Color Is Everything

I posted briefly last week about the face lift to this blog. Since that time, the face has been lifted again in terms of colors. My talents at color coordination are elementary at best. Fortunately, my fellow blogger and cyber-friend Suzy has quite the knack for that sort of thing. This brief post, then, is simply to say thanks to Suzy and her friend, Jill, for helping me perfect what Heather (aka "Goofy Girl") started. The actual blogging, I suppose, is up to me now!

Check Out the Facelift!

I am very excited to write my first post in my new and improved blog template. Of course, I take little, if any, credit for it. When my blogging friend, Suzy Soro, had her site revamped, I was so impressed that I contacted her designer to do mine as well. So here is a plug for "Goofy Girl Designs." Nice job, Heather! I'm still tweaking the color a little, but am quite happy with the results. You'll find her logo on my sidebar. Click it to go to her site.

Happy blogging to us all!

Wish You Were Here

Just a few weeks ago there was the sad news that LeRoi Moore of the Dave Matthews Band had suddenly died. Yesterday it was Richard Wright, keyboardist and one of the founding members of Pink Floyd. He was 65 and had cancer. Although his name was less a household word than some of the other Floyd musicians (Waters, Barrett and Gilmour, for example), his influence on the band and on music was undeniable.

I regret that I did not become a fan until the late 80's, about the time Pink Floyd disbanded. I was in Indianapolis one Friday night when they were performing in the RCA Dome (or "Hoosier Dome" at the time). The sounds could be heard all over downtown, and I was taken aback by what I heard. I've loved their music -- especially the later material -- ever since.

Rest in peace, Richard Wright. As the song says, "wish you were here."

Another Day; More of Fay!

The editorial cartoon below says it all. Our unwelcome tropical guest continues to linger, leaving streets and yards looking like rivers. I considered buying a canoe last year for recreation. Now I could use one just to get to my mailbox.

Fay, Fay, Go Away!

Those of us who live in the Sunshine State have a bone to pick with Mother Nature. One of her fickle children, Fay, is visiting -- and she won't leave! And she won't even decide what she wants to do or where she wants to go. This tropical storm (thankfully NOT a hurricane as predicted) has stalled off the coast of Daytona where it continues to drop copious quantities of rain. Even here in Jacksonville, we are being beaten silly by the wind and rain bands. Last I heard, it will be sometime Saturday before it's close to being over.

So most of us are stuck at home as the authorities have urged people to stay in. TV is annoying because the local news teams stay on the air around the clock, essentially foaming at the mouth. If there were actually any NEWS to report, such coverage might be understandable. But the storm is stationary. It's windy. It's raining -- hard. We know that, right? So, dear news people, let us know if something changes. Until then, put something else on, okay?

Does it show that I'm a little cranky today? Maybe Florida is not where I belong.

Another Day That the Music Died a Little

My morning started as usual. I got my coffee and sat down at the computer to check the news and headlines. One particularly sad one jumped off the page at me: "LeRoi Moore, saxophone player for Dave Matthews Band, dies."

I knew that LeRoi had been injured in an ATV accident a few months ago and was originally in critical condition. The last I heard, he was recovering nicely. So this news came as a shock. I love the music of the Dave Matthews Band, and LeRoi Moore was such a central part of the sound and spirit of what they do. On stage, LeRoi personified cool.

I saw that the Band performed last night as scheduled rather than canceling to grieve. The show was dedicated to LeRoi. It was a fitting thing to do, given the man and the band. Except for these few words, I am speechless.

Michael Goes to FaceBook...

Unless you've been in a coma for the past few years, you surely know that social networking sites are the big thing. I first became somewhat aware of it when my daughter started talking about "My Space." I thought it was just a kid thing. Then I started hearing about adults with My Space pages. I didn't bite -- although I did take steps to ensure my daughter's safety on the site.

I later learned about LinkedIn, a professional networking site. As a professional, it did seem to behoove me to participate in that site. I have actually gotten some leads that way, so the benefit is becoming more clear. Check me out if you'd like.

More recently, I have been hearing about Facebook. Someone said it was a "My Space for adults." Kids do use it, though. I do, however, notice that the kids are older. I still had little interest in using the site until I attended a professional meeting a few weeks ago and the speaker recommended using the social networking sites. If you haven't looked for a job in recent years, you may not be aware that the process has changed. It has changed A LOT, in fact. The human element is gone as everything is web-based. You may never speak to or hear from a person. Social networking, then, gives you a tool for finding people (actual human beings!) inside a particular organization or company that might be able to get your name or face in front of someone else in the organization or company. So I decided to give Facebook a shot.

While my venture in Facebook was initially for professional networking only, I have found it to be quite a bit of fun as I've reconnected with several old friends. And imagine my surprise when I found my daughter on Facebook! At sixteen, she has painfully little time for Dad, so her Facebook page gives me way to touch base with her. Moreover, the "friending" process is addictive -- sort of like collecting. I am enjoying this.

