"Eudaemonism"

A regional grocery store chain, formerly recognized for eons as Kash-N-Karry, has undergone in recent years a metamorphosis and re-emerged under the new corporate logo, "Sweetbay." I was never enamored with the moniker Kash-N-Karry, believing it was most likely coined by a collection of otherwise bored ad-men who placed a wad of potential name brands in a hat and the name Kash-N-Karry won by default. Perhaps "Sweetbay" survived such a similar process. Sounds a "little lite in the loafers" to suit me. "Hey Burt...why don't you run down to Sweetbay and pick us up a couple of six packs of beer?" Just doesn't have quite the same manly ring to it. But I digress...

Not only did the name change, but the entire corporate image underwent a major face lift with completely revamped interiors designed to invoke, I suppose, the ambiance of a country store of old. On the whole, the improvements make for a much more enjoyable "shopping experience." Not that I put much stock into that type of purposeful allure, as I'm usually in my neighborhood store just long enough to find the milk and cookies. Keep all the food stuff in the same location from week to week and I'm generally satisfied.

One of the neat little nuances that I've learned to appreciate is to give all the employees name tags that have an inquiry printed just below their names. "Ask me about..?" Some have the expected, "my children, my grandchildren, my dog, etc." One young man who waits on me frequently wishes customers to ask him about "Football." Devion and I have become accustomed to now conversing for a few moments about the exploits of various college football teams. His face lites up with a warm smile when he gets to expound on his football theories and predictions. I like this "getting to know me" approach to customer service. It adds an always needed and appreciated human touch to what otherwise would be a very sterile and predictable interaction.

On recent forays into this establishment I have been "checked out" by a new female college-aged cashier who has the following "Ask Me" question on her name tag. "Ask Me About The Word for The Day." Being somewhat of an amature etymologist myself and pretty sure I would recognize and be able to define whatever word she offered, I was naturally intrigued to discover her daily offering. The word was "eudaemonism." She stumped me. She has stumped me several times since. Now when I am on my frequent milk and cookies run, I look forward to her attempts to stump me yet another time. Sweetbay may not be the name I would have selected to identify this grocery chain, but it has a few interesting wrinkles that one wouldn't expect to make the "shopping experience" even more so.

The definition of "eudaemonism?" You can look it up. It's in your friendly Funk & Wagnel.

A Little Sunday Relaxation...

People who chose not to live in Florida most often comment that there are no changing of the seasons. Oh contrair mon amie! We Floridians enjoy all four seasons...baseball, football, basketball, and hockey! Tongue in cheek aside, this is the time of year when we Floridians who live in close proximity to the Gulf of Mexico enjoy the most. The summer's oppressive humidity has noticeably waned and the day time temperatures drop into the mid to upper 80s. For us...this is heaven.

Judi and I decided that a Sunday afternoon at the beach yesterday was just what our souls longed for. Off to Pass A Grille Beach we trekked, which is the southernmost beach in our county and a short twenty minute ride from our home. The photograph above is looking southwestward along this stretch of powdery sand. Thousands of tourist flock to our beaches every summer. We thank you. The money you spend allows our state to flourish without a state income tax. We also are most appreciative when you pack up and return to your colder climes, as this leaves our pristine beaches uncrowded and more accessible for we "locals" who, for the preceding summer months, have been sequestered in our air conditioned abodes. We come out of hibernation in the fall and thoroughly enjoy the spoils of our long wait.

Arriving gulf side at around 3 p.m., we had our choice of waterside spots, choosing to unfolded our blanket in close proximity to a young couple who were both sleeping sounding on their beach chairs. The woman, wearing a bikini swimsuit, was about as pregnant as a female could possibly be and not be in the throes of giving birth at that very moment. Judi and I kept a wary eye on her throughout the afternoon just in case the latter event came to fruition right before our very eyes. Later we observed the husband taking photographs of his lovely wife with his cell phone, making sure that he captured her bountiful and most feminine profile in the lens against the surf as a backdrop, backing up a number of steps to make sure, I suppose, that some view of the Gulf of Mexico could be detected in the final composition. They laughed and admired the images recorded on their camera phone. I smiled too, hoping that her delivery (probably happened today!) was successful and that one day this new mother would share these special photos with her son or daughter. "See sweetie? This is what Mommy looked like just before God gave you to me!" That would be cool.

