Award-Winning Journalist & Speaker - Expert in ERISA Fiduciary, Child IRA, and Hamburger History
Can you feel that? I can. But I can’t describe it.
It’s somewhere between a tinge of excitement and elated joy. It’s anticipatory and present at the same time. It’s a satisfied grin, a certain bounce in my step.
Or, should I say, a certain “spring” in my step.
That’s it! It’s spring.
Disregard the fact the weather still thinks it’s winter. It’s not the precipitation that matters, Continue Reading “There’s A Reason For That Spring In Your Step”
Long ago, before Vatican II, before the FBI targeted Catholics as domestic terrorists, before many of our readers were even born, McDonald’s had a problem. Only they didn’t realize how big of a problem.
That realization would be left to a single franchise owner in Ohio. On January 13, 1959, Lou Groen opened his McDonald’s in Monfort Heights, Ohio. It was the first Golden Arches to appear in the Cincinnati metropolitan area.
You probably didn’t know this, but at that time Catholics represented about 87% of Monfort Heights’ population. And they were good, practicing Catholics. Old-time Catholics. (You know. Toe Blake, Dit Clapper, Eddie Shore. Those guys were the greats!)
Vatican II was still several years away, and Groen noticed something quite discouraging about his new venture. “On Friday, we only took in about $75 a day,” he said.
That was a problem. A big problem.
After researching what the Big Boys chain did, Groen approached McDonald’s owner Ray Kroc (who was very approachable then) and proposed the idea of selling a fish sandwich. The usually astute Kroc did something he rarely did. He made the wrong decision. He Continue Reading “Spaghetti & Tuna Fish”
I had jury duty last week. It worried me.
Do you remember the first time you got summoned for jury duty? This wasn’t my first time. It was my fourth time. Actually, I wasn’t surprised by the notice. I selected the third week in February last November when I opted for my one-time deferral after receiving the original summons back then. I was a high number (meaning a lower chance of being called), but given my schedule I couldn’t risk it. So I deferred.
My position as an elected official (on the Mendon Town Board) provided me with an exemption the first time I received jury duty. They’ve since changed the law and now Continue Reading “And The Jury Is Out”
Back then, this mattered. I saw it with my own eyes.
I never knew what the city of my grandfather looked like. We only had a picture of his house. It was a small two-story country villa built beneath a horizon of hills. It stood alone, triumphant, defiant.
My first thought was, given those traits, how would anyone not expect my father’s father to look at those hills – actually a ridge of small mountains – and wonder, “What’s beyond them? What’s on the other side?”
Truth be told, if he ever did venture deep into the valley below his house and up those mid-sized mountain ridges, here’s what he would have discovered upon reaching the top: Continue Reading “He Who Controls The Gate Controls The City”
Here’s something they don’t tell you. Sometimes a “Plan B” does more harm than good.
I don’t have many regrets in my life, but I do have a few. For example, I should have listened to my brother and never sold that 1965 Topps Joe Namath rookie (in mint condition). We paid less than a dime for it and sold it for $125 a short time later. Sure, it was a pretty good return. Today, however, that card is worth $200,000 or more.
Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
But that’s not the regret that gnaws at me. This is the one that occurred in 7th grade. And, ultimately, a different type of card.
I began playing the violin in 3rd grade. It wasn’t my first choice. I kinda liked the idea of the Continue Reading “When You Want To Control Risk, Sometimes An ‘Ace Up Your Sleeve’ Is Better Than A ‘Plan B’”
D’porters (et al) begin to assemble at Yorkside
Heraclitus has visited this page in the past (“You Can’t Go Home Again… Or Can You?” Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel, September 22, 2016). For those new to this column, he’s the Greek fella who said “You can’t step into the same river twice.”
Get it? It might be the same river, but the constant current means the water isn’t the same. It’s a nifty little metaphor about the ever-changing world.
Cool. You can live with that, right?
Now, let me throw a monkey wrench into those churning waters of the relentless Continue Reading “40 Years Later And The Ties Still Bind”
Cars packed all the parking lots in and around the baseball fields, spilling over into the lots surrounding Ye Mendon Tavern and the Old Bean Mill. Even more impressively, they nearly filled the lower parking lot by St. Catherine’s Church.
It’s been a long time since the diamonds were this active. Perhaps it’s a sign that either the pandemic has moved behind or we simply have decided to live with it. Whatever the case, it’s good to see at least some sense of a return to normal.
Betsy & I witnessed all these as we arrived at our scheduled sitting for the St. Catherine’s Parish Directory pictures. As we got out of the car, we heard the distant murmur of the parents and kids cheering on their favorite ballplayers.
Suddenly, the unmistakable sharp clang of aluminum against ball rang out. As it echoed throughout the lowlands of the 100-year flood plain girding Irondequoit Creek, an excited cheerful roar quickly rose.
As we walked towards Legacy Hall (nee, “The Connecting Wing), a rush of memories swiftly appeared in my thoughts. How many times had Betsy and I been on those very same fields rooting on our children? And what did we tell them every time their team came up short on runs (even when the score didn’t matter)?
We’d tell them (even when the score did matter), “You have your whole life ahead of you and, in the grand scheme of things, what happened today won’t matter.”
And it didn’t.
But it does.
As those long ago memories filled my head, they took me back to a more relaxing time. At least how I remember it now.
Those dewy mornings, sunny afternoons, and early evenings filled with threatening skies bring a smile to my face. Despite serving as coach, the outcome of the games never bothered me, including the year our team won it all. No, it was all about the fun, the companionship, and building an inventory of happy experiences that could be called up anytime we needed a smile.