Check me out at Facebook then. Here is my profile link. Better yet, invite me to be your friend. I promise I won't ask you for money!

The Latest from the Career Front

I mentioned a while back that my position in my last company was eliminated, leaving me without a job for the first time in my professional life. It is now August, and I remain unemployed. I never would have believed it would take so long. But I'm surviving.

I have been interested in changing careers for a while, but there never seems to be an ideal time to do that. Unless, of course, your current career has stalled. Perhaps, then, this is the perfect time.

The thing that keeps coming my way is financial planning. I very much enjoy helping people, and my style and demeanor have always been known to be most professional. So, for the time being at least, it appears that I am heading in that direction. This weekend, in fact, I will spend ten hours a day from Friday until Monday in a class in preparation for the first of my licenses. I am both excited and very scared.

I have tending to make "safe" choices all my life -- many of them paying off for a while at least. But I have felt as if I'm cheating myself out of the level of success that "safe" choices permit. As a financial planner, I will have my own practice. The sky will be the limit of the success that is available. And the potential for failure, some might argue, is equally great. The fear of failure, however, too often keeps us from attempting the very things that might bring us the most satisfaction. It brings to mind a quote from Frank A. Clark that says, "If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn't lead anywhere." True enough.

I welcome comments on the move I am contemplating. In a few week, I hope to need some referrals. Wish me luck!

The Guitar in the Corner

At heart, I have always been a musician. In fact, I was the runner up for a music scholarship at Furman University, and I turned down a music scholarship at another university. In those days, I played French horn very well and wanted to get my degree in French horn performance. Before playing the horn, I was a quite good trumpet player. For as long as I can remember, however, I have been fascinated with the guitar.

If you were stroll into my bedroom, in the far corner you would see a guitar. A lovely Ovation guitar, in fact. You may even comment on it, assuming that I play. Unfortunately, you would be wrong -- for the most part, anyway. I have dabbled at the guitar for some twenty years. I even took a semester of classical guitar at Furman. Moreover, my friend Jeff and I wrote songs and performed in coffee houses during our college days. He would play piano and I would play guitar, but only if the guitar part was fairly easy. I have quite a bit of natural musical talent, but it just does not appear to transfer itself to skill on the guitar. Perhaps I lack the dexterity? Perhaps I lack hand strength? I don't know. I do know, however, that I my proficiency only gets to a certain level of mediocrity before it hits a wall. It frustrates me. Consequently, I find myself playing less and less, leaving that beautiful instrument standing alone in the corner.

I have considered selling the guitar, especially now that money is tight. As little as I play it, I am pretty sure that I would miss it nevertheless and end up buying another one. The guitar is my white whale, I fear. I can't conquer it; I can't let it go.

It's Football Season!

It was about this time last year that I wrote a post entitled Lo, the Sun Through Darkness Pierces. Melodramatic in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, it was my ode to the advent of a new football season. Happily, we have once again reached that time of the year, and the first pre-season football game will be on TV tonight. (Well, unless you count Sunday night's Hall of Fame Game.) I feel good. And even though the temperature outside my door is supposed to be in three digits again today, tonight's kickoff signals that fall is coming -- eventually. I hope.

My morning started with the news that Bret Favre was traded last night to the New York Jets. I have mixed feelings about it all. Favre is the ultimate man's man and a great quarterback and ambassador for the sport. I love to see him play, and he fits the Green Bay persona. I had grown weary of the end-of-the-season "will he retire?" drama every year for the past three years. Sure, I thought he had a few more good years left in him, but really wanted him to either play or not play -- just be clear about it and quit jerking us around. Certainly, the Packers could have handled this latest situation better. Ultimately, however, I think Favre paddled his own canoe. I don't see him as a Jet. Time will tell.

As for our Jacksonville Jaguars, we are excited. Last season was good, and all the pieces appear to be in place now -- assuming they stay healthy. Again, time will tell. Either way, I will be a loyal fan.

Play ball!

Confession of a Deliquent Blogger

I last posted some two months ago. That fact shames me. Moreover, I am shamed that my last post was such a downer. My discouragement at the time spilled into my writing. Then again, perhaps that isn't a bad thing if my intent in blogging is to portray honesty. And my post that day was an honest presentation of how I was feeling.

Since that last post, I have thought about blogging literally every day. So why haven't I written? I feel a bit like Richard Bach, one of my favorite writers. In the preface to his book Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, he confesses that he really doesn't like to write and will resist it until an idea "stalks over the rubble, seizes me by the throat and gently says, 'I will not let you go until you set me, in words, on paper.'" In my case, I truly do have a need to write but I put so much pressure on myself to say something relevant or earth-shattering every time. I've written a few posts that have captivated people and moved them to do something -- and that felt great. That isn't likely to occur every time, however, so I need to get over it. For the time being, then, I will be content to share the "daytight compartments" that make up my life and hope someone will read along and connect now and then.