The world may be ceaselessly wagging woe upon itself, but for one Sunday afternoon at the beach, God was truly in His Heaven and all was right with the world." We are blessed to live where we do. Here in our neck of the woods the season for soaking in the fall sun at the beach is upon us. "Pass the sunscreen please. "

"We're Number Two!! We're Number Two!!"

I know...I know I said that I wouldn't allow this blog to turn into a "sports" forum, but allow me to brag on our home town college football team, the University of South Florida "Bulls," who this week moved up once again in the national rankings to the Number Two slot!!

"We're Number Two!! We're Number Two!!"

Okay, I admit that we are still one ranking shy of being considered - for this week at least - the best college football team in America. That honor is currently held by "The" Ohio State University, who has vanquished previously seven opponents in a row, albeit their competition thus far has been less than stellar, if one considers Youngstown State, Akron and Kent State to be examples of football "powerhouses." Most co-ed cheer leading squads could beat those teams. But I must admit that the "Buckeyes" compete in a fairly competitive conference - still inferior to the Southeast Conference - but Michigan State, Penn State and Michigan are no slouches.

My wife, Judi, hails from Columbus and her sister and brother still reside in that fair city, where "Buckeye" football is akin to a cult. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to rag on them about their football fortunes, which came to beautiful fruition when the Florida "Gators" beat the "Buckeyes" this past January for the NCAA National Championship. They're still smarting from that spanking! To pit another Florida football team against them for the up-coming National Championship would be so sweet! But, both teams are a long way still from claiming that berth. The rest of the formidable season for both squads remains dead ahead.

For this week at least, the USF Bulls can lay claim to achieving the most loafty and heretofore unimaginable Number Two ranking for a football team that only 11 years ago fielded its first team ever. You've come a long way baby. Enjoy the journey.

"Gee...That Tune Sounds So Familiar."

Guess who came to lunch today? Euphemistically called "The Most Powerful Man In The Free World" (and I don't mean Donald Trump), George Walker Bush, our nation's president, is just down the road about a mile from where I pen this missive munching on luke-warm chicken and lumpy mashed potatoes at - stand by and grab your wallets and pocketbooks - a $25,000 a plate, VIP guest luncheon! Why I wasn't invited to be among such high-rollers has me profoundly disappointed. Far be it for me to disparage our President - I voted for him twice - but when he decides to drop by the neighborhood for a bite to eat, life, as we know, becomes a major inconvenience.

My office is located on the major byway on which the President's motorcade passed. The Union Army's General William Tecumseh Sherman had far fewer soldiers accompanying him on his infamous "March to the Sea" than were the number of police officers that swarmed over ever inch of the route that the President's convoy traveled. Every intersecting road along the route was blocked off and guarded by a police cruiser and orange traffic cones. The cones reminded me of Halloween candy corn. For a half hour before the motorcade got underway, the road was made void of any vehicular traffic. Commerce came to a virtual standstill.

On-lookers came out of their places of businesses, I among them, to get a glimpse of the President entourage as they passed by in a blur. A dozen or so motorcycle riding officers lead the possession, followed by an equal number of police cruisers, all with sirens blaring. I don't know who these police officers were trying to warn...there wasn't a non-convoy vehicle of any description within a half mile of the President's motorcade! Within the main body of the convoy were two vehicles containing the secrete service contingency, followed by two identical black stretch limousines, both festooned with fender-mounted miniature flags adorned with the Presidential Seal. There was no way to tell in which of the two limousines the President was a passenger, the windows being tinted dark. I took no chances...I waved at both. Following immediately behind the limousines were a couple of more vehicles containing additional secrete service personnel, a menacing-looking truck transporting the Sheriff Department's SWAT Team, then two ambulances, and finally several more police cruisers. Just as quickly as they came over the horizon to the east, they disappeared to the west. The road in front of my office wasn't again released to regular traffic for at least a half-hour. I guess the local authorities were hedging their options just in case the President decided he didn't particularly like the lunch menu and would want to be transported immediately back to Air Force One.

