Spank Scott

Today is Scott's Big Ol' Birthday!

You can click here to drop by Scott's place and give him a spanking.

Happy Birthday, Scott!!!

Fifty Years of Splendor

When I was in sixth grade at Hermitage Elementary School in Virginia Beach, an exotic creature joined my classroom. She had thick blond hair and deep blue eyes. She wore pointy blue-framed eyeglasses, seemed quiet & shy, and had recently moved back to the United States after living in Europe for several years.

I instantly fell in love with her, so - being a boy - I teased her mercilessly. Her name was Susan, and she hated me. Little did we know at the time that we were forging a friendship that would endure all these years. Together, we went through the Virginia Beach school system until college took us on separate paths. When Susan went to the University of Virginia, she became Suzanne.

Today, Suzanne celebrates her 50th birthday. I am amusing myself this morning with memories of our capers and misadventures. With thirty-nine years of friendship behind us, there are too many to tell today, but I'll share a few.

Suzanne's mother was a foreign language instructor at a local college, so Suzanne spent her afternoons after school practicing the piano. Sometimes. Frequently, Suzanne & I would work feverishly on homework assignments play together before her mother got home from work. When we saw the mommy-mobile drive up, Suzanne would scramble to set the kitchen timer for seven to ten minutes ("Look, Mom, almost finished!") and dutifully work the ivories, while I sat quietly and read a book. Her mother never caught on.

Our mothers would cringe when Suzanne & I got the urge to create a culinary masterpiece, because it meant that one of their kitchens was going down. Most of our finished products were edible, but there was one notable exception. One day, Suzanne, Fred, and I decided to make chocolate mousse. Fred's father, a single parent, was out of town, so we had his kitchen all to ourselves. Suzanne & I had scouted out a recipe from one her mother's gourmet cookbooks, and we selected chocolate mousse because it only had three ingredients. Plus, Suzanne's mother had a set of elegant, individual dessert pots - delicate things with twin gold handles and cunning wee lids with gold knobs.

Oh, they looked scrumptious when they came out of the oven! The lifted lids presented glossy, dark chocolate, and we couldn't wait to sink our spoons into our high-brow desserts. We were so proud of ourselves. Our delight turned to dismay when we our spoons revealed that thick slabs of unsweetened chocolate hid a revolting, viscous stew of sugar and partially cooked egg.

One of my vivid memories is of a hike through Seashore State Park (now First Landing State Park) in Virginia Beach. It was just the two of us, and we parked at the Shore Drive entrance. We wandered through the wild beauty of the park's cypress swamps, salt marshes, maritime forests, and dunes. We were pretty well exhausted when we found a quiet place to rest on the sandy shoreline of Broad Bay. It was very peaceful, and we felt that we had left civilization behind. Indeed, we had; the park encompasses 2888 acres of undeveloped land, and we had worked our way back through the less-traveled trails to a place where few people ventured. We hadn't seen a soul for quite awhile.

Lost in our own thoughts, enjoying the natural serenity of our view across the water, one of us finally turned to the other and remarked "What a beautiful sunset."

"Sunset???" we both cried in alarm. We were impossibly far from the car, and in an unfamiliar section of the wilderness. We wasted several minutes trying to decide which way to exit the park. It had taken us hours to reach our sandy beach, so we opted for the back exit at 64th Street near the oceanfront. It meant unfamiliar trails, but we weren't thinking clearly. Darkness came swiftly.

We stumbled along as fast as we could, sometimes feeling our way. It was fully dark by the time we saw the lights of 64th Street, and we still had quite a walk before we found a motel with a payphone.

Both of our mothers were in high-intensity panic mode; each possessed a keen ability to leap mentally to the worst-case scenario. My father was quietly alarmed, because he knew that more than one lonely trekker had become hopelessly lost in this wild place and perished. Poisonous snakes and other beasts roamed these woods and swamps. Park rangers had found my car at the other end of the park, and were organizing a search & rescue team. Our parents were too overjoyed that we were safe to muster up much anger with either of us.

