My Life As A Hobby

  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...