I thought there was a vaccine for that?

I caught some polo the other day. Coupla chukkas, anyway. Some sort of charity for an arts center or sumpin'. Best I could tell, it was about eating and drinking, mostly. Apparently, there were also some dudes playing croquet on horses. The local team, the Casa Verdes (Spanish for "Green House". The owner of the team, and three of the players are from the noted Charleston Limehouse family), beat the visiting Aiken Outriders 5 to 4.

Roadtrip Michigan: Part IV, Greektown

Detroit has taken some lumps, of late: The decline of the auto industry in a place known as "the Motor City" has had contributed to Detroit's ranking among the nation's emptiest cities, and the Lions are abysmal (but not as bad as my old Tampa Bay Bucs, who remain winless so far this year). Even some of the diversions seem cursed, of late, as three runners died in a Detroit marathon within 16 minutes of each other. Still, Detroit is the most important city in a really neat state. Among the Detroit diversions which remain robust is Greektown, a bastion of good food and fun in the midst of the city. Diane's clan and I invaded Greektown during our Michigan mission.


What's Greektown without Greek food? We didn't want to find out, so we ate at Pegasus.


Sister Jenny and her husband, John. Jenny and John have a really great rec-room in their basement. Color me jealous.


Diane, brother Greg, and his wife Kathe.


Niece Kelly (daughter of Greg and Kathe), Niece Lauren (Jenny and John) and a friend, and Nephew Mitchell (also of Greg and Kathe fame). Diane has a neat family. All the kids were well mannered, and a pleasure to talk with. Jenny and John's twins, Megan and Caitlin, were a little more camera shy, but they were there, too.


Flaming cheese is the thing at Pegasus. Watch out niece Kelly!


The kids didn't eat a ton, but, man, could they knock out some sodas.

Roadtrip: Michigan: Part III, Dearborn.

We visited Diane's old neighborhood. I asked her if she would write about it. This is her post.


7510 Neckel Street, Dearborn, MI.When my parents divorced in 1965 we moved from the suburbs of Chicago to my grandfather’s house where my mother grew up in the 1940s. What I remember about growing up occurred mainly in the town of Dearborn Michigan. My 5 brothers and sisters and I lived with my Mom and Grandpa Marentette. We were enrolled in St. Alphonsus School where my mother graduated in 1939. I remember it as a great way to grow up. The town was mostly Roman Catholic Western Europeans of German, Polish, Italian, and French Canadian descent. From our backyard you could see the school and church; St. Alphonsus was a large part of our daily life. The neighborhood kids went to school and church together and played “lot baseball” together in the summer and had snowball fights in the winter.


Fast forward to 2009 when David and I visited my old neighborhood and adjacent St. Alphonsus church and school. My brother Greg cautioned me against going to visit our old house because it was being rented and was in disrepair. I rarely have opportunity to visit my past and with David’s support I felt good about going.

We arrived at 7510 Neckel Street to find an Arabic woman on my old front porch with the door wide open.
David took this picture (Direct TV) of the past and present worlds of Dearborn, Michigan. The old Dearborn of the 60s, 70s, and 80s Western European Americans has now been replaced by the largest Arabic community in the United States.

We met Eddie who was suspicious of our nosing around my old haunts. Once he found out we were friend and not foe we had a great chat. Eddie is Lebanese and came to Michigan in the early 70’s. He shared with us that the neighborhood had changed with Iraqis and Yemenis moving 3 or more families into the neighborhood houses.


My first job was at the Golden Boy Donut shop, which was in this building- now an Arabic Restaurant.

The Overhang at St. Alphonsus School.I saw the construction at St. Al's as hope for the future: they wouldn't bother to renovate the Church, if they were planning to close it. The sad thing for me is that the population of Dearborn has changed so much that my old high school closed in 2003, with the grade school closing in 2005. Old friends from the neighborhood tell me that these days the church, which could hold hundreds of people, has only about 50 or so people for Sunday Mass. One thing in life we can be sure of is change.

Roadtrip: Michigan, Part 1 (well, 2 if you count the leaf pix)

We left from the nearby Savannah, Georgia, airport. See? They have a mural. My ex's husband, Darryl, works there. Hmmm... THAT explains the strip searches (actually, Darryl's not a bad guy).


We traveled via NWA. Wait. I thought I already mentioned NWA. Never saw Dr. Dre or Flava Flav, either.







We arrived at the Detroit Metro Airport. See? They have a mural, too. There is a really cool section with crazy changing lights. Diane's brother-in-law, Norb, did the wiring for a lot of the airport, including that section. Sadly, my camera took a few minutes off during that stretch.





Our rental car was a Mazda. Geez, just the brand you want in the Motor City. It actually had a "buy American" sticker on the back bumper. We tried to explain that Ford had bought out the Japanese auto maker, but, still...



We picked up some groceries on the way in. Apparently, a lot of the food came with directions. We saw "Hit", "Squash", and "Face Pumpkins". We obeyed.






After procuring our wares, we arrived at sister Jenny's very nice home in Novi. More later.

Autumn in the Great Lakes State.

Just got back from Michigan. I'll get you some commentary on the trip after I get caught up on my sleep. In the interim, here are some pix of the foliage around East Lansing. They say the best scenes are still a week or so away. Nothing like this in Southern South Carolina, I'll tell you that.

Zoe's Big Day!

Zoe is having a big day. She's learning how to upload pictures for her blog. News at 11:00.

Out of Pocket, Two.

I'm going up to Michigan for a few days. I'll be back Tuesday afternoon.

