Just a Little Ride Across Wisconsin

The time is just a few minutes after 3:00 am. John is already up and carbo loading on a breakfast of pancakes and syrup. In a little more than an hour he will be starting off on what will be a 240-mile trek by bike across Wisconsin. The ride will start here in Lacrosse, Wisconsin and work its way southeast across the state eventually ending on the waterfront in downtown Milwaukee. He will be accompanied by 700 fellow bike riders, some as lone riders like John while others will ride for teams of several riders. The trek will take them through nearly 70 miles of gravel trail and tunnels, with another 170 miles on backroads as they rise and fall over 6500 feet of total elevation. While the ride starts with hundreds of riders, only about 160 will cover the entire 240 miles in a single day. John has trained all year for this ride, but today will be his distance record as he joins the group to cover it in a single day.

3:45 am Ready to roll

I will be driving the sag wagon for John’s trip, accompanied by my daughter Bailey who is John’s spouse. Our job will be to meet him at the designated checkpoints along the way where we will refresh his water bottles and provide him with the snacks and food he has planned out for each stop. This honor had fallen to my younger daughter, Kathryn, last year, but is mine to experience this year. I am honored to be on his sag crew and a part of his journey.

It is now 4:30 am and we are with John as he awaits the start and continues to check and recheck everything on his bike. The start is only minutes away now and bikers are coming from every direction to find their starting positions. The start area is marked off in intervals that closely mimic the starting paces the riders intend to keep. The faster pace riders are placed near the beginning, while slower starters will take up positions further back in line. The last thing any rider wants is to be involved in a collision within the first mile of the ride due to an uneven start. John will take a position in the top third of the riders with a chosen pace around 15 mph. My first impression is of how focused John is. If he is to be successful, he must maintain a sustainable pace, pay attention to his times as he has planned them out, and be able to break the ride into segments. He will likely be on the bike for up to 17 hours and he has to find ways of avoiding thinking about how much he still has left, as opposed to focusing on the segments as he finishes one and begins the next. Only if he thinks of them as a bunch of shorter trips, will the totality of the trip not take its toll on his emotional energy.

Focused! John prepares and Bailey syncs the app we will use to track John.

It’s 5:00 am, the start! John gives us a cursory glance and a wave, and he is off into the dark. By the time Bailey and I have made our way back to the hotel, the app on her phone shows John already 6 miles out. Sparta is our first check point some 30 miles away. We decide we better forego breakfast and get on the road to meet him. It’s amazing how this feels like a sacrifice for us and then we remember, John’s on the bike, we are in a car. Way too easy to lose perspective. We vow to toughen up, but not without a cup of coffee to go.

The weather last night was dotted with torrential downpours. We are worried as John approaches the Sparta Elroy trail, as to the condition of the gravel bed. How messed up will the tunnel surfaces be. One of those tunnels is nearly a mile in length and there are no lights. The riders will depend on the collective light cast by their bike lights. As John prepares to leave this first pit stop, he expresses concerns about switching from pavement to the gravel trails but grabs fresh water and a couple bananas and heads back out. He will repeat this action up to ten more times throughout the day. At least the rain, forecast to be off and on all day, has so far held off. We pick John up as the trail crosses through the next three villages. He does not stop at any of these, but I can feel the relief in Bailey as she waves him through. Each crossing shows he is riding strong and has chopped off another ten miles here and another fifteen miles there. His next planned stop will be Elroy.

We are there waiting in Elroy. It is amazingly only 9:45 in the morning. It seems so much later but then we remind ourselves that John has now been riding for almost five hours. Again, with the perspective! This is the point where he will switch from the Sparta Elroy trail to the 400 Trail as it winds its way down to Reedsburg. As it turns out, we were able to pass John a slice of pizza and pudding cup at the old train depot in Kendall. He warned us that he may not stop at Elroy and as he approaches us on the trail, he gives a thumbs up and rides straight through. I guess we catch him at Reedsburg.

