I am pleased that Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are now engaged.  I was wondering if anybody doesn’t know who they are.  But I suspect everyone knows.  When Spring Break students were asked who we fought in the American Revolution, they didn’t know, but they sure know Taylor and Travis.

I saw people on TV going crazy over the news.  You would have thought that they just won the Powerball.  One woman blurted out that just like 9/11, everyone will remember where they were when they heard the news.  I’m sorry Gretchin, but I have already forgotten.  Another person couldn’t get over that the couple got engaged on the same day that Starbucks started selling their Pumpkin Spice Latte!  You talk about the stars aligning.  I should have bought a lottery ticket.

I really like Taylor Swift.  I like Country music, and I remember her first hit, strangely called Tim McGraw.  She sang Country for about eight years before she switched to Pop and conquered the world.  I thought I was a Swiftie.  I really respected her when she took on Big Machine Record Company on who owned the master of her first six albums.  When she lost the battle, she rerecorded and released four of the albums on her own label!  That’s impressive.  And it never bothered me that she was singing about breaking up with some pimply-faced kid.

I’m afraid that when she left Country in 2014, I quit following her.  I have now looked at all that she has done since then and have decided that I can’t call myself a Swiftie anymore.  Is there such a thing as a “fall-away Swiftie?”

Now, is the engagement going to impact on Kelce’s performance on the gridiron?  Let’s get some facts out.  Travis has been a truly outstanding player for a number of years.  He is 35.  Just like dog years, there are football years and 35 is getting up there.  He has coped with distractions for the last couple of years – Taylor and a lively podcast with his brother, Jason. He’s handled those well, so I think he will not be overly distracted. But if you have a choice to go over or under, go under!There is a burgeoning theory that because Taylor is getting married, more young people will get married.  You all know that young are not getting married as early or as often as they used to.  I hope the theory is right.  I have six grandchildren, all of marital age, and only two are married.  Hey kids, listen to Taylor.  Heck, I might even get out there myself.  But first I need to find Coach Belichick’s playbook

I really like our Constitution.  It is a living, breathing document that we can amend when it is necessary for the good of our people. The problem comes in when two groups want to do exactly the opposite and insist the other side is violating their constitutional right to do it.  That is why we have courts.

I think everyone who has done something stupid or is thinking of doing something stupid, has already decided they have a constitutional right to do it.  And, in fairness to them, not everything that is stupid is unconstitutional.  It’s just stupid.

The First Amendment guarantees freedom of speech. Yet, we all understand that that doesn’t give someone the right to stand up in a crowded theater and shout “fire.”  The First Amendment also gives us the right “peaceably to assemble,” but you probably should not shut down an interstate highway while you are doing it.  And when some reporter is telling me the assembly is “mostly peaceful,” and I can see buildings burning in the background, I tend to lose it.

Our country, under our Constitution, is made up mostly of good, well-meaning people. Unfortunately, politics has divided these good, well-meaning people into strongly divided camps.  Each group is convinced that the other side is going to destroy our democracy.  I would just like to say to both sides, shut up!  Our country survived a Civil War.  We will survive two shallow parties pointing fingers at each other.  No, Chicken Little, the sky is not falling.  Please enjoy family holiday dinners with everybody.  Let he who is free from sin cast the first stone (that’s biblical).  Of course, if someone shows up wearing a white sheet, exclude them.

But will our country survive the unattended speed camera that catches drivers racing down the road?  Does the Constitution protect these drivers?  Again, shut up.  I’m convinced the answer is no, but you are about to read how some people believe their constitutional rights are being violated.  Here we go.  1. How about the right against unreasonable search and seizure?  No warrant!  2. How about the right to confront your accuser?  You can’t cross-examine a camera.  3.What about the right to privacy (however you pronounce it)?  4.  What if I take the Fifth?  Again, shut up!

There are a few states that prohibit speed cameras and red-light cameras. That’s OK.  The Tenth Amendment to the Constitution gives the states the power to control all matters not delegated to the federal government.  If New Jersey wants to protect the safety of their streets without cameras, have at it.

I got caught by a speeding camera.  It was three days after my wife, Carole,  died and I was going back to Walter Reed to pick up her belongings.  I got off the Beltway and pulled on to Wisconsin Avenue, which is three or four lanes wide between the Beltway and Walter Reed. Somewhere along that road a camera caught me speeding.

I started formulating reasons why I shouldn’t have to pay.  My mental state?  Certainly, there were extenuating circumstances.  Then I said to myself, shut up! I mailed in the fine.

My dad was the youngest of three boys and when I say youngest, I mean by 10 years.  His oldest brother was Wilton and Wilton was married to my Aunt Marie.  I very seldom saw them, but when I did, Aunt Marie always left a lasting impression on me.  And I was quite young.

