Ding dong, Snyder’s gone. Sing it low, shout it loud! Ding dong, Dan is gone. Don’t be slow, join the crowd!
It’s so sad one man and his hubris could single-handedly destroy an organization. Carbuncle is the descriptive word that comes to my mind.
In full disclosure, I’m a Green Bay Packers fan, but that doesn’t matter. Dan Snyder was such a carbuncle on the Commanders, the NFL and the DC region, it just feels good that he is finally gone. He may not be the most despised sports team owner ever, but he’s up there. He was so bad on so many levels.
FOOTBALL: – his lack of football knowledge – his inability to let the GM and coaches do their jobs – his constant interfering – his constant hiring and firing of coaches – his hiring of past their prime players – his lack of accepting responsibility – his constant need to blame someone else – his hiring of yes-men
THE FANS: – his poor treatment of the fans – his suing of season ticket holders – his selling of peanuts that he acquired after they passed their “sell by” date – his banning of signs at the stadium (because many were about him) – his lying about the season ticket wait-list
WOMEN: – his misogyny while running the team – his condoning taking nude pictures and videos of cheerleaders without their consent – his sexual harassment and probable sexual misconduct and assaults
CORPORATE: his constant lying and misdirection – his reading of over 400,000 internal emails, looking for others to blame – his toxic work environment – his statement about changing the name of the team: “We’ll never change the name. It’s that simple. NEVER. You can use caps.” – he was sued by three limited partners for corporate malfeasance – his interference with the NFL investigation of the Commanders – his hiding of ticket revenue from the NFL and defrauded season-ticket holders of their refundable deposits – The Washington, D.C. Attorney General sued the Commanders twice
1999-2023. Twenty four years was more than enough of the Snyder experience. EVERYONE is ready to move on.
You get the idea. Goodbye and good riddance Dan.
Ding dong, Snyder’s gone. Sing it low, shout it loud! Ding dong, Dan is gone. Don’t be slow, join the crowd!
On June 24th, we woke to the news the Wagner Group rebelled against the Russian military and was marching on Moscow. Twelve hours later, it was all over. Peace at hand? More problems to come? Certainly we have ripples of instability, never a good thing in world affairs.
There’s nothing like a coup attempt to grab my attention before I’ve had my morning coffee. On that fateful Saturday, I watched with fascination as Prigozhin’s Wagner Group troops took over the Rostov Russian Military Headquarters and then started their march on Moscow. It appears they were within 120 miles of the capitol before the insurrection ended as suddenly as it began, and Belarus leader Lukashenko worked out a peace between Putin and Prigozhin.
Whoops…I Didn’t Really Mean It
The terms? Maybe, forgiveness for the troops, a safe passage of Prigozhin to Belarus, and no invasion of Moscow itself. Yea, a win-win for everyone – if you believe in fairytales. The “fog of war”, and the cloak around all things “Russia” makes it difficult to assess what is true, what is false, and what is somewhere in between. It will all play out over the next few months. What I know is there is now increased instability in the region, and the world. I’m not a big fan of instability. No sane person should be a fan of instability as we are now experiencing in Russia.
Will The Peace Last?
I am by no means a Russian expert, but I am a student of history. I also spent nearly a decade in the Army in Germany in the ‘80s waiting for them to attack us, and had the opportunity to learn a bit about them then as well. So, while I’m no expert, I do feel confident that I know more than about 95% of the talking heads on TV, and 99% more than all of those spouting off online.
Here are seven questions we don’t have the answers for. I waited this long after the putsch attempt to publish this blog in order for events to develop and perhaps answers become apparent to some of the questions. I don’t believe that has happened. The fog, and the world’s instability will remain until we have a better understanding of the answers. If someone on TV or online says they have the answers right now, you should immediately change your TV channel or go elsewhere online. They are probably lying.
1. Has Putin weakened? Between his failing attacks in Ukraine and this mini-coup, he looks like it, but looks can be deceiving. He is shrewd, and he is ruthless. I wouldn’t count him out just yet.
2. What WAS the agreement between Putin and Prigozhin? Is there wiggle room for both of them? Will they somehow be buddies after all is done? Or are they both out to kill each other?
3. A related question – How hard will Putin try to crush those who rose against him? Putin is not the forgiving type. In addition to settling up with Mr Prigozhin, he will certainly look at how easily the headquarters at Rostov fell. Was there complicity on the part of his generals there, or weakness? In either case, heads are likely to roll.
4. What about the Wagner troops? There are 25,000, give or take, wandering around Southwestern Russia, or in Ukraine with plenty of guns, tanks, and other weapons. They have served as the pointy end of the spear for the Russians in most of their attacks over the past year. If they are now peaceably subsumed into regular Russian units (as the Russian Army is trying to make happen), what happens to their effectiveness? What happens to the effectiveness of the units they are added to? And what happens if they don’t go quietly into the night?
5. What happens to the other Wagner Group troops scattered around the globe providing “security” and other services in places such as Sudan, Mali, Syria, the Central African Republic, Libya, Venezuela and Sri Lanka among others? Does Prigozhin continue to lead them, does someone else, or do they fade away?
6. How will this affect the war in Ukraine? If the Wagner Group is dissolved as a fighting force, what is the impact? Also, the other Russian troops in Ukraine have to know at least some of what has happened. How will they react?
7. How safe are Russia’s nuclear weapons? Are we confident they are managed and controlled in a secure fashion?
As I said, I’m not a big fan of instability, and right now, this situation provides plenty of it. Some people in this country would say ignore it, it’s not our problem. Others (I’m looking at you Majorie Taylor Greene) stupidly question whether the US was somehow behind the coup. Both of those courses are unwise. Any time there is instability in the world the ripples make their way in our direction, arriving sooner or later. The only question is whether the ripples fade away, or due to activities we can’t see below the surface, turn into a tsunami.
And don’t forget China lurking around out there as well. Their commentary was generally muted about these events. I believe they are a bigger longterm threat to us both militarily and economically. Having said that, I’m more concerned about an unstable Russia right now, than I am about a stable China.
I recently received another email from my friend Bob in Ukraine: “Last night the air raid alarms went off about 2:30 am. We were hoping the attack was only another wave of the Iranian Shaheed drones, as the defenses are normally stopping 100% of those. But when the text of the warning came to my wife Vita’s phone, it was a major missile attack. The attack was targeting Kyiv directly.”