We wait at the depot in Reedsburg and eventually we start seeing riders we know have been coming through the previous checkpoints around the same time as John. Bailey’s app says that he is about 2 miles out and so we wait. Then suddenly we see him making the corner leading into town and the end of the 400 Trail. He reaches the depot covered in mud, gravel, and grease. His black bike is barely recognizable, but John just wants a quick refuel on some snacks and heads back out. We will meet him in Wisconsin Dells where he will take ten minutes to wolf down a burger and fries that we are to pick up while we wait. The good news, he is off the gravel trails for the next few hours and the sun is out. The bad news, the Baraboo Ridge lies dead ahead and that means the hills have begun.

The stop in Wisconsin Dells goes well and Bailey and I hide our shame as we finish off our McDonalds burger, fries, and a shake, oh the humanity! John wants to get right back out so his hamburger will wait. Fries and a pudding cup are all he takes time for, and he is off for the climb over the ridge. Once he clears the ridge, it will be mostly downhill to the ferry crossing at Merrimac. As Wisconsin Dells was designated as the halfway point, over 400 riders have now disappeared from the ride. But John and about 160 others will trek on. As we wait for the ferry to complete its trip across and back on the river, John gets a well-deserved half hour rest. But time can become his enemy if he is to finish by 10:00 pm in Milwaukee. The ferry barely drops the gate and John and about 30 riders are headed down the road.

As nice as the sunshine was at the ferry crossing, the blackening skies on the other side of the river bode nothing but bad news. John had barely reached the next village at Lodi when the skies let loose. The rain came in torrents. Bailey and I are on the road when the storm hit and are barely able to keep driving. We catch ourselves complaining about the rain when the reality hits us that John is somehow continuing to ride in this. We know that because we are tracking his progress on the app. He has slowed considerably but he is still moving south. We stop complaining and once again regain the perspective. We say a silent prayer and wish him God speed.

We reach the next checkpoint at Bristol where a group of friends and family will await John’s pass through at the Sassy Cow Creamery. John is looking forward to seeing his children at this stop. Jackson and Adela have made posters and will be there to cheer him on to the finish some 90 miles ahead. This will be his encouragement for the final push. The problem is the rain. It is coming down so hard that we can barely see across the street. But then we all catch a break. The rain lets up just long enough for us to spot John’s light blinking through the gloom. It is around 3:30 as he crests the hill and we all clang bells and rush out to welcome him to this briefest of stops. Hugs from Jackson and Adela, encouragement from the friends and family that are there, and John gets back on the bike and heads on down the road. As the rain starts back up, we can just catch a glimpse of the red light on the back of his bike fading into the distance. I will forever hold that image of that solitary rider disappearing into the gloom.

This is where I left the sag wagon. I needed to drive my wife and our grandkids to the hotel in Milwaukee where we would wait for John to finish the ride. Bailey would see him through the next two stops at Waterloo and Lake Mills. At Lake Mills she would wave John through as he had to enter gravel trails once more for 25 more miles on the Glacial Drumlin trail to Milwaukee. The next time she would see him would be the finish line in Milwaukee. As we found out later, this was one of the worst legs of the trip if not thee worst. The trail was littered with tree branches and water running in the ruts. This leg alone would do in the casual rider, but John must push through this ever mindful of the distance remaining and the approaching darkness.





Back on the gravel

The call came in from Bailey at 9:30. She was at the finish line and John was 9 miles out. The goal of finishing before 10:00 was in jeopardy but he was pushing as hard as he could. As the minutes ticked down, we waited at the finish line, Jackson and Adela with their posters, and the rest of us with fingers crossed. At 10:00 the app said 1 mile out. At 10:05 we saw bike lights crossing the avenue three blocks down and at 10:06, to the screams of “you made it”, and 17 hours after leaving Lacrosse, John finished the ride. I should add this note. At that 1 mile out mark, John had called Bailey and said I need a hamburger when I come in. My wife immediately headed to the restaurant only to find out the grill had been shut down for the night. Upon hearing the story and seeing John’s children waiting, the chef said I am going to fire up the grill and make him the perfect hamburger, which in John’s case is plain, no condiments just the meat. The least we can do after 240 miles.

