I’ll try not to harp on my medical woes or aging body like I did on yesterday’s post. They are, however, part of the retirement hassles that everyone deals with in life. I’m just fortunate that nothing is seriously wrong – fingers crossed (See Post #1329). It’s St. Patrick’s Day, so I wore bright green on my morning run. We have little planned except for an outdoor choir performance by Encore. Maybe they will sing, “Irish Eyes are Smiling?’ Tomorrow night we’re back to having guests for dinner.
We’ve been invited to cruise the Bay on our neighbor’s boat. I didn’t even know that he owned one, but he has a decal on his truck that reads, “Tangled Up in Blue,” a Bob Dylan classic. It apparently means stuck to the same girl – is it his wife or his boat? I know from experience that the best two moments of boat ownership are the day you buy it and the day you sell it. My wife has been anxious to find someone with a boat since we’ve moved to Florida and finally, she has succeeded.
The NCAA tourney goes into the second day, after several upsets busted my bracket yesterday. I can only hope that Indiana does not fall into the same trap later tonight. These lower seeds have something to prove – just ask No. 2 seed Arizona and No. 4 Virginia – their seasons are over no thanks to No. 15 Princeton and No. 13 Furman.
I tried to give blood yesterday, as I have on many other occasions. For some odd reason, my iron count was too low to donate Double Red Cells, so I had to settle for Whole. However, after struggling to find a vein and bruising my skin significantly, the nurse couldn’t get my blood to properly flow. She was about to stick me in the other arm, when I decided to wait for the next Bloodmobile visit to our community. I still don’t know if it was operator error or simply another sign of old age.
I am finally caught up on my logging, slogging, and blogging. My diary is up to date, entries on the blog have been made to compensate for missing posts, and the daily 5k slow jogs (slogs) through the neighborhood continue at their regular time each morning. ‘Home Sweet Home,’ although we’ve been out every night this week, and fight over use of the car or golf cart for travel to baseball games, doctor and chiropractor appointments, not to mention tap, aqua fit, bridge, or chair yoga classes. Tonight, we dine at home after a week of restaurants or fast food in Vegas, Orlando, and Venice.
The NCAA basketball tourney starts today. We might even get back to watching an episode of Lost after the travel hiatus. I’m also giving blood and pee this afternoon, but not at the same time. In addition to these lines of excitement, I am dealing with an electrical box recall. An Indy friend will be here on Monday followed by my wife’s brother, so there’s little rest for the weary.
A mysterious injury to my right bicep has prevented doing my push-up regimen and it’s been too cool to get in the pool. Flabby arms are not attractive. My stamina has also suffered as a result of some congestion and light-headedness. I took a Covid test as a precaution and it proved negative. New medication may be a factor, but “The Streak” continues despite these struggles (consecutive day 5,191). More likely it’s just a result of burning the candle at both ends.
I was out of town for the last three games of the season and had to monitor the play-by-play via the internet. When I first checked the score against Michigan, Indiana looked to be off to in good start on senior day at Simon Skjodt. The Hoosiers widened the margin to 14 at 4:02 before a Kobe Bufkin dunk started a run for the Wolverines and I could just hear Don Fisher saying, “suddenly, Indiana’s lead is just two at the half 29-27.” Fouls were a big issue as Galloway had three and Schifino two. Fortunately, Michigan was just 2-for-11 on 3s, while I.U. continued its season-long struggle from beyond the arc at 1-for-9. the second half for Indiana. The Wolverines pulled ahead 49-38 with 14:02 remaining and still had a double-digit lead at 10:02. Thoughts of melancholy senior speeches, just like last year, entered my head. However, the Wolverines seemed to stall on 59, as if they were haunted by my ‘Rule of 60’ and let the Hoosiers close the gap to 60-59 at 6:11. Despite the fact that Michigan got to the magic mark first, the game would go to overtime after both Hunter Dickinson and Trayce Jackson-Davis missed game-winning opportunities.