This is the second blog I’ve written about my friend Bob Pitts who lives near Kyiv, Ukraine. A link to the first blog is in the Addendum.
Bob’s email continued: “Six Kh-47M2 “Kinzhal” missiles were launched from six MiG-31K aircraft. The Kinzhal is Putin’s hypersonic missile that he has bragged about as being unstoppable. Making statements about it as some secret Russian technology America and the West can’t match.
BUT – Every one of them was shot down in the air, so I imagine there is some serious nervousness in the Kremlin right now. Someone has to go and tell Putin his magic hypersonic missiles are no longer effective – and also tell him he just wasted many millions on this attack. (They don’t have many of these left in stock to begin with). Before last night’s attack -> no one had been able to stop the Kinzhal missiles.
In addition to the Kinzhals, 9 Kalibr cruise missiles were launched from ships in the Black Sea, and three land-based missiles (S-400, “Iskander-M”). All of them were destroyed by the air defense forces of Ukraine.
The sound of the missile being hit was deafening- our windows and doors shook. The attack came from the South and so the defenses hit them near our town. Thankfully not directly over us, as there are reports of damage from falling debris.”
Debris Falling During the Recent Missile Attack on Kyiv.
I can’t quite imagine the heart-pounding you must feel going through an attack like that. And of course, some version of this has been happening for over a year now in Ukraine.
Throughout it all, we need to remember people also live their lives. In Bob and Vita’s case, that included celebrating their eighteenth wedding anniversary about a week after the big attack. They’ve lived in both America and Ukraine during those eighteen years and have been in Ukraine for the past two years.
Bob and Vita on Their Wedding Day, Eighteen Years Ago in Florida.
For their anniversary, they celebrated at Cafe’ Mimi in their hometown of Brovary, just outside of Kyiv. Katya, the chef/owner of Cafe’ Mimi made them an American carrot cake using Vita’s recipe – Bob says he has “had carrot cake all over the US and in many other countries and THIS one was the best I have EVER eaten -> better than my grandmother’s.” 😎
Katya’s Carrot Cake – Maybe, Better than Grandma’s?
We see stories of sharing life and love during the dangers of war over and over in both the real world and in fiction. The great novels “Doctor Zhivago” (Pasternak), “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (Hemingway), “A Time to Love and a Time to Die” (Remarque), or “From Here to Eternity” (Jones) showed us those love stories in fiction, but I like to think Bob and Vita’s story in real life gives them a good run for the money. Life goes on, even amid the struggles of wartime. Sometimes, all you really need is to be with the love of your life and enjoy a slice of carrot cake.
Sometimes, All You Really Need is The Love of Your Life, and a Slice of Carrot Cake.
We should all celebrate life as lovingly as Bob and Vita and remember to focus on what is truly important.
Addendum:
I received this email update from Bob yesterday after I’d already written this blog and just 12 hours before posting it:“The Russians have stepped up their missile attacks in the past few days. They appear to be in a panic that Ukraine successfully used the new British StormShadow missile to destroy a large troop and munitions hub just at the border (this had been out of range until now). Reports are that a trainload of 500+ new soldiers were destroyed along with all their armor and munitions … Last night was a massive missile attack – many of the missiles were the hypersonic ones we shot down 37 of 40 missiles and 29 of 35 drones. Then again today around noon another attack again with hypersonic / ballistic missiles. We shot down 11 of 11 … There was damage / injuries from falling debris and there were some deaths in rural areas – an elderly couple was killed when debris crushed the roof of their home … I think that the Russians know that they are in deep trouble. They know that we are about to hand them their butts on a platter very soon. That is why they are stepping up the frequency of attacks and making an all out worldwide propaganda and diplomacy push to push for the west to stop helping Ukraine.”
Thanks to my friend Bob for providing the material for this blog and for helping to edit. I’m so happy we have reconnected.
Bob has written a book about Ukraine called UKRAINE: THE AWAKENING: My 20 years of witnessing Ukrainians rediscover their nationhood. When the war began, he became concerned about how little westerners, especially Americans, understand about Ukraine, its people, its history and how the relationship with Russia is misinterpreted in Western media coverage. The book gives readers a view into Ukrainian culture and the beauty of the people. I’ve bought and read the book and recommend it – I’ll publish a short review in a future blog. Here’s a link to the book on Amazon: https://a.co/d/6qUppBU
80 years ago on May 6th, 1943, Dad and the other men of 1st Battalion, 60th Regimental Combat Team were given the order to fix bayonets. They were about to attack Djebel Cheniti in Tunisia by direct assault with a bayonet charge. I’ve thought quite a bit about how that attack may have affected Dad and his outlook on life.
A year ago, I was doing research for another blog about dad and the closing days of the North African Campaign in 1943. I was shocked to learn about a battle that dad never mentioned. At the time, his unit had been in continuous combat for two months.
From the history books: “One last ring of rugged hills now remained between the Ninth Infantry Division and Bizerte. The German troops on Djebel Cheniti, the highest point on the 8 mile wide area of the Bizerte Isthmus, halted the advance. To break this bottleneck, General Manton S. Eddy (Commander of the 9th Infantry Division), devised a plan with two parts. The division would mount a flanking maneuver around the hills, while the 1st Battalion of the 60th Regimental Combat Team (dad’s unit – about 500 men) would attack Djebel Cheniti by direct assault with fixed bayonets. They would follow artillery fire that pounded the slopes at 100-yard intervals.”
The 9th Infantry Division Plan of Attack as it Unfolded.
Let’s take a pause in the story for a second. Fix Bayonets is a command that probably goes back as far as the introduction of muskets. What the command literally means is you are attaching your bayonet to the end of your rifle. What it actually means is one of two things – 1) you are preparing to charge the enemy in close-quarters or 2) getting ready to defend yourself from an imminent enemy assault. Either way, it is close-in fighting. With a rifle and a bayonet, you are perhaps three feet away from your enemy. There is no hiding. There is no ducking away. Army Field Manual 23-25 captures it succinctly: “The will to meet and destroy the enemy in hand-to-hand combat is the spirit of the bayonet. It springs from the fighter’s confidence, courage, and grim determination.” In my own bayonet training nearly 50 years ago at West Point, they were even more to the point: “What is the spirit of the bayonet?” “To Kill!”
At that distance, it is kill or be killed. There is no middle ground.
