put in the eye drops.  Last week, I decided to wash the sheets.  I try to do it every season.  This was the Spring wash.  I’m running a little late.  But because I didn’t make the bed, I forgot the eye drops!

Every Sunday that I’m here, I try to attend the Protestant service in the auditorium.  It’s a great way to start the week and I encourage you to join us. The service starts at 9:15 AM.  So, I leave the apartment at 9:00.  Ten minutes before that, I sit down at my desk and write a check to BWPMS (Belvoir Woods Protestant Mission Society).  I fold the check and put it in my shirt pocket.  When the basket comes around, I take the check out of my pocket and drop it in the basket.  I do this routinely and would swear that I have done it every time.

Some time later, I got my bank statement.  I always check off my checks.  I used to balance my check book, but after spending three hours unsuccessfully looking for 43 cents, I said the hell with it.  The last two months, I have only been 30 cents off, and I feel that makes me consistent.  Well, one of the BWPMS checks didn’t clear.  I called Gary Waitschies who collects the donations for the church (and keeps meticulous records).  He advised me that they never received my check.  I was bewildered.  I thanked him and told him I would cover it the next week.

Last week, I picked up my laundry and pinned to one of the shirts was a soft eyeglass case that I had lost.  I was delighted because I had just lost the one I was presently using.  When I wore glasses all the time, I didn’t use a case.  But now wearing half glasses to read with, I’m taking them off and on all the time

I put my half glasses in the case and went about my routine.  Later, when I tried to return the glasses to the case something was stuck in the bottom of the case.  Don’t get ahead of me.  But you are right.  It was the missing check!  Holy Cow!  Now I’m trying to figure out who took the check out of the basket and put it in my glass case.

You Know You are Getting Old When …

Getting old is a fact of life.  We say, it beats the alternative.  We also say, “It ain’t for sissies.”  Some of us remember the first thing that happened to us that made us realize we were getting old.  I had a young woman on the Metro offer me her seat.  Wow, I thought, I must look a lot worse than I feel.

For those of you here who have children, let me ask you this.   When they come by to see you, is it because they miss their dear parent, or is it a health and wellness check?  I can tell you that if you catch them going through the fridge for expired dates, it’s the latter.  When I lost Carole, my girls came and threw away half of my food storage supplies.  While I appreciated them doing it, it let me know I was getting old.

Not too long ago I decided, as a change of pace, I would put some lemon in my hot tea.  I had seen the Real Lemon tucked back in the fridge.  It tasted OK, but not great.  After doing that twice, I looked at the label.  It expired in 2020.  So, the girls aren’t perfect either.  I pitched it.  I went to the commissary to get a bottle of Real Lemon.  As happens to me too often, I couldn’t find it.  I found a young lady shelving and asked for help.  As she was taking me over to the right aisle, she was explaining to me that Real Lemon wasn’t 100% lemon.  I smiled.  We found the box the Real Lemon had been stacked in, but it was empty.  I guess a lot of people didn’t care it wasn’t 100%.

You know you are getting old when one of you kids says, “Gee Dad, why don’t I drive your car?”  Then this Summer, I had to transfer through the Houston Airport.  I wasn’t sure how to get from one gate to another.  It appears you have to use a tram shuttle, so I had to ask about that.  Every time I turned around, I had a passenger wanting to help me. “Listen Sir, I’m getting off at the same terminal.  Just get off when I do.”  And again, “I’m also walking toward D-47, I’ll show you where to go.”  Then the young lad said, “I’ll be happy to carry your bag.”  Everybody was so kind, but the message was still there.

We almost always had a dog.  Our last beloved pet lived with us here at The Fairfax for our first five years.  So, a few months back, I mentioned to my son that it might be nice to have another dog.  He got excited and told me it was not a good idea.  That’s when you know you are getting old!

Reminiscing

I have been writing silliness for a long time.  But I hadn’t given much thought as to when I started.  Not too long ago, someone asked me that specific question.  So, I gave it some thought.

I considered some of the exams I wrote in college pretty humorous, but the grades I got weren’t.  The first time I started writing a column was in Vietnam.  The 1st Cav had a weekly publication, and I wrote articles each week under the title, “The Judge Says.”  I let the Division know what was happening in our courtrooms.  One of my buddies said I should call it, “Military Law for Dummies.”

The first article I published in a newspaper was in 1972 in the Charlottesville Daily Progress.  The University was having a fit over streaking, and I decided to poke fun.  It was published as a letter to the editor, and I have reprinted it below.  It is called, “After Streaking, What?”