I.U. took advantage of new life and scored the first six points in overtime to make it 75-69, but Dickinson’s trey cut the lead to 75-72 with 1:58 left. Race Thompson could have sealed it with12.5 seconds left, but missed both free throws and again with 4.1 seconds remaining. However, his hustle and rebounding became the difference in a 75-73 much-needed victory. He also finished with a double-double, second in scoring behind TJD’s 27-points, coupled with nine rebounds, and 4 assists, in both players’ final home game. It earned them the No. 3 conference seed in the BIG tournament, with Maryland as the first opponent.
First team All-American, Trayce Jackson-Davis and BIG Freshman of the Year, Jalen Hood-Schifino sought revenge against the Terps and responded with 24 and 19 respectively. Once again, foul trouble haunted the Hoosiers, but the bench bailed them out. Reneau and Bates were both impressive as part of the 13-point back-up contribution. It was also the eighth time Indiana has been behind in the second half of a game but came back to win anyway, a habit we could probably do without, responding to the seven-point Maryland edge. The final score of 70-60, once again supports the magic nature of the number 60. As a result, they got the chance to avenge their worst road loss, after giving up a ridiculous 18 made three-pointers by the Penn State Nittany Lions in Un-Happy Valley.
Sadly, the United Center was also unfriendly to the Hoosiers, falling short to Penn State, missing a third shot at sweeping Purdue, and winning their first Big Ten Championship in 22 tries. However, the 22 total victories this year plants them firmly in the field for the first time in seven long seasons. I was not on the edge of my seat waiting to see if they were bound for the NIT.
The three-point-shot continues to consistently be the downfall of this team. They either can’t make them or defend against them. Although Penn State only managed 8-23 this time, the Hoosiers responded with a disappointing 2-14 in the 77-73 loss. At the 5:25 mark, Camren Wynter hit his second trey of the night to make it 61-51, and although I.U. came back at the end, Hood-Schifino missed the game-tying three with :09 seconds to go. He finished with only 11-points playing more like a freshman than top NBA draft choice. Trayce Jackson-Davis had another double-double, as Purdue went on to win the Big Ten Tournament Championship in addition to their regular season crown and I.U. settled for the No. 4 seed in the Midwest against Kent State. The Hoosier women claimed a No. 1 tourney seed.
After three nights in Vegas, we were back in Orlando, ready to meet my grandkids at Disney World. An old fart like me enjoys a routine, so long breaks away from the norm tend to be exhausting. The constant noise, scream-talking, lack of sleep, rich meals, and alcohol have already taken their toll, with two more days of Disney magic through the eyes of a four-year old yet to experience. We’ve really stacked one thing on top of another throughout March, including these two travel stops, dining with friends, Hippie Fest, IndyCar, Spring Training games, movies, concerts, house guests, Gypsy musical, and neighbor parties, in addition to our normal routine.
It’s funny, because my wife’s physician scolded her about the snowbirds that live in our neighborhood. “They come to their Florida second homes and think they’re on vacation, dragging you into their world of constant partying. They are bad for your health,” she warned. We’ve fallen into their trap, adding even more activities to our busy routine.
We managed one evening at Epcot without additional family – just the two of us for dinner at Le Creperie de Pari, the Ratatouille ride, and fireworks. There were, however, thousands in the park on the first day of Florida spring break. My son and his entourage arrived later that night. My wife and I stayed at the Marriott Vacation Club Harbour Lake property and met him in the Magic Kingdom the next morning. My four-year-old granddaughter was now old enough to appreciate the rides and characters, but she did not seem openly impressed. The other two grandkids had been there many times. It wasn’t until the afternoon lunch at the Crystal Palace with the Winnie the Pooh characters that they all seemed to light up. It was a pricy affair but well worth the price of admission after the expansive buffet, hugs and autographs. We all left the park that night after the fireworks over Cinderella’s Castle with lots of pictures, smiles, and memories.
