Steve Seyfried and I went out to The Rookery this morning for a round of golf. We played together a few years ago, but haven't had a chance for another game, until now.
Steve and his wife founded and lead the Rehoboth Summer Children's Theatre, a group for which I was once on the Board. We've become friends. Our wives are friends. Our kids are friends.
We were paired with brothers-in-law from the Washington suburbs -- Mike and Web. They were fairly good players; Mike had a nice steady shot and Web had a potential to crush long shots, though he also had a potential to go astray.
I started out fairly strongly and, despite some slips, had a good front nine. I even birdied the ninth hole to finish at 47. Of course I then hit a disastrous nine on the Par 5 tenth hole. That set the pace for the back nine, I'm afraid. Despite a par and a few good holes, I fell back into bad happens and took 58 strokes to get home with a final score of 105.
I was a little disappointed with myself, but there were hopeful signs and some good strokes. And we had fun.
I spotted this interesting photo on the old-photo blog Shorpy the other day and it has stayed in the back of my mind. I realized why today, during a meeting of the Delaware Population Consortium.
The picture was posted by a reader called Dana and it includes some of his or her forbears. It is from 1902 and includes four generations of a family. From the left, Great-grandmother at 65 years, Grandmother at 47 years, baby at six months, and Mom at age 19 years.
It has stayed in my mind because I am 47 years old this year. But That Grandmother looks more elderly than I do or than any of my contemporaries. and Great-grandma looks much older than folks I know who are now in their 70s and 80s.
At the meeting of the Delaware Population Consortium today, we were reviewing population projections for the state out to the year 2040, when we predict a much older population. We talked about how many people will be around 100 years old and speculated that at some point the age of retirement -- the age that we think of as "old" -- will have to go up.
Looking back at this picture, I realize that at different times in history, the stages of life -- youth, middle age, old age -- come at different ages.
I joined my friend Michael for 18 holes this afternoon at his new country club -- Maple Dale Country Club in Dover. Maple Dale has been trying to bring in new members and they have offered a pretty good deal for young families. Michael and his wife and sons took advantage of it for the club's golf course, pool and other amenities.
Neither of us played very well. In fact, I would say that nothing went right for us if it wasn't the case that almost every tee shot did in fact go off to the right. We were slicing more than a deli worker at a thin-meats convention.
I eventually straightened out some of my tee shots, though not soon enough. But I played poorly otherwise, wasting good iron play with poor putting.
It's no excuse, but I must say that the Maple Dale course offers some real challenges. It was first built in 1925 and it has some old-fashioned aspects. There are some fairly deep sand traps and mature trees that block your second shot should the first go wide (which many of ours did).
That said, on the few holes where I did hit a straight first shot, Maple Dale was great fun. The fairways were in fine shape, as were the greens. A second shot off those fairways could be very satisfying.
I finished with a par on the par-5 18th hole. I hit a driver shot well down the fairway and followed with a very pleasing long second shot with the hybrid 3 wood. I hit the third -- a 7-iron -- a bit left, but pitched the fourth onto the green and made the putt.
Another Sunday morning and another 18 holes of practice golf at Old Landing Golf Course. Old Landing is quite affordable, particularly if you are walking. And I do like to walk, for the exercise.
For this practice game, I decided to only grant myself two mulligans (do-overs, for the non-golf-addicted), one on the front nine and one on the back nine, That's about normal for a friendly round and I thought I should try to stick to that.
My first nine weren't too bad. But for a mess of putting on the big par-5 seventh, I would have been under 50. I had a par and some good drives. I was mostly happy.
The back nine were not as good to me. I started poorly and found a distressing tendency to hit slices from the tee box as my legs tired. I carded a 57 to finish the round at 109. That's about my average over thelast year.
It was not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning. I plan to play in Dover on Monday afternoon, and may get out again later in the week. So I'm glad to spend some time working on my game. And I was glad to get some more exercise.
It was 40 years ago today that Apollo 11 lifted off to begin the mission that would put the first humans on the Moon. Today began a week-long celebration, of sorts, that has at least two newspapers here in Delaware asking for reminisces from readers about the Moon Landing.