I'll keep it short for today with a promise of more to come. Much is happening, and I am both excited and terrified. You'll see what I mean...

Life of Leisure?

Soren Kierkegaard, the 19th century Danish philosopher, described despair as "the sickness unto death." That definition does not bode well for yours truly, I fear. Although I haven't written much of late, my last few posts alluded to my impending loss a job. And it happened -- right on schedule. My position was eliminated, and I have now been unemployed for a little over a month -- a first for me. Every day, then, the concept of despair becomes more and more real to me.

I am now at the point in my career where I hear "over-qualified" as the most common reason for not hiring me. It seems like only yesterday that I was under-qualified. How time flies! I am proud of my accomplishments and of my expertise and my experience. Nevertheless, I sometimes now feel tempted to downplay those things merely for the sake of getting into the door somewhere. The position I just left was a director's level position for which I was grateful. While I would love to attain anther position at the same level, I understand that times are hard. I'm not too proud to step back.

I have a friend who keeps referring to this time in my life as a "vacation" and a "life of leisure." I took it in stride the first few times. Then it started feeling insensitive -- as if she fails to see it from my perspective. As a skilled and talented professional, I am accustomed to feeling productive and useful. Of late, I feel neither. I am quite ready to be in the morning traffic again and facing "the grind" at the office and tackling the problems of the day. This so-called leisure is far from leisurely and restful. It is the breeding ground of despair.

Turning again to Kierkegaard, he also said, "It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite." If that is true, then I am on the road to recovery, to attaining my desire in that I am surely passing through its opposite in the present. I will write again this week. God willing, good news is forthcoming.

Some Catching Up To Do...

I was on a roll with the blogging for a while, huh? I am amazed by the people who live their lives and still manage to blog on a regular basis. As it turns out, looking for a job (and career change) is a LOT of work! I will write more about that soon. For this post, I merely want to establish myself as still alive.

Here's a lesson learned: My last post was about my work. When you work in the insurance industry, I have discovered that NO ONE CARES! My Site Meter tells me how many people visit my blog and how long they linger. As soon as put up that last post, I could tell by my stats that I could just as well have posted a big sign that said, "DON'T READ THIS! LEAVE! FAST!!"

No more work posts. I promise. Well, unless I find myself in something that actually interests the general population.

Maybe it's time for a face lift. I have been toying with the idea of changing the look of this site, so check back in. I'm just trying to find a look that fits.

Have a great weekend.

Plugging the Business

Over the course of writing this blog, I have occasionally mentioned my job. I have never, however, said much about it. Perhaps it is time -- especially given the hard times that befallen us (and, consequently, me). I may have silent readers who are potential clients. Indulge me, this once, a discussion of my work.

I work directly for The Woodlands TPA & Catastrophe Services. We are a franchisee of a corporate entity called Frontier Adjusters. Frontier has over 700 locations across the nation, most of which provide insurance adjusting services to insurance companies. The group for which I work, however, has gone a step further. In addition to daily insurance claim work, we provide third-party administration (TPA) services to insurance companies as well as to other businesses who self-insure. In other words, we act as their claims department. We have such arrangements with a few trucking companies, for example. In addition to this, we also have a catastrophe division -- which means that we are capable of assembling adjuster teams to respond to events such as hurricanes, earthquakes and floods. My role in all this? I am the Director of Business Development and Catastrophe Operations. I am a potential hero when things are good, and the red-headed stepchild when things are bad. I knew that going in!

Our franchise is one of the largest, oldest and certainly one of the most forward-thinking in the organization. Most, in fact, are one-man operations that service a specific geographic area. I'm not knocking that approach. Such operations have been the backbone of claims services for many years. They are the guys who quickly respond to pipe breaks, fires, traffic accidents -- no matter what time of day those events occur. We, of course, do that, too. The man who owns our franchise, however, tends to be big thinker (typical of a Texan, I suppose). We are not, therefore, a one-man operation. We're not even a one-office operation. In fact, we have nine offices and a staff of ... well, I'm not even sure how many. And it's all centralized out of a main office in Conroe, TX -- just outside of Houston.

Before I came to work for Frontier, I was actually a client of this very firm. I was in claims management for a company that outsources its claim handling. That was how I met Justin, the owner. I went to Texas in April of 2005 to do an audit. We clicked, and I was always pleased with the service we got from Frontier. They took care of me, and they allowed me to sleep at night. Several months later, truly out of the blue, Justin invited me to join his staff. It required little thought. Everyone, after all, likes to be on a winning team.