… … …
May 6th 1943 was a slippery, muddy and rainy day. The order was given to fix bayonets around 1PM and behind rolling artillery, the battalion attacked. They moved forward quickly and only 100 yards behind the falling artillery barrage. On the map, it looks like the total distance they needed to cover was a little over a mile. After three hours they took Hill 168. Moving on to Hill 207 they met stronger resistance. An artillery concentration disorganized the enemy and the battalion attacked again before the German troops could recover. By nightfall, they had taken the summit of Hill 207, although there were still Germans on the southeastern slopes. In a war that lasted years, there were only brief mentions of the battle in the history books, but all of them mentioned the fixed bayonets.
Only a Brief Mention in the History Books
The next morning, May 7th, German machine gun crews began taking off for Bizerte as the division advanced. The 60th moved to cut off the Bizerte road and On May 8th, Bizerte fell. The war in North Africa was over and their immediate mission accomplished.
Men of the 60th Outside Bizerte on May 7th, 1943.
In the words of the 9th Infantry Division Record, “Djebel Cheniti was a brilliant demonstration of Infantry “leaning up against” artillery preparation. One of the strongest positions in the final Axis defense was assaulted by one battalion of Infantry with fixed bayonets, with artillery blasting a shell-strewn pathway for its advance. Another story in the annals of foot soldiers, who do the dirty tasks of warfare”.
Why am I blogging about this now? The story has haunted me since first learning about it. I’ve thought about it quite a bit over the past year. I never heard dad say anything about Djebel Cheniti. I never heard dad say anything about a bayonet charge. Not one damned word. The more I thought about it, the more I thought about how it must have influenced his life.
I have to figure after you’ve been in a bayonet charge, everything else in your life, maybe for the rest of your life, must seem easier. When you are that close to death, and you survive, what else in your life is really going to be a threat to you? Money issues? Work Issues? Mortgage issues? Sickness? Wouldn’t just about everything pale in comparison?
It would explain a lot about dad. His lust for life. His enjoyment of life. His ability to keep everything in perspective, even when things were going badly. His gentleness and tolerance. His quiet firmness in facing down jerks and bullies. Perhaps he already had all of those traits and would have developed into the same man, but I’m not so sure. I think a bayonet charge at the age of 19 might make everything else in life just a wee bit easier to contemplate and to handle. Maybe every day after May 6th, 1943 was a gift not to be squandered. Dad’s gone now. How I wish we had time for one more conversation.
Dad at the WWII Memorial, Two or Three Years Before he Passed Away.
Dad was in almost continual combat from November of ‘42 to August of ‘43 when he was wounded in Sicily. I’m sure all of that combat, and his wounding affected him and changed him, but the bayonet attack is what has stuck in my mind as a singular event, maybe even more than his wounding. He told bits and pieces of different battles over those months, and mostly they involved funny incidents. He even eventually told me the story of how he was wounded, when he was recovering from the stroke he suffered in the ‘90s. The bayonet attack? Not a single word.
The blog I was working on when I found out about the bayonet charge was a funny story about dad and “Al Capone” – “My Dad, then Twenty year old Sergeant Willie I. Hall, looked at the German soldier and said “Chicago”. The German answered “Chicago?” Dad stared back. “Chicago … Al Capone”. Now the German’s eyes’ widened. Everyone knew who” […] continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/05/08/dad-and-al-capone/
Historical parts of this blog were derived from these sources: The 9th Division History; Center of Military History: TO BIZERTE WITH THE II CORPS 23 April – 13 May 1943; The US Army in WWIIby George Howe; and The Development of Combat Effective Divisions in the United States Army During WWII, a thesis by Peter R. Mansoor.
Thanks to my sister, Roberta, and niece, Tami, for their thoughts and inputs. And of course thanks as always to Colleen for her editing support.
As I sat there eating, I was a bit unsettled. I’d left the doctor’s office and as is my tradition after a physical, was having a breakfast of biscuits and gravy at a local diner. The physical went fine, but the news that my doctor was departing was something else. We’ve been together for nearly 20 years.
When I left the Army in ‘92, one of my goals was to find a doctor’s office that was small, local and where I would consistently see the same doctor. In the military, that was never the case. Between large clinics and moving every couple of years, there was never any consistency in the doctors I saw.
Remember this was all pre-internet, pre-Facebook, pre- any way of really checking out a practice other than talking with friends. I started with a one-man doctor’s office that lasted about a year. He was old and didn’t seem quite interested in me. Someone then recommended a small practice with three or four doctors, and I gave them a try. They were good, and I generally saw the same doctor each time I visited. I liked them so much that even when we moved from Fairfax to Marshall, I stayed with them.
Sometime in the early 2000s, DR H___ joined the practice and I was “assigned” to her. I wasn’t sure what to think at first, as I’d never had a female doctor before. Silly me. Of course, it worked out fine. In fact, it was more than fine and we got along great.
Doctor H____
A few years later, I was at the doctor’s and DR H___ informed me she would soon leave the practice and start her own office. This would be my last checkup with her. What!? She couldn’t do this to me! Although of course, she could. I asked where her new office was, and could I move with her. She was prohibited from taking any clients with her, but she informed me if I kept an eye online, I might see a new doctor’s office opening in the Gainesville area with her name attached.
Soon enough, I saw the posting and became a “new” patient of hers. I’ve been with her for 14 years at this location.
Why do I like her so much? DR H___ takes a more holistic approach to healing. She doesn’t rush during the appointment. Prescribing a pill isn’t her first choice. Education of me, the patient, is a part of her approach. Looking for root causes is a part of her approach. Discussions together instead of her talking at me is a part of her approach. And … she is the only doctor at the practice. I feel like we know each other.
In her own words, “A healthy lifestyle is key to wellness. If you are in need of a doctor who listens and genuinely wants to help you feel better and stay healthy, then I would be humbled to have you call me your doctor.”
It’s been a great partnership. While I’ve always eaten reasonably well, I eat more healthily now due to her influence. When diet along wouldn’t solve my cholesterol issues, she eventually prescribed a statin. She was there for my copperhead bite and for the subsequent AFIB. Our discussions on vitamin D results, prostate results, blood test results were always exactly that. Discussions. Not lectures. We worked our way through COVID together. She knows I drink, smoke a cigar once in a while, drink a cup or two of coffee every day and enjoy an occasional steak. I feel comfortable enough to generally be open with her about my “vices”. Maybe all doctors are this way, but in listening to some of my friends, it doesn’t appear to be the case.