And NASA has released newly restored footage of the first moonwalk. That restored material is included in the video below.
I found this, by the way, as part of an interesting report on the release on the NY Times blog The Lede.
I was seven years old in July of 1969 and my memory of the Moon Landing has me, for some reason, in a classroom at Woodacres Elementary School, in Bethesda, Maryland. I would have been a first or second-grade student that year, but I would think that school would be out in July.
Perhaps it was a summer school session; I have a memory of one summer when I was quite small when we did some sort of summer school, or perhaps a summer program at the school. I remember brown-bag packed lunches eaten under a tree outside.
If it was in Woodacres Elementary that I watched the Moon Landing, then I think it was the case that I was suffering from a scratched cornea that day and was shortly taken off to the eye-doctor, who applied a temporary eye-patch.
I had been struck in the eye by a thorn-bush branch that whipped back into place as we walked through the woods near our home. There would probably have been a line of us -- I was one of seven kids -- and I think whoever was ahead of me brushed past that branch causing it to spring back at little me.
I think I remember not being able to see what the hell Niel Armstrong was doing when I watched the Moon Landing. In fact, looking back at even restored footage, I'm amazed at what we were impressed with on our television screens back then.
Anyway, that's what I think is my memory of the Apollo 11 mission. I hope my Mother and Father can correct or corroborate my recollection. I have found lately that my memories of childhood are at least partly productions of my imagination.
What happened 40 years ago, in my memory, is recreated from the scraps that remain in memory from the little I saw and heard from down below the big people. The right side of my brain is playing with those scraps and creating new dramas, comedies, and mockumentories for me.
We're in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, this morning, getting ready to stop in at Cabrini College to collect Christina. She's just finished two weeks at The Rock School, an intensive ballet program in downtown Philadelphia which houses its students on main-line college campuses like Cabrini.
We took yesterday for a pair of college campus tours with Colleen. We started the day at Villanova, just down the way from Cabrini, and finished up at Lehigh, about an hour north of there, in Bethlehem.
They are both very nice schools. Both are largely gothic, architecturally, so I was in Dad-with-camera-heaven. It made one of the young tour guides nervous. She felt she was going to have to wait for me each time I became fascinated with a steeple or a hilltop view. I assured her I could catch up and that the tour was for my daughter -- not me.
The photo above right is from one of the libraries at Lehigh. It is, I believe, a "quiet room" there. I loved that room; three stories of open shelves with spiral stairs and an amazing sky-light, stained-glass, dome.
Time will tell if either school appealed to Colleen enough to want to apply. I liked them both. These campus tours are bittersweet for me; I realize what a great opportunity college can be and how much more is offered these days. And I realize how much more I might have gotten from my college experience had I been a bit more mature.
At Villanova, our guide pointed out an archway where it is said that you can hear a whisper in one side of the arch around on the other; sound is carried along a carved-out channel. Two kids in the group decided to try it out, but it didn't work -- both were listening neither was whispering.
At Lehigh, we came upon the university's wrestling team. They were manhandling their wrestling mats into a rented truck parked facing up a steep grade. The mats didn't quite fit. I have my doubts that that exercise ended well.
Lehigh is built on the side of a small mountain. There are many steps and inclines. But also great views. If nothing else, students there have no trouble staying in shape.
Lewes/Rehoboth area restaurant Crabby Dick's is on a web site's list of 40 Unfortunately Named Restaurants. It is posted along with places named things like "My Dung" and "The Chocolate Log." The web site it's on -- Manofest -- is not particularly mature.
Locals will recall the rolling brouhaha this sign caused a few years ago. When Crabby Dick's first opened on Route One about halfway between Lewes and Rehoboth, the sign often featured messages like this. The thinly veiled double entendre (single entendre?) messages generated complaints in the local media from parents who didn't want to have to explain them to car-loads of kids.
The sign eventually settled down to milder messaging a while back. But folks still remember.
And a hat-tip for spotting this, by the way, to the excellent The Grammar Vandal blog.