So, you might be wondering, what happened? The simple answer is that nothing happened. Nothing as in no hurricanes or other major storm events. Actually, the weather has been amazingly placid since Hurricane Wilma in October of 2005. The business of handling claims is very much contingent on Mother Nature, unfortunately. Since she has been quiet for over two years now, insurance company claims departments are largely caught up. Their own internal staffs are able to manage the daily work. In other words, the need to outsource has reversed. The result is that the demand for service firms like ours has diminished.

So, gentle reader, we need business. Auto appraisals -- we need those. Small businesses in need of risk management, we're here for you. Trucking companies and rental vehicle firms who need someone to call in the middle of the night when an accident takes place, call me! Homeowner and commercial property insurers -- don't you need a hand? Three years ago, there were not enough of us to go around. The same could be true two months from now. In the meantime, we struggle to bridge that gap. When Mother Nature gets nasty again, we WILL be needed. Our fear, in addition to immediate survival, is that many adjusters will have moved on to other careers by the time the need arises again. It is critical, therefore, that we find a way to keep those people (and me) employed in the meantime.

If you made it this far, thank you for allowing me to venture into my professional life, at least for one post. I welcome marketing leads from anyone.

Happy Friday, folks. Enjoy the weekend!

March Madness Carry-Over

First of all, let's establish something. My picture is posted on this page, so there is no doubt that I am a white guy. Not just regular white, but IRISH white. And while I do not in any way subscribe to stereotypes, I will confess that many of the white guy stereotypes apply to me. I can't dance; I can't jump. Moreover, I can't play basketball. Some of the silliest (and most pathetic) episodes of my boyhood revolve around my attempts to play basketball. Even as I write this, I sigh and shake my head.

Beyond my inability to play the game, I also confess that I don't fully understand the game. I am NOT a moron, mind you. I get the basic point of scoring the baskets. It is the fouls that perplex me. It is the finer points that I don't get. Frankly, until recently, I didn't even LIKE the game. But here is what happened: MARCH MADNESS! Still grieving from the end of football season, I had to have some sports on to numb my senses. So along came the NCAA tournament to save the day. And I admit it -- I fell in love with the game in spite of not fully understanding the details. As of later tonight, then, I will again be grieving another loss. That being said, I vow to enjoy this night to the fullest.

I had been banking on a University of North Carolina vs. Memphis State match-up. The UNC game, however, was a shocker on Saturday night. Maybe the jock straps were too tight? Who knows? Nevertheless, tonight we will see the Jayhawks of Kansas play the Tigers of Memphis State. My money is on Memphis State -- and there will be champagne either way. I can't wait.

So what will be next? Maybe I'll learn to love the NBA since they play until July -- right? There is still some hockey. Baseball is good for a nap, I suppose. I am working on a proposal to my senator to make football a year-round sport. Nothing else, after all, comes close.

"No More Teacher's Dirty Looks"

I don't remember exactly how it goes or even what it is, but somewhere in the cobwebs of my brain echoes these lines of a poem (or song, perhaps):

No more pencils; no more books;
No more teacher's dirty looks.

Does it ring a bell?

I also recall a song that we sang as kids. It was to the tune of "Glory Glory Hallelujah," and went like this:

Glory, Glory Hallelujah;
Teacher hit me with a ruler.
So I blew her out the door
With a loaded forty-four,
And she ain't my teacher no more.

Ah, childhood!

I suppose as long as there have been teachers there have always been miffed students. Teachers, after all, are the ultimate "boss" figures for kids. And let's face it: Some of them were BAD! Thankfully, those were in a small minority in my experience. They have a tough job; I admire them for doing what they do -- so I don't have to.

Earlier this week there was a story that made national news about a group of third graders in Waycross, Georgia who plotted to do physical harm to their teacher. Some reports even allege that they intended to kill her. Really?? She put one of them in time-out or something to that effect. The kids, so the story goes, brought a knife and hand-cuffs and other such items to school, ostensibly as tools for carrying out "the deed." I supposed it's possible. Let me, however, go on record as saying that I am skeptical. Not unnecessarily skeptical about the existence of a plot, but skeptical about their ability to actually carry it out and harm anyone. We will likely never know the truth. Well, at least not until the made-for-television movie comes out.

The incident caused me to think back to my school days. I had some pretty crabby teachers, to be sure. I still remember being so angry with Ms. Rhinehart, my first grade teacher, when I got into mild trouble for something that I didn't do. Yes, I hated her. But I don't recall conspiring with other kids to do her in. I did, however, put a "whistler" in my eighth grade teacher's muffler (as opposed to a potato, which was the original plan). We also conspired to bake Ex-Lax brownies for the same teacher. We didn't do it, though. Oddly enough, she was one of our favorite teachers -- and we were her first class ever. Why, then, were we compelled to be so mean to this wonderful woman? I have no answer. Our emerging sexualities and her attractiveness surely play into the equation somewhere. But I digress.

