all I want for Christmas is. . .

Christmas, 1980
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

a few front teeth!

Christmas, 1979

Christmas, 1979-002
Originally uploaded by galbr8th

One thing Christmas does for you is bring back memories of childhood, hopefully happy memories. Here, our twins, who were four-and-a-half at the time.

thanksgiving

We spent Thanksgiving with our son and daughter-in-law in Pennsylvania, where he's started dental school and she's holding down two jobs, one of which furthers her career as a chemist. The other is a fine place to raise some extra cash and take advantage of the employees' discount on some very nice stuff although most of it is "chick" stuff (Anthropologie). We were joined by a daughter who now lives in Boston. It was good to have half of our offspring and half of our two children-in-law (what a horrible-sounding term) with us.

They cooked a 20-pound turkey for the five of us, and about five side dishes and three pies. We had to buy a third seat on the airplane so the two of us could fit in on the flight home. Just kidding, but an empty third seat would have been nice. Fat chance, on a Thanksgiving weekend.

The weather was refreshingly cold, but damp, and the fall leaves hadn't all gone. We hiked a trail a short distance to a covered bridge and back, visited Amish country, saw the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, strolled through the Reading Terminal Market, and of course tried some Philly steak sandwiches (at Rick's - the "works"), and visited Valley Forge.

The last time I saw Valley Forge was during a Boy Scout National Jamboree, too many years ago to even think about it. That's where the American Revolution nearly died. 12,000 soldiers went in, 6,000 came out. 2,000 died, but they've found only one grave. The rest either deserted or their enlistments ran out and they went home. But, in the springtime, the ranks of the American army grew and they were turned into soldiers, not just a ragged band of "embattled farmers." The war slugged on for another three years and you know how the story turned out.

Thansgiving conjures up thoughts of family, food and friends, but I have to admit that this year I was thinking about those barefooted guys who were not summer soldiers or sunshine patriots, and feeling very thankful for their legacy.

If they hadn't succeeded, we'd all be speaking English.

simplicity

"Simplicity is knowing when less is too little and more is too much. Simplicity = Sanity."

I found that statement in a YouTube movie, which you can see here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGHgu0ZYYZc

I've become a teacher of legal writing, at least to the extent of presenting papers to local government lawyers on the topic of writing land development regulations. A primary objective of legal writers is to make what you write understandable. If something can be misunderstood, it will be, especially if it suits someone's purpose to appear confused. Write clearly. Brevity is the essence of clarity.

I don't know the source of the quotation, above, but I'd like to use it if I revise my paper on legal writing. Knowing when to stop writing and start chopping surplusage from your sentences is an important task for any writer.

For example, knowing when to stop writing this blog entry is important.

Like, right here would be a good time to stop . . . right after I go back and cut out a few unnecessary words . . . OK, I'm done now.

the "dead cat bounce"

I heard an expression today that I've never heard before, not being an avid follower of the stock market until recently.

It seems that Wall Street made a dramatic jump by nearly 320 points today after four days of falling prices. The expression, "dead cat bounce," is being used as part of a question. The question is, was today only a temporary rise in what is otherwise a falling market? Was today an example of a "dead cat bounce?" ("Even a dead cat will bounce if dropped from high enough.")

Until recently I could not have cared less about such things. Some of us children of the 50's and 60's grew up thinking that retirement was going to be out of the question because we'd never live so long. Thanks to the Cold War, Khrushchev's threat to bury us, images of the mushroom cloud, the Berlin Wall, Viet Nam, and the prospect of gasoline selling for as much as a dollar a gallon (yes, chillun, it's true . . . I once bought gas for 13.9 cents a gallon in Perry, Florida, where they knew how to run a gas war), the future looked awfully bleak. Doing our duck-and-cover drills at Tarpon Springs Elementary School, we joked that if the Russians fired their ICBM's at MacDill Air Force Base, they'd miss and hit us instead. Har-de-har.

Then it dawned on many of us that we might actually live so long as to become a burden on our children, and we took new interest in 401 plans, defined-benefit plans versus defined-contribution plans, annuities, and the cost of health insurance -- all those old-folks worries. The question of whether today was just a "dead cat bounce" has real meaning . . . not as exciting as Huck Finn's cure for warts, but more meaningful.