Teacher, Teacher.

My "Friendly Adversary", Jay, is the Agent-in-Charge of Probation in the Boro. In addition to our generally opposing roles in probation violation cases, his office is right downstairs from the Public Defender's Office, so we see each other a lot. We have our various jobs to do, but we respect each other, and I count him among my friends. In addition to his "day job", he teaches a criminal justice class at the local branch of the University of South Carolina (that would be USC-Salkahatchee). I'll admit it: I'm jealous. Mom told me that our family tree was ripe with "preachers, teachers, and lawyers". I'm a lawyer. Brother Andy is a teacher. I've occasionally felt drawn to both teaching and preaching. Wednesday night, Jay gave me a chance to do a little of both by letting me give a criminal defense perspective to his class.


I quoted liberally from The Torah, the Gospel according to Matthew, The Book of Susanna from the Apocrypha, and Jay Z. I pointed out that the Bible contains at least a couple of wrongful convictions: In addition to Jesus' Kangaroo court conviction, Joseph had been wrongly convicted of doing his master's wife. I also spoke of how good lawyering got Susanna off of a frame-up job, and how Jay Z could complain about profiling in the second verse of 99 Problems(even though his "trunk was raw"- i.e.: he was, in fact, transporting narcotics). Looky there! Preacher, teacher AND lawyer.

Roadtrip: West Ashley, Too

Needed to run a few errands on the near-side of Charleston today, so Diane and I loaded into her car (whom we've named "Ike". I've tried to impress upon her the need to name one's vehicles. Could well be she's humoring me). Anyhow, today's journey was about shoes and food. What's not to love? First, it's off to the Bicycle/running/swimming store for some new feet coverings.

Diane's first choice for a parking spot was ill-advised. Towing appeared to be the least of the bad consequences for the unfortunate non-customer to park in front of the Carolina Rod and Gun Shop. Let's move over a couple of spots.
Ah, here we are.



















Our earnest attendant sold me a pair of ASICS. Now let's go find some food. On to Earth Fare for a meal and some grocery shopping. I have some trepidation here, as my past experiences with dine-in/grocery combos generally involved things liked pickled pig's feet.


Sushi for the evening meal? Right tasty. And, yeah, that's eel wrapped around that California roll. On to the grocery section.



Ten Mile wine? Guess I coulda had two of these last Saturday.











Apples and chocolate!









Geez. Only Earth Fare could make chocolate sound so unappetizing. And $12.00 a pound? Still, Diane bought it, and you can bet your sweet bippie I'm gonna eat some of it.





On to the checkout line. And checkout this dude: Checks and stripes together? Really? The amazing thing about this dude is that he appeared to have a wife with him. I didn't catch what she was wearing.




Back to the Boro. Let's have a look at the shoes and new running socks. Imo be unbeatable now. Shoot, It'd be unpatriotic to whoop me.

Toy Yoda.

Growing up, AndyMan and I were a couple of the many, many children who had a "Magic 8-Ball". Ask the 8-Ball a question ("Does Andy like to eat poo?"). Shake the globe. Turn it upside down. Gaze at the answer. You'd occasionally get a "yes" or "no", but the odds were better that you'd get an "ask again later" or something like that. Through advances in technology, American children (and not a few goofy adults) no longer have to rely on kinetic energy and a polygon suspended in inky water to find the answers to life's mysteries: we now have Yoda to tell us. Ask him a question ("Is Andy the biggest wussy in the Southeastern United States?"), squeeze his hand, and- viola!- Yoda announces the answer ("Difficult question, you ask. Ask again later"). Okay, the answers still stink, but who can resist that keen Yoda wit?

Okay, I deserved this.

Had a couple of Wild Blue blueberry lagers today. I wanted some sort of celebration for running 20 miles yesterday. Did I say run? Perhaps that's a bit too strong a term for yesterday's performance. I'd've been under twelve minute miles if I hadn't walked one and a half of the final three miles. Still, I covered twenty miles. I figure that's got to be worth something. Right?

He's Got the Whole World...

Many years ago I bought a globe for the education and entertainment of my many children and me. Said globe is pictured at left. After long and faithful service, this pictographically enhanced orb has taken some licks. When the stand broke a year or so ago, I finally decided I needed to pitch it. Three times I have actually deposited battered ball into the waste bin. Each time it finds its way back into the house. "Dad, you accidentally threw this out", one or other of my offspring will say, and back in the house it comes. It's like the Jason of globes. Two old songs come to mind:

Well, There's That, Anyway.

I got troubles. Everyone does. But I got plenty of good stuff going on, too. Thanks, Diane.

Unfinished Business.

Two and a half years ago, when the Twins came to live in the Boro, I read to them. One of the books we started together was "The Dangerous Book for Boys". Along with little learning bits, there were activities which dads and sons were supposed to do together. One of those activities was building a treehouse. We started enthusiastically enough. We bought lumber and hardware. We built a foundation by drilling mammoth screws through two-by-sixes into one of the water oaks in the backyard. We measured, cut and notched four-by-four posts into a platform and screwed the posts into the tree. Then... we stopped. The boys got more and more friends, and had less and less time and interest in "The Dangerous Book for Boys" and for the activities contained therein. Sad. Inevitable, but sad. The Lads are back with their mom in Beaufort now. The treehouse is mostly done, and not awful. The boys? I reckon they're about the same, for the moment. I have no doubt they'll end up a lot better in the end.

Roadtrip: Myrtle Beach- MIsc. Shots