I grew up in Lancashire.  Think Wigan, Warrington, Leigh (my home town).  Both my brothers played Rugby League.  Every game was a Super Bowl. Admission was a whole shilling, or 14 cents.  We never missed a game.   My brothers and I were at the Bolton Rugby Disaster on March 9, 1946  when the stands collapsed, killing dozens of people and injuring hundreds more. We lived and loved Rugby.

Having heard these stories, my family is aware I know a lot about rugby.  Close to zero about (American) football.  So, when they heard I was going to watch the Super Bowl with friends they said - Really?  Why? Crash football course?

There is no problem explaining why.  It's not the football, not the food, not the half time, not seeing and sharing the excitement in the Stadium. Not comparing it to Rugby.

I will watch the Super Bowl to enjoy the warmth of friends in the room. They don't care what I know.  They don't care if I brought dessert. They don't care if I'm wearing team colors. They don't even care if I cheer for the wrong team. 

The friends in the room care that I care.  That I want to be with them.  Whatever is headlined, friends always get top billing.

That's why this football dummy shows up. AND has fun.

Go team (whoever you are).

# # # 

When jingle bells hold forth during the magical Holiday season my brain smiles. 

Instead of sleighs and Christmas decorations I think of old radio and television jingles.  I sing them

with abandon.

Plop. Plop. Fizz. Fizz. Oh, what a relief it is. Brylcreem-a little dab'll do ya.  The Best Part of Waking Up.

Sometimes you feel like a nut-Sometimes you don't.  See the USA in a Chevrolet. I remember every word.

Chilly days have kept me inside more. I even watched television. Now I see  people dancing through a grocery store. A group dressed for

snorkeling squashed into an elevator.  Youngsters telling me which home improvement company I should hire.

 A large Emu owner in strange scenarios - as 'performer' for an insurance company.

Jingles helped me remember the product decades later.  I could sing along with them.  And yes - we bought a Chevrolet.  We usd

Folgers coffee.  We loved Almond Joys.  Jingles were brain food.  We felt a strange kind of loyalty. The current commercials?   I have no idea who or what

they are promoting.

I'd like to teach the world to sing ... in perfect harmony ... Oh yes.

# # # 

Some years ago, my family gathered in the North Carolina mountains for a Reunion.  Great excitement.  We enjoy each other’s company.  When the hugs and telling each other how wonderful we looked were over, I made an announcement to the Clan.

Here are the rules of the Reunion said the spoiler.  “There will be no talking about aches and pains, operations, creaky knees or medical appointments.”   Shock.  My brother Jim said …What are we going to talk about?’  We all laughed.

We agreed that with age – along with the promised wisdom - come less-welcome reminders the clock is ticking.  How will we handle the reminders? A question worthy of serious family discussion.

In this morning’s New York Times, a columnist offers an observation on aging.   His words are more elegant.  His conclusion mirrors what we decided would be our family watchword going forward.  He says: I can be sad and angry about time’s toll, and rue what has been lost. Or I can work with what remains.

It was a memorable Reunion.  Our numbers have dwindled.  Our promise to ourselves and each other has stayed intact.   Work with what remains.

# # #

Why do we celebrate December 31st and welcome January 1st?  Until today I had no idea.  It’s just a tradition.  Something we’ve always done.  Still, I wondered, how did this tradition get started?  I had to know.  Google to the rescue.

Turns out it began centuries ago.  The Romans began the tradition by honoring the god Janus; who had two faces – one looking to the past, the other to the future. Janus was their god of beginnings.

They chose January 1st because the Julian calendar (45BC) and later the Gregorian calendar (1582) solidified January 1st as the start of the year.

The day evolved with rituals like setting resolutions, partying, and making noise to ward off the evil spirits.  Sound familiar?

When my friends began asking if we could move the clock forward from 10 to 12 PM and pretend it was midnight I knew it was time to drop the partying and noise.  That leaves resolutions.  I never make New Year’s resolutions.  I make daily resolutions: Today I will get the car washed.  Today I will …

I do honor the tradition of Auld Lang Syne – and sharing a cup of kindness.   

And so, to each of you … may the coming year and those beyond be kind to you.

# # #

Last evening I attended a lovely Holiday gathering.  Not too large. Not too small.

Not too loud. Not too quiet.  Like Momma Bear's porridge it was just right.

What made the evening so special? It was not the food. It was not the

Holiday decorations.  It was not the entertainment.  Although they were good.

The evening was magical because of friends.  Young friends, old friends.  Friends I

hadn't seen in a while. Friends I see often.  Friends I met that very evening.  

Some of us couldn't hear as well. We couldn't move as fast. Our hugs were just as warm. 

The same old stories still caused hearty laughs.

Friends and family, and the reason we celebrate Christmas, is what makes this time of year magical. 

