[This was an email to Skip’s friend, Gypsy Dave.]

Ӣ Skip to David

Do you play golf? My son Jay invited me to a round last Friday. We both decided to play hooky from work to enjoy a beautiful, early summer day on the links at Windsor Park here in Jacksonville. Jay stopped by a sports store somewhere en route and got us each a box of a dozen balls. “Did you get some for the back nine, too?” I enquired.

Now, I must say, I haven’t played a round of golf in nearly a year. But I decided to forego any warm-up/practice on the driving range–just tires me out before I even get started, it seems. And Jay had just played the week prior and was ready to try out his new “setup,” which would purportedly eliminate his now famous banana-ball slice (that would be a left-to-right banana in case you’re not a golfer).

Being a twosome, though, we were teamed up with another pair who, as it turned out, happened to be a father-and-son team as well, with each of our counterparts about our same age.

What a coincidence.

Continue “Doug2 and Skip2 Play Golf”

[Author’s Note: Be sure to check out the link. This is a great song.]

The title of this essay is taken from a great song by John Prine. And that song always reminds me of my maternal grandfather, Grandpa Yazell. Grandpa had numerous occupations over the course his life, but the one I always think of when he comes to mind is that of a carpenter. His skill with saws and hammers and nails and measuring devices used in the construction of a wood structure was unparalleled.

My father, an industrial engineer, was also highly skilled in the woodworking crafts. He built three houses from scratch during my lifetime and a goodly portion of our community church. And, under his tutelage, I remember the joy of discovering that my two-by-four fit perfectly in place below where the kitchen window would eventually be installed (“measure twice, cut once”), all the while inhaling the sweet smell of fresh cut lumber and sawdust with the hustle-bustle noise of power saws and hammering in the background.

Continue “Grandpa Was a Carpenter”

(Author’s note: Be sure to check out the links on this one”)

I had the pleasure last week of watching, for the umpteenth time, “Goonies.” You might remember this classic Spielberg movie (aren’t they all?) about a group of kids embarking upon a fantastic adventure in a quest to save their homes from a greedy real estate developer. Sean Asten’s character (Mikey, with the asthma inhaler) has a speech in this film which reminds us of why we all love Mr. Spielberg: his uncanny sense of pure, unadulterated wonderment.

We are all born with this attribute, wonderment. In fact, having a sense of wonder about the world into which we, as newborns, found ourselves unceremoniously dropped (hopefully not on our heads), is critically important in order for each of us to figure out what the heck someone else has gotten us into here.

Continue “Wonderment”

On any given Saturday in autumn, and the six days leading up to it, wagerers across the nation are consumed with the task of picking the spreads on college games. Ditto for Sunday NFL games. The odds change from moment to moment on the Internet. Everybody is alert. Everybody wants the scoop on which teams will be the winners. It’s a lot of fun.

No one is interested in losers, though. You won’t see any losers on the cover of Inc., a leading entrepreneur’s business magazine. Or on the cover of Sports Illustrated.

Competition is everywhere: horse races (everybody loves a good horse race). The Firecracker Four-Hundred. The World Series. The local T-Ball tallies. Who will win?

Continue “Teaching Our Kids to be Winners Instead of Wieners”