My Life As A Hobby

At first glance it wasn’t much of a gift. Just a cheap pocket knife, made out flimsy metal and plastic. It probably came from a flea market or an arcade game at a pizza parlor.  Yet of every gift I received at my surprise fortieth birthday party, it was this one that had the most meaning to me.  Crows are known to give humans “gifts” to show their affection . Sparkly things like a shard of glass, a tab from a soda can, or a bright colored piece of yarn. While these may be of little significance to us, the crow believes it’s something of high value. So it was with this pocket knife.  To the giver of this gift, my then eight year-old son Brad, it was a valuable piece of his life he gave to me on a significant occasion, the celebration of my fortieth trip around the sun.  I loved it, not so much for what it was, but who gave it to me and why.  I recall the gift giving portion of the party clearly. When his time came, Brad walked forward and gave me a small pa...

I have a tiny place on a lake. And for all the good that lake life offers, there is one thing about it I can’t stand. It drives me  crazy, and frustrates me faster than a politician’s speech.  You would think by now I would have it down pat. You would think that after 15 years of being on the water it would have become second nature, as natural as breathing.  But no, I still can’t do it very well.  Oh, I’ll get the job done,  but it will take about a half hour to bumble through it. And by the time I’m finished, my blood pressure will be near stroke level.  As most of you have certainly guessed by now, it’s backing a boat trailer into the water.  Maybe if I did it more often, I would’ve developed some trailer backing skills. But since I only do it twice a year, I remain woefully inept. It just doesn’t seem natural to me: cut left to go right, and cut right to go left. Then add in my mild case of dyslexia, and I don’t have a chance.  I’ll even s...

  Today was a big day. Especially if you were one of the 150 five year olds in color-coded T shirts marching down the aisle of an overflowing Baptist church. Because today, my friends, was kindergarten graduation day.  As a supportive grandparent, I was there - along with the hundreds of other relatives who filled the pews. I looked around, and figured that for many folks, this was their first visit to church since their last child has graduated.  I’d bet the only time Jesus’ name was invoked in a lot of those homes was when someone broke something or the opposing team scored.  I can’t help but believe that our future would look brighter if the pews were this full on Sundays.  I digress. Today’s event was a to-the-point and simple, thank goodness. The children filed in and went to their color-coded area, carefully herded by their homeroom teachers as skillfully as any border collie could. A short introduction by the principal, followed by a couple of well-...

Despite day long thunderstorms, we were on our way - two cars on the interstate being tossed about by the wind like a 15th century sailing ship.  And like those old vessels, we had a quest too. Our goal was to relive a part of our youth by attending a Tommy James and the Shondells concert. We had planned carefully. Tickets were purchased months ago. Playlists had been sent to one another.  Our little convoy convened about two hours before the concert for a meal at a Buffalo Wild Wings, followed by a short drive to the venue. Even though there were eleven of us, all we were going to order was wings, burgers, sodas and beers - basic fare for a place like this. They should be able should be able to handle our group with no problem. We arrived and were seated at 5:40. The plan seemed to be airtight.  I felt good about the arrangements. “What could possibly go wrong,” I thought. Inadvertently, I had just violated a Joe Hobby Fundamental Law Of Life: never, ever say,”what cou...

  For any of you in my eighth grade class, I think it’s past time for me to apologize to every one of y’all. Because if you have ever looked at our class photo, like I just finished doing, you will be reminded of what an idiotic thing I did.  Let me elaborate. In the 8th grade, I was a chunky little kid with a backpack full of insecurities - especially when it came to the opposite sex. And like a lot of guys in my class, the focus of my attention was on Regina. She was everything a 13 year old boy could ask for. Not only was she cute - she had a great personality, and was so engaging.  Back then, I was an awkward kid with a mouth quicker than my brain. Since I figured  looks were out of the question - I’d have to rely on my wit to get noticed by this girl. So, I did what any clever boy with a hopeless crush might do: I tried to make her laugh. I spared nothing out of my fledgling repertoire: bad puns, worse impressions, and comedic commentary directed toward...

  At 71 years old, the time has come. One of the last parts of my body that was still working properly finally needs help and needs it now. No, it’s not that, you sickos. It’s my eyes. At long last I’m joining the millions of people who need to wear glasses.   It all started when my grandkids began reading road signs to me from the back seat before I could read them myself. I realized they were helping, not showing off. Soon I began to notice that oncoming vehicles looked like big, blurry globs of light. What made that disturbing was it was in broad daylight. Finally, when I mistook a mailbox for a possum on a tree limb, I knew it was time to accept reality. I put my vanity on the shelf, and officially become a spectacle wearer.   Shortly after my eye test, I was herded into an adjacent shop where there were hundreds of glasses frames beautifully displayed.  It reminded me of how Disney steers you through a souvenir store when you exit a ride. But I’m not stro...