Even though she is an ocean away in Amsterdam, I hold my dear friend Suzanne close today as she turns fifty, and wonder what our next adventures hold in store. Happy Birthday, Suzanne!
1959 was an excellent model year!

A Bowl of Cherries

It's been awhile since I have written on this blog, and my handful of readers is getting impatient with me. Truthfully, I have been feeling a bit glum. A few weeks ago, my beloved sponsor was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer, and I have been sad & fearful. There are life events we cannot influence, and this is one of them.

After three weeks in the hospital, he is at home. Even so, he has had to make daily trips to the hospital for radiation treatments. He is bedridden, requires a lot of care, and has been unable to have visitors because his immune system is compromised. Nevertheless, I have been able to speak to him by phone, and his spirituality shines brighter than ever.

I went through about a week of anger, realizing that it was really the manifesation of fear. I had to struggle for acceptance, finally coming to the conclusion that I didn't have to like something to accept it. My Higher Power doesn't get perturbed when I get angry with his plans, and allows me the time that I need to come to full acceptance. I don't guess any of us enjoys knowing that a loved one is going through a difficult time.

For the next couple of weeks, my sponsor will be able to rest at home without going in for radiation treatments. He would like for me to visit him, and I will do that if he feels well enough. When we talked yesterday, he asked me to tell everyone in our home group that he misses them and keeps each of them in his daily prayers. He is with us in his mind each morning at 6:45, our regular meeting time, and he goes around our circle, picturing each of us in our seats. He asked me to tell everyone how much he loves them.

Earlier today, a man was in my office from a town 80 miles southwest of Richmond. His wife is in the final stages of brain cancer, and in MCV Hospital. It sounds like his wife's brain lights up with a thousand points of malignancy when test results are read. All she wants is to be taken back home. "Sometimes doing the next right thing is the hardest thing in the world to do," this man said to me. With these situations, we pray that our decisions are free of self-seeking motives. This man faces a difficult choice. I remember the regret that my mother felt after my father begged her to take him back home, because he spent months in ICU and died anyway.

I got a message from my pal Tracey a few days ago. She was downloading music, and one of her finds was Lynn Anderson's "(I Never Promised You a) Rose Garden." Well, I can't argue with that. Expecting life, mine or yours, to run according to my plans is sheer folly. Also, things would be pretty boring for all of us if I were Manager of the Universe. Like it or don't, life is not a bowl of cherries. Feeling sad won't kill me.

Speaking of a bowl of cherries, last night Sherry & I bought three pounds of fresh cherries, and made two cherry cobblers to take to our morning meeting. I have named Sheldon the Cobbler King, because he makes a basic & simple fruit cobbler recipe that is superb. Sheldon's workplace just cut back everyone's hours, so I took him a chocolate pie yesterday to cheer him up. While I was there, I got the recipe for his cobbler. Here it is, in case you'd like to try it.


Sheldon's Fruit Cobbler

2 cups of fresh fruit (so far we've tried peaches, blackberries, mulberries, peach & blueberry mixed, and cherries)
1 stick of butter (real butter is strongly suggested)
¾ cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
¾ cup milk
1½ cups sugar
cinnamon (optional)

Preheat oven to 350°. In a medium bowl, toss your fresh fruit with ½ cup of the sugar. In another medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and remaining sugar. If you want to use cinnamon, whisk it in, too. Pour the milk into the dry ingredients, and whisk until thoroughly combined to make your batter.

Melt the stick of butter in a baking pan in your preheated oven. Sheldon uses a 9x13, but you can use a slightly smaller pan if you want. You can melt the butter while you work on the dry ingredients if you don't dilly-dally, but be careful because you just want the butter to melt, not brown.

Remove the pan from the oven when your butter has melted, pour the batter in the pan, do not stir. We kinda pour the batter evenly across the pan so that it doesn't all land in the center. Top with the fruit of your choice, and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the batter is golden and the center looks done. While in the oven, the batter will rise and your fruit will sink to the bottom. You can ponder that amazing process or reorganize your canned goods while your cobbler bakes. Or you can dash to the store for vanilla ice cream or whipped cream if you drive fast.