I couldn't help myself. I went out Tuesday evening for a late practice game at Old Landing. I had the urge and so I decided to start after dinner and see how far I could get.
I was pleased with the front nine. I worked at not over-swinging and hitting for the yardage I can get instead of the yardage I wish I could get. I granted myself a few Mulligans -- do-overs -- so take this with a grain of salt, but I did the first nine in 46. I see a pace here that could get me under 100.
The second nine did not go quite as well. It was starting to get dark and the flies and mosquitoes were out in force. As a result, I was rushing my shots, trying to move along and out from the swarms. My scores reflect it.
I had to stop after the 16th and 39 strokes. Had scored under 15 on the last two holes (a par 4 and a par 5), I'd have broken 100. That's possible. But not that night. It was too dark and the bugs were too many.
That's not what chased me off the course, though. I stopped when the sprinklers came on.
Our two families planned to meet in the afternoon in North Bethany for beach, dinner and fireworks with my parents and several of my siblings, so the two of us planned a mid-morning tee-time that would have us on the beach sometime after lunch.
Like the roads around here on summer holiday week-ends, the course was crowded with tourists -- an unfortunate number of them non-golfers. We made the mistake of not starting off ahead of a foursome who had an earlier tee time, but who had offered to let us go. A mistake of southern courtliness, I expect.
This group was also behind other slow groups, so I can't fault them. And, we eventually played through on the back nine. But the slow pace of play gave us too much time to think between shots, which can be a bad thing.
I lost my fight to break 100 on the front nine, which featured some poorly played holes. On the second, I got cocky and tried to force a driver shot of the tee. On the fourth, which is a devilish hole that fools you, I tried to be too perfect and splashed my second, wasting a decent tee shot. And I tried to get too cute coming out of the sand a penalty and a drop later; I rocketed the ball instead clear across the green and into two-foot tall wasteland grass. That's another and another one-stroke penalty.
On the other hand, I managed a par on the seventh hole. It turns out that a decent, straight drive, and clean approach shot, and careful putting will pay off.
The back nine was somewhat better. I had a birdie on the sixteenth; not my first-ever, but the first in a long time. Otherwise, I settled into a steady mediocrity, which is better than careening between bad and worse, as I have done in the past.
I believe in looking for positives and the positive that I take away from this game is this. In the past, I've noted that, while over-all I play poorly, I would have one or two shots the felt right and flew true and those were "the shots that keep you coming back." yesterday, I had a few holes that I played right and gave myself a chance to do well. Now I have "the holes that keep me coming back."
She said she had decided against running for re-election as Alaska's governor, and believed it was best to leave office even though she had two years left to her term.
"Many just accept that lame duck status, and they hit that road. They draw a paycheck. They kind of milk it. And I'm not going to put Alaskans through that," she said.
Excuse me? Weren't you elected to do a job? Isn't that job to run the government of the state of Alaska? For four years?
Leaving now, with the job not finished, seems like cheating the people of Alaska; leaving them behind to seek something better for yourself. That's not cool.
Maybe if you were closer to the end of your term, or we were actually in the 2012 cycle and you were clearly going to be the nominee. This early, though, just seems selfish.
A week ago, we said a final goodbye to our older cat, Shoe. He was about 14 years old and his kidneys were failing. We tried to rally him for several weeks, but he gave us clear signals last week that it was time to rest. So we let him go, though it was a terrible moment for all of us.
Shoe came to us when Colleen was about three. We were newly moved into our bay Breeze Estates house, with our first cat, Patches. He was handed off to us by a co-worker of Karen's; a small, thin, black kitten with a large patch of white on his breast. He had already been named by Colleen, based on his having climbed into a shoe when first arriving in the house.
Shoe was a rambunctious kitten. He liked to race around, roll over, play-fight and cuddle. He was long and lean, with an extra long tail. As he aged he kept his playful nature, but more often settled into an elegant repose -- stretched-out long but with head held high and his two front paws crossed gracefully in front of him.
His name changed over the years. "Shoe" became "Shoo-Be-Doo-Be-Doo" when the girls were very young. That was shortened for a while to "Shooby." later, we started calling him "Shubert" and eventually "Bert," which is the name he used until the end.