The Waycross third graders are being charged with crimes -- an over-reaction, perhaps. They will get in no real trouble, though. It just goes to show yet again that this ain't Mayberry anymore. I would beseech us all, nevertheless, to maintain our faith in ourselves as people. Most of us are okay, and life is good. Let's do, however, keep our hand-cuffs and knives put securely away -- at least on school days.

Have a good weekend, folks.

No Foolin'

It is now April 3rd. I missed April 1st -- the holy day for jokesters. Perhaps my blog topics don't often reflect it, but I am quite the joke boy. Not like a stand-up comedian, mind you. I just enjoy a rich sense of humor and have been told many times that I am funny. Of all the complements I can get, that is one of my favorites. Laughing and making others laugh is a joy that never goes without its rewards.

Maybe I should clarify that last statement. While rewarding, joking has it's perils, too. It is the "boy who cried wolf" syndrome. Once you're known as a joker, especially one with a dry wit such as mine, people tend not to knew when you're being serious. For example, a former boss of mine never quite knew how to take me. I recall several times I would be telling him something quite true and serious -- all the while he would sit there with that look that says, "Okay, I'm waiting for the punch line." Ah, the pressures on funny guys!

So why did I miss April Fool's Day? I didn't want to. Given my employment pickle right now, I am just finding it a bit harder to get funny. I am quite sure that everything will be just fine. I have, after all, summoned every guardian angel I can find. And I know that I am skilled and qualified and professional and all that. At the moment, however, my anxiety is way too high. The irony is that when I need the laughter the most, it become elusive. And such is life.

For kicks, I'll close with a joke from Mitch Hedberg. "One time I had an interview at an insurance company. The woman conducting the interview asked my what I saw myself doing in five years. I answered, 'Celebrating the five-year anniversary of you asking me this question!' "

Ha! Maybe I'll use that line. Soon, I hope.

The Economy Is Not My Friend

Recession; depression -- what is the difference? My uncle put it this way once: When your brother loses his job, it's a recession. When you lose your job, it's a depression. So it officially became a depression for me yesterday. The business for which I work has been affected by circumstances which we can't control -- a paradigm shift in our industry away from outsourcing, lack of hurricanes and other major storm events, and (of course) the economy. Perhaps Mr. Bush will read this. Or Mr. McCain or Mr. Obama or Mrs. Clinton. "The economy" becomes a catch phrase in election campaigns, but it truly is a reality that affects the lives of everyday people -- like you and me.

To admit that I am afraid is difficult and an understatement. I have bills and a kid and a house -- not to mention pride and ambition and aspirations. At the moment I am not even thinking straight since I got no sleep last night. In spite of remembering Dale Carnegie's dictum to live in "daytight compartments," I find my mind reeling from the "what if's." It is frightening.

While I clearly feel badly for myself, I also feel badly for my employer. I heard the anxiety in his voice as he gave me the news. Our entire company takes a family approach, so this was a difficult thing for him to do. He feels that he let me down; I feel that I let him down. And we're both equally wrong and right at the same time, I suppose. There is still hope. And I will work hard until the end -- as will he. In the meantime, wisdom dictates that I start the difficult task of finding something else, hoping all along that something positive will make it unnecessary. Job searching, after all, is worse than dating. (It's true.)

So, Gentle Reader; do me a favor. On the left side of this page is a "LinkedIn" button. Click it to see my professional profile. If you know of something out there that screams my name, please let me know. I'm not too proud to ask for help right now.

Monday Morning Muddle

I last wrote about Friday and how it has a "feel." Ah, yes; we all know that feel, and we love it. On the other side of the coin, however, is Monday. It, too, has a feel. Moreover, Monday also seems to come pre-equipped with questions -- such as, "Why did I eat so much yesterday?" Or "Did I really need that last beer?" Hence the title of today's post, Monday Morning Muddle. Perhaps I will make it a Monday tradition. Needless to say, nothing that follows on a Monday will bear any particular relevance to anything.

So here goes....

The news is old by now, but I am still disappointed about Mary Ann of Gilligan's Island. Like many boys in the 70's, I thought Mary Ann was the picture of the perfect woman. In the age-old debate over who was hotter, her or Ginger, I think we all agreed that Mary Ann won hands down. She had the girl-next-door wholesomeness that made us feel at home with her, yet she had a subdued and sweet sexiness that gave us sweaty palms. She baked pies. I have nothing to base this on, but I would bet money that Mary Ann would even watch football with us -- maybe in her underwear. The perfect combination, indeed! Oddly, through all the Gilligan reunion shows, she never seemed to age much -- unlike the others. Well -- until recently.

When she (Dawn Well) was arrested for drug possession, 40-something men everywhere gasped. And when saw the mug shot, we gasped again. What happened to our sweet Mary Ann? I always expected that Gilligan was smoking something on the other side of the island, but not Mary Ann! Once the smoke clears, my suspicion is that Ginger set her up. Ginger always did seem a little sneaky to me. And jealous. Yeah, that's got to be it.