Everything has now returned to normal. The President will spend this evening in Miami at another grossly over-inflated dinner fundraiser. With any luck he'll arrive just in time to totally ensnare that city's evening rush hour traffic. Jeez...what is that tune that keeps floating through my brain? "Dum, dumdy-dum, de-dumdy, de-dumpty, dum, dum ..." Oh, yes..."Hail To The Chief." Have a nice flight, Mr. President, and good riddance.

"Not So Much..."

In politics and social norms, I'm about as conservative as a person can be. But as to personal freedoms and the expression of same, I tend to be very liberal. What you choose to do is your business as long as it doesn't require me to alter my personal freedoms. If a person wishes to wear their pants on backwards, so be it. I think it looks pretty ridiculous, but I'm not the one walking down the street with a thousand pair of eyes staring back at me. Which brings me to my point; tattoos and body piercings. As a lingering craze, I wish that it would soon run it's course.

When I was in high school the fashionable thing for we guys to do was wear socks that matched the same color as our shirts. In college the really "cool" fraternity boys would tuck the alpaca sweaters into their khaki slacks and blouse the sleeves of the sweater under so that the cuffs of our neatly starched oxford cloth shirts would show. I long ago gave up socks that are any color other than dark blue or black, and I no longer stuff my sweater into my pants. I do, when I can get away with it, still blouse my sweater sleeves. (Drives my dear wife batty!) The thought back then, however, of getting a tattoo or, perish the thought, piercing any part of one's body in order to have a convenient place to hang jewelry was as foreign to us as cell phones. Tattoos and body piercings today are certainly just as prevalent as are cell phones, if not more so.

Tattoos on men don't bother me so much. They have been in vogue pretty much for decades. A guy sporting a tattoo on his shoulder or forearm that says "Mom" or the "U.S.S. Enterprise" I understand. It's the string of barbed wire or bandoleer of ammunition around the guy's upper arm or thigh that I don't get. Heck, I almost passed out when I had my fingered pricked to have my blood test prior to getting married. I can't begin to imagine the excruciating pain that must be involved to have anything more invasion performed on one's skin! And I just continue to have difficulty adjusting to the sight of man with pierced ears. Maybe it's just me, but it just strikes me as being unnecessarily effeminate. I realize that many manly-men have gone that route, but to see a professional football player remove his helmet to reveal diamond studs in each ear still doesn't sit quite well with me.

What really grabs my attention is seeing so many girls and women liberally and unabashedly displaying all manner of tattoos. Some look like walking billboards for all manner of creepy-crawlies, abstract designs, potted plants, symbols, and far-eastern hieroglyphics...and they are about as discretely hidden as a pimple on one's nose! Then there are the more adventurous souls who have determined that one pair of pierced ear rings just ain't gonna cut it. No, they have adorned their face with metal loops by the dozens around their outer ears, and for good measure several more through their lips and nose! And this is suppose to be attractive? In the eye of the beholder I suppose...

Be assured that I am not in favor of returning to the days when the most outlandish fashion statement one dare make would be to wear colored sock to match one's dress shirt. But it would be a nice change to appreciate the beauty of the human form without the need for so much artificial adornment. Maybe it's just me. I am getting older in spite of my best efforts to do otherwise.

I Despise Arrogance!!

Each weekday morning I stop by a local convenience store to purchase a cup of coffee to enjoy during my commute to the office. This morning's visit was otherwise uneventful except for the presence of an older unoccupied and poorly maintained foreign made sedan that was parked, not in an individually marked space, but caddy-corner so as to take up two spaces. I probably would have payed little note to this observation were it not for the added facts that the car was unoccupied, the motor was running, and the radio was blaring at the top of its range. The ear-splitting sounds emanating from this vehicle...I hesitate to call them "music"...were so loud that I dare say they could be clearly discerned in an adjacent zip code. The owner of this vehicle was easily identifiable as he purposefully displayed a "kiss my rear end" swagger as he sauntered aimlessly around the convenience store as though the entire world's population was waiting with bated breath to observe his next "cool" move. Exiting the store...catch this...he walked slowly around his car several times, coyly casting glances in all directions to see if any one was looking his way, finally entered the car, turned up the volume yet another ten decibels, put the car in gear and roared off with the tires screaming and smoking in protest. I certainly was impressed!