So what has happened? DR H___, while staying local, is moving on from her practice and opening a “Functional Medicine Practice” which “shifts the traditional disease-centered focus of medical practice to a more patient-centered approach. Functional Medicine addresses the whole person, not just an isolated set of symptoms.” There was more, as you can see from this screen shot from her website:
Changes on the Way
While at my physical, DR H___ explained all of this to me. She talked about an increased focus on a better, healthier lifestyle so you would better enjoy your senior years. I asked if better senior years included the occasional manhattan or martini and she just smiled at me.
She also informed me that if I were to come with her to the new practice, I would still need a new GP doctor. She would not be addressing typical “family practice” issues. We shook hands as I departed her office that morning. I’m not sure why, but our handshake had a feeling of finality in it. That handshake, and the look in her eyes, have stayed with me.
I mulled all of this over while eating my biscuits and gravy. It was a lot to digest, and to be honest, I didn’t enjoy my breakfast as much as I usually do. It took a bit of the typical joy I felt while eating “something bad for me” as a celebration after my physical. I may have even left a couple of bites of biscuit on my plate, which is something I never do.
My Biscuits and Gravy Weren’t as Tasty as Usual.
Since then, I’ve continued to think about it. I don’t yet know whether I will go with her and her new practice, but I know in the meantime, I need to identify a new doctor. It’s not something I’m looking forward to. I know there are many good doctors, but it feels like starting over from scratch. Who in your life, outside of family and close friends, is more important than your doctor, and your relationship with her? Your dentist? Eye Doctor? Lawyer? Financial Advisor? A Teacher? Mentor? Life will go on, but it won’t be the same.
“5:25 … 5:26 … 5:27 … Hall – 5:28 … 5:29 … 5:30 …” I did it! I finished the Plebe indoor mile run in under 5:30! As I slowed, my stomach suddenly double clutched and I ran to a nearby trash can, where I promptly threw up.
During my time at West Point, the Academy frequently talked about developing the “whole man” (with the admission of women in 1976, this changed to the “whole person”). We cadets were always being tested and evaluated. It was true about leadership, about academics, and was certainly true about physical fitness. For most of us, somewhere in all that testing was an Achilles Heel. With some it was a particular academic course, for others, some physical education test or class.
Plebe Year at West Point.
As Plebes, there were four required gym classes: Swimming, Wrestling, Boxing, and Gymnastics. For me, I’d been a swimmer all my life and a lifeguard for a few years, so the swimming class was easy, and I earned the equivalent of an A. Wrestling? I made West Point’s intercollegiate wrestling team as a freshman walk on, so I validated wrestling and took handball as an elective instead. Boxing was a challenge at first, but once I learned the basics, AND learned getting punched in the nose wasn’t a showstopper, I did OK. Gymnastics was a different beast.
The pommel horse, the rings, the vault, parallel bars, the trampoline, mats for tumbling … I forget what other torture devices were there, but it was like I was in a cursed land. My two sisters would tell you I wasn’t particularly coordinated as a kid. As a matter of fact, they would say I was a bit of a klutz. It all came home to roost in Gymnastics class. I was passing, but just barely.
At some point during the class, I learned we would do a timed mile run as a part of the course. Running of course has nothing to do with gymnastics, but those things happened at West Point. Just another chance to excel. Now, I had never been a runner, but since it was wrestling season, I was in great shape. Probably the best shape of my brief life up to that point. I started thinking I might be able to earn a good score on the mile run and improve my overall Gymnastics grade.
Hayes Gym* is where we practiced Gymnastics. It was “a large open gym with a vaulted ceiling and hardwood floors.” Above the gym floor, an elevated track rings the room. It takes 11.7 laps to run a mile on that track and that’s where we would complete the mile run.
Hayes Gym in 1910, the Year it was Built, and Again in 2009. Note the Elevated Track.
My personal view at the time (and that of at least a few of my classmates) was that many of the instructors in the Department of Physical Education (DPE) had a bit of a sadistic streak in them. One of our instructors was Army’s gymnastic coach, Ned Crossley and some classmates recall his scoring as particularly brutal. Looking back now, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t true. Having said that, all of the DPE instructors had ways of questioning you, challenging you, or prodding you that often seemed to taunt you a bit as well.
The instructor who spoke with us about the mile run was a little like that. To receive a max score, you needed to run under 5:30. The instructor explained what we needed to do to run a 5:30 mile. At 11.7 laps per mile, “all” you needed was to run each lap at a 28 seconds per lap pace, and then run like hell for the last half lap. Simple. Easy Peasy. Any cadet could do it. And so on. Of course the vast majority of us could run no where near that fast.
At the time, I don’t believe I’d ever run a mile (or any other distance) for time. I’d certainly run laps in High School sports, run in formation at West Point for Company morning runs during Beast, and we ran our asses off in wrestling practice. But none of this was ever done for time. That was about to change.
My pea brain went to work. 28 seconds was two seconds less than 30 seconds for each lap. 28 seconds for the first lap… 56 seconds for two laps … 1:24 for three laps … 1:52 for four laps and so on. I’d do the math in my head on the run. As long as I could keep the pace going, I had a shot.
A couple days later, it was my turn to do the run. As I recall, there were a few of us running it at the same time, although I don’t recall exactly how many. What I do remember was taking off when “go” was called. The first lap – 27 seconds! The next couple of laps I was under the pace. After that, I was a bit erratic, with some over and some under, but the average was OK and at the half mile mark, I was on pace. The final few laps? I’m not sure I was really paying attention any longer. The air was stale. The air was acrid. 3/4 of a mile and still on pace. My lungs were burning. I was sucking in as much oxygen as I could. 11 laps done. My legs were lead. It was down to just over half a lap left. I didn’t see anything other than the track in front of me. I don’t know if the other Plebes were in front of me, or behind me. All I know is I ran as hard as could. I rounded the final curve.
“5:25 … 5:26 … 5:27 … Hall – 5:28 … 5:29 … 5:30 …” I did it! I beat 5:30. I slowed down and suddenly my stomach double clutched and I ran to a nearby trash can, where I promptly threw up.
Recovery took me a while. I may have heaved a second time, and certainly had the dry heaves. Eventually I made my way to the shower, and then to whatever my next class was that day.