I think Wilton worked at the Post Office, but he and Aunt Marie spent most of their time buying rundown pieces of property and remodeling and refurbishing them into special places that they would rent out. I don’t think I ever saw Aunt Marie when she didn’t have white paint under her fingernails.  She was a tough cookie.

I did not know this for a fact, but I have been told that I was a difficult child.  I didn’t even know what that meant.  My mom had problems finding anybody to watch me when she had things she needed to do. I don’t believe I was more than five or six when Mom convinced Aunt Marie to watch me.

Aunt Marie lived in a place called the Orphanage.  Yep, you guessed it.  An orphanage went defunct, and Wilton and Aunt Marie picked it up cheap and converted it into a number of beautiful apartments.  Aunt Marie told me to be where she could see me.  My reputation had preceded me.  At lunch time, she made fried green tomatoes, and they were delicious.  I watched every step of the process, the dipping in the whipped eggs, the smothering in cornmeal, the sizzling in the skillet.  Sixteen years later, I prepared them for my bride. But what I missed was that you start with green tomatoes.  A slight, but significant, oversight.  I used ripe, red tomatoes and ended up with a mess in the skillet.  I lost my kitchen privileges.

A few years later, tragedy struck.  Wilton was unloading off the back of a truck, when he lost his balance, fell striking his head and died.  Sometime after that, Aunt Marie discovered she was a wealthy woman.  She went out and bought a Cadillac.  Always resourceful, Aunt Marie then hooked on the license plates with chicken wire.  Later, she came by our house with a pile of pamphlets that explained that putting fluoride in our water was a Communist plot!  I never understood why the Communist want us to have less cavities and stronger teeth.

At my wedding, Aunt Marie came up to my brother, Bill, (my best man) and stuck $50 in his pocket and told him to have a great time with my wife, Carole.  Bill, in telling me, thought it was hilarious.  Me, not so much.  I can’t remember whether he gave me that fifty bucks!

You all know the guy 0r gal who starts every conversation by telling you what important person they were talking to.  Thank goodness there aren’t a lot of them, probably more in DC than other places.

Well, I try not to be that guy, but recent events have overtaken me.  So, I want to mention that Senator John Thune and Senator Chris Van Hollen were both partners of mine when I was at the law firm of Arent Fox.  And that got me thinking about other connections I have had and so I’m just going to do a dump on you.

Let’s start with my neighbor in 1979.  Congressman Tom Daschel from South Dakota moved in next door.  Tom later became the majority leader of the Senate.  We met when I helped him get his car unstuck from the snow in his driveway.  A guy from South Dakota who can’t drive in the snow?  Tom had clearly spent too much time as a Washington staffer.  Over the back fence, I asked his wife, Laurie, what Tom’s position was on the right to bear arms.  She said Tom was in favor of the right to arm bears.  They divorced in 1983.  His loss.  Tom’s new wife was a former Miss Kansas.  Oh my.

One of my best friends at the firm was Senator John Culver from Iowa.  Prior to serving in the House and the Senate he had been a star fullback for  Harvard and later a Marine.  We had a lot of common interests.  If you want a good laugh, go the YouTube and select John Culver’s eulogy of Ted Kennedy.  It is a riot!

Senator John Thune was a partner at Arent Fox after he left the House and while he was running for the Senate.  He ran against Tom Daschel.  Arent Fox is a strong Democrat law firm but sees the advantage of keeping a number of Republicans on the team.  Senator (and super actor) Fred Thompson and John Thune were examples.  We helped John win his campaign for Senate.  Daschel had bought a home in DC and declared a homestead deduction claiming DC as his residence.  This didn’t go over well in South Dakota. Laurie, his first wife and later ambassador to Denmark, would never have let that happen.  Some in the firm put a campaign commercial together based on the Apprentice TV show.  After explaining what Daschel had done, someone looking like Trump said, “Daschel, you’re fired!”

Chris Van Hollen was at the firm when I joined.  He was also a member of the Maryland General Assembly.  I saw him as a dedicated, conscientious, and hard-working lawyer.  Prior to coming to the firm, while at the Department of Transportation, I sent a letter to the Maryland Attorney General advising that their recently passed “gas guzzler tax” was illegal because regulating gas milage was a Federal issue, not State. Chris, who didn’t know me, attacked me in the press as a political crony.  Then, Maryland Governor Schaefer sent a letter to the Secretary of Transportation, Sam Skinner, warning him to look out for me because I was a loose cannon.  I thought the whole thing was kind of humorous, particularly when I was given the task of drafting the response to Governor Shaefer.

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.

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 1^st 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.