The comic George Carlin once suggested that all motorist should be equipped with a bow and a quiver of arrows that had little flags attached with the word "stupid!" These arrows would be utilized when one motorist observed another motorist doing something asininely "stupid," like coming to an intersection with one's turn signal indicating a left turn then making a right turn across traffic. "Zonk!!" That's the sound the arrow makes as it's suction cup makes contact with the vehicle's trunk. Everyone who followed this particular vehicle would then take added precautions to steer a wider berth, being pretty assured that the operator was not of sound mind. This morning I wish I had such a supply of arrows, although I seriously doubt that I would have restricted my aim solely and exclusivley to the automobile.

Some people would more kindly classify the individual at the convenience store as being "rude" and "inconsiderate." For me those labels don't quite cover his behavior. I call it blatant arrogance. I despise arrogance! Despise it with a burning passion! Personal observations of such misguided displays of false superiority, conceit, and self-importance makes me wish I had a large cast-iron skillet to whack purveyors of these behaviors squarely across their mouth. "Bonk!! That's the sound the skillet would make as it made contact with their empty skulls!

As much as I would wish to be given vigilantly license to "bonk" away to me heart's content, laying low all the arrogant fools I inevitably encounter, I have learned to restraint my wrath to less retaliatory remedies. Example... I stopped by the local neighborhood post office recently to drop off a letter. Exiting the building I encountered a well-heeled lady of no little means herself exiting her high-priced Mercedes. Problem... She had parked in a clearly marked handicap space. Observation... No visible blue handicap sticker was hanging from her rear-view mirror. Said I, "Where is your handicap permit? "What?" said she. "You're parked in a handicap parking space and I don't see that you have permission to do so," said I. "I'm only going to be a few minutes," said she. "Fine," said I. "That will be just enough time for me to let the air out of your front tires." "What!?!" said she. Said I, "When the police get here, I want to make sure that your car is clearly observed to be parked illegally." "You can't do that!!" said she. "Try me," said I. She moved her car.

"Bonk!!" The skillet wielding vigilante strikes again!!

"LIFE IS GOOD!!"

The daily news outlets scream that the world is rapidly going to hell in a gigantic hand basket. But for yours truly, I am content with my lot in life based on two events that occurred this past weekend.

First of all, our home town University of South Florida "Bulls" defeated convincingly the University of West Virginia "Mountaineers" this past Friday evening 21 - 13. I was among the 65,018 fans who filled Raymond James Stadium to witness this historic event. "Historic" not in the sense of this particular game, as we also defeated the "Mountaineers" as equally convincingly at their home last season. It rose to the level of historic because the game was televised nationally, because we were ranked 18th in the country and the "Mountaineers" were ranked number 5. Historic because the USF football program is only 11 years old. Historic because we jumped in the polls from number 18th last week to number 6 this week. Talk about your David and Goliath story! The entire Tampa Bay metropolitan area is ecstatic over the meteoric rise of the USF athletic fortunes. Included in that number is my daughter, Megan, who only a couple of weeks ago was employed by athletic department, and my fanatic wife, who has threatened to dye all of her underwear "green & gold!" I can live with that, but when she decides to paint her entire body green and gold and wear a bull's horn helmet...I may have a slight problem with that.

Secondly.... Previously I have posted about how thoroughly discouraged I have been over my woefully pitiful golf game. Yesterday I timidly ventured back onto the links in Orlando and broke 100! Admittedly my 98 score was still 26 strokes above par, but I managed to complete the round without maming or killing anyone, or destroying any private property. It's the little things in life that make me happy.

Did I mention that "Life Is Good!?!"