A couple weeks later, I passed gymnastics with some room to spare.
In my remaining years at West Point, I never ran that fast again. Not even close. We had PT tests on an annual basis with a two mile run next to the Hudson River. I never approached anything close to that time, even when adjusted for a slower time due to the extra distance. The two miler was always a challenge for me and I was always nervous about failing it. The thought of maxing out my run score never entered my head.
Years later, I took up running on my own for fun and to stay in shape. I became a decent runner, and clocked several personal bests – an 11:44 two mile ( a sub six minute/mile pace); a 39:58 10K (a sub 6:30/mile pace) and a 68 minute and change 10 mile race (a sub 7 min/mile pace). I remember all of those. The one I still marvel at? The 5:28 mile on the indoor track at West Point. I had no business running that fast. How the hell did I ever do it?
Addendum:
* Some info on Hayes Gym from the Academy itself: Hayes Gym was built in 1910. The second level of Hayes is what most cadets and USMA graduates think of as “Hayes Gym”. It is a large open gym with a vaulted ceiling, hardwood floor, and elevated track (11.7 laps to a mile) that rings the room. The Department of Physical Education (DPE), teaches applied gymnastics (now called “Military Movement”) in Hayes, taking advantage of its historical and unusual support structures. The gym has eighteen 21′ vertical ropes and two 60′ horizontal ropes (suspended 12′ from the floor). There are also 10 pull-up bars that are each 5′ wide and are suspended from the ceiling with vertical supports in such a manner that they can be “run across” (with proper technique), as is done during the Indoor Obstacle Course. The gym’s floor space is filled with gymnastic’s apparatus and pads, such as vaults, bars, and rings as well as 1″ and 4″ tumbling mats. Nowadays, the military movement equipment remains in place year-round.
The Indoor Obstacle Course is another “fond” memory of Hayes Gym for most West Point Grads, as it was also known to induce retching at it’s completion. I may do a blog on it in the future, but it’s hard to describe to those who haven’t experienced it. To get a flavor for it, here’s a YouTube video of Cadet Elizabeth Bradley completing it just a couple of years ago and breaking the female record while doing so. For all my macho buddies out there, I would love to see you try to beat her time. Good luck on that unlikely event. GO ARMY! https://youtu.be/Dw5rR1yqyp8 .
Thanks to classmates Gus Hellzen and Jerome Butler for their contributions to this blog.
Honorable mentions went to Miller Lite and Natty Light. Second placewent to Coors Light. And, drum roll please … Bud Light won First place. What – The best light beer in America? No. This was a judgment based on litter pick up at Black Walnut Point on Tilghman Island, Md. There were more Bud Light cans left among the trash than any other brand.
We are fortunate enough to own a small second home on Tilghman Island. Tilghman is in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, about twenty minutes from Saint Michaels. The island, reached by a short draw bridge, is beautiful and remains a rural area. Working fishermen, oyster men and crabbers still practice their craft and usually depart on their boats in the early morning hours six days a week from the various harbors and docks.
The very end of Tilghman Island is known as Black Walnut Point. We live close by in the “village” of Fairbank, a collection of thirty-five or so older homes. It’s a great little community with a combination of original Tilghman Islanders, folk who have moved or retired here full time, and part timers like ourselves. Everyone is friendly and gets along. When you go for a walk, it’s more of a stroll and chat. People are always stopping, talking with others and catching up on the local news.
Tilghman Island and Black Walnut Point
Black Walnut Point itself has a small Inn at the end of the road. Before you arrive at the Inn, the road passes a quarter mile of public access to the Chesapeake. It’s a paved area, and they have reenforced this small split of land with boulders and riprap to keep it from washing away into the Bay. The area attracts folk who like to fish, or come to see a gorgeous sunset, or just hang out and take a couple of photos. The Chesapeake doesn’t have lots of public access on much of it’s shoreline, so where there is a public spot, people tend to gather.
The Afternoon View From Black Walnut Point Road.
And gather they do, at all times of the year, but particularly in the warmer months. That’s when the trash problem is the worst. While I’m sure most visitors are good people, there are a number who have evidently never heard of taking their trash with them. During summer on a busy weekend, it’s not unusual to walk the area on a Monday morning and find actual bags of trash visitors have left behind. It’s evidently too much trouble to haul it back home. And then of course there are the bottles, cans, sandwich packages, cigarette packs and cigarette butts, not to mention fishing line, hooks and weights left among the rocks. Or crammed between the rocks. Or crushed and pushed down lower in the rocks.
Tilghman Island and our Fairbank community have organized trash pick-up events over the years. During summer, neighbors would go out a couple of times as a group and pick up several large bags of trash. Gary, the unofficial “Mayor” (or ambassador) of Fairbank helped organize many of these events via email before he passed away a few years ago. As importantly, people would sometimes go out on their own to pick up trash.
After Gary passed away, our friend Darren has taken on some of the role of community organizer. As an example, just this past December around Christmas time there was a huge storm with high winds on the Bay, resulting in large amounts of trash, debris, flotsam and jetsam washing up on Black Walnut Point. Darren put out the call to help clean up and the community responded. When we arrived a few days later on Dec 29th, I made a pass and collected a couple bags of trash and recyclables, but most was already gone, thanks to our neighbors.
Last week, Cath and I were at the Bayhouse again. As I took our dog, Carmen, for a walk towards Black Walnut Point, I noticed the trash was starting to pile up. It wasn’t bad, considering we’d cleaned the area up a little over a month before, but there was enough to be noticeable, and I decided I’d do a trash-pickup-pass the next day.
The next afternoon, as I was about to start, I ran into our neighbors John and Lea out for a walk with their dog. As we were talking, John told me he’d been out the week before and picked up two bags of recyclables. That was a bit of a surprise, as it meant the trash I was seeing was just from the past week.
Later, as I finished collecting my bag and a half of trash, a few things became apparent. The majority of smokers littering the area were Marlboro fans, with a couple of Pall Mall smokers thrown in. Among the recyclables, I found a few plastic water bottles, a couple of diet Pepsi cans and two empty pints of Lord Calvert Canadian Whiskey. The rest of it? Beer cans. And not just any beer cans. There were no IPAs, no Guinness Stout, no German pils or Mexican lagers. There was no Nanticoke Nectar from RAR brewery just down the road in Cambridge. While I found a few Budweisers, most were Light cans. There were a couple of Miller Lites and a few Natty Lights, but the vast majority were Coors Light and 10 ounce cans of Bud Light.