I would never have fully understood this ride or my sons-in-law’s obsession had I not been able to be even a small part of it on his sag crew. My deep respect for what he accomplished goes without saying. You are the toughest guy I know. Now get on that bike and start training for next year.

When is Enough, Enough?

I want two things to be clear. First, I waited three days to write this so that some of the shock and anger I am feeling could at least be focused. Second, I grew up in a family where my sister and father were hunters. I later married into a family where everyone hunts. This is not a blog about why every gun should be removed. There are guns that are appropriate for hunting. Assault rifles are not. Especially assault rifles in the hands of teens, in the hands of people who would do evil, in the hands of an unbalanced individual. Assault rifles should be restricted to trained law enforcement, the military, and other protective service individuals.

Three days ago the unthinkable happened again. This time it was in an elementary school. Nineteen children, innocent children with families that loved them, with the potential for bright futures in front of them, who were dropped off at school never to come home again. We can focus on the action of one seriously unbalanced individual or we can look at the ease with which he obtained his weapon of choice along with an inexcusable amount of ammunition. We can also focus on the gun, without which we wouldn’t be having this dialogue. We would be blissfully ignoring the warning signs once again, all the while believing that the thoughts and prayers of our politicians would be the solution to our pandemic of gun violence.

I am not naïve. I know that criminals will find the guns. I know that criminals will break the laws. That is what makes them criminals. But does that justify us doing nothing? Does that allow politicians to trot out the second amendment every time some responsible law maker tries to pass meaningful, responsible legislation to at least make it harder to get the guns? If we are hiding behind the second amendment, let’s consider what the founding fathers were really trying to define. Is a teen with an assault rifle a standing militia? I am tired of the politicians who immediately claim that gun legislation implies that we are taking all the guns or that we are going after the responsible gun owner who legally owns and uses a gun for sport of hunting. We the people are simply asking that we make sure that a gun owner goes through the proper background check, that they are asked to wait a couple of days to get that legally obtained gun, that assault rifles, high capacity ammunition magazines, that bump stocks and ghost guns are banned from ownership by the general public. Why is that so difficult? Why is that so threatening?

When is enough enough? I cannot accept that the solution to school shootings is to arm teachers, turn schools into armed bunkers, to train students how to fend off a shooter or to have children practice shooter drills in their schools. Aren’t we admitting that it is easier to lay the responsibility on the victim than to limit the ability of the shooter to make them victims. Thoughts and prayers are a nice gesture, but if not followed up with action, they are at best an act of empathy but at worst a cover for the cowardice by those that can to do something, but choose to do nothing.

A responsible congress would have, should have, already come together at the very least to talk about what could be done or at best, would already be voting on legislation to start the solution moving forward. But of course that hasn’t happened. We are told that to ask for legislation is politicizing the situation. That our second amendment rights are being taken away. That we don’t understand the problem. This is what I understand, you were elected to pass laws that would keep us safe, that you were elected to tackle the problems even if you think they are complicated, that you were elected to serve, not to spend your time trying to figure out how to keep yourself in office. If you want to stay in office, then serve, and if the solution takes compromise, then sit down together and talk. Stop playing the party line, stop serving the NRA and start serving the people who elected you.

I will end this with a challenge. I have already donated to an organization that will fight for responsible gun legislation, education, and support for the survivors and families of loved ones lost to gun violence. That is only a start. I will also vote and I will cast that vote for politicians who can answer this simple question correctly, “Will you vote for responsible gun legislation?” Yes or no. No double speak, no skirting the issue. Just yes or no.

Will you join me? Actions do speak louder than words. We need to act and we need to ask others to take action as well, especially our elected leaders who we entrusted with the power to do something about it. After all, enough is enough!

