THE LETTER OF 2022

I don't know that I've ever written "The Letter" before. You know the one people write at years-end to tell everyone how amazing their kids and grandkids are? Maybe I haven't done it because I do it all year long in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

Maybe because it's nine (9) degrees outside, what's there to do besides sip a hot cup of coffee and do some writing. The words that come to mind are attached to the memories of the past year. So why not compose them into "The Letter of 2022"? That's your cue, your escape hatch is open. Feel free to bail now with no blemish on your conscience. Think of this is as the trailer for a movie that people think sounds sweet but nobody wants to see: one of those happy family, almost too-good-to-be-true stories set in middle America geographically with a curmudgeonly old patriarch who's far enough left of middle to have a caring soul. This one has fewer sparkles and fluffy snow and a little more grit and dirt than a Hallmark holiday movie.

1969 was a lot. I graduated from high school, toured Europe playing drums in a band, moved to Shawnee, Oklahoma, to attend Oklahoma Baptist University. As I look back it marks my first coming-of-age. Fast forward.

Before Covid, I thought my 69th year of life would be a pivot point--my second-coming-of-age, the year I would retire and we would hit the road. I joked that if I were going to get a tattoo it would resemble a "Best By" stamp, like the one on a milk carton. It would say, "Best By 69". There were already signs that I might be "turning", turning to something a little sour, fermented, and on the edge of curdling. But the pandemic changed that and lot more. It offered me a chance to be a part of a transition at the place where I had worked for over 30 year. I am grateful for those extra months.

Early in 2022, a firm date was set. I would retire from my job at the end of the year. The need to face a new reality was pressing hard on us. Where would we live in retirement, what would we do, what the heck is medicare and how do we get it? Have we saved enough?

Tulsa is our home and we always felt a nosalgic pulling force to return there to live out our golden years. Deep down though, we knew that the Tulsa we remembered from our youth didn't exist. So, we followed the advice of others and decided to move where we could one day become a burden to our kids. Kyle and Brooke and four of our grandkids: Haddi, Everly, Malachi and Jeremiah, lived in Alva, Oklahoma. Corey and Kara and three of our grandkids: Karlee, Harper, and Nora, lived in Shawnee. Shawnee is closer to Tulsa, closer to doctors, closer to Trader Joe's, closer to Costco. So, Corey and Kara lost the lottery and we moved to Shawnee just as I had in the summer of '69 to start something new.

It all happened fast. The crazy real estate market worked for us. Our house sold in one day in a bidding war. We were able to find a house in Shawnee that was in the last stages of construction. It wasn't what I had dreamed of for our last home, before the great whatever, but as we've settled in, it has become home. It has a room where I can hang out, write, read and listen to great music. It has a room where My Amazing-Missus can sew and make beatiful quilts and stuff. She even let me put my leather-working bench in there. Occasionally we fill the room with the sights, sounds and smells of creativity.

Kyle and Brooke graduated from Hinton High School one year apart a few years back. This year they returned to Hinton to live. It is sheer blessing for us. Not only are they closer, but they have built a bridge of connection back to a community that we loved being a part of for so many years. This year Brooke, Dr. Brooke, received her PHD and accepted a full-time professorship at Redlands Community College in El Reno. In addtion to teaching, she coaches in sports and performance psychology. The move also brought a career change for Kyle. After years of serving in law enforcement, Kyle is now working for the bank where I've spent most of my career years. I am so grateful that the legacy at Legacy Bank will continue. Another generational bridge is built. The kids seem to be doing great, adjusting quickly and becoming little Hinton Comets. Obviously they are some of the most talented, smartest, gifted and beautiful kids in the entire county.

Corey and Kara live only a few minutes away. We are heeding the advice of our mentor, Doug Manning, who told us: don't make your kids be the center of your social life. So far, so good. We are going to the same church where they have gone for several years now, but we're finding our own path and circle. Kara is the director of early childhood education at North Rock Creek public schools. That is where the girls go to school. Obviously they are some of the most talented, smartest, gifted and beautiful kids in the entire county. Corey teaches graphic design and serves as chair of the art department at OBU. It is so fun to have that connection with my first university.

This year we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. We told the kids we didn't want to have a party of any kind. My concept of 50th annniversary celebrations was of really old people gathered against their wills to eat cake, nuts, and pastel mints, whispering their guesses as to whether the happy couple would make it to #51.

But we had a party! Our kids put on an event that suited us perfectly. They worked so hard, and for My Amazing-Missus and I, it was perfect. We got to remember, and celebrate, be with family and friends--new and old.

Remembering and celebrating. That's not a bad agenda for retirement. Legacy Bank where I have worked for a lot of years now has been so good to help us do just that. They are making it possible for me to continue to be a part of it all. I'm grateful.

As the year wraps up, I'm aware of the events of 2022 and realize that many of them were a total surprise. What does 2023 hold? On the first day of the year, we are heading out on our first road trip--chasing 70 degrees. Our hope is that it will be the first road trip of many. As soon as school's out we'll be off on a trip with our kids and grandkids. Can't wait. This is the kind of thing I'm looking forward to most--being with our kids and grandkids, going to games, and recitals, and parties, and trips. I just hope the grandkids (and their Mimi) will remember that old Pops is old and on a fixed income. I'll try to keep up and then I'll settle in for a long nap. There's nothing like be grandkid-tired at the end of the day.