Coors Light and Bud Light – Both are Evidently a Favorite of Litterers.
The Coors Light cans were found in just a couple of concentrated areas. You could almost see a couple of fishermen standing or sitting there, working their way through a twelve pack over the course of an afternoon. Finish one beer, throw it among the rocks and grab another one from the cooler. Did they catch any fish? We’ll never know, but it appears they enjoyed themselves.
The Bud Lights? They were scattered up and down the shoreline in ones or twos. In fact, several were also scattered in the grass and woods on the drive into the area. These brought a different vision to my head. One or two guys, maybe kids, maybe not, having a beer in their truck and chucking it onto the rocks, or as they were driving home, throwing it out the window onto the side of the road. The Bud Light drinkers also threw out the boxes those 10 ounce beers came in. No evidence was going to remain in their cars.
As I mentioned a couple of times, the Bud Lights were all 10 ounce cans. Why does that matter? 10 ounce beers are an Eastern Shore thing*. Look in your hometown store and see if you can find 10 oz Buds. The answer is probably no, unless you live on certain parts of the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
My guess on our litterers? The Coors guys were from somewhere else and came for an afternoon of fishing on the Bay. The Bud Light drinkers? I’d bet they are from somewhere nearby on the the Eastern Shore of Maryland – probably somewhere between here and Easton. Maybe they are high school kids sneaking their beers; maybe they are bored young guys; or maybe they are older guys getting away from home for awhile.
I could be wrong. Maybe they are from somewhere else, forgot to bring beer, and decided to buy some here locally. At the store they looked around saw the 10 ounce cans, and said, “Those beers are for me. I want beers in cans that are two ounces smaller than what I normally drink.” Maybe.
What I do know is whoever they are, they are trashing the area.
I can’t say this is a typical mix of trash, only that it is what I found on this particular visit. It’s unfortunate. I guarantee both the Coors and Bud Light drinkers would tell you they love this area. It has everything they want – open access to the Bay, beautiful views and occasionally good fishing. But you can’t profess to love something and trash it at the same time. All that does is make you a hypocrite. In this case, hypocrites who don’t respect Mother Nature, Tilghman Island or those around them.
Addendum:
* 10 Ounce cans of Bud and Bud Light are a big thing in parts of the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I particularly enjoy them on a hot summer day – you finish your beer beer before it gets warm. You find them in the counties of Caroline, Dorchester, Kent, Queen Anne’s and Talbot (our county), but not in places such as Salisbury and Ocean City. You can read more about them here: https://wtop.com/maryland/2020/09/uncanny-why-10-ounce-cans-of-budweiser-are-popular-in-parts-of-maryland/
The title of this blog is a word play on “Judgement of Paris”, the 1976 blind wine tasting in Paris that elevated the status of American wines. Never heard of it? You can read more here: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judgment_of_Paris_(wine) . The wine “Judgement of Paris” itself was a twist on The “Judgement of Paris” in Greek Mythology, which was a contest between the three most beautiful goddesses of Olympos – Aphrodite, Hera and Athena for the prize of a golden apple addressed “To the Fairest.” The original Judgement in Paris eventually led to the Trojan War and the destruction of Troy.
Here’s a bit of a more complete history of trash pick up on Tilghman from Darren. I shortened it a bit for the blog: Gary and Larry were the original two people who picked up trash. People saw Gary and Larry doing it and joined in. It organically became a Fairbank community effort. Gary then made it more formal through his newsletters. When The Phillips Wharf Environmental Center was under Kelly Cox, they held a trash pick-up day called “Tidy up Tilghman.” People picked up trash across the entire island on that day. Gary was on the PWEC Board of Directors, so I think they got the idea from him. The tradition has always been strong and remains in place in Fairbank. There’s another trash pick up for the entire Island taking place on April 1st of this year.
Thanks to friends Darren and Veronica who both took a look at this blog for accuracy and editing purposes!
A few weeks ago Cathy and I spent a Saturday seeing the full circle of life. The day started at a brewery, attending a Celebration of Life for a friend who passed away three months ago. It ended at a winery where another friend was celebrating her seventieth birthday. The two events were surprisingly similar.
Our old friend Davie passed away last October at the age of 67. His death was unexpected and hit many of us hard. We were a part of the same running group since the early ‘90s and became good friends over the years. Another friend, Tia, and I talked and decided to host a Celebration of Life for Davie, but after some time went by – time enough for the rawness of his death to pass. We eventually decided on a Saturday in mid-January.
On the appointed day, a wonderful and diverse crowd of seventy five or so came together and after a short run, gathered at a local brewery. Five of us brought in homemade food for a buffet lunch with BBQ, coleslaw, mac n’ cheese and other goodies. Beer and other beverages were flowing. The crowd was loud and in a good mood. The decision Tia and I made to delay for three months was a good one. Friends ate and drank and laughed. Stories of Davie were told – some poignant, some bawdy. At the end of the “formal” part of the Celebration, we sang the old spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as a final send off (an off-color version of the song is usually sung at the end of our weekly runs).
Friends at Davie’s Celebration of Life at the Brewery
We left the brewery while the party was still roaring, to make our way to our friend Kathy’s 70th birthday party. We arrived at home, let Carmen out and changed clothes. From there, we drove the twenty minutes to the winery where Kathy’s birthday party was being held.
Upon arriving, we found the party and joined in with the other 20 or 25 guests. A friend of Kathy’s made delicious homemade appetizers. Wine and other beverages were flowing. The crowd was loud and in a good mood. Friends ate and drank and laughed. Stories and jokes were told and Kathy’s husband mentioned a couple of times that he was lucky to have married an older woman (I should point out he is only 18 months younger than Kathy). At the end of the “formal” part of the celebration, we sang “Happy Birthday ” to Kathy as a final tribute.
Friends at Kathy’s Birthday Party at the Winery.
Speaking with Kathy later, she mentioned she wanted to celebrate her life while she was “still vertical”. The guests represented different aspects of her life and what held meaning for her — old friendships formed in her youth, friendships from her days in community theater, friendships formed in pursuit of change in our social and political systems and those she partnered with while strengthening her health and fitness levels. It was a diverse and wonderful group of people. After the party, she and Steve stayed up late into the night talking about how lucky they were. Her comment to me – “Why wait to gather together and celebrate life?”