When the Trail Ends

I have been spending a lot of time hiking trails lately. They are generally quite well marked and often carry signs reminding us to follow the trail and stay on the trail, but what happens when the trail ends? Most of the time we are on trails that are just loops and if we do in fact stay on the trail, we end up where we started. But what if the trail is one of those that lead us out to a point and then expect us to return the way we came. I ran into one of these on my latest hike and the metaphor was worth exploring.

I found myself at the end of the point with this spectacular view. I could take my picture and then turn back, but what if? What if I stepped off the trail and followed the rocky shoreline that lead beyond? It would not be the safe trail I had just left, but where would it lead me if I was willing to put in the effort? What would lie just around the bend? I didn’t follow the urge that day, but I thought about it, and even regretted not having tried. Eventually, I returned to the trail and back tracked my path to the starting point.

I think the trail is a metaphor for life. We are all on a trail. The trail leads us through our decisions, through our careers, through our life. We can trust that the trail we are following is the right one. We can follow it precisely to where it leads. But what if the trail comes to an end? Do we turn back around and go back to where we began? Do we loop endlessly around repeating the same things day after day? Or do we ignore the stay on the trail sign and step off? Do we take the risk and make our own trail? Sometimes our trail, the trail we were following, does come to an end. I contend that only if we are willing to do the later, to make our own trail, can we truly experience life the way it is meant to be.

When we blaze our own trail, we must assume the risk, but without risk, there can be no reward. I am not promoting recklessness, rather I am encouraging resourcefulness. You can never know what was just around the bend unless you find a way to continue the trail. That next step you take may be the most important step you ever take. Where is your trail leading? Will you stay on the trail or make your own?

An Adventure

It was my granddaughter’s birthday recently. She was turning four and according to her, once you are four you can do almost anything. It took me but a minute to know the gift I needed to give her. I would give her an invitation to an adventure.

An adventure is an activity we do with a friend. On adventures we make discoveries, we go places we have not been before, we bond with our friend, and we make memories. Adventures can be as simple as a walk on a new trail, or better yet, taking a turn we had not planned on, not knowing where it will lead. An adventure might be climbing a mountain or just seeing the city from the observation deck of a skyscraper. The important thing is that though you plan the trip, you do not plan the adventure, they just kind of unfold. And therein lies the joy.

I have had many adventures with my daughters over the years. They were often of the simple version, a trip to the zoo or a climb on the bluffs of Devil’s Lake, but appreciated none the less. As they grew older, my daughters would always be looking forward to our next adventure. They began to take on a style of their own. The adventure to them was a planned destination but no agenda once we arrived. The accommodations often left much to be desired, but they would be quick to add that where we would sleep was not important, it was what awaited us the next morning that would define the adventure. As they grew, so too did the adventures. We skied snow covered slopes out West, we climbed Half Dome in Yosemite Valley, hiked the Geyser Trail at dawn in Yellowstone, and actually paraglided off the peaks above Medellin Columbia, in South America. As I write this, I know they are surely busy plotting the next adventure.

For Adela, her adventures are just beginning, but I know this, she will certainly follow in her mother’s footsteps. She already has an adventurous spirit and with a little nurturing from her Opa, she will turn that spirit loose. I can only hope to keep up and continue to be her adventure partner.

So what about your adventures? Do you have them? Do you leave open spaces in your trip plans for that surprise that lies just beyond the path? The surprises in life are what make the journey worthwhile. Never discount the driving vacation and when you pass the sign that says view point ahead, take the time to take it in. The rest of the trip will wait, but that view may never offer itself again.

Go have an adventure. As for Adela and I, we are getting ready for our first and already thinking about the one after that.

What Just Flew By?

