Every year, the lady crew heads out for a golf trip down the shore. We select a few courses we don’t play often and set up a scramble, or a shamble. Usually teams with the highest index and the lowest are mixed together, along with the oldest and the youngest. It makes for a great time, good conversation, and learning new approach shots. With COVID sunsetting (hopefully) we chose to stay together at a friends in Ocean City, NJ. 17 women in 1 house. Can you imagine the laughter? Can you hear the music? The talks? The hugs? The support?

  We are beach people. Just getting to the beach and spending a few hours listening to the soft sounds of the water makes a world of difference.

Last week I took a day to work from home in the morning as I had my annual check-up scheduled in the early afternoon. After my check-up (which went fine), I took some time to do some local errands.    

My wife “retired” just before the winter. Around that same time my work schedule, pandemic and all, picked up and I found a need for some assistance. I often could not get away to check my box at the post office, get to the bank or even during my afternoon, address some of the yard work. I cannot complain about being busy. My mantra remains to help others and make a difference.

(Yes, this is a true story) In a neighborhood in Jackson, Mississippi, people are finding bowls of mashed potatoes on their cars, porches and mailboxes.   It was reported that some residents fear there's a more sinister message behind the potatoes.  

As I continue to keep on living my Forever Young fantasy, I realize that, however I may really look, my countenance is naturally masked by my beard.

Picture this. A local restaurant. A favorite. Where the locals eat. You’ve eaten there before. Often Only problem is that they don’t take reservations. Often a wait. My question is. While walking over to the restaurant do you anticipate waiting for a table?

This is a sober reminder to appreciate your loved ones always, because you never know what tomorrow will bring. Over a week ago, I woke up to a text message from my mom, telling me she was having heart issues and that she was at the hospital. This text came in at 11pm, but I had been asleep for an hour. It was now 6am when I read the message. I called Mom and she had, had a heart attack. We were both shocked. Mom is a massage therapist, a personal trainer, and pretty much eats lettuce, broccoli, and water. If Colleen can have a heart attack, anyone can.