Bert was a great buddy. He greeted us in the morning with a happy purr. He was a great lap-cat, often making his way from person to person in the evening to make sure that he shared time with each of us. He insisted on play-fighting with me each morning before I left for work. his signature move was to head-butt your foot, pressing his head into the top of your foot and rolling forward over the foot and into the "rub my belly" pose.
I should say something about Bert's purr. I have never heard a more hearty purr. At times we worried that he might choke on it. He always seemed to be purring.
We're honored to have spent part of our lives with him. Thank you, Shoe. Sleep well.
I'm using a site called GoodReads to track my reading this year. At the halfway point of the year, I can report that I have read thirty books so far this year. I'm about half-way through number thirty-one. Twenty-seven of the thirty-one books have been library books. I have purchased four.
Looking back at last year at this time, I see that my pace of reading is almost the same. On June 30 last year I had finished thirty-one books and the ration of library books to purchased books was exactly the same.
One of the great things about my little city of Lewes is that it is home to a University of Delaware research campus. It features a constantly renewing population of marine scientists from all over the world. That adds an international spice to the town.
When we moved to Lewes, that campus was The College of Marine Studies -- "CMS." At some point, that got changed and they started calling it The College of Marine and Earth Studies --"CMES." I never could get used to that name and so I didn't use it.
Delaware's fiscal year ends tonight. Many things will be different in my state, and in the state government in which I serve, tomorrow.
We hope that there will be a balanced budget to start the next fiscal year. The legislature had about a potential deficit of about $800,000,000 to overcome. At best, that means I get a pay cut starting tomorrow.
At least partly because of that planned pay cut, lots of people are retiring from state government. And given the budget situation, not all of them will be fully replaced. so it will be a different workforce.
Among those stepping down is the head of the Delaware State Police. Col. Thomas F. Mac Leish was going to have to retire in August anyway. There's an age limit for the State Police.
His replacement -- acting replacement, anyway -- is Major Joe Papili. I have gotten to know Joe Papili somewhat over the last few years. He seems like a good man.
I realize that, while I myself am not rising to the highest levels of state government (thank goodness), many of the people now stepping into leadership are my contemporaries and in some cases friends and acquaintances. It gives me a whole new view of things.
I took Friday off this past week to head upstate and join in the hopefully (but generally not) annual Delaware Geological Survey (DGS) golf outing. My friend Sandy Schenck organizes these. They usually involve DGS staff, University of Delaware staff and professors, and assorted Delaware GIS people. Like me.
We played at Delcastle Golf course, which is in New Castle County near Milltown. It's a nice course, with lots of elevation changes and some challenging holes.
I played badly. I'd like to blame the heat, which was respectable. I'd like to blame the elevation changes, which are a real change for me. I might even try to blame the skills of my fellow players, who were dauntingly good. But the bottom line is I played badly.
There were several foursomes. I was playing with a group of GIS-geeks -- joining Pat Susi, the GIS chief for New Castle County, Brian Smith, with a company called GeoDecisions, and John Laznik, a GIS pro at UD. Pat is a solid player; we played together in early May. I've also played with Brian, a very good golfer, at the first of the DGS outings I joined, in 2006. John Laznik was almost a surprise. I had heard he can play, but was not aware of just how far he can crush a drive. Very impressive.
It is true, though no excuse, that I was pressing too hard to try to play like these guys. I was over swinging and making foolish club choices. I stuck with my driver, with less success than in other recent games. And I was trying to do too much with my hybrids; trying to make up ground. My best holes were those where I played within myself and accepted that I wasn't going to hit it as far as any of my partners. Hit it straight, be patient, and take what you can.
So I ended up with a poor 119. Pat broke 100 with a 94. Brian carded an 89 and John an 84.
I had the evening off from my Chautauqua gig tonight so I headed over to Old Landing Golf Course after work to finish the game that was rained-out on Saturday. The two sets of nine holes couldn't have been more different. Saturday was wet and raining and threatening thunder. This evening there were clouds, but clear air and eventually evening sunshine. And my play was different too.