The kids stayed for four more days, while my wife and I headed to lunch with friends at Ovation BBQ on the drive back home. Once we picked up Tally at Schnauzerville, it was time to get dressed for Hippie Fest, a fundraiser that also included a pre-party at a neighbor’s house. We donned our headbands, beads, jeans, and tie-dye but it didn’t hide the bags under our eyes. After a few dances we snuck away from the crowd in favor of our beds. Finally, we were home and looking forward to transitioning into our normal busy life routines…at least for a month or so.
For the first time in the seven-year time span that I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve failed to report-in for a week. In the process, my running streak has also suffered, choosing to do shorter one-mile-plus runs rather than the standard 5k effort. Routine breakers like time changes, early morning travel, late nights, excess drinking, a cold, fatigue, and springing forward all contributed to these performance letdowns. For the first time this morning, I upped the mileage and finally settled down in front of the keyboard.
A full week ago we drove to Orlando, spent the night at the Airport Marriott, and took an early flight to Las Vegas. For at least the 15th time, I returned to the “The Strip.” Many of the sights were familiar, but perhaps most disappointing was the lack of flower gardens at the Bellagio where we were married. A pool was being constructed and most of the lush foliage had been removed. Many years ago they had also torn down the staircase where we posed for wedding pictures.
On this occasion, twenty-two years later, we had reunited with our neighbors from Decatur that now live near Tucson, and settled on Las Vegas as a meeting point, taking advantage of our common connection with the Marriott Vacation Club. The Grand Chateau became our temporary home. We had gotten to the Bellagio via the Monorail that links the adjacent MGM with the other major casinos.
We started our first day at New York, New York with a late lunch at Eataly and some gambling at the MGM. By the time we got to the Bellagio, our aging feet were already aching. It was then too far to walk to the chapel to reminisce, so we settled on a distant view of the stained-glass window that served as the backdrop for our vows. More walking, cocktails at Mon Ami Gabi under the Eifel Tower, and the Monorail delivered us back to the MGM for the humorous Terry Fator ventriloquism show and a nightcap.
Day 2 was spent near the Venetian where we once enjoyed our wedding dinner at Delmonico’s. The four of us had drinks at McCormick and Schmick’s, dinner at Mott 23, and finished the perfect evening listening to Chicago in concert, performing from their 37th album. Blackjack and slot machines filled the time between.
Our final day together in Vegas was spent primarily downtown, starting with a National Geographic exhibit, and moving on to the Mob Museum & Speakeasy, Neon Boneyard, and a late dinner at Hugo’s Cellar in the 4 Queens, an old-world dining experience of mine for twenty-five years. Table side salad preparation, massive martinis, huge steaks, and Bananas Foster never disappoint, plus every lady is presented with a rose. After a brief night’s sleep, we then caught another early flight back to Orlando. Disney World was next on the list of things to do, not ready to return to the norm, so once again breaking routine.
I had a surprise Facetime call from an old friend yesterday, having not seen his face for 50 years. It was fun to rehash some of our high school experiences and college adventures, including the drive we made together to California. He just retired from his dental practice, a doctorial accomplishment that I once thought was futile. I did not apply myself much in class, satisfied with B’s, while he always worked hard for C’s. However, he found his way into the Army and got through medical school, finishing his career in the incarceration system.
Our upbringing was in sharp contrast, as he held down numerous jobs to pay for schooling, while I coasted on the coattails of my unselfish parents. We were in the concert choir together, but he had much more talent. Alan was also more athletic and confident, despite growing up in a lower-class neighborhood with parents who were separated while enduring the loss of two of their sons. I had a solid family relationship and lived in a desirable sub-division with little to want for in life.
Alan’s cars were always a work in progress, but he bought them himself. The brown Jeep finally broke down, so he purchased a rusted-out Renault. He reminded me yesterday that we were originally going to drive that car to California, but it fell apart on his way to pick me up. Instead, we “borrowed” my dad’s Galaxy 500, with somewhat deceptive intentions of going camping at the Indiana dunes. However, Alan was still determined to go cross-country and must have convinced me to follow his dream. As he recalled, I started driving West and apparently never relinquished the wheel. He felt that as much as I liked to drive back then, I should have been a trucker. I’ve certainly lost that appeal in my golden years.