I’ve spent the last month or so thinking about the juxtaposition of those two gatherings. They were sooooo similar to each other. Friends gathered. Good homemade food was served at both. Excellent local adult beverages were available for consumption. There was lots of laughter, with jokes and stories being told. Even a song was sung at both to end the formal part of the festivities. The only real difference between the two events was the guest of honor attended one in person, but not the other.
Kathy being Roasted at her Birthday Celebration. I Like to Think Davie Attended his Celebration of Life in Spirit.
Yes, there’s a fine edge between life and death, between living and dying, between celebrating a life, and a Celebration of Life. That Saturday and those two gatherings brought it home to me.
Celebrating life, and Celebrations of Life are both important. None of us knows how much time we, our family, or our friends have left and we should take advantage of celebrating not just birthdays, but every part of life we can, while we are alive.
I’m glad we were able to celebrate Davie’s life. He wasn’t physically with us, but I know he would have enjoyed the party. I like to think he was looking on us from somewhere on high with a glass of champagne or a mimosa in his hand.
I’m even happier we were able to celebrate Kathy’s 70th with her in the room, and I’m pretty sure she did enjoy the party. As Fitzgerald stated in The Great Gatsby, “Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead.“
Celebrating life while living, seems an important part of having a good Celebration of Life later. At my Celebration of Life, I hope there will be jokes and stories and snorts of laughter. In a corner of the room, maybe loud guffaws and then someone will say, “What a great story! I didn’t know that about Max. Did I ever tell you about the time he and I…”
When I started thinking about this blog, I thought the song “The Circle of Life” from The Lion KIng might be nice for an ending with it’s lyrics about despair and hope, and faith and love. It’s a fine song, and I suppose makes people feel warm and fuzzy. Personally, I think Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life” is more relevant for me, and has a better take on all of it:
Well, I'm just a modern guy Of course, I've had it in the ear before* And I've a lust for life (lust for life) 'Cause I've a lust for life (lust for life) Got a lust for life Yeah, a lust for life…
I’m going to continue to honor and celebrate those around me, both alive and dead. I think about that Saturday and those two events. Like my friends Davie and Kathy, a lust for life is what I have. I’m taking Iggy’s advice, and plan to continue to live life exuberantly. I’m going to celebrate life and all it throws at me. If you happen to make my Celebration of Life down the road, eat some fine food, have a drink, laugh and tell a good story about the times we shared together. Hopefully, it starts out something like this, “There Max and I were. It was crazy, but…”
Addendum:
I encourage you to listen to Elton John’s “Circle of Life”, and then Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life”. Both of them are fine songs. One of them will get you up, moving, and ready to engage life to the utmost.
Thanks to our friend Tia Perry for leading the effort on Davie’s Celebration of Life – It was a great event. Special thanks to our friend Kathy Kadilak for allowing me to talk about her milestone birthday and the impact it had on me. Both Tia and Kathy were a part of writing this blog.
* The phrase “I’ve had it in the ear before” isn’t sexual and it’s not drug related. It means someone’s given you a hard time or screwed you over.
It’s nice to have constants in your life, even when they are little ones. Something you can count on. Something that gives you comfort. Something you can look at and say, “Yep, it’s still there.” For me, one of those constants is my old friend Orion in the winter night sky.
I suppose my interest in space and the constellations started with Mrs Finkeldey, my first grade teacher. On February 20th, 1962, a little over halfway through our school year, astronaut John Glenn became the first American to orbit the Earth. Mrs Finkeldey talked about Glenn, and taught us about the solar system and the (then nine) planets. Combining current events and science for first graders – who knew?
Later, in Boy Scouts, I began learning about the constellations. It started with the Big Dipper pointing to the North Star in the Little Dipper. Suddenly, and amazingly, you always knew what direction north was (unless it was a cloudy night). That was just the beginning. With my Boy Scout Handbook, I began to learn how to identify and locate the constellations – Cepheus and Cassiopeia; Canis Major, along with Sirius, the brightest star in the sky; Gemini the Twins; Taurus the Bull; the Pleiades (the Seven Sisters) and many others.
Knowledge of the Constellations in My Old Boy Scout Handbook
I’m not sure why, but my favorite was always Orion, The Hunter. Orion is one of the more identifiable constellations and has been mentioned by Homer and Virgil, and is even in the Bible*. According to Mythology, Orion was a great hunter and the son of Poseidon. He was killed by the sting of a large scorpion after possible misdeeds. Later, Zeus put both Orion and the Scorpion (Scorpius) in the sky as constellations.
Orion, The Hunter.
Orion is easy to see and easy to recognize, but here in the Northern Hemisphere, only viewable in winter. Starting in November, I watch him traverse the sky. Every night when I take Carmen out for her last walk, there he is overhead. If I take binoculars with me, or bring out my telescope, I can see the the Orion Nebula in his sword with greater detail. It’s no matter though. Knowing he, and it, are there are comfort enough.
Photo of Orion Taken With My iPhone 12 at Home in Virginia
I’ll observe him until March or so, and then he disappears from the night sky. The good news is he will reappear in late Fall, as he always does. He’s a bit more reliable than many of the unstable things in our lives.
Photo of the Orion Nebula,Below Orion’s Belt. Taken With My iPhone 12.
It’s not just here at home where I see him. Because of his location in the sky, he is visible in both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres. He was with us when we lived in Germany in the ‘80s. Over the years, I’ve seen him on vacations around the world, including this week in Grand Cayman. He has been a reliable travel companion.
iPhone 12 Picture of Orion With his Shield From Grand Cayman This Week.
Take a look one of these nights around 10PM. This time of year, he is high overhead, and slightly south of the center of the sky. You will find him easily enough. Look for his belt, and the rest will come with it. Know that I will probably be gazing on him around that time of night as well. I spend a few quiet moments with him almost every evening.
It is perhaps strange to think of a constellation as a touchstone, but that is what Orion has become for me. He is a constant I can count on and my eyes are drawn to him on starry winter nights. For me, he provides calmness and serenity, if only for a few moments. For most of us, there aren’t many things that do so. When you find one, it’s good to hold onto it.
… Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels… Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Job 9:9. Who makes the Bear, Orion and the Pleiades, And the chambers of the south;
Job 38:31. Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades, Or loose the cords of Orion?