Rah, Rah, Raw for the streaking streakers of this wonderful country.  No one should really complain.  Youth have always had an overabundance of energy, and it must be expended.  So why not streak?  Just keep in mind that three years ago, some of these kids were expending their energy by making bombs and burning down buildings on campus.  Bless their streaking streaks.

However, I am concerned about the longevity of streaking.  While streaking is great for cool spring nights, I fear that the heat of the summer will have a deterrent effect upon even the heartiest of streakers and the sport will wane.  In short, streaking will soon be out of season.  I submit that those of us who advocated harmless frolic are compelled to bring forth an acceptable substitute.

The suggested substitute would consist of the student climbing up on the outside of a university building in the nude and assuming a position on the facade as a gargoyle.  Our society has long accepted the appearance of weird looking gargoyles on buildings, so it would be inconsistent to object to gargoyling.  While universities have competed to see which could gather the largest group of streakers, gargoyling too, can have it competitive aspects.  For example, most gargoyles on campus, or the highest gargoyle, or the weirdest looking.

The ultimate contest could be gargoyling for the longest period of time.  Any student who could hold his pose for over four hours would definitely be a contender.  By then, he might be subjected to such adverse elements as fatigue, campus police and birds.

While I realize that gargoyling, like streaking, suffers from the malady of being seasonal, those of us who are organizing the Society for the Encouragement of Harmless Frolic are already concerning ourselves with selection of a winter sport.  Something with mittens.

Dog Food?

Writing about dog food may seem like a strange topic.  Especially since I don’t have a dog.  I consider myself a “dog person,” but my children have discouraged me from getting another.  “Oh Dad, you wouldn’t want to do that.”  I told a friend about the conversation, and she said, “Maybe you could get an old dog.”  Egad, I decided not to overthink that one.

What got me thinking about dog food is the spate of TV commercials as of late.  If they aren’t trying to hook me up with a gambling site that only requires my smart phone, then they want me to buy some dog food. (I’m trying not to say anything that will upset the cat people, because they are dangerous – – oops).  It makes you wonder how much dog food is sold each year.  I looked it up and you may not believe me.  I have trouble believing it.  But it is off of the internet, so it must be true.  Last year, in the US, over 42 billion dollars was spent on dog food!  A billion here, a billion there, before long you are talking real money.

My favorite commercial is for Freshpet.  A group right out of the Godfather is sitting around a kitchen table when their compadre comes in with the cannoli.  He opens the fridge and makes a derogatory comment on having dog food (Freshpet) in the fridge.  The wise guys stand up and in the next scene they are closing the trunk of a car.  Then we see the leader petting his dog and saying, “If anybody asks, we were at Grandma’s.”

Who sells the most dog food?  Nestle’s Purina Pet Care.  What dog food is supposed to be the best for your dog?  Hill’s Science Diet.  How about having your dog food delivered to your door, with the name of your pet on every package?  The Farmer’s Dog will do that for you.  The cost will depend on the size of your dog (because they mix up the batch for each individual pet).  A Chihuahua only cost $42.30 a month, while a Great Dane will cost $517.20!  But it’s got the dog’s name on the package.Now, here’s the problem.  These fancy new companies know your dog’s size and weight and make up the portions just right to keep your dog healthy (energetic, right weight).  Just the right amount.  Does this mean that you can’t give your dog a treat?  It’s treat time and your dog is staring at you.  And you say, “Sorry pooch, but we have to keep you healthy.”  Lots of luck. 

That dog will stare at you for an hour and then, probably do something worse.  If you have a Great Dane, it’s no problem, because you won’t have any money for treats.

Everybody is in the dog food business.  The Mars Candy Company makes IAMS, Cesar, Nom Nom (a delivery type), and Pedigree.  With a name like Smucker’s, it’s got to be good.  Well, they make Milk Bones, but they don’t call them Smucker’s Milk Bones.  And the next time you grab a sack of Utz Potato Chips, look closely, because they also make Kibbles and Bits!

Mouthwatering Experience

We have all heard the expression “mouthwatering.”   Well, let me tell you it is not just an expression.  It’s the real thing.  My father-in-law, Willard, would grill his ribs for six to eight hours.  Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.  Unfortunately for him, between the beers he drank and the ribs he “tested,”  by the time we sat down, he was no longer hungry.

When I worked at the Department of Transportation, there were three food trucks parked on 7th Street.  Nobody was lined up at two of the trucks and the third truck had two long lines (one in front and one at the side entrance).  I had heard that the young man who operated the truck was working his way through college.