Let now the muddling cease. There is, after all, a Monday morning to face....

(Good) Friday

Today is Friday. Furthermore, it is "Good Friday." When, though, is Friday NOT good? Isn't that what "TGIF" is all about? Strangely, yesterday felt like Friday to me for some reason. And I think that "feeling" is the best thing about Friday -- the thing that may even make it better than Saturday. Friday is all about the relief of having made it through another week and about the anticipation of Saturday. And if your life is like mine, the anticipation is usually better than than the reality.

This has been a week that I am glad to close the book on. In addition to the passing of Emily's grandmother and the funeral and all, I have also found out that I have shingles. Shingles! How odd for a man my age, I think. It is a mild case so far, but it is still uncomfortable. I am taking a heavy dose of anti-viral medication to shorten the duration and lessen the severity. Let's hope it works.

The week has not been without some pleasant times. The irony of deaths and funerals is that they create reunions. I saw people this week whom I haven't seen in as long as 13 years. Some had aged and changed dramatically. Others not at all. Thankfully, everyone agreed that I still look young. Someone, in fact, thought I was Emily's boyfriend -- a complement to me and a disturbing thought for her.

I am, as the week closes, reminded of the "Circle of Life" theme from The Lion King as we have celebrated and mourned, greeted and said good-bye, listened and talked and remembered. During it all, it has been Holy Week in the Christian tradition -- a theme not lost in the events at all.So, indeed, it is Friday -- and a good one. Best wishes for a joyous Easter weekend to start the Spring.

A Picture of Courage and Grace

This will be a brief post, but one I felt the need to write.

The memorial service and burial of Emily's grandmother was yesterday. To my surprise, Emily delivered an eulogy. The original plan was that she would write something and let the minister read it. Instead, she did it herself.

At 16, this kid has amazed me more times that I can remember. But to stand in front of a packed church (where her grandmother was executive secretary and office manager for over 20 years), and to speak in spite of her grief was truly a picture of courage and grace. Her eulogy was written with eloquence and sensitivity and even humor -- all very appropriate qualities given the occasion. And her delivery was somber and sweet and funny at times. She is a living testament to the strength of Marilyn Dell, who would have been so proud. I know I was.

Done Too Soon (The Mother-In-Law, part 2)

I promised an update in my "Mother-In-Law" post. Here it is.

My daughter's much-beloved grandmother quietly slipped away from us late Friday night, mere hours after being moved to a lovely hospice center. My phone rang about 10:15 that night. I could tell it was Emily, but could not make out her words over the sobs that brought tears even to a stoic such as me. I didn't even change clothes and got to the facility as quickly as I could. Once there, all I could do is hold her while she cried.

Marilyn's condition worsened Thursday afternoon, and Emily's mom called me to take Emily to the hospital. Even then, we didn't know if we would get there in time. Thankfully, we did. When we walked into the room, I saw a young girl's heart break right before my eyes. Then I felt my own break. We spent the evening there, and Emily sat and rubbed her grandmother's hand and kissed her head and told her over and over that she loved her. Marilyn was able to open her eyes only a few times, and then briefly. She knew her grandchildren were there. Emily and her cousin Christopher were the joys of her life. Someone would later say that she waited to see them one last time before she left. As far as we know, theirs were the last faces she ever saw. In that fact, there is a certain beauty amid such sadness. As Emily said Friday night, "She wasn't just my grandmother; she was my best friend." And she was very right.

So the fight is over. It wasn't even much of a fight. A mere five weeks ago, Marilyn drove herself to the doctor's office because she wasn't feeling well. His nurse took her to the hospital. She never even returned to her house. The disease was brutal and efficient.

I am reminded of a Neil Diamond song, Done Too Soon, wherein he recites the names of many people through history -- some great, some not. The song ends with a slow and contemplative verse which now seems apt. I will close with that verse.

...And each one there
Has one thing to share:
They have sweated beneath the same sun;
Looked up and wondered at the same moon;
And wept when it was all done,
For being done too soon.

Blogging in English -- Since 2007

It is Friday! And not a day too soon, either. Being brain-fried and emotionally drained, I wanted to do a light post to fill the space today.

A while back I wrote about the "next blog" button at the top of the page. I am still mystified by it, wondering what determines which blogs will come up when you click the button. I wondered if it might be those with the most hits. Nope. I saw one the other day that was brand new, containing a single post. Overall quality does not seem to be a factor, either. I have found a few of my "regular reads" while randomly searching the "next blog" button. One of those, in fact, is perhaps one of the best blogs on the web. In spite of that, the magic button has only produced it once. Of course, what upsets me most is that MINE has never appeared. Yep, that's what it all boils down to!