Amos 5:8. He who made the Pleiades and Orion And changes deep darkness into morning, Who also darkens day into night, Who calls for the waters of the sea And pours them out on the surface of the earth, The Lord is His name.
There’s been a lot in the news lately about creative Artificial Intelligence (AI) art and writing programs. Some see them as the doom of mankind, others as a bright and shiny future. I don’t have an answer to either point, but what I DO know is people better get ready – this is happening and will continue to grow.
AI, or near AI capabilities have been around for awhile, and continue to expand in our lives. Everyone knows about computers frequently beating all but the very best chess champions on a regular basis. In fact IBM’s “Big Blue” computer defeated the reigning world champion, Gary Kasparov, in 1990. In the intervening decades, AI has expanded in numerous other areas to help mankind – assisting doctors, robots performing intricate operations on humans, financial fraud detection, facial recognition, digital assistants (think Siri or Alexa) and navigation apps (think Waze, Google Maps, etc) to name just a few. In general, we have accepted and embraced these changes and advances. They have improved our lives in one way, or another.
However, we humans seem a bit concerned as of late. It was all fine when AI was assisting us. Now, it is moving into “creative” areas, such as art and writing. People seem a bit more … uneasy – “Wait a minute, if a computer can be creative, what’s my value-add to this thing called life?”
We Seem to have More Concern with AI When it Starts Getting Creative
Over the past several months, my friend Morgan and I have been discussing AI and the potential repercussions of it’s expansion into art and writing. It started last fall when he downloaded the AI art program DALL·E 2. It’s free for the first 50 searches. After that, it’s $15 for 115 searches. Each search gives you four images based on what you input as a request. You can request a theme, a style and color scheme and the computer does the rest. Some questions – if a computer can do a da Vinci quality painting, do we need Leonardo? And what’s the value of either painting – how do you equate them? Are there moral issues? How do you compare something generated by a human versus something generated by a computer?
We spent several miles of walking and more than a couple of beers discussing all of those questions and others. We even ran a series of “tests” comparing the classic painting “Dogs Playing Poker” by American Artist Cassius Marcellus Coolidge, and computer versions, based on Morgan’s inputs. You can judge a couple of the results below, including the refinement over time. I particularly like how one of the dogs in the lower (later) AI painting is looking in the direction of the artist – a nice touch.
Dogs Playing Poker by Coolidge on the Left. A Couple of AI Generated Pictures on the Right
Then last December, the news started talking about a new AI writing tool called ChatGPT. It can write poems, answer questions, generate lists, act as an assistant in writing, and even do writing of it’s own, including “factual information”, essays and short stories. There have been problems with the “factual info” sometimes getting something totally wrong, but it’s also been correct more often than not.
Morgan and I again spoke about the ramifications. In the future, what happens to a prospective Tom Clancy, James Patterson, Tolstoy or Shakespeare? What happens to college essays? What are the implications for plagiarism? If you wrote the questions that generated the subsequent ChapGPT output, are you the author?
More miles of walking and more beers ensued. Generating a list to help you was one thing, but the computer writing an essay submitted as your work was another. How would teachers know what was reality? We again ran a test of sorts.
Last December, I wrote a blog about our neighbor’s dog, Kylie, who stole some of our shoes (Read it here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/12/21/kylie-the-shoe-thief/). A couple of weeks ago, I asked ChaptGPT to “Write a short story about my neighbor’s Dog, Kylie, who steals our shoes, when our dog Carmen isn’t outside.” In the meantime, Morgan asked DALL·E 2 to produce an accompanying picture. Here was the response from ChapGPT, and Morgan’s picture:
“ Sure! Here's a short story about Kylie the shoe-stealing neighbor's dog:
It was a typical sunny afternoon in the neighborhood, and Carmen the dog was lounging in the yard as her owner, Maria, worked in the garden. Suddenly, Maria noticed something odd happening at the edge of the property. It was Kylie, the neighbor's mischievous golden retriever, sneaking into the yard and making a beeline for the porch.
Maria watched in amazement as Kylie snatched one of her shoes and ran off with it, barking happily. Carmen chased after Kylie, but the clever retriever was too fast. Maria couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the two dogs running circles around the yard, with Kylie proudly holding on to her prize. Despite her initial frustration at losing a favorite pair of shoes, Maria couldn't stay mad at the playful Kylie for long. She knew that the retriever was just having a good time, and she couldn't help but admire her neighbor's dog for her boundless energy and enthusiasm.
In the end, Maria decided to keep an eye on her shoes whenever Kylie was around, but she knew that the playful retriever would always find a way to keep them on their toes (or rather, off their feet).”
Picture of Kylie with a Stolen Shoe, produced by Morgan Using the AI Program, DALL·E 2.
My friend Mark wasn’t overly impressed with the story. His words – “It’s fine, but it looks like it was written by an eighth-grader.” And he is right to a degree. Obviously, ChatGPT didn’t have the full context of the reality of the thefts, but as stories go, it had a beginning, an end and maybe made you smile a little. With a bit of imagination, you can see where the future is heading.
There are lots of questions surrounding “creative” AI – ethical, moral, values, access, financial and privacy concerns to name a few areas. Yes, we need to continue discussing all of this. As importantly, we need to understand the inevitability and implications of what is coming in the future. As Morgan said on one of our walks, “People need to understand this is going to happen. It’s not going away, and it will get exponentially better in the coming years. Good writers will avoid this technology. Great writers will embrace it to flesh out their stories. You won’t lose your job to AI. You’ll lose your job to people who know how to use AI”.
Sometime in the future, a real HAL computer (Of 2001: A Space Odyssey fame) will exist. Will computers become sentient in their own fashion? You never know, but I wouldn’t bet against it. Maybe there will always be a “Dave” or two around to protect us. Maybe we won’t need them. Then again…
Dave: Open the pod bay doors, HAL. HAL: I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that. Dave: What's the problem? HAL: I think you know what the problem is, just as well as I do.
Addendum:
I realize this is a hard topic to really cover in 1,000 words or so (my typical blog length), but thought it was worth getting the topic out there. The future is now, and the more people are aware, the better.
Thanks to Morgan Johnson for editing support and additions to this blog. More importantly, thanks for being a good friend and engaging in these ongoing conversations.
Thanks to my friend Colleen and wife Cathy as always for their editing support. Also thanks to my old buddy Mark Dunavan for taking a look or two.
Live Life Exuberantly 