"Man Caves" On Ice

Notes of Concern…

                               …Jackson Blair

“Man Caves” on Ice

When I was a younger man, I commuted by train every day from my home in Connecticut to my office in New York City. Over the years I became great friends with the others who made that four-hour trip every day. How many friends spend 3-4 hours together every day?

We would play contract bridge on our way into the “Big Apple” in the morning, and, in recognition of a hard day and tired minds, we would play gin rummy on the way home.

Over the years the camaraderie grew.

In those days we didn’t know much about “man caves,” but we knew a lot about guys wanting to spend time together bonding and trading stories and enjoying libations. Heck, we often met for lunch in New York City to help cut the day!

One of the fellows who rode the train with me had a fishing boat. On many afternoons he would telephone his wife and tell her he was taking some others and me “fishing” when we got off the train at the end of the day.

She knew exactly what he meant.

She prepared a picnic basket with goodies, gathered a few fifths of alcohol and a couple of six packs of beer, and had everything ready for us when we got off the train.

I am not sure why we felt we needed to take fishing rods, bait, and other fishing equipment, but we did. Why we thought anyone who saw us getting on the fishing boat in our three piece suits and wingtips would ever conclude that we were really going fishing, I do not know.

All I do know is we never caught any fish.

We never introduced a line to the water. But we had a great time.

I will admit that wives were more understanding and forgiving in those days.

So imagine my surprise after we acquired a cottage on the water on Prince Edward Island, and someone told me that men actually go out on the bay in the middle of winter, when temperatures hover around or below zero. These fellows then cut a small hole in the ice. They build a hut on top of the hole to protect them from the wind.

Frankly, what came to mind were Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau in the movie Grumpy Old Men.  Of course, they were competitive and resourceful, and the heart of Ann Margaret was in play!

I don’t think those are the stakes on St Peter’s Bay on Prince Edward Island.

Then I remembered my fishing expeditions, and I understood.

These guys aren’t really fishing for smelts. No one really knows what is happening inside those huts.

But my old commuter friends would fully understand why the fellas want to be there. And they would be supportive.

If a line never goes into the water below that little hole, if “fishing” is enjoyed beside a small fire inside the hut with a couple of “cold ones” sitting on the natural refrigerator-the ice, a few highballs raised while telling and retelling old tales, and the “hunters/gatherers” of today’s world have a great time at a stag outing in their equivalent of a “man cave,” I am fully appreciative.

And I understand.

The problem would probably be that wives are not nearly as understanding and forgiving these days.

(Except for you dear!)

FRIENDSHIP

Notes of Concern…

                               …Jackson Blair

FRIENDSHIP

All through life we build a tight circle of friends.

From the time we are very young playing outside with our childhood friends through all the excitement and activity with the high school or prep school friends, on into the world of work or the years of college and university friends, the names of those near and dear are added, and occasionally subtracted, from the group we call “our friends.”

Certainly there is a degree of “trial and error” in friendship. First impressions are not always right, and experiences can change the depth of friendships. So as we travel through life, the strength of our friendships is tested.

Often circumstances cause us to move from place to place. With each move comes a whole new prospect of adding friends and the sadness of possibly losing some friends from the past.

A very significant part of this building of a group of serious friendships is the realization that you are not always the arbiter. From time to time, someone you consider a friend ceases to see you as his or her friend.

I think the goal is to arrive at the end of life with a small group of tested and true friends, folks who have been there in good times and bad. This small group of friends has shared experiences, some of them decades in the making. These are men and women who love you even with all your faults. They can be counted on to support you under any circumstances. And, more importantly, they know they can count on you in the same way.

*  *  *

"Friends are the Bacon Bits in the Salad Bowl of Life."
- "Pizza Place Sign"

*  *  *

I remember reading somewhere that if a man reaches the end of his life with two or three really good friends, he is blessed indeed. Obviously, in that statement I think he is referring to two or three really close friends. It presumes we all have a much larger group of less close but important friends in our lives.

*  *  *

"The friendship that can cease has never been real."
- Saint Jerome

*  *  * 

Maybe with the start of a new year, it is time to take measure of your friendships, to identify those individuals who enrich your life, those for whom you would go the last mile if needed, and to resolve to see more of them, share more of the life that is left to you with them, and to daily consider what their friendship needs might be.

The wonderful thing about best friends is that you need not name them. They know fully and happily who they are.

*  *  *

"I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me. I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be; I'd like to mean as much to you each minute of the day, as you have meant, old friend of mine, to me along the way."
- Edgar A. Guest

Not Quite Cold Turkey!

Notes of Concern…

                               …Jackson Blair

NOT QUITE COLD TURKEY

As I am a card carrying member of the “We Have Too Much Stuff” brigade and am quick to bemoan the fact that life is full of gadgets, toys and gimmicks I often privately see myself as very similar to the fellow who is a beacon of perfection in church while “boozing and cruising” the other six days of the week.

I do like my gadgets.

I remember when we got our first television. I think I was six years of age. The family was pretty excited. In those days no one thought a family needed a TV in almost every room.

Another early memory was when we went from a “party line” to a “semi-private line” at our house and subsequently to a private line!

Wow. We went from 616-A, to 4839 to 412/ 568-2591.

None of us ever thought we would be walking around one day with a phone in our pocket.

I could carry these memories through microwaves, satellite dishes, washers and dryers (remember when you hung clothes outside to dry?), air conditioning, convection ovens, etc.

But lets just jump right to it.

My cell phone could easily be considered another of my vital organs. It accompanies me everywhere. When I misplace it I feel like I should be able to trigger something like an Amber Alert.

