My Life As A Hobby

  It was 1985. I had been out of college for a decade and was well into my third job, climbing the corporate ladder. However, there was a little voice inside my head that I kept hearing. Clearly, I had an itch in my life that hadn't been scratched.  When comedians are asked, “Why did you start doing comedy?”  Many times they answer, “I just had to.”  I believe that’s the truth.  However, at the time, the infection that would become stand-up comedy and comedy writing had not manifested itself in me just yet. It was certainly something that intrigued  me - an ember that was fanned by the likes of Johnny Carson, David Letterman, and especially Saturday Night Live. That pull was so strong that I even considered going to Chicago and enrolling in Second City, SNL’s talent feeder program.  But a wife, two young kids, and a mortgage put a damper on that dream. Ah, the road not taken.  A Birmingham morning radio team, Mark and Brian, were of also of interest to me. I listened to them o

For whatever reason, I decided today was going to be the day.  Without hesitation, I walked into the bedroom with purpose, and called to my wife Carol, who was watching a movie on her iPad.  I got right to the point and said, “Hey, the time’s come. I should have done this a long time ago. I want you to teach me how to make cornbread. And once you do that, show me how to make pecan pies. Then I will have no further use for your services.” She looked over her iPad and said, “You know the only reason I even keep you around is for lawn maintenance and minor home repair.” Touché.  She followed me into the kitchen, which is my domain now. That’s because I like to cook, and Carol, well let’s just generously say it’s more of a chore for her.  There are two exceptions to this rule. She can cook pecan pies and cornbread. I’ve seen the proof at many church covered dishes where her pecan pie vanishes early, and her plate of cornbread is always empty.  So today I was going to force her to reveal on

  There was a time not too long ago when Spam was just canned meat.  You know Spam. It’s one of the most iconic American brands of all time.   During World War Two, our GIs ate 100 million cans of it. It was a perfect food for soldiers- meat with a looooong shelf life.   Now, this stuff certainly ain’t healthy - it’s full of fat, sodium, and nitrates, but it helped us win World War Two. As a side effect, the US military spread the Gospel of Spam   to countries all over the world.   Japan and Thailand are major Spam markets to this day. It’s still very popular in Hawaii where it caught on because of our military bases. Hawaiian McDonald’s even serve it on their breakfast platters. When my wife returned from a recent trip to Honolulu, her coming home gift to me was a can of Spam-flavored macadamia nuts. That is not a typo.   They are still in a can in our pantry. Some flavors are not meant to be married. Growing up, Spam was an old friend in our house, although I never realized it was a

  I pulled a couple of boxes of photos down from my closet the other day. These photographs were mostly black and white relics made with a camera and film that was dropped off at the drug store for developing.  How do I explain a negative to a Gen Z’er?  As I went through these old pictures, I couldn’t help but think that I looked different - in a good way. Maybe the  styling gel in my hair made me look cool. And it’s obvious that what I wore was heavily influenced by GQ magazine.  For example, the color of my belt had to match my loafers.  My jeans were creased and I tucked in my shirttail. The dress shirts had to be laundered and starched. Well, that limo left the curb several years ago, and quite honestly, I don’t care. Now I’ll put on jeans right out of the dryer. I buy permanent press shirts. If my belt doesn’t match my shoes, no big deal, I’ll just pull my shirttail out. This is one benefit of aging that no one talks about - you develop an I don’t give a damn attitude about lots