I hope for the sake of those who have to be around me, that my "Best By" date can be extended for a time.

[cut to a scene of an old man sitting at the wedding of a beautiful young princess standing next to a handsome man who is not worthy of her. Or, maybe it's a scene of the weepy old geezer at a piano concert, or a ball game, or a dance performance, or a gymnastics meet or a graduation, or the birth of a really Great Grandchild. Or, maybe it's just a shot of the old phart, sitting and typing and remembering and dreaming and thanking God for life and love and peace and goodwill toward ALL!]

Well, they'll all be here soon and the house will be full of energy and excitement, and potentially a few tears and injuries, and laughter and noise. I better get a nap before they get here.

P.S.: When the kids decorated for our 50th, the had a record player set up with a fake record of our Greatest Hits. The album they chose to display was "Blood, Sweat & Tears". Those are all wonderful things! They are life, the visible sign of a race well-run, and the proof that joy comes from deep, deep within us.

Have a wonderful Christmastime.

BEHOLDER'S EYE

A FRIEND ASKED ME, "Do you think maybe you've already read your favorite book, heard the best song you'll ever hear, seen the best movie you'll ever see?"

At 70-something, I would say there's a good chance that I will never read a book better than those in my top 5 or so. I'm pretty sure the best music that can be written has been. Of course all of this is subjective and choice of best movie ever is even more a matter of taste and my tastes are apparently way outside the mainstream. For example, browsing through the list of the 100 Greatest Movies of All Time , you have to get all the way to number 43 to find one in my top 10. That one is "To Kill A Mockingbird". Then it's all the way down the list to number 83, "The Graduate", to find another of my all-time favorites, and those are the only picks of mine in that list of "greatest".

Music selections from Rolling Stones Top 500 confirm it: I'm out of touch, overly opinionated, and convinced that those under 20 have little idea of what really good music is, unless they are lucky enough to have a Pops that will play the greats for them, like Otis Redding's "Sittin On The Dock of the Bay"; The Beach Boys', "God Only Knows"; Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On"; The Beatles', "My Guitar Gently Weeps", Neal Young's, "Southern Man"; Crosby, Stills & Nash's, "Suite Judy Blue Eyes"; Bob Dylan's, "Like a Rolling Stone".

I'm not totally stuck in the 60s. For example, I'm pretty sure Diana Krall holds a place with the jazz greats of all time. Adele is magical. Brandi Carlile deserves a spot in the best of the best. Even two of my favorite Christmas songs are by young artists: "Snowman" by Sia and The Bahamas arrangement of "Christmas Must Be Tonight".

Can you believe that "White Christmas" didn't make the Rolling Stone magazine's list of 500 best songs ever? "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me didn't either.

Will a song like "Silent Night" ever be written again? Could it? Several years ago I wrote a piece for an online magazine called "The Curator". It was about my favorite story--one I've heard all of my life, and about that song and it's power. You can click on this title: A Fear Not Story, if you would like to read it.

Just for fun, let's talk about one of the favorite childhood Christmastime books of Baby Boomers: "The Sears Christmas Wish Book". It was our Amazon. Between the time it would arrive in our mailbox until Christmas Eve I would rifle through that book trying to decide between an Erector Set, Lincoln Logs, a Chemistry set, or Johnny Unitas football helmet.

As I "shop" for our Grandkids, I wonder, is there any thing out there these days that would bring as much happiness and fun as a Mr. Potato Head, or a Slinky, or a plastic egg full of Silly Putty? Have the best toys already been made? If they reached into their stockings and found an assortment of nuts, an orange and a few pieces of hard candy, would they look at me like I was playing some kind of cruel joke. I already have a book for each of them. Maybe a book, a warm hug and a round or two of UNO and hot cocoa will be enough. It will have to be. Just as I'm out of touch with current movies and music, I'm clueless about the kids' taste in toys. Anyway, I'll be retired in a few days and My Amazing-Missus and I will be on a "fixed-income". I'm sure that answer will satisfy our little wide-eyed flock in their matching pajamas.

50

50: IT’S NOT WHAT IT ONCE WAS..

That was our argument when we discovered our kids wanted to throw us a 50th wedding anniversary shindig. Speaking for myself, the real reason for my resistance to a golden celebration is that it's hard to imagine that we're old enough to be married that long. Don't misunderstand, I am grateful for My Amazing-Missus daily and for our 50 years of matrimony.

Growing up in church I can remember many occasions when we would go back to the church fellowship hall on a Sunday afternoon for a 50th Anniversary party for a lovely couple celebrated with pastel mints, assorted nuts, cake and punch. I remember thinking, "I hope they both make it to 51." When you're young, old people seem older than they seem to themselves.

In that spirit of denial, I like to view 50 as the new 40 or at least 49.

