Go Ask Daddy About Friendly Hues, Exiled QBs and the Art of Naming a Road

photo credit: Tom Simpson Animation cel from The Star Wars Holiday Special (1978) via photopin (license)

Consider the impact of color.

No, this isn’t an NPR report on the effect of on race relations. (I think they did one on the Viewfield crater and its impact on we Hispanic people once). But the power of color is so powerful. It’s most noticeable to me in the sporting world.

When Camdyn and I watched the Denver Broncos play the Jaguars in Jacksonville last fall, we felt at home in a sea of orange.

The color silver, for example – stellar on the Detroit Lions’ helmets. Paired with black in oakland/Las Vegas for the raiders? Gross. Blue and white is golden with the Kansas City Royals – it’s deplorable with that ugly scripted LA logo with the dodgers.

I Believe … XIII

Stormtrooper in a Denver storefront. Photo courtesy of Rhea Merck

It’s been a while since I’ve done an I Believe post.

Not that I don’t still believe, because I do. Some days, it’s easier than others to see it. Every day, though, we carry with us beliefs. Mine pop up in conversation, email, texts, comment responses, court depositions.

Kidding on that last one.

What do you believe? I’m only slightly (and very slightly) embarrassed that probably 37 of 42 statements here are food-related. Forty-two, also, is not by accident. It’s supposed to be the answer to the universe.

🎖️ Product Review: FreshForce Performance Underwear

I’ve reached that age.

It’s an undisclosed, nondescript number at which fashion is no longer a player in my life game. It’s an age at which lead singers for bands I once blasted from stereo speakers as a teenager (Huey Lewis) now hocks … of all things … hearing aids.

You ought to see some of the ads served up on my Pandora station, for men of my age.

I might not be able to dunk a basketball (I could, on a 6-foot rim … okay, 5.5-foot rim), or do anything CrossFit, or – Hell – stay awake through consecutive episodes of Hawaii 5-0 after dinner. But I sure as Hell don’t need these supplements you’re pushing on me.

Sunday Reads V: Authentic Living, Savvy Writing and Cookies You Won’t Believe Actually Exist

photo credit: chris favero StormTrooper Bucket shot via photopin (license)

Never raise a hand to a child, I read once – it leaves your midsection unprotected.

Comedy writer Robert Orben said that. I’ve never raised a hand to any of my children. I have, however, left my midsection – from the bottom of my rib cage to my upper thigh – vulnerable. I’ve been kicked by kids in shopping carts a thousand times.

I should be writing this post in falsetto.

There are better, healthier ways for a dad to remain vulnerable. It’s crucial for us to exude strength to our kids; we often want to take it to the extreme, though. There’s a balance to discover, between The Terminator and The Cowardly Lion.

Go Ask Daddy About Football Laundry, Wacky Words, and Our Next Outdoors Adventure

Referees and me. Hmm.

You know me. I’m mostly the agreeable type. Sure, I mutter insults to people who tailgate me and blow past me on the highway – all while snapping chats on their mobiles. But for the most part? Live and let live.

Except for, maybe, refs.

Not all refs, mind you. I’ve had enough run-ins with our striped adversaries to write a post on it. I’d be itchy afterward, though. I don’t really want to get into it. How bad does it get?

I wouldn’t go to Sports Clips for awhile because the stylists wore referee shirts.

#GirlsRock: An Interview with TV Reporter Caroline Vandergriff

I’ve known who news reporter Caroline Vandergriff is for a while.

Besides having a cool name, Caroline did a story on a hero of mine, Mildred Meachem. Mildred played in the All-American Girl Professional Baseball League. I knew Mildred from my time as a member at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Charlotte.

When Mildred died in January, Caroline did the story for Spectrum News.

Caroline treated my friend like the treasure she was. I expressed my appreciation, and told Caroline I wish she could have met Mildred, a pioneer for women’s sports whose accomplishments paved the way for girls like mine in athletics.

🤛🏾 No More Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

I’ve been hiding for a long time.

I had to go with that opening line because I’d promised someone I would. I’m glad, though, because this friend suggested it as we talked about how things are going for me now, and it perfectly tells the story.

No, I’m not coming out of the closet.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You might have noticed more of a mindful bent on Mondays around here. I can’t help it. Between meditation on Wednesday, yoga on Friday (something old and new), and prayers for world peace on Sundays …

Sunday reads III: Indulgences, Kindness, and a Voice Against More Toys (Here, Here)

I was in an outlet store with Hayden and Camdyn shopping for school shoes.

As I walked past the back aisle, on the clearance rack, I saw some nondescript black and gray Nikes. “Try them on!” Hayden said, and I did. They fit wonderfully, and I felt an inch taller because they actually had soles.

“Get them!” Camdyn said.

I couldn’t bring myself to. My current sneakers didn’t even have holes in them yet. That was my reasoning. The girls hounded me until I took them to the register. I kept thinking, “I’ll pack a lunch for 17 weeks … I’ll sell a few golf discs … I ‘ll skip meat this month …”

Go Ask Daddy About Scholastic Schedules, Commemorative Symbols, and Picking Nits in Our Language

This week, it’s all academic.

Meaning, there’s some deep philosophical questions here. Well, one at least. And one about cheese, which to me is a sign of higher intelligence. Although, when I was in college, it didn’t really feel like a haven of higher learning.

Was it just me?

I once got an 8 – yes, e-i-g-h-t – on a science test. I stayed after to ask, “is there any mathematical reason I shouldn’t hit drop-add after this?” My prof, he of feathered hair and a beard before beards were cool, simply shook his head.

Sunday Reads II: Records, Discomfort, and Mama’s Boots

It’s actually Sunday morning, now.

My goal for this Sunday post feature is to finish it before midnight Saturday night, so i can go to bed and hope for those of you so inclined can open a link or three and read something good I discovered during the week.

Not to be up another night of the week fending off sleep to finish a post.

(Did you know that sometimes, I read my posts the morning after, and it feels as if that’s my first go through? It’s true. I’ve found the same photo in twice, or sentences that jumble together, and once I even found that I forgot to title the damn thing.