I always ordered a half-smoked with mustard relish and onions.  I’m watering right now.  I knew they weren’t good for me, so I limited myself to once a week.  Sometimes I cheated.  Yes, the building had a cafeteria, but my first visit to the cafeteria was when I was interviewing for the job.  I decided to use the men’s room to comb my hair.  When I entered, I found a homeless man taking a bath at the sink.  That had a chilling effect on my use of the cafeteria.

After three years at DOT, I spent the next 14 years downtown.  Periodically, I would have to go over to DOT.  My visit always included the lunch hour.  Then one day the truck was gone!  I felt like walking around the block to see if he parked somewhere else.  But he was gone, and I remember what my wife, Carole, always said, “Get over it!”  Ironically, losing her is the one thing I can’t seem to get over.

I transferred my loyalty to Subway.  Generally, I hate standing in line to order, knowing that if I can’t make up my mind, I’m holding up the line.  As you have probably figured out, I always order the same thing.  I get a six-inch sweet onion chicken teriyaki on wheat bread with provolone cheese.  After the lettuce and tomato bit, I drowned it in sweat onion and honey mustard sauce.  When they are wrapping it, it looks like a puddle.  Then, I slip off somewhere and happily devour it.

The last two years, I’ve taken my daughters and granddaughter to Ocean City.  As soon as we hit the Boardwalk, I found my Subway shop, but the girls refused to join me.  They opt for some tourist joint.  Kristin, my granddaughter, said, “Grandpa, you need to up your game.”  Then she explained that I should try Jimmy Johns or Jersey Mikes.  That would mean standing in line uncertain as to what to order.  People lined up behind me wanting me to hurry up.  No thanks.

So, I got my mouthwatering sub and sat down at one of their picnic tables.  I took about six napkins and figured I might use them all.  After one bite and one wipe, the napkin blew away.  The wind was brisk, and it was moving down the Boardwalk.  I did the right thing and quickly went after it.  After I retrieved it, I was startled to see four or five sea gulls fighting over my sub!  By the time I got back, the birds were gone, my sub was gone, and I was left with only a gooey wrapper.  I found where the girls had gone and ate some of their soggy French fries.

Credit Cards

The next time you see your grandchildren, tell them that when you grew up there was no such thing as a credit card.  They will probably say, “Gee Gran, how did you get through college?”  Try to explain to them what a lay-a-way plan was.

Nowadays, I suspect everyone has at least one credit card and I hope we are all smart enough to pay them off each month.  There are things like Pay Pal and Apple Pay, which I don’t understand, but I think they all come back to a credit card. I get a kick out of a retail store that has lost its power.  No one knows how to collect a payment.  Sam Walton would be turning over in his grave.

Of course, someone can always steal your card number.  A number of years back, I took clients to Ruth’s Chris Steak House in Detroit.  A short while later, I discovered I had not only paid for their meal, but I had bought two rooms of furniture at a local store!  It turned out I didn’t have to pay for the furniture, but I was disappointed that no one was interested in investigating the theft.  I guess it was less expensive to write it off.  But what about the fact that I felt violated!

A slight little problem with credit cards is that they come with expiration dates.  And that date eventually arrives.  Never fear, they will provide you with a new credit card just in time.  The problem comes when you have given companies your card number so that they can collect their monthly charge.  You may say, “Oh, I would never do that.”  And then I would remind you of Cox, Verizon and Amazon.  USAA?  Netflix?  Yep, I think most of us do it.

My expiration date was 01/25.  The new card arrived in early January, and I dutifully made a list of companies to notify.  What a pain.  I finally got ahold of the right person at Verizon.  She explained to me that she was not permitted to take credit card numbers or expiration dates over the phone; that I had to do it through an “app.”  The good news is she sent me a “link” and stayed on the phone. She then walked me through the loading of the “app” and then, the necessary steps to change my expiration date!  When we were finished, I offered to adopt her, but no luck.

I couldn’t talk to anyone at Amazon, so I started working online.  No, I don’t want an Amazon credit card.  No, I’m not interested in Amazon Pay (I don’t even know what it is).  I’m sure Amazon Music is great, but I just want to change my expiration date.  Finally, success.

I can vouch that the charity Tunnel 2 Towers keeps their administrative costs to a minimum, because no body answers their phones!  What was most troubling was that Go Daddy and Hewlett-Packard already had my new expiration date!  How did that happen?  I had only had the card for two days.  That was when I had an epiphany.  No more calls.  If they want their money, they can come find me.

Marc Fleischaker – The Big 8 0

Marc Fleischaker was the Executive Director of the law firm, Arent Fox, during the years I was a partner there. Last week, he celebrated his 80th birthday. The was a lovely party at Bar a Vin in Georgetown. I was honored to be there. Below is a short poem I prepared for the occasion.

