"Let's Do A Little Catching Up..."

Admittedly I've allowed too much time to pass between posts over the last several weeks. So, I'll take this opportunity to catch all of my many faithful readers ("Okay guys...all of you come out the phone booth now.") on events that have transpired or will be on my plate in the coming weeks.

First... My candidate for the next mayor of St. Petersburg, Bill Foster, won the city-wide election on November 8th, beating his opponent, Kathleen Ford, by a margin of 53% to 47%. Not that my impassioned editorial diatribes in opposition to Ms. Ford's candidacy played even a minuscule role in Bill's ultimate victory, I am nevertheless very pleased that the majority of my fellow citizens recognized that a steady and proven conservative approach to running the fortunes of St. Petersburg is more desirable than Ford's offering of progressive upheaval. But as the St. Petersburg TIMES pointed out in a past editorial, it is far easier to get elected than is the task of actually governing the city. Bill will have his hands full as St. Pete's third strong mayor in addressing (read: appeasing) the expectations of the 47% who voted for Ford, who have legitimate, if not narrowly defined issues, that lie still bubbling beneath the surface of discontent. I am confident that Bill will give a fair hearing to all of these issues and will do his best to achieve a consensus of diverse opinions that will continue to move this city forward through this difficult and challenging economic climate.

Secondly... Daughter Megan and her main heartthrob, Greg, will be moving to Chicago on December 14th. This turn of events has come as a result of Greg being offered and accepting the position of Director of National Leadership Training for his college fraternity, Sigma Chi. Now the crisis de jour in our household is helping to get these two young folks prepared for this new chapter in their lives, a task that at the moment involves daily lengthy phone call from Megan to Judi, who listens patiently as Meg describes the myriad of details that must be attended to prior to their scheduled departure, most of which presently sound to me to be at loose ends. I'm sure, knowing my daughter's tenacity, all will be resolved in due course.

Judi announced has that in lieu of exchanging Christmas gifts this year, we would instead fly up to Chicago on Christmas eve and spend the holidays with Greg and Megan. Being the dutiful father that I profess to be, I've agreed to this plan, although I do not look forward to the bone-chilling wintry weather that I am sure will envelop us upon arrival. I haven't bothered to wear socks since last February and the idea of having to wear a heavy winter coat for any other reason than as part of a Halloween costume is repulsive to me. Still, I'll soldier on for the good of the order.

Judi, who is somewhat geographically challenged I've learned, was talking with her brother in Columbus, Ohio, filling him in on the pending move of Megan to Chicago. Don mentioned that he and his wife had visited Chicago and enjoyed the beaches there. This apparently threw Judi off her kilter, as she couldn't imagine that there was any body of water anywhere close to Chicago that would require a beach. Judi had the mistaken impression that Chicago is located somewhere in the middle of the state of Illinois and she knew for a fact that there couldn't possibly be a beach in that location. Two words: "Lake Michigan." This prompted Judi to find an atlas and low and behold, not only is Chicago not situated in the middle of the state, it boarders one of the largest of the great lakes. "Who knew?" she proclaimed. "Exactly," I replied. I have a pretty good sense of direction, being able to navigate where I want to go by having an awareness of compass headings. For us, the beaches on the Gulf of Mexico are west of us. I just point the car toward in that direction and know that sooner or later we'll run out of road. I may go around my elbow to get to my thumb, but I sure know that Chicago is northwest of St. Petersburg and it has a few beaches along a by-way known as Lake Shore Drive. I'm glad Judi isn't going to fly the plane when we travel there next month. God knows here we'd end up. Later...