Indeed, fun was one of the handful of rules we lived by that winning season, (see “5 Tactics of a Winning Little League Coach,” Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel, April 26, 2018). Winning happens when you’re busy having fun. You’re laughing too hard to worry, and worry is the quickest route to mistakes and disappointment.
Now, here’s the really funny thing. Back then, I was so focused on making sure the kids didn’t get upset when they lost (we lost half our games that season), that I convinced myself none of it mattered. And with each passing year, it mattered less and less. Life presented more important memories, and baseball faded away like an old picture.
Then we got out of the car and the crack of the bat woke up those old photographs within my head. The friends. The family. Watching a new generation emerge from naïve innocence to stalwart leaders. All that crossed my mind.
That it occurred within a day of Ray Liotta’s passing made it all the more poignant. While the headlines all led with his powerful performance in Goodfellas, my mind kept a soft focus on his portrayal of Shoeless Joe Jackson in Field of Dreams.
Like The Natural, Field of Dreams stands out as one of the best baseball movies. Despite the backdrop, they’re not at all about the game because the game doesn’t matter. They’re about the part of what doesn’t matter that does matter.
What matters? Helping demonstrate to the next generation how to make moral and ethical decisions matters. If this sounds too highfalutin for baseball or any other game, consider this: How many times have you gotten upset when someone cheats to win?
And ‘cheating’ isn’t limited to simply breaking the rules. It includes staying within the bounds of honor and of unwritten rules. It’s good sportsmanship. It’s not being a sore loser. It’s not acting like a sore winner. That’s ethics. That’s morality. That matters.
On the more casual side, friends matter. Think of all the friendships that you create, develop, and cement over the course of several seasons on the grassy diamonds. Some of those friendships slowly disappear once the kids graduate and people move on. Others grow beyond the kids that inspired them. These matter, both in terms of memory as well as your current social vibrancy.
Finally, there’s family. Nothing matters more than family. Don’t you think it’s more than a coincidence that the father/son relationship lies at the heart of both Field of Dreams and The Natural? Both movies appear to be about the game and its players, but when you get right down to it, they each end with a father and a son playing catch with a baseball.
There’s a certain Americana – a certain masculine ideal – in that image. Mothers want their husbands to nourish a strong relationship with their sons. Daughters treasure the relationships they have with their fathers, but they’re strengthened knowing there’s also a strong bond between their brothers and their fathers.
In total, youth baseball isn’t about baseball at all. Baseball is merely a metaphor. You might also see it as a tool, as a means to get to an end. And that end isn’t developing your skills for the game, it’s about developing the bonds within the family and within the community.
If your experience succeeds at this, the investment of time you’ve made on those fields of dreams will pay dividends later and forever.
You’ll know whenever you hear that distinct ding of metal on cowhide leather. It’ll take you back and you’ll add your distant voice to the excited roar of the crowd.
And, in the end, you’ll finally know why what doesn’t matter really matters.
*My grandfather, an immigrant from Sicily, always laughed when he (repeatedly) told this story to me. If it sounds familiar it’s because this Parable has been told in many different ways by many different ethnic groups. Next week I’ll reveal the story behind the original story and why you may have seen this particular version, albeit with a different international flavor.
One morning, a Fortune 100 CEO, vacationing in a lush Sicilian villa overlooking the warm Mediterranean sands, came upon a local peasant sleeping comfortably against a fig tree. The peasant’s children danced around him, only occasionally tugging at the straw hat that protected his relaxed face from the tropical sun.
The energetic CEO studied the placid scene. Curiosity getting the better of him, the CEO woke the native and asked him what he did for a living.
“I’m a fisherman,” yawned the perplexed peasant.
The CEO then asked the man why he wasn’t fishing.
“I’ve caught enough fish for today,” replied the tranquil fisherman. He didn’t seem to mind the CEO interrupting his quiet family life. “I am the best fisherman on all the seas,” he continued matter-of-factly. “Each morning I take 30 minutes out of my day and haul in a boat-load of fish. This is enough to feed my very large family and still have some left over to share with my less fortunate neighbors. I can then spend the rest of the day watching my children grow or whatever else I want to do.”Continue Reading “‘What Success Means to Me…’”
This past weekend reminded me there’s a good reason why I stopped scheduling travel meetings during the winter.
It didn’t always used to be this way.
In the time before Covid, unusual was the week when I did not put on several hundred miles of business meetings. I find riding for an hour (or more) relaxing. I’ve got a huge library of college-level lectures on a variety of subjects. (As the price for an intensive virtually triple major in the hard sciences, my college major left little room for electives.)
The destination also (usually) excited me, too. Either a conference to learn more and meet Continue Reading “Adventures In White Knuckle Driving”
Did you ever have a dream you kept putting off? A place you always wanted to visit? A story you always wanted to tell?
So did I. (Notice the past tense.)
This site might give you a clue about how I accomplished this. Who knows? It may even reveal to you how you can realize your own greatest goals.
Interested in learning more? Find me on Twitter and LinkedIn. You can also subscribe to the RSS feed.
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Ode To An Iconic Public Servant
Jeanne
I don’t remember the first time I met Jeanne Loberg, but I remember how I felt. She immediately struck me as the new kid on the block. What did that make me? The newer kid on the block.
This may sound ironic, but her knowledge and wisdom overshadowed all that “new kid” stuff. She was “new” because she hadn’t lived in Mendon her whole life. I was new because I had just moved into town. And because I wasn’t yet thirty years old. Despite my obvious youth and inexperience, she took it upon herself Continue Reading “Ode To An Iconic Public Servant”