What’s this I hear? What’s this about?

Marc turning 80, let’s give it a shout!

A loving husband and father, but that’s not the end,

As many of us know, he’s a cherished friend.

A kid from Kentucky, a scholar you see,

Who played with Wes Unseld in sixty-three.

He grew from Wharton to GW, from a duckling to a swan,

Where he led Arent, Fox, Kintner, Plotkin and Kahn.

Eighty years is special, but not as special as the man,

Ask those at Arent Fox, the law firm that he ran.

The law firm was his treasure, and he carried great sway,

Times when things went wrong, Marc jumped in to save the day.

It happened very seldom, but when things did look bleak,

Marc gathered the firm in his arms and raised it to a higher peak!

So, let’s raise a glass and make a fuss,

For Super Marc, Chairman Emeritus.

Shout Happy Birthday, till he goes out the door,

Wishing him the best, and many, many more.

Left-Handed – Right-Handed

The other evening, I was untying my shoes and I noticed I was doing it with my left hand.  Not just my left shoe, but both shoes.  That caused me to pause, because I am right-handed.  I switched around to use my right hand.  Clearly, I could do it, but it wasn’t as comfortable.  At that moment I realized that I don’t have enough important things to keep me busy.

While that was probably true, this left-hand, right-hand thing caused me to reflect.  What else do I routinely do with my left hand?  Not much.  Of course, from time to time, we all itch.  Sometimes you can only get to it with your non-dominant hand.  No thought process here, you scratch!

When I am combing my hair, I pick up the comb with my right hand and comb away.  I comb my hair to the right.  If I don’t have a comb, I swipe my hair with my left hand.  Isn’t this fascinating?  Clearly, the right hand doesn’t work, swiping to the right.  When I am watching a sporting event on TV and the game gets to a critical moment, I find myself swiping at about 80 swipes per minute.  I hope nobody is watching.

When I’m getting ready to shave, I shake up the shaving gel in my right hand and squirt it into my left hand.  Then, using my left hand, I apply the cream to my face.  It feels very natural and I’m pretty good at covering my face.  We are never graded on this, but I would give myself a B plus (in college, I was happy with a B minus).

About twenty years ago, my wife, Carole, was big into Korean Yoga.  There was a location close by and she would practice two to three times a week.  The practices were tough, but she hung in there.  She brought a book home about Dahn Yoga and encouraged me to read it.  I read it and there was a lot about balance and wholeness.  The book encouraged using your opposite hand.  I was doing OK with the little things, but then I tried to shave with my left hand.  I put the band-aids on with my right hand.

I look things up on Google all the time.  I very seldom follow their advice.  I had a scratch on my glasses, and they recommended scrubbing the glass with toothpaste.  Fortunately, before I did anything, I found another article screaming “don’t use toothpaste.”  I looked up parents trying to change their child’s dominant hand.  Some articles said, no problem.  Other articles said the child would probably have psychological problems and be scarred for life.

Then I found out there is a “Handedness Research Institute.”  Good old HRI. What a crazy world.  I also found out that my son, Paul, who is right-handed, unties his shoes with his left hand.  Now, I believe it might be hereditary!

The Friendly Skies

Let’s face it, sometimes you have to fly.   If you are going halfway across the country, you need to fly.  We have the time to drive, but maybe not the energy.  Plus, if you don’t fly, you miss out on the soft drink and pretzels.

The Virginia State Golf Association set up a four-day golf trip to Kohler, Wisconsin which included playing Whistling Straits. The first golf round was in the afternoon, so, if you’re brave you could fly in in the morning.  I was brave and got a Southwest flight to Milwaukee and a rental car for the one-hour drive. That gave me plenty of time, if nothing went wrong.

Well, Southwest cancelled the Thursday flight on Wednesday afternoon.  They said they looked forward to assisting me on my next flight. I checked Reagan National, but there was nothing that would get me there on time.  Then I found a United flight out of Dulles to Chicago with a connecting flight to Milwaukee. Only problem was I had to get up at 3:30 AM.  But it got me to Milwaukee.  The rental car was waiting for me, and I figured out how to start it, but I couldn’t find a lever to put the car in gear. After what seemed to be a lot longer than it was, I found a drive button where you would expect to find the heating and air condition controls.  I made it to the golf course with enough time to warm up.

We are not going to talk about my golf performance during those four days.  I will mention that the courses were fantastic (and treacherous), and I met some great Virginians in our group.  I am definitely glad that I went.