Our quick, pass-through Las Vegas was the only time in life Alan’s ever been there. On the other hand, I’ve been fortunate to go there on at least fourteen additional occasions. In fact, my wife and I are headed there again next week where we were married twenty-two years ago at the Bellagio. During our marriage, she also finagled a Vegas business trip without me.
It was fun thinking back to my time together with Alan. Our conversation lasted well over an hour, with hopefully more talks in the future, after I have a chance to digest some the many details he remembered, that I’ve sadly long forgotten.
The excitement of Friday just isn’t what it used to be. I’m not about to kick off an exciting weekend or celebrate the end of a grueling work week. Instead, I reflect on an uneventful week of doctor appointments, 5k runs, granddaughter sitting, drug store visits, a haircut, chair yoga, birthday calls, reading, the movie “Jesus Revolution,” and more of several TV series, Lost, 1923, Gold Rush, Pawn Stars, and Curse of Oak Island. Watching the I.U. basketball loss was another 2 hours of wasted time. My wife was much busier, as usual, with bridge club, aqua-fit, dog park visits, tap class, cooking, and a book signing event. With this busy retirement schedule, upcoming travel expenses, and company in town we haven’t had a true ‘Date Night’ in several weeks. It’s nice to stay close to home, but that will soon change.
I organized an afternoon at the ballpark a week from Monday with some neighbors, taking advantage of our proximity to the Atlanta Braves Spring Training facility. Next week we’ll be in Vegas and Orlando, dealing with traffic, flights, hotels, shuttles, reservations, and lines – all my favorite travel hassles. We’re not even really going anywhere new. Friends and family will be the biggest attraction. When we get back in a week, more ‘framily’ are coming to visit, and we’ll begin preparations for our long-awaited trip to Egypt.
This Egyptian cruise has been postponed and rescheduled multiple times over the last three years. Four weeks away is the closest we’ve come to actually getting there with Covid, safety issues, and war interfering with our plans. I continue to observe the horror stories of my friends with airline cancellations, strikes, shutdowns, river level concerns, and lack of personnel taking the fun out of world travel. I don’t know what to expect as our departure date gets closer and closer. Is it even worth getting excited?
We have been exceptionally fortunate dealing with a lifetime of constant travel. There have been few serious setbacks. We’re in fact lucky that plans changed on our trip to Phoenix. My wife and I could currently be dealing with flight delays due to snow along our once planned route into Mexico and Tucson. Friends just spent a night in the Phoenix airport. We expect rare, cool temperatures in Vegas. Maybe the slots will be hot! Anyway, just as I was unprepared to write this post – just wingin’it – we’ll be just wingin’ it on our quest of being jackpot winners!
It was suggested by my son that I add a chapter about my dating experiences to my Storyworth book that the family bought me for Christmas:
I did not date much in high school due to my timid, unaggressive nature. As one of the youngest in my class, I was struggling with the nickname “Smiley,” couldn’t see past my big ears, acted immature, and was admittedly a mama’s boy. In retrospect, I missed some signs from the girls that I went to school with and instead spent most of my time dating a freshman from rival Concord High School that my good friend Grant and his steady girlfriend Keven put together for me. Her name was Debi, a skinny little thing with dark, stiff, puffy hair that was fashionable at the time. Her claim to fame was marching in the Rose Bowl as a band member, but I can’t remember what instrument she played. Although we were together for nearly my entire sophomore year, I never took her to a prom or dance at either school. My junior year, it took the support of a roomful of equally shy classmates and Mrs. Pippenger’s encouragement to finally convince me to make the phone call to Sue Scott. Eleanor Pippenger, my good friend Dennis’ mother, chaperoned overnight parties in the basement of her home where all of us “cool” guys would gather. She was our weekend mother, guidance counselor, advisor, Italian cook, confidant, and only female friend through those tough high school years. Both Eleanor and Dennis have since passed.