It seems like only yesterday I drove my VW Bus onto the beautiful farm where she lived to pick her up for our first date. Surprisingly, her father didn't run me off with a shotgun. As one who pokes fun at the absurdity of the idea of predestination, it seems a little hypocritical to say that it was a match made in heaven, but I can't explain it any other way. 50 years later, I still can't.

Now if you ask her she might concur that it was a match made somewhere; but... There are those days. Some days we've been Romeo and Juliet, some: Homer and Marge. Maybe once or twice we've had the misguided daring of Bonnie and Clyde without the crime and violence. We've certainly dreamed of the idyllic home life of mom, dad, and two boys of Ward and June Cleaver.

I guess our story is our own. And it's fifty years and counting. As I said at the outset, 50 doesn't seem like a big deal these days--my mom and dad celebrated 73. But, in a way 50 is a big deal these days when marriage seems to be like a contrivance of convenience more than a "for as long as we both shall live" kind of commitment.

Are there "keys"? I don't know. I do believe there is a certain amount of luck, a large dose of magic, a larger measure of miracle and an eternal source of love.

Our courtship was literally a whirlwind. Our first date was on New Years Eve. A few weeks later on Valentines Day I asked her to marry me. A few months later on June 16, 1972, we were wed. I'm sure there were those that suspected there might be an additional motivation for the rapid run to the alter. Why else would a lovely girl like Arlene Cox marry a poor college student/drummer-in-a-rock-band/long-haired/VW Bus driving pseudo hippie? Maybe it was the fact that he came from a good family or maybe it was his sense of humor. Yeah, that's probably it. Let's build a marriage on that foundation.

Our first child was born eight years, YEARS, after we married. I wanted to remove all suspicion from the old busy bodies in the church. If someone were to ask me the key for our 50 year marriage, I would say maybe it had to do with those early years: we became best friends. To this day she is my best friend. There is no one I would rather hang out with, be happy with, hurt with, and hope with.

So, if our kids want to celebrate that with us and some of the people who have been a part of our story, then LET'S PARTY! Here's the invitation that our oldest put together [without a doubt the coolest 50th Wedding Anniversary invitation I've ever seen]. Our kids have done all the planning: I don't even know if we'll have pastel mints and assorted nuts. I do know this: DRESS IS CASUAL and you're invited.

LASSOED

“Doing the right thing is never the wrong thing.”

— TED LASSO

I know Ted Lasso is not a real person. (He’s almost too good to be true.)

I know this sensational series is only on AppleTV+. (And, who isn’t subscription poor these days with Netflix, Hulu, Peacock, Paramount+, Discovery+, Disney+. All those pluses add up. But, get a free AppleTV+ trial and binge it.)

I know the narrative is profanity-laden. (It’s a shame because the writing is so good it’s clear the creative minds could have leaned less on that worn crutch.)

Otherwise:

We’re only a few episodes into the second season and I have already listed in it “Pops’ Top Eleven Ensemble Comedies, Post 1980”. (listed alphabetically to avoid a best-of-the-best debate):

Arrested Development
The Big Bang Theory
Frasier
Friends
Modern Family
Newhart
The Office
Parks and Recreation
Schitt’s Creek
Seinfeld
Ted Lasso

Look at the list and the recipe for success becomes apparent: great writing, rich character development, a stellar cast, an endearing storyline, plenty of silliness and enough tenderness to make it matter.

For those of us who grew up living deep in daydreams, where the line between real and fantasy was blurry, we tend to make these characters near-human. We care what happens to them. We value the experience we have with them as we sit in a corner of their world and watch and listen and laugh.

Ted Lasso himself is sort of a mix of Mister Rogers, Ulysses Everett McGill and Andy Griffith. It’s a fish-out-of-water story. Of course Ted would say he’s a goldfish. In an episode where one of his players has a particularly bad game, Ted says,

“You know what the happiest animal on Earth is? It’s a goldfish.
You know why? Got a 10-second memory. Be a goldfish, Sam.”

I know it’s not real life; but neither is the world portrayed on CNN, Fox News, MSNBC and that ilk. I tend to view politicians and fundamentalists as an ensemble cast in a show of their own, except theirs isn’t funny, hopeful, or humanizing.

Part of what makes Ted Lasso, the show, outstanding is its timing—it came along when we needed it most. It is the antithesis of what our national discourse has become. It is a breath of fresh air. A hope that there are still purveyors of good and kind and beautiful.

Let me say again: I know it’s a show, an ensemble of characters. But still it tells a story, one that makes people better.

And, hasn’t the power of storytelling proven to be a way to learn some of the most important life lessons? Who was it that told stories about mustard seeds, seed-sowers, hidden treasure, lost sheep and many, many more.

Real life is real though. Still it’s made up of chapters and verses, beginnings and endings.

Without a doubt the ensemble and episodes I love most and treasure deeply are the real ones; the ensemble of family and friends, and the episodes are the moments we share together.

Here’s one more from Ted:

“Be curious. Not judgemental.”
— Ted Lasso quoting Walt Whitman.

P.S.: At least be curious enough to watch the trailer on YouTube.