The last two days, the courses were right along Lake Michigan.  We had beautiful Fall weather until the last two holes on the last day.  We were playing the Irish course at Whistling Straits when the sky went dark, and the wind and rain started coming in sideways.  That resulted in me driving to the Milwaukee airport in wet pants.

After three attempts, we landed in Chicago.  Something about a problem on the runway.  At least that’s what our pilot told us.  Because of me having to change flights (and needing a later flight because I played that morning), our flight was to depart at 9:30 PM and we would land a little after midnight.

You know, they never tell you what has gone wrong.  They just announce a delay. Departure time was now 10:30.  At 10:30 they announced that our plane was being towed to our gate!  It never made it.  The second tow also failed.  I would like to tell you why, but by then I was searching for a soft cushion.

At 11:30, they announced that a flight was coming in from San Diego to our gate and after the passengers got off and the plane was cleaned, it would be ours.  Here it was, almost midnight and we were gleeful.  We had a plane that didn’t have to be towed!  Our San Diego plane landed at Dulles at 3:30 AM and I was home by 4:15 AM.   As I walked in my door, I had the crazy thought that if I lost my luggage, I wouldn’t have to unpack it.  How stupid!  But that’s what happens at 4:15 in the morning.

The New Car Bug

Thinking about getting a new car can be like a sickness or compulsion.  Once you start thinking about it, it’s like a dog with a bone.  I was very happy with my nine-year old Lexus RX 350 (SUV).  Then some friends picked me up in their new car.  I asked what it was, and they said it was a Lexus RX 350!  What a difference nine years had made.  So, the bug had bit me.

If I leased for three years, it would cost less.  And in three years, I could see if I were still driving.  I checked the value of my low milage Lexus with Kelley Blue Book and came up with $18,000 to $20,000.  CarMax would give me $18,000.  Take that off of a three-year lease and boom, I’m golden.  My Lexus salesman from nine years ago was still there and we set up a meeting. Compulsive, who’s compulsive?

I drove the car and it was great.  I was hooked.  We picked out the color and the interior.  I told him I wanted to trade in my Lexus.  He took the keys and had someone check it over.  Later, he came rushing up to me, all excited, and said, “Write this down, $15,000!”  Well, that was that.  We who are elderly are always concerned about someone taking advantage of us and I felt an attempt had just been made.  As I told him later on the phone, when the clock strikes 13, you begin to wonder about the first 12.

Well, Lexus was no longer an option, but the fever was still there.  I got the name of a salesperson at BMW and started the process over.  I drove an X 3 (SUV) and liked it a lot.  The salesman said he had other X3s with more powerful engines.  I asked him if the car I was driving had more power than my Lexus.  He said, “Oh, sure.”  I told him that was all I needed.  We picked out the color and interior and he advised that he had the exact car I wanted in a reserve lot somewhere close.  The issue of trading in my Lexus had disappeared as I was shipping it to my daughter, Becky, in Arizona.  We decided I would pick up the car the next week. I arrived early for my 1:00 appointment, but there was no car and no salesman.  At 1:30, someone came up and advised me that my salesman was retrieving my car and would be there shortly.  Now, don’t get ahead of me.  At 2:00, my salesman showed up in a car that had three months of dirt and pollen on it.  He said the crew had cleaned and detailed the wrong car (now, I wonder if that was true).

We decided on a change in plans.  I would next meet with the BMW “genius” and she would explain all the bells and whistles.  When she arrived, she took my cell phone and linked it to the car.  Then, she got a call and disappeared.  Thirty minutes later, the salesman came back and ask how it was going.  I told him I had lost her.  He checked and told me that she had just found out that her dog had died, and she was in the back crying. There are certain things you cannot complain about, and this was definitely one.

So, the new plan was that the car would disappear to be cleaned and I would do the paperwork.  Then, they would find another BMW “genius” to help me.  While waiting around, I saw the young lady and told her I was sorry about her dog.  She smiled and thanked me.

The rest of the afternoon went slow but steady.  Because of the delays, they were going to give me a free Cilajet coating for my car.  Don’t feel badly if you don’t know what that is, I didn’t either.  The second  BMW “genius” set up everything I requested.  But since she did everything and I just watched, I wasn’t sure what I was learning.  This was confirmed on the way home when I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the radio!

We set up an appointment for the Cilajet treatment the next week.  When I arrived, I had no appointment, but 30 minutes later, my salesman showed up, grabbed my key fob and made it happen.  While there I saw the young lady who had lost her dog.  She recognized me and said hello.  I asked how she was doing.  She smiled and said, “Great, and the vet did a wonderful job of fixing up my dog.”

BOO! I saw you smile!