2020 is behind us. The remanents, unfortunately may not be completely gone. But, we have reason to be optimistic. We have a vaccine, for some already here and well deserved, for others, moving closer every day. The election is over. There is divisiveness that is still hanging on but we can, as reasonable people, accept our role in the healing, and be the friends and fellow citizens we all need to be. Though our politicians may struggle with their roles, we don’t need to. We can move on and do the work of showing them that we are ALL Americans and deserving of nonpartisan representation. We are the Country. We are the Democracy. We are the individual drive that leads to collective progress. And finally, we have for the most part, adjusted to our new normal and have been creative in the process. We have figured out how to make our celebrations smaller and at the same time more intimate. We have created ways to move our get togethers outside or, alternatively, inside our computer screens via Zoom. I have actually visited with friends I might not have seen any other way. Necessity IS the mother of invention.

Don’t bring the old year with you when the NEW year offers new opportunities. Don’t spend your time dwelling on the past when we have the chance to rebirth optimism by looking forward. I choose to welcome 2021. I will be optimistic for all the reasons I just mentioned, but even more so for the fact that when you look for the opportunities you will find them. That when you believe the future holds promise, you can find it. That we have always been a nation that can heal and grow stronger. Quoting a friend, “When you look for the good everything gets better.”

And one last thing. As I started writing this yesterday, I was anxiously awaiting my Green Bay Packers debut in the play-offs. Never knowing how things can unfold, I still found myself being optimistic….. nervous, but optimistic. This morning, as I am finishing this blog, I am reveling in the fact that we, yes we, won yesterday and now we can wait anxiously, but with optimism for next weekend. That is if you are a Packer fan. It IS a new year, and anything is possible. Believe in the possibilities. Be part of the healing. Celebrate our planet’s just completed trip around the sun and look forward to the next. Look, we just passed Mars!

Can we walk back the clock?

There is a person in our neighborhood who walks past our house at least once a day. I should qualify that sentence. She walks backward by our house everyday. I have in fact, never seen her walk forward. It is always backward. Granted, she is headed forward, but backward. I have pondered her reason for this behavior and the best I could come up with is that she is either more concerned with where she has been than where she is headed or maybe, just maybe, she is taking the years back off her life. Walking back the clock. My fantasy is that she will walk by each day looking another day younger than the day before and that convinced of her success, I will join her in her routine and take back at least some of the years that have crept up on me. For sure I would take back a major portion of this last year.

I have always been overly obsessed with my age. In fact I have written about it multiple times and from multiple perspectives. But this year is different. Though I haven’t suffered directly from the pandemic, it has certainly cramped my style. I had big plans for the traveling I would do once I retired. Those plans had a lot to do with when I would retire. At some point in your life, it stops being about all the years that lie ahead and instead becomes about the number of years left. Life is like this project with a very long timeline for completion. At first, there is a tendency to procrastinate. Plenty of time to get all the steps completed, so no worries. I’ll get married one day and start that family. I’ll buy my first house and maybe even start a retirement account. At some point you realize you are half way through the timeline and worry begins to creep in, but you aren’t desperate because there still is time. Plenty of people further along their timeline. Let them do the worrying. And then suddenly it happens, the deadline is approaching and the clock is speeding up. Worry becomes fear that you might not complete the project. Time to retire, to get traveling, just keep moving.

This year has accentuated that fear. My travel plans were put on hold and a year of my opportunities, denied. So maybe, if I could walk backward for awhile, I could get that time back. Before you bombard me with advice and shower me with all those adages about age like, it’s not how many years old you are but how many years young you act, I know. Believe me, I know. It’s just that it’s such a pleasant fantasy to think you could have at least a few years back.

I’m not going to get into the argument of what would you change if you could. I have looked at my life, and though there have been missteps and even some bad choices, it has all led to where I am. Would I change anything? Would I be willing to risk not having the love of my incredible daughters, my unbelievable grandchildren, my beautiful wife? Would I give up the lessons I have learned along the way? The answer of course is no. But still, would I buy some more time if there was a way to do it? Then not what would I change, but what would I devote more passion to? How would I be careful to not waste the extra time?

