Things I did while my family was away for six weeks this summer

I am not allowed to post photos of the ladies in my life without prior permission. 

So, some of things I did while they were away for the summer were:

-BreAk ThE RuLes

- I did my laundry. Once. 

Courtesy of Viacom int'l

- Finished the shakedown cruises on my used motorcycle. Two-wheeled motorvatin' again.

- Walked around the inside of the house naked. OK, I actually didn’t do that. Or maybe I did. Either way, live with that image in your head.

- Successfully repaired bald spots on my front lawn with new grass. Yes, I was occasionally so bored I actually worried about my lawn.

- Completed my Pleasure Craft Operator Card online course. This is the first step toward my dream of sailing the seas upon retirement. Powerball, Lotto 6/49--whatever works first.

- Watched an awful lot of Atlanta Braves night games. Thanks, Ted Turner.

- Didn’t watch a single game of the World Cup; I had zero enthusiasm. I played soccer through high school, but I cannot watch it on TV for some reason.

- I didn’t have to clear my browser history every day.

- Started jogging again. Honest, cross my heart. Still a work in progress, but it’s a start (again).

- Fed the two rabbits living in the grove behind our home almost every day. They are early risers like me. When the Zombies come, they're at least two meals’ worth.

- Went to a concert co-headlined by 1990s alt-rock royalty Weezer and The Pixies. I have always loved The Pixies and now consider myself a Weezer fan. 

But I will NEVER take the I-24 home ever again at night while on a motorcycle. Major pucker factor cruising at 70 mph on a dark interstate highway with 18-wheelers barreling up on my six. Great concert. Nasty, frightening midnight ride home.

And on another note…

Spaceman for Governor

Politics is a blood sport these days in the USA. The contrarian in me loves that the gubernatorial election here in Tennessee has a candidate named Bill Lee. 

Why? I see lawn signs with his name and I giggle because all I can think of is ex-Montreal Expos and Boston Red Sox lefty Bill "Spaceman" Lee.

The Spaceman’s worldview and antics – his irreverent attitude to life, unvarying love of the game -- influenced me after I read “The Wrong Stuff” decades ago. It is one of the more entertaining baseball books I've ever read.

The “baseball” Bill Lee is the perfect foil to the odorous bouquet clinging to contemporary politics. 
Happy summer, ya'll.

So you're 70

I attempt to focus my posts on the Rising Daughters. I usually fail because I habitually revert to the most fascinating subject in the universe—me. However, this time it's all about The Dad, my dad. That's because he became a septuagenarian. It's a landmark age.

Dick O'Kerkinski has turned 70 years old.

How do you gush about your Dad without resorting to Father's Day bromides or the familiar tunes of Hallmark cards? His paternal love for my brother and me was demonstrated by all the numerous dad duties he did while raising us, and the things he gave up to do it. In truth, he still guides us. His demeanor is not as strict now, more easygoing Fred MacMurray-style benevolence. I gained a new appreciation for Dad as I grew into adulthood and spawned kids of my own. He chuckles when my sprogs/his granddaughters demand yet another handout of candy or whatnot. 

At 70 he is a still-evolving, even-keeled character, and a vibrant dude. He likes his beer & cocktails, enjoys a good joke, and is gonzo for golf. Yet Dick also cares about his neighbors, maintains his faith but does not preach, and is generous with his kids and grandkids. He ain't perfect: he drops the occasional malodorous daisy. He offers a stream-of-consciousness litany of expletives while driving.

But, in sum, an absolutely fine human being. Clearly old friends and new stick around. People like him.

For these reasons and many more, my brother S. O'Kerkinski and I were adamant that turning 70 required a celebration. So we rounded up a few of The Dad’s past and present friends and drank some beer, ate some cake, and showed we care on his birthday. The party guests provided an added blast of happiness.

Happy birthday Dad. You da man.

"Sorry"

Canada turned 151 today and I have never been prouder to be a citizen. To my many non-Canadian friends I can only say “sorry ‘bout that.”

I learned in Grade 11 Canadian History class that “Peace, Order and Good Government” (POGG) was a phrase used in the British North America Act of 1867. This Act proclaimed the Dominion of Canada, making it a country. POGG defined the federal government’s authority to legislate in matters typically considered to lie under provincial authority. Usually it is invoked when there are disputes between the feds and the provinces. It’s still in the Canadian Constitution.

Are you still with me here? Don’t leave. Give me two more minutes of your time to make my point.

Unpacking what POGG has meant for Canada is easy. It’s legalese that boils down to “be nice to each other, stay out of trouble, respect each other’s privacy, and let the government do its thing.” It sets the tone of our national character. Now extend that philosophy further to the use of “sorry.” I still say sorry frequently. It’s a cliché by now but Canadians do say sorry a lot, in our work and everyday interactions, usually as a social lubricant rather than an apology. It’s a fine instrument for communication in a tolerant civil society. The Japanese preface pretty much everything they say with their version of it. The British don’t mean it. Americans rarely say it.

Other novelties make Canada an agreeable and unique place. They range from national policies (e.g. liberal immigration, embracing multicultural policies, bilingualism) to the wacky (e.g. Homo milk bags, Caesars, Letterkenny, Ashley MacIsaac, and poutine/beaver tails). But my contention is that POGG and sorry are the linguistic epoxy that keeps the Canadian puzzle together, and thriving.

One more thing. I read this article in April that captured the essence of how Canadians approach their governing: with a laugh and a grain of salt. “Stephen Harper spotted at an Ottawa McDonald's — possibly where a 2014 brawl involving a raccoon took place” was the National Post headline. Former Canadian prime ministers are often spotted in public walking around like an average citizen. Sometimes it is deemed safe enough for them to forgo RCMP security staff. But I laughed when I read one of the tweets the Post article quoted: “Ran into Stephen Harper at McDonalds, and everyone ignored him.”

I’ve heard firsthand accounts that Montrealers would usually leave former PM Pierre Trudeau alone as he walked home from work, too.

Says it all, doesn’t it?

Sorry for taking so much of your time to read this. 
Happy Canada Day.

From the temporary (one day only) Canadian Consulate in Nolensville, TN