Saturday, I played poorly and shot a 59 on the front 9. Nothing was working well. The weather may have played a role, but I doubt it.
This evening, despite a poor beginning (how many putts can one man putt?), I started to hit the ball the way I want to hit it. I still had some putting problems, and the occasionally topping of the ball on the fairway, but I managed a 49, which is one of my best-ever 9-hole scores.
I scored one par and five bogeys. I have a goal to try to average 18 bogeys someday. If I can do that on a par 72 course, I'd have a 90. And I'm trying to break 100, so... I was particularly pleased this evening with the 12th hole at Old Landing. This is a long, blind drive, par-5 that curls left from the tee box, over a slight rise and across a stagnant creek to a sloping green. It plays about 500 yards from the white tees.
Usually, I struggle along in the rough, through the trees, and often into the creek before carding something nasty on this hole. Not tonight.
I've reached an accord with my driver. When I hit it well, the ball goes straight, if not hugely long. Tonight I placed my drive about halfway along and in the center of the 12th fairway. My second shot laid-up well to the top of the slope that leads down to the water. Then I put a 7-iron about 10 feet from the pin (the photo above right was the result).
Had I made that putt, I'd have scored a birdie (not my first, but they are still rare). I was too cautious though, and came up short. But I was happy with the par.
Over-all, I think tonight I had more of the shots that keep you coming back than those that make you hang your head. I like that.
I'm spending most of my evenings this weekend in downtown Lewes serving as master of ceremonies for the 11th Annual Chautauqua Tent Show. The Chautauqua is a project of the state's Division of Historical and Cultural Affairs and the Lewes Historical Society and is focused on major historical figures. Actors portraying PT Barnum, Frederick Douglas, William Shakespeare, David Douglas, The Lone Ranger, and Annie Oakley present lectures throughout the week under a smallish big-top tent. There are also afternoon family activities each day. The evenings start with music groups each evening at 6, followed by the main act at 7. The photo at right is the group Slyte of Hand, from Sunday evening.
My job is fairly simple. I thank the Delaware Humanities forum and other sponsors and funding agencies. I tout the door-prize drawing. I thank the organizing committee. I point out the restrooms. And I introduce the performers. While they are on-stage, I can wander around with my camera (as I tend to do). I have started a photo set, but so far have only posted shots from Sunday.
Monday night's show was interrupted by a heavy downpour that suggested one of the windy, heavy, thunderstorms we've been getting late. It was nasty-looking enough that organizers stopped the opening band and moved everyone into the Zwaanendael Museum (we were in a tent just outside). We split the audience into two groups; the band played acoustically upstairs while Frederick Douglas spoke to a group on the main floor. After a while, Mr. Douglas moved upstairs and the band moved back to the tent, as the storm had moved on. It was a little crazy, but I think it worked.
Tonight, there's a concert by the US Navy Commodores, part of the 2009 Lewes Summer Concert Series. so, while there will be the usual afternoon family activities, there won't be an evening show. But I'll be back before the mic on Wednesday with my notes, my smile, and my camera.
Anyway, this is what I was doing exactly 30 years ago today. It was the final day of my junior year at Walt Whitman High School in Bethesda Maryland and The Ramblin' Beach Guys (my old High school band) got permission to play a short set at lunchtime out in "the quad."
From left to right, we were:
Danny Miller (lead guitar),now a film editor in Hollywood.
Peter Saal (bass), who only played with us a few times and of whom I have lost track.
David Halperin (singer), who went on to work on presidential campaigns and in the White house and who is now at the center for American progress.
John Heilprin (drums), now the AP's United Nations correspondent.
John Krivit (sometimes bass and mostly singer), who now teaches audio and media technology in colleges around Boston.
And me (rhythm guitar), now a toiling minor functionary in a small state's government.
According to Danny, who is archivist for this once little-known and now mostly unknown group, we played a short set of rock and punk that day:
Route 66 (probably The Stones version)
Rockaway Beach (The Ramones)
Is She Really Going Out With Him (Joe Jackson and a challenge for a novice guitarist)
Lip Service/I Remember You (Elvis Costello and ?)