Kevin Coster, the musician - who woulda thunkit?

The other night I went to the park for the unveiling of the new look for the Tampa Bay Rays (see below).

One of the main features was a performance by Kevin Coster and his band.

Right, I thought. He'll play a few chords, sing along with a band in a monotone, and collect a huge fee for appearing.

Well, guess what? He and his band play a righteous, foot-stompin' brand of rock and roll. With the fancy high-tech stage setup and lighting, it wasn't always easy to figure out who was singing what and who was playing what, but the overall effect was . . . where can I buy one of their CDs? I couldn't find one of their tunes on iTunes. And, I see he is suing a promoter for failing to promote their albums, asking for millions in damages.

Note to my children: If you are looking for a Christmas idea, this is a tip. Here's another tip: I bought one of the good-quality "on-field" TB Rays baseball caps. Now I need a good quality Red Sox cap (hat size 7 5/8). As one of my observant daughters reminded me recently, I bought the cheap version in Boston some years ago, and I can't have my new TB cap looking better than a Red Sox cap.

The Official Site of the Tampa Bay Rays

The Rays (no longer the Devil Rays) have a new look. Check it out:

The Official Site of the Tampa Bay Rays: News

just hobbling around

Last week I went to a conference in Nashville. One of the entertainment events was a softball game, so I signed up in advance and took my old glove.

How dangerous can slow-pitch softball be, played by a bunch of middle-aged lawyers?

Heh. It seems that these guys play softball frequently and seriously. One of them has played every week for 35 years with seven other members of his high school baseball team.

So I'm standing on first base, feeling good about hitting into short center field and driving in two runs. Short center is where the ball has always gone for me, man and boy, my whole life. I can't pull it into left field and I've never hit it over the fence but I can usually get a good single.

The batter after me was the once-a-week player I described above. He hit into deep right field . . . an inside the park homer except I'm in front of him. He's a faster runner but he was too smart to pass me. I thought he was going to carry me in. I felt like the road runner, wheels spinning, but no traction on the ground. As I'm approaching third base I felt the unmistakable twinge of a pulled hamstring, also known as a torn hamstring, and I hobbled home with the batter right behind me.

That was a week ago. I've been hobbling around with an Ace bandage from hip to knee and a fairly dramatic bruise on the back of my thigh.

I've been saying to myself all summer that I need to start walking/ jogging/ running but the weather was too danged hot. Now that the weather is cooling off, I definitely need to start walking/ jogging/ running but I'm going to have to wait another 5-6 weeks while my hamstring gets back to normal, and then it will be slow going.

Getting old isn't hell. Being soft and out of shape definitely is.

post-election blues, city style

My fair city (the one I work for) had an election yesterday. At stake were four of the eight city councilmember seats.

We've had this grumbling of the citizens, a taxpayer revolt, building up for months now. With half of the city council seats at stake, you'd think we would have had a high voter turn-out.

Not so. Would you believe only 9 percent of the 156,146 registered voters . . . a record low . . . bothered to take the few minutes required to go vote? The margin of victory was only 257 votes in one race and 611 votes in another race. The final outcome in one of the races hung in the balance until nearly midnight.

As it turned out, two "outsiders" who are critical of the mayor's fiscal policies got elected. That may be good news to disgruntled voters but the 91 percent who stayed away from the polls can claim no credit for the results. If any of them are not happy with the results they can share the blame.

One solution to the problems of our government at all levels - federal, state, and local - is to vote the rascals out. We don't do that. (In our case, the two "outsiders" who got elected were not running against incumbents.) Maybe we deserve what we get.

Ridiculous.

63 weeks

If you are reading this on Monday, November 5, count ahead 441 days. That will bring you to January 20, 2009, which will be George W. Bush's last day in office.

441 days = 63 weeks.

That sounds like a long time, and it is. You can't hold your breath that long, and 63 more weeks with Dubya in office is 63 weeks too long. But time flies whether you are having fun or not. Sixty-three weeks will glide slowly by like clockwork, or in this case maybe like a plateful of stuffed jalapenas passing through every inch of your digestive system, but both the time and the jalapenas will pass. Dubya will enjoy two more Christmases in the White House but only one more Halloween. For the rest of us, that may seem like 441 more Halloweens until he packs up and moves to Texas or wherever, but the time will come.