An old African saying – “GPS tells you the road. It does not tell you there is a hole in the road.” OK, maybe not an old saying, but we did hear this advice in Africa from Harry, one of our safari guides. I was thinking about Harry recently, as someone stuck his truck in our field, while following his GPS.
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Unpopular opinion: You don’t need a ‘New You‘ this January. We’re told every January 1st that we need to reinvent ourselves from scratch. What if this year isn’t about starting over, but about leaning in? I’m talking about perseverance over perfection.
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Cath and I have been watching two or three episodes of the old TV show “Cheers” each evening. Cathy recalled it was the same way we watched it in the late ‘80s. We were stationed in Germany and our friend Howard was a lifeline to America. He sent us VHS tapes every couple of months with recorded TV shows and movies. We were binge watching before they invented the term.
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It is one of my favorite photos from our time in the Army. I say “our time” because that is what it was. I was the soldier, but Cath and I were both a part of Army Life. To me, the picture brings back the memories of the great joys, along with the intensity of everything in the Army of the early ‘80s.
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I know it’s hokey, and I know it’s not fine wine, and yet, I could not resist buying a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau at a local wine shop a year ago in November of ‘24. In the ‘80s when stationed in Germany, the annual November release of Beaujolais Nouveau was something we looked for, and looked forward to.
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And just like that, a decade has passed. I started this blog ten years ago, on October 19th, 2015. I was 60 then. I’m 70 now. The blog started because of a death*, and a West Point classmate’s admonishment to “Live Life Exuberantly.” I have tried to do so, although not always successfully.
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I opened the door to the room and the five of them were there. My brother-in-laws, Jack and Don, old friend Tim, Dad, and Cathy’s Dad, Max. All looked robust and in their 50s, except for Max who died at 41 and remained forever young. Tim looked up from the bar. “French 75 Maxie?” I nodded yes.
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September 11th is our National Day of Remembrance. I think back to that horrific day, and also recall the unity that came to America afterwards, for a while at least. I now also have something else to think about. I recently learned my dad enlisted in the Army 85 years ago, on SEPTEMBER 11th, 1940. He was all of sixteen.
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Fifty-six years ago, from August 15-18, 1969, a three day festival celebrating Peace and Music took place at Max Yasgur’s farm in upstate New York. My friend Chuck, all of 19 at the time, drove there with three buddies, and experienced sex, drugs, and great Rock & Roll music at what came to be known as Woodstock.
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Dad passed away fifteen years ago on June 25th, 2010. I think of him often and smile at our times together, and the stories he told of his life. I am eternally grateful for the gifts he passed on to me. I could also cry, thinking of the questions I never asked him, and never thought to ask while he was alive.
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Live Life Exuberantly 