I know she walks backward for some reason other than the one I have made up, but I want to stop her one day and have the conversation. Has the thought ever crossed her mind? Now if you happen to see me walking backward, promise me you won’t question my motives. Know that I am not afraid of the future, just motivated by the nearness of it.

Playing Chicken Covid-19 Style

Having returned seven days ago from the island paradise of St Lucia, I have been spending the last week exiled to my not so exotic island of Covid-19 here on Valley Road. It hasn’t been all bad. I have discovered new rooms of sanctuary in my own home, you know, for those moments when togetherness becomes, well a bit overwhelming. Don’t miss read that, I love my wife and I am more than willing to have long conversations gazing into each others eyes across our kitchen counter but there is also only so much HGTV I can take. I secretly fear that I may come into the kitchen one morning and find Chip and Joanna, sledge hammer in hand, removing a wall and putting up ship lap all over the place. Guess you had to have seen at least one of those house flip shows to get that last one.

I have also discovered the art of binge watching that my children have tried to coerce me into. In the past week I have relived the history of New York City and its immigrant history, I have tracked down and prosecuted the Unabomber and watched all three Men in Black movies. I have rediscovered my conspiracy fed belief in aliens and there impact on ancient history and uncovered mysteries in the museum I had never even heard of. The only thing I have resisted is the urge to continue to destroy Oak Island in search of the money pit, which I am convinced is simply the seemingly bottomless pit of money the producers of A&E have to throw at the search. Just imagine if they ever do find it. The show will have to end and not get to break the record for the longest running documentary ever, that record being held by the search for ancient aliens.

In the total lack of sports to watch, I and my wife have taken up walking around the block in our twice daily sport of Coved-19 Chicken. You know, that moment when someone turns the corner or comes out of their house and is now walking toward you on the same sidewalk. Who folds first and dashes across the street to the other side? We have turned it into a betting game as to not only who folds first but at what point and whether they flee diagonally or straight across. I am feeling like an extra in one of those zombie movies. Fair warning, if you are the opponent, Deb and I don’t fold.

The other night, desperate for our Friday night out and shared cocktail with friends, we instituted a virtual couples party courtesy of ZOOM. We had virtual wine and cocktails, music and food. We shared pictures, you can actually do that live, and toasted each other’s health and most importantly shared laughter and for a moment forgot our isolation. Thank you ZOOM for making this all possible. Just imagine the flu pandemic of the early 1900’s, doing that same thing via telegraph. Something like nice to imagine seeing you, stop. Hope the kids are enjoying time off from school, stop. Just toasted you with a nip of grog, stop. That party would have lasted a lot longer than the forty minutes we got from my free version of ZOOM. I am sure we will be repeating the process with our friends, the ones we don’t meet on our street in the game of chicken, and in fact have a family ZOOM get together in a few minutes.

Seven days to go before I have completed my mandatory fourteen day exile / quarantine. I won’t miss the isolation but I will miss the slowing of the pace of life. I will miss the excuse to just sit back and relax. I will miss the me time. We will go back to life the way we knew it pre-corona but I suspect that some things will never be the same. I hope that for one, it will be this sense of togetherness we currently feel in the midst of the self imposed isolation we are all in. We should do everything we can to foster this sense of closeness, of all being equal that we have experienced in the face of dealing with this crisis. We are strong enough to do that. We just need to commit to that as much as we have committed to hand washing and hoarding toilet paper. Together we can emerge better than we were.

Hoping you are staying safe, six feet apart and healthy.

The Sky is Falling and I Can’t Find my Umbrella

A week ago the world was so different. I should say OUR world. The greater world, in many countries were way ahead of us. For them the pandemic was already there. We have just begun to deal with the realities. Now it seems like our sky is falling.