When I first started playing with the little button months ago, it was fun to see an occasional blog in another language and try to figure out what it was all about. Of late, however, the foreign language blogs appear to be overtaking those in English. A few days ago, in fact, I tried an experiment. I decided to click "next blog" twenty-five times. Eighteen (18) of the twenty-five were in foreign languages. So it begs the question: Are roughly 75% of the blogs hosted here really non-English, or does the mystery button merely favor them over -- well, over MINE? I detect a conspiracy. And I must get to the bottom of it!

I warned at the outset that this post would be fairly meaningless. I have no qualms whatsoever with people blogging in whatever language they happen to know. I only wish I could read them. Maybe some of those folks are seeing this blog and wondering what I have to share with the world. (It could happen.) For the time being, I take solace in thinking I may be in an "elite" twenty-five percent of writers doing it in English. So there you have it: "Michael Young -- blogging in English since 2007."

The Mother-in-Law

For kicks someday when you have nothing to do, try a web search on "mother-in-law." Jokes abound! Mothers-in-law, I suppose, make easy targets -- much safer than wives (or husbands). I have had two mothers-in-law. In spite of that fact, I can't recall telling a single joke about either of them. In fact, I was (and still am) rather fond of both of them.

Amy's mother lived far away from us, so our time together was infrequent and brief. Oh, yeah -- the marriage itself was Hollywood-like in duration, too. Nevertheless, I got along well with Amy's mom (Joan). It seems that she and I both have an affinity for Edna St. Vincent Millay, 2oth Century American poet. Like me, Joan also fancies herself somewhat of a "word smith." Our common bond, then, was (other than an affection for Amy) our shared nerdiness.

My first wife was Sharon. It was that union that produced Emily, our daughter and constant source of happiness. Sharon grew up here in Jacksonville, but we met in graduate school in Louisville, KY. I first met her mother, Marilyn, in the spring of 1988 when I visited Jacksonville for the first time. I liked her immediately because I could make her laugh -- something she does easily. I was the consummate doofus at the time, and she took me in stride. A month later, I proposed to her daughter. Shortly thereafter, I called Marilyn from Louisville and bravely called her "Mom." She laughed and laughed. Within a week, I had a nicely handwritten letter from her saying how much that "Mom" had meant to her. I still have that letter somewhere. Sharon and I have been divorced for some 13 years now. Still, as recently as two hours ago, I called Marilyn "Mom."

I could tell many stories about this woman and her influence on my life (and Sharon's, and Emily's) for the past twenty years. Another time, perhaps. We just learned a few weeks ago that Marilyn has cancer -- lymphoma. I saw her in the hospital a little over a week ago. She didn't laugh at all, and that is how I knew just how poor her condition was. Treatment is failing, it seems. This morning, I wrote her a note telling how much she has meant to me. After all, in twenty years, I have failed to do so.

I had "that talk" with my daughter last night, not wanting her to bottle her feelings up -- a family tradition, it seems. Marilyn has been so much more than a grandmother to Emily. She has been babysitter, nurse, teacher, friend, and so on -- on nearly a daily basis for Emily's entire life. Emily surely knows that, short of a miracle, her grandmother's time with us seems to be shorter than we thought even a week ago. I wish I knew how to prepare her for that, but I don't. She did cry last night, and she said that her mom is a "basket case." So the grieving has started. That is, I think, a positive thing. None of them should look back with any regrets as they have always been openly loving and have spent untold amounts of time together. Again, that is a positive thing. The pending void, however, will be titanic.

To my readers -- as you meditate, pray, think or whatever you do, lift up a loving thought for Marilyn -- and for Emily and for Sharon and the rest of the family as the source of their strength for so long is now in need of theirs (ours). Appreciate your loved ones today. Life can change tomorrow.

Updates to follow.

A Night of Comedy

One of my older posts was about comedy -- one of my favorite things, to be sure. That is why I frequent our local comedy club, The Comedy Zone, whenever I have a chance.

Going to a comedy club is a crap shoot, and I know that going in. Many of the comics are local -- especially the ones who serve as emcee. One, in fact, has appeared several times. He hails from Jacksonville's west side and specializes in "trailer park humor." Humor? Okay, that's a stretch. But the "emcee" guys all seem to be cut from the same cloth. They dress the same, they have "that walk," and they seem to write their jokes together. Jokes? Another stretch. Yet they fill that void in the show that allows the late arrivals to find their seats without missing anything important. And they make whoever performs next seem so much better. Well, sometimes.

Don't get me wrong. We get very good acts (even great acts) here on a regular basis. Some, although not names known by everyone in the general public, are clearly professional and very skilled. I am always happy when I show up for one of those. Again, you just don't know until you get there. Then there are the nationally known headliners that we get from time to time. Richard Jeni was here a few years back, for example. The club is small, so tickets go quickly for the big acts. Sadly, I missed Richard Jeni for that very reason.