The recipe calls for two cups of fresh fruit, but we always use more. This is not an exact recipe where every ingredient has to be precisely measured. You can add more fruit or mix & match. Try different spices or none at all. I'd stick pretty close to the measurement on baking powder, because it gives your cobbler leavening, not flavor, and be sure you always use baking powder that is within the expiration date or you will have a naan-riser.

Sherry & I had fun baking the cobblers. We had a good conversation about the oddities of life as we pitted the cherries. If you have a large-bore, sturdy drinking straw, pitting cherries is a breeze, by the way. Just shove the straw through the stem-end of the cherry, and the pit will pop right out the other end. Easy as pie.

This morning I was truly grateful that I not only had the desire to be with my home group, I also had the ability to be present. It is easy to take good health for granted, and I should remember how fragile I was a couple of years ago. I was given a second chance, and I enjoy life even more when I make the decision to approach each new day with gratitude.

Tuesday? Again?

I heard a news segment as I was getting ready for work this morning. I was in my bathroom shaving, and the clock radio in my bedroom featured a gentleman discussing an upcoming election.

The journalist talked about citizens who were unhappy with the incumbent President. They felt that his belligerent and damaging rhetoric had led to poor foreign relations. Their country had become isolated and feared. The President's re-election was uncertain because the nation's economy was in sad shape due to his policies.

Had a time warp zapped me back to 2004? Was I still asleep? I'd never, to my recollection, dreamed about politics. Then I realized that the news brief concerned Iran, and their upcoming Presidential election. I was awake, after all. I finished my ablutions, and went to my morning meeting.

In my last post, I included some pictures of Lauren & Andy's visit to Richmond. Before embarking on their flight back to Chicago, we went to breakfast at the Black Sheep, and I took a picture of the two of them.


The City of Richmond gave Lauren & Andy a nice parting gift in the form of a parking ticket, thoughtfully affixed to the windshield of their rental car. They gave me one, too, so I wouldn't feel left out. I was touched by the city's hospitality.

In addition to the great food at the Black Sheep, I like the eclectic decor. Each table has a unique set of vintage salt & pepper shakers. I am always reminded of my grandmother's S&P collection, which she displayed in an enormous shadowbox on the north wall of her kitchen. That is how my grandmother would have described the location. She used to drive my dad crazy by telling him things like "Oh, will you grab the cake cutter out of the west kitchen drawer?" or "You & Carolyn will be sleeping in the northeast bedroom." All of her directions were based on compass points.

After breakfast, I had Lauren & Andy follow me to nearby Hollywood Cemetery. There's nothing like 75,000 dead people to settle the stomach prior to a plane ride. Below are a couple of photos, the first being President John Tyler's grave. The black iron birdcage behind Tyler is the resting place of President James Monroe.


Let's take a quick look at John Tyler's Presidency:

• first U.S. President to assume office following the death of his predecessor. This event sparked controversy because of the ambiguous language of our Constitution regarding such circumstances, and caused many detractors to refer to Tyler as "His Accidency."


• first President to have a veto overridden


• first (and only?) President to have his entire Cabinet (with one exception) resign


• first President to have impeachment hearings initiated to remove him from office


• led the drive for the annexation of Texas, and began the process of annexing Hawaii


• because of his allegiance to the Confederacy after he left office, he is the only President whose death was not officially mourned in Washington

John Tyler was a slave owner all his life, and fathered fifteen legitimate children. He liked to dance, and added a sixty-eight foot ballroom to his home, making it the longest frame house in America at more than three-hundred feet. Tyler's plantation, Sherwood Forest, lies east of Richmond on the James River, and is open for tours.

Here's a view of the James River from Hollywood Cemetery's Presidents Circle.


For the lighter side of death and dissidence, I urge you to see a movie called Death at a Funeral, which I found hilarious and delightful. I'd say it's an adult movie, but it is not vulgar. It's a British black comedy about family & friends who gather for a funeral. Foreshadowing the misadventures that the day holds in store, the movie begins with the mortician delivering the wrong body for the funeral. It goes downhill for the family from there. It has a wonderful ensemble cast. If you watch this gem and dislike it, I will cheerfully refund your time.