Sue was the daughter of a woman that worked with my dad at Miles Laboratories, although I don’t recall any suggestion on his part to ask her out. They were members of our First Presbyterian Church, and she was in my science and math classes, a much more serious and better student than I ever was to be. In fact, I think she ultimately became the Valedictorian of our class of over 1000 students. All I remember about our prom date was the after-party event at the Lake Michigan dunes, an informal class tradition. While the other girls were in their bikinis, working on tans, and playing volleyball or other interactive games, she was studying for a Chemistry exam. There was just no spark between us, as if I would have known what that was or what to do with it. It was our first and only date, filled with awkwardness and not too many things in common, despite my great intelligence and sense of humor. It did appease all four of our parents, knowing that we did not sit home alone on Prom night. Thankfully, I didn’t embarrass my dad or Mrs. Scott, as far as I know. Sue eventually laid eyes on another classmate, who she apparently married after school, but tragically he died soon after in a home accident.
There was one other high school date that I made with Debra Stanley, but as was standard, never developed into more than a faint memory. On the other hand, I did soon strike up a serious dating relationship that started in summer choir camp (similar to infamous band camp) between my junior and senior years. Leslie was also an excellent student, apparently the dominant force of attraction with all the women in my life. I have pictures of both the Sadie Hawkins dance, where she must have invited me, and the 1969 Elkhart High School prom where I reciprocated. This relationship continued even after we both left Elkhart for separate colleges. I went to visit her at Stevens College in Missouri, making the long drive from Albion, Michigan but for some reason we eventually went our separate ways. She persevered to get her doctorate in psychology, served professionally as a counselor, and supposedly never married. Unlike, Sue and Debra, I have maintained contact with Leslie on and off throughout the years.
At Albion College, we initially selected our dating partners through what we referred to as, “The Joke Book,” a compilation of fellow student photos that we each received as part of orientation. As a result of a phone call, I once again selected a candidate well over my head and to no avail when I spent an evening with Ms. Putnam (first name forgotten), whose father was a major financial contributor through Dow Chemical, while the grandfather had a building on campus named after him. If I were to have married wealthy, this would have been my best opportunity, but I was too intimidated. I also had an underage drinking date that included an intimate conversation in a cornfield. Years later it was noted that she was hoping for a follow-up and kept the ear of corn that I presented her with as a treasured souvenir, but I repeatedly missed any cues related to appeal. For the rest of my time at Albion, I stuck with Anne, who I met through three Sigma Chi Fraternity brothers, conveniently dating related sorority sisters. The most memorable of our adventures, were when the six of us spent New Year’s Eve in Milwaukee skiing at the Lake Geneva Playboy Club, followed by a Bucks game. We also went together to a Three Dog Night concert at Cobo Hall in Detroit, later adding a Gladys Knight and the Pips performance and a Classics IV concert, both on campus. Numerous Greek dances/parties at our respective houses filled the rest of our time together. Anne eventually married the upperclassman who first recruited me into the fraternity.
To make another long story short (and perhaps less boring), it was then off to Bloomington and more toads to kiss, before hooking up with Marcia on the streets of New Orleans. She left Indiana University at the same time I did, and we moved into an Elkhart apartment while I finished my degree in South Bend. We were married in 1972 during a Fort Wayne Episcopal Church ceremony, and thus the dating of others ended.
The women’s season has shown very consistent play throughout the year, but with the men you never know if Hoosier-Jeckyl or Hoosier-Hyde will show up on the court. At 26-1, the #2 women faced another ranked opponent with the #6 Hawkeyes. The game reflected the competitive nature of both squads with Iowa edging ahead at the end of each quarter and leading 40-39 at the half. Applying the “Rule of 60,” the third quarter ended ominously at 61-58 in favor of the Hawks and their fierce leader, Caitlin Clark. She then proceeded to hit a dramatic buzzer-beater to win the game 86-85. With this wake-up call to the men, who were in danger of a let-down after Purdue, I felt strongly that they would respond on the home court by coming out strong. How wrong this fan was!