It occurred to me about a year ago that the tail was wagging the dog with reference to the phone. So in a moment of great personal strength I cancelled my voicemail!

Ok. It was a small step for mankind but a huge step for me!

Guess what.

I loved the lack of a gazillion messages to return every day. No one could leave me a message. I was no longer a slave to returning calls.

It was an incredible emancipation.

I only lost a dozen or so friends who simply could not deal with being unable to leave me a message.

Easy come.  Easy go.

I marched on in triumph over the “machine” for about six months. And then fate decided to give me a little push to go further. The push came in the form of my cellphone doing the backstroke in my bathroom. I will leave to your imagine the sordid details of how this little plunge into the water occurred. Mystery is always important in any story.

Immediately I went into panic mode. My cell did not work. No one could reach me. More importantly, I could not reach anyone. The fickle finger of fate had selected me for this horror.

I went into the military’s “Defcon 4” status. My laptop was working and I checked on what kind of CPR one should use for cellphone drowning.

It sent me to the grocer.

It seems a large bag of rice is required. Who knew?

The required period of intensive care for my cellphone was four days. Four days of resting covered completely by rice.

The withdrawal symptoms hit me immediately.

I sent out emails to all my contacts telling them I could no longer be reached on my cellphone. The direct result of this was a cessation of communication that was almost universal. Seems my contacts were as helpless without being able to phone me as I was at being unable to phone them.

A great and long period of isolation moved over me.

On the third day (!) my phone was resurrected. I pulled it out of the rice, being unable to wait another day, to find that all the icons, bells and whistles were back in action.

However, it would not hold a charge. Well, it would hold a full charge for about 5 minutes but after that it was “plug, plug, where is the plug.”

I panicked.

Immediately I contacted Apple to check on getting a new phone. They calmly advised me that I was ineligible for an upgrade until next July. Without an upgrade price we are talking about five hundred bucks or so!

No way.

Relying on my Boy Scout oath of many years ago-I decided to “Be Prepared.” I went through all the drawers and boxes where my wife and I throw things we might one day need and found a car charger and a few extra wall chargers.

My triage plan was to never be more than two feet away from a charger for my cell phone. I also doubled up on my Mophie devices so I would always have something pre-charged that I could use in an emergency.

So now in addition to having no voice mail I now only turn on my phone to check on “recent calls” so I can return those calls on our land line.

Further, my phone is in the permanent “off” mode except for a couple times a day when I hurriedly check out my emails or the news or stock quotes, running a race against the quickly fading battery life.

As the days passed I came to realize life does indeed go on without my cell phone. Instead of checking it every 15 minutes for emails and messages I get to it about three times a day now.

Instead of phoning family or friends when I am bored on a long drive I listen to music or books on tape.

The world moves on without my being able to utilize my cellphone.

And at the end of the day, I guess those “party lines” sixty years ago weren’t all that bad.

But today’s advice to the addicted is this: keep a box of rice handy.

Drag It Out

Notes of Concern…

                               …Jackson Blair

Drag It Out

I am sitting in my living room looking at a beautiful Christmas tree and listening to Christmas music.

I know.

Christmas was over a week ago.

No matter how old I get, I have a hard time letting go of the symbols and goodwill and memories the holidays bring. It seems each year I find reasons to keep the tree up longer.

You have all heard of the 12 Days of Christmas. Well, I am single-handedly changing that to the 24 Days of Christmas. It is a unilateral action. It is not required that anybody comply with my new rule, but anyone who feels as I do might want to consider joining me.

The retailers hit on this kind of idea some years ago. When I was a child, no one started selling Christmas stuff until we were finished with Thanksgiving. Today, most stores are decorated and stocked for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Retailers wanted to extend the selling season. So they just went ahead and did it. I want to extend the celebrating season. So I am just going to do it.

A lot of folks jump out of bed Christmas morning, run downstairs, rip off the expensive paper that surrounds their gifts, and feast on the generosity of friends and family. This lasts about one hour, depending on how many dogs might be trying to get into the gift boxes or sniff your new stuff. So at my house we have to add about 20 minutes that we call “Dog Time” on Christmas morning. 

The actual Christmas morning ritual is over quickly even with the “dog time” added on. The run-up to Christmas is very long. So I think it's perfectly acceptable to extend the actual enjoyment of things “Christmassy."

When we were younger, we always got the dogs a really big rawhide bone. It was so much fun watching them prance around with that bone firmly gripped in their dog fangs. There was method to our madness. Once they had their bones, we were free to open gifts and eat homemade goodies while they were distracted.

We once we had a dog that loved the big bone so much he wouldn’t eat it. I think that is when that old saying about “you can’t have your cake and eat it too” got started. But I digress.

In fact, his recorded time one year was eleven months of carrying around that big rawhide bone that got blacker, uglier, and smellier with each month. Somehow when November rolled around, he seemed to know a new one would soon be coming, so he ate the old one.

Our pets can often teach us lessons. The lessen we learned from our dogs is that it is OK to let Christmas keep you happy all year.

Nevertheless, for sanitary and humane reasons we stopped that tradition. The first Christmas morning the dog did not find the expected bone under the tree was a disappointment indeed. He got even with us by eating all the pumpkin pies that were in the kitchen on the counter while we were opening gifts. I suppose we should be glad he didn’t carry the pies around for 11 months.

As an aside, can you imagine the mess multiple pumpkin pies can cause as they go through the plumbing of a large, disappointed dog?

Perhaps it is best if you do not try.

So January brings the bills.  Time to belly up to the bank and pay off the credit cards. But with my new plan the agony of bill paying will be eased by the joy a continuing Christmas.

No matter how hard the new year might be for all of us, it never seems to lessen our anticipation of the next December.