They are the reason for being.  They are our past, our present, and our future.

And so - To my amazing family, my 'now' friends, and those I have yet to meet  ...

I wish you Peace, Love, and Friendship this year, and in years to come.

# # #

When I was leaving my home in England for a life in the USA, the family gathered for their goodbyes, their tears, and being family - their advice.

My Irish father said only three words, in Gaelic.  He said 'Don't be afraid.'  I was 19 years old. Like most 19 year olds the words were lost in the rain.  All except  'don't be afraid.'

Dad could have said, take care of yourself, be careful.  He didn't.  He said don't be afraid.  He gave me permission to take a chance, ask for help, work hard, try new things, make friends, make a new life. What a gift.

Times have changed for our young people. It's more difficult now.  Still - don't be afraid ...to try, to change, to believe, to share, to ask for help is wise advice. Its a good mantra.  I still use it. Every day.

Thanks, Dad ... you taught us well.

# # # 

Thanksgiving is silently speeding our way. Christmas merchants keep trying to push this Celebration aside.  We can't let that happen.
 

This day of thanks holds our memories of family, fun, food, and secrets.
 

Yesterday I was bemoaning that Chef Google has ruined the joy of receiving Thanksgiving time calls from our now adult offspring.  Mom, how do you make that great dressing?  How does Dad cook his fantastic turkey? Today, I complained, they just ask Chef Google.
 

My son, on the receiving end of my complaining, said ... Well, that's not exactly true.  Chef Google does not know what makes Dad's turkey so delicious. He has no recipe for your famous chew bread.  He'll never know MawMaw's cornbread recipe.  These are family secrets. They'll always be ours.  I never thought of it that way.
 

MawMaw (Robert's mother) would be 132 this year.   She didn't use recipes.  Sixty six years ago; when this same son was an infant, I watched her whip up her amazing cornbread. I came as close as I could to capturing a recipe. Here it is! The secret's out.
 

Recently I read that what you keep dies with you.  What you share lives on.  Thanks MawMawZ for sharing.
 

# # #  

Last evening I attended the American Cancer Society's Annual Charlotte Gala.  

A fundraiser - yes.  Also a friend raiser, a hope giver, and an opportunity to show we care. 

The stories were moving.  The statistics scary.  The hope alive and well.  

Above all else, what we heard and saw was caring.  People caring about people.

People of all ages caring about our future.  People digging deep - some into shallow pockets,

others into grateful pockets.  No one knew their names - they were just a paddle number that cared. 

What happened as caring number one grew to two, then three, then one hundred and three?

The answer is that hope wanting to make a difference and realizing we can is contagious. 

We just need those special people brave enough to raise the first paddle, and say 'I care.'

Thanks to all the anonymous caring numbers. 

Because of you I left the Gala feeling hopeful about our future.

# # #

Recently I was invited to meet with several amazing young women. They forewarned, it was to ask advice about a challenge they were facing.

I was honored, of course.

Generations set us apart.  I asked myself - How could my thoughts possibly be helpful today?  

I presented this question to my, son who responded - 

Remember Robert Frost's quote: The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.  

After a few minutes mulling over how he got to be so smart I turned to more mulling. This time about we 'afternoon' people.  

Why should we think what we know is not worth sharing? Surely we've learned knowledge is useless unless it is shared.

Why should we stop taking on challenges because we grow old. 

Fact is, we grow old because we stop taking on challenges. 

Talking about pay telephones is not useful, but it's fun. We need fun.  Suggesting words to use in difficult situations. Invaluable. And not taught in schools.  We need guidance.

When sharing  thoughts from the archives I keep in mind Kenny Rogers words: Know when to hold. Know when to fold.  Translated to Know what to share.  Know what to spare.  It seems to work.

Here's to more shared mornings and afternoons.  We can learn a lot from each other.

# # #

Today, determined to downsize my hoard of books, I set about this difficult task.  I plead guilty of being easily distracted. 

All went smoothly with the DIY shelf. My sons will confirm, I rarely read instructions, much less DIY books.  Most are still pristine. Out they go.

The same with cook books.  I never follow recipes.  My recipe is what do I have handy? The meal results are definitely mixed. The Barefoot Contessa would be proud.

Money and investment books.  I scanned Tyler Cowen's  Create Your Own Economy.  It begins by telling me the physical design of the IPod is compelling.  My bookmark is stuck in page seven. I can part with this.

The box is filling up.

And then - the distraction: Books I've received as gifts. Books as a gift, unless you know the recipient well, or the title was requested, is chancy.   My friends seem to know me well.  I had to read every message.  Recall each individual.  Thumb prints and spilled coffee adorn many pages.

It was a glorious afternoon.  Thanks to all the book givers, readers, and authors. You make life more interesting.

# # #