This past weekend we had David Alan Grier. I was able to score tickets for the Friday night show. Again, a local emcee guy dressed like he had just been in a fight staggered out and attempted a few erection jokes before bringing out a British guy whose name I did not get. (Joel Sanders, perhaps.) He did a 20-minute set that killed. I would, in fact, like to see him again. And then David Alan Grier took the stage. The expression, "hit the ground running," has never been so apt! He was upbeat, sharp, witty, impulsive, raw and sometimes downright filthy -- but absolutely hilarious for some 45 minutes. And therein I saw that undefinable, yet undeniable, difference between the true professionals and the others. Grier, by his own admission, had "twenty minutes of dick jokes." But what comic doesn't? Emcee guy tried the dick route and came up flaccid. Grier, on the other hand, kept us in stitches.

I won't belabor the point. Support you local comedy clubs -- even the local comics. Sometimes their badness actually makes them funny. And you'll occasionally find a diamond in the rough. Either way, laughter is a joy well worth the price of admission and the one-drink minimum. So lighten up a bit and go!

Happy Leap Day?

I heard a joke once:

Q: In what month do women talk the least?
A: February, of course. It only has 28 days!

I didn't say it was a funny joke. And it isn't.

While February is always the oddball of the calendar, we do become accustomed to the 28 day rule of thumb. But then there's leap year to throw everything off. I have always both pitied and envied those people born on February 29th. It is certainly an inconvenience in many ways, but a certain conversation starter in others.

Frankly, I am surprised that Hallmark hasn't made February 29th a "holiday." Or have they? Somebody somewhere is surely making a buck off it somehow. My suggestion: Move Valentine's Day to February 29th. That suggestion alone, if passed, would make me a hero to men everywhere. It would also make me anathema to women everywhere. Oh, yeah -- I think I have that covered already.

I used to know exactly why we add a day every few years -- five, I think it is. Something to do with making the calendar year fit the actual time of a revolution around the sun? Maybe it is proof positive that God has a sense of humor. Whatever the reason, it did give me a reason to write my third post of the week to meet my quota. Ain't life grand?

Happy Leap Day. Do something fun!

Procrastinator's Resolutions

Except for the Longfellow poem I posted on New Year's Eve, I completely missed the opportunity to develop New Year's Resolutions and share them with the world. As the saying goes, better later than never. Here are a few things I am working on.

• Blogging. I enjoy writing, and have been told I do it well. Accordingly, I resolve to keep the blog going in hopes of making positive connections with good people everywhere.

• Writing (by hand). I recently happened upon a program on PBS about former US presidents. They happened to be talking the elder George Bush, whose letters had been published in a book a few weeks prior. A special point was make that his letters were hand-written. He commented that he never used e-mail or the computer in his personal correspondence, preferring to write by hand to make it more meaningful and personal. I felt a bit ashamed, as I used to write letters and notes all the time by hand. Of course, there was little choice then. Nevertheless, somewhere in a box in my attic are volumes of handwritten poems, stories, letters, and so forth. Wouldn't it be nice if someone years from now decided to publish them -- in their handwritten form? I also realized that my ability to write had diminished greatly -- from lack of practice. Other than my signature, I rarely write anything with a pen. What a shame! So, for Christmas, I got a nice new fountain pen, and I resolve to use it! If you send me your address, I will write you a letter. How's that?

• Reading. I read a quote from Mark Twain saying, "The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them." I will endeavor, therefore, to read a minimum of one book a month. More would be even better. Recommend a few, please.

• Back to the Gym! I work out like I blog: As long as I'm in a routine, all is well. If, however, something ever interrupts that routine, I take forever to re-establish it. I had eye surgery in July, after which I was to take 2 weeks from working out to recover. It has now been six months! Enough said.

There are a few more, but they are of a more personal nature. I'll spare you those. But these will get me started. I'll update you from time to time.

The Sad Tale of a Wayward Blogger

Time flies -- whether you're having fun or not. I wanted to take a few weeks off from writing, so I announced a "sabbatical," saying I would return in a few weeks. Well, that was in early October. I think it is either time to return or to hang it up. So I'm back.

We missed a few important occasions, so let me address those now:

• Happy Thanksgiving!
• Merry Christmas!
• Happy New Year!
• Happy Valentine's Day!

And so forth. As I recall, February 11th was the anniversary of my first blog post. I had hoped to write something that day. Alas, such is life. My goal will be to post three times a week. Several things have happened since I last wrote, so I'll write about those first. This will really be like starting over in a way. As always, if you see anything here that you like, please tell a friend. I very much enjoy writing when someone is reading. And post comments so I know you're there.

Finally, I started experimenting with a new hosting site. So for the time being, I will be mirroring the content here and at http://daytightcompartments.wordpress.com. I will welcome any feedback regarding a preference.