Surrender (Cheap Trick)
Imagination (The Stones)
Hippy Hippy Shake (We probably based ours on the version played by The Razz in those days)
I think it's interesting that on two June 20s I am playing a small, supporting role in a performance. Rhythm guitar in 1979 and the briefly on-stage Simon in Stinkin' Rich in 2009.
I managed to squeeze-in 9 holes at Old Landing Golf Course this morning before the light rain and distant rumbling became heavy downpours and thunder. The gent in the clubhouse was kind enough to offer me a 9-hole rain check after we stood together and watched a green, yellow and red mass moving in on the weather channel radar.
I have to say I played poorly. I think I was listening too hard for thunder and lightning from the first tee and so not being patient enough. I did settle down some, though, after it began to rain softly and without thunder. I had my share of good shots and finally managed to play the long, bending road-side par-5 -- where I am usually in the trees to the right -- out in the fairway where a gentleman should play.
I'm not sure when I'll play the second half of game 7. The forecast for tomorrow is not promising. But we'll see.
I think I had honestly started to forget about Bobby Jacobs, one-time wunderkind head of a local sports tournament that collapsed into scandal some years ago. Well, he's back and facing charges of harassment, according to a story on the WBOC web site: Former Basketball Tournament Director Arrested for Stalking.
Troopers say they were called in to investigate after letters were sent to the Cape Henlopen School District accusing a teacher of inappropriate misconduct with students. They say the letters continued not only to the school district but also to Wesley College in Dover, accusing a coach of similar misconduct. In addition, troopers say letters were sent to Legislative Hall accusing a department secretary in similar behavior.
Their investigation found the letters questionable and likely from a fictitious source. They also noted that all three of those targeted were once involved with the group that had oversight of the Slam Dunk to the Beach basketball tournament:
All three individuals, according to police, who were accused of the misconduct , were once involved with the Delaware Interscholastic Athletic Association. The organization was formerly known as the Delaware Scholastic Secondary Athletic Association. This organization oversaw the "Slam Dunk to the Beach Tournament" which Jacobs was the director.
The Slam Dunk tournament was a local institution for some years, but after a time started to look a little fishy to me. Eventually, it fell apart after questions started to arise regarding scholarships that were promised but not delivered. Mr. Jacobs abruptly canceled the 2004 event and was on the run for several years, hiding in Florida before being brought back to Delaware to face charges.
Police traced the letters back to their origins, found evidence linking them to Jacobs, searched his home and found even more evidence on his computer.
The result? More charges against Bobby Jacobs, and we once again have to follow this guys sad sack story.
Update: The Dover Post story on this includes a clarifying detail:
The three individuals allegedly targeted by the letters had helped police in their investigation of the Jacob’s misappropriating Slam Dunk funds after he cancelled the 2004 tourney and dropped out of sight. He was charged with theft and jailed for two years after his capture by U.S. marshals in Miami.
Steve Seyfried and I went out to The Rookery this morning for a round of golf. We played together a few years ago, but haven't had a chance for another game, until now.
I started out fairly strongly and, despite some slips, had a good front nine. I even birdied the ninth hole to finish at 47. Of course I then hit a disastrous nine on the Par 5 tenth hole. That set the pace for the back nine, I'm afraid. Despite a par and a few good holes, I fell back into bad happens and took 58 strokes to get home with a final score of 105.
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/R6LaiyAX-Gkx7FDA9Vnz6V_vcqMC_nk3YCkN4-HiDl8gGEZ7L1ZKjY3eLCVJ1zC2iQQbiEw1pvWm0zT7O0qcMmzfDOp-DuC6YPd0hM-slXCRCDcyFFmD2_OSt6RFIzkrcw=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/proxy/XXx1Z1qvFDuJDTFqi3tTVdRhLEQg6T-hS_Az2UCzcTNcQBMA0qaxahaAgab9bMOmhsNggJbW-mJb2eZ3dH2wwW4eiQPih3Q5300SUhDYqyAaN83Vnun6oIP7YYbWmCzusw=s0-d)
