My Life As A Hobby

Do not let the photograph fool you. This is a dangerous woman. And I should’ve known. I mean, I know a bad omen when I see one. Why didn’t I pay attention? Maybe it was because we were on vacation with the grandkids, but when the people at  Disney World rented my wife Carol an electric scooter with the number 3 on the back, I should have immediately made the connection between her and Dale Earnhardt. In case you don’t know,  Earnhardt, aka The Intimidator, was a legendary NASCAR driver who loved the bumps, scrapes and spin-outs of stock car racing. Some people accused him of racing dirty, a claim he actually embraced. And my wife drove the same way when she got behind the wheel of her electric scooter when we were at Walt Disney World.  The list of her park mishaps was quite extensive. On the first day, she ran over my foot, my son’s  foot, and nearly backed into a whole group of people.  For good measure, she misjudged her stopping distance and bumped into an unsuspecting couple wait

In the past few years, I’ve made a concerted effort (pun intended) to connect with some the music of my youth, you know - the good stuff.  That means I’ve tried to see some artists that I’ve missed along the way.   So I’ve attended a bunch of concerts including   Paul McCartney,   James Taylor, The Eagles, The Doobie Brothers, Three Dog Night, Grand Funk Railroad, and Jackson Browne.   As you might expect, not all of the bands have their original members. Some have quit the group, some have stop touring, and some, due to the passage of time and a rock ‘n roll lifestyle, have gone on to that great concert in the sky. For example, Three Dog Night was missing a couple of dogs, and Grand Funk Railroad was without one of their original box cars.    I’ve also discovered that old music has given rise to a whole new industry - the tribute band. These are groups which only play the music of a specific band. Some of these musical ensembles are better than others, but all the ones I’ve seen have

A while back, someone sent me a photo of a church sign that said, “Whoever took our air conditioners, keep one because it’s going to be hot where you’re going”.  Of course I laughed. However, today it doesn’t seem quite as humorous because last night we discovered that one of our church’s air conditioning units had been stolen.  I walked in a few minutes before our Thursday evening service and someone told me the news. It appears that whoever took the unit had plans to get on the roof and take a couple more. In addition, they broke into the adjacent Boy Scout’s building and stole a some of their things. The minute I heard of the theft, a gush of anger surged through me.  I felt personally violated. It reminded me of the feeling I had as a teenager when my beloved car tape player was stolen. My, how times have changed.  The church I attended as a child proudly displayed a sign out front that said, “The sanctuary is open 24 hours a day. Grow in grace”.   It was one of many churches in th

                        Still keeping “good time” on my wrist.  Since it was my fourth trip to the watch repair shop, I didn’t have high hopes.  I’m sure the little Russian man who owned it would tell me, like he had on my three  previous visits, that he couldn’t find the parts to get the wristwatch running.  Besides, it was nothing but an old, inexpensive, self-winding Seiko. The cost to repair it would probably be more than the watch was worth.  But that didn’t matter to me, because as far as I’m concerned, this timepiece is priceless. It belonged to my father.  If my memory serves me correctly, Dad only owned a couple of wristwatches during his life. For the longest time he had a silver Omega timepiece that he wore every waking hour.  As a child I can recall seeing it on his wrist when I visited him at work. I remember him diligently winding it almost every day.  He revered Omega watches - so much so that he gave me one when I graduated from college.  I don’t know what ever happe

A scene from the movie Marathon Man.   “I went for my check up the other day. I hate that time of year. It’s humiliating to have to strip down to your underwear and put on that paper gown,  and wait in that tiny room until they come in and start pushing and probing every part of your body. I don’t think my dentist outta be doing that anyway.”   That’s a joke from my standup comedy act. I suppose I’ve got dentists on my mind because I just came from getting my teeth cleaned. It’s the second time with a new hygienist.  My former one, Erin, changed jobs, so after about 20 years of scraping, flossing and x-raying,  I’m having to get used to someone else.  It’s kind of like dating somebody for a long time, and then breaking up. There’s some sadness, and you miss that familiarity, but you have to face the fact that now another person will be intimate with your mouth.  The practice of dentistry has changed a lot in my lifetime - all for the better. Although I miss the little porcelain s