Following the lead of the women Hawkeyes, the men jumped out to early leads of 8-0, 16-5, and 21-12 on three Kris Murray treys. By halftime it was nearly the reverse situation from the first game at Carver-Hawkeye Arena, with the Hawks comfortably ahead 47-36 in Bloomington. Back in early January the Hoosiers held a 50-40 lead but faded down the stretch. This time, Iowa continued to stretch the lead for a 90-68 rout.
Kris Murray finished with 26-points and Tony Perkins added 23, plus 10-rebounds, and 8-assists, just short of a triple-double. The hot Hawkeyes crossed 60 at 15:44 with a dominant lead of 61-40. They would ultimately make 13-threes thanks to Payton Sandfort’s five. Indiana only hit two from beyond the arc in eleven attempts. Turnovers were not the issue or even free throw shooting, but rebounding again reared its ugly head, as I.U. missed their opportunity to clinch a double bye in the upcoming conference tournament. The high-flying Hawkeyes were coming off an unbelievable 13-point comeback in the final 94 seconds against Michigan State.
Trayce Jackson-Davis led the hapless Hoosiers with 26-points and 13-rebounds, following up nicely after his worst game of the season against Purdue. However, the hero of the Boiler bash, Jalen Hood-Schifino was disappointedly mediocre with 8-points, 5-rebounds, and 2-assists. TJD will play his last home game on Sunday against Michigan, but JHS may not be such hot property after these last few days of discussions and interviews about top draft expectations. He may need more NCAA time to prove consistency with his game. This fan is counting on a better performance just in case this freshman sensation is truly experiencing his Senior Day early.
I picked up my granddaughter Nora from preschool the other day and was met at the door by her frustrated teacher Miss Wendy. Nora was apparently disrespectful and inattentive, disrupting her classes that morning. I told her that I call her, “Ignora” when she on occasion gets out of control and doesn’t listen. Most of the time, she’s fun and cute, but I too know the frustration of caring for small children. I knew my work was cut out for me during the few hours when I had “Grandpa J” duty that afternoon. She obviously needed to work out some frustrations and get some fresh air. I immediately took her to Wellen Park to play in the tiny houses they built for charity so she could use her imagination and blow off some 4-year-old steam. I was not aware of the giant Jungle Gym they had constructed in the grassy area by the lake. Other kids her age were actively engaged in swinging from the ropes like Tarzan.
Nora is at the age where she is fearless, with the exception of the tiniest of spiders. Ironically, this playground structure was like a giant spider web with ropes weaved together around timbers that stretched seemingly endlessly into the sky. I was relieved to see that the synthetic surface underneath was spongy soft because it immediately brought out my fear of heights and the danger of someone falling. However, she seemed to scale the beast with ease while I held my breath. The higher the other kids climbed, the braver she got. Her lovable, independent nature was clearly evident on last week’s carnival rides. I was envious of her confidence and flexibility, wishing that I was a kid again. However, in my day, steel Jungle Gyms were built on concrete surfaces that broke arms and legs. I watched many a classmate loaded into an ambulance during recess after a fall. Obviously, I learned to fear heights. My hands were sweaty and tightly clinched into fists while I watched, just as if I was getting ready to climb a ladder.
We learn to fear, so why spiders scare Nora and Jungle Gyms don’t is the difference between the two of us. I must have been taught that most spiders are useful creatures, but still worry about the black panther that was rumored to have escaped near my childhood neighborhood. Hopefully, Nora fears the alligators that sometimes wander into our yard, just as our schnauzer Tally is scared of little girls like her. In over 70 years of life, I’ve grown to be terrified by the reckless nature of human beings, particularly Florida drivers as they speed and weave carelessly through traffic like they’re racing to win the Daytona 500. There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel of a car, now my palms sweat on I-75. Maybe grandson Gavyn is smart in wanting to wait to learn how to drive. Right now, Nora is the most fearless in the family.