We are now social distancing and in many cases, working from home or even quarantined to our homes. Our social spots, restaurants and bars, gyms, movie theaters and churches are all closed. What we were doing face to face is now being done by face time apps. Our children, who would be in school or maybe day care, are home. Family time is great and maybe an increased awareness of family time may be a positive outcome of all of this, but for now it is an added issue to juggle. If they are on-line learning, who’s keeping them focused and on task? To say that this isn’t stressful would be naive. My daughter is a high school teacher with a three year old and a six year old now at home. She is formulating on-line lessons, delivering them via Zoom to her students she can only hope are still engaged all the while making sure her own six year old is on-line doing his work, watching her three year old and allowing space for her husband to also be working from home. This may not be the dream version of family time. Note to my readers, along with prayers for all of our medical workers who are out there on the line facing an increased risk, consider those teachers who have families of their own trying to continue their teaching duties to your children or maybe your grandchildren.

I am an optimist, or at least have always tried to be optimistic. These are difficult times for us all. Along with all the things I have already alluded to, I am sure it has been hard to not watch the market. I am a retired financial planner and at this point may need to remind you that now is not a time to sell out of panic. No one could have predicted this and now that we are in the middle of it, we are forced to steel our nerves and ride this out. Markets have always and will always return to normal after the crisis has passed and the market has had a chance to stabilize. America has always and will always be a land of optimism. The storm will pass but we must be patient. It will get darker before it gets better, but IT WILL GET BETTER.

Given our current condition and the restrictions it has required, I may not be able to sit down face to face with you. For awhile I won’t be able go out and have coffee with you, but I can still stay in touch. I can still communicate with you. We have all this technology now that makes me feel as though you are right here in the room with me. If you haven’t already been using them, download Zoom or Duo or Skype and then reach out to me. The conversation may be about our stress or even our fear but it will eventually give way to a shared optimism that a good dose of social interactions can bring. With any luck at all, we may even find a way to laugh or share something to laugh about. We can’t hold each other’s hand but we can hold each other’s emotions. Let’s listen and share our stories and look for even the tiniest piece of normalcy for us to cling to. Together …. well, as together as social distancing allows, we can all survive.

There are things in life that must be done, things that should be done and things that could be done. Make sure that the things that must be done include your health, both physically and emotionally, and the health and emotional well being of your family. No matter how important the world tells us the other things are, we can’t accomplish any of them without family and personal health in place first.

When I started this piece, I was fighting an overwhelming sense of dread. I was trying to prioritize everyone else’s needs ahead of my own and I was finding myself trying to control the things I have no control over. I made a decision to do what I just asked all of us to do. I reached out to a friend or two. We shared our frustrations and then we shared a laugh or two. We even made some plans for when this is all over. And then I reached out to all of you by writing this piece. Don’t feel alone just because we have become isolated by this virus and its fallout.

So don’t be a stranger, reach out even if it’s just a text or an email. Know that I am on the other end and appreciative. It turns out YOU are my umbrella.

My My My, Corona

We are in Atlanta having just cleared Customs. We have brought back memories, photos and souvenirs. With any kind of luck, we did not bring back Coronavirus. We were warned that the lines would be horrific at the airports and my lovely wife had already been steeling herself for at the very least, a missed flight and at the worst, lock up in an airport cage for the foreseeable future. I am happy to say that neither has happened and with any kind of luck we will be home by midnight. Of course, that still leaves us needing to go to the grocery store as we left for our vacation with our basic supplies fairly used up. Next crisis, trying to find a roll of TP in the midst of the supermarket raiders.

It is amazing how much things have changed from just a week ago. When we left, I still had an investment portfolio, meetings and seminars, as well as a reasonably normal social life. At some point, the market decided to dazzle us with its free fall and grocery stores were raided of the simplest items. Meetings were cancelled, businesses closed and schools now entering the live streaming age sans students. When we left, I was looking forward to Opening Day, the Bucks as potential world champions and both the Men’s Badger Basketball team and the Women’s Badger Hockey poised to accomplish the unthinkable, a Big Ten Championship and an NCAA preferred berth. I had even started to pick my March Madness Brackets, okay, that was a stretch, but I was at least looking forward to the exercise.

All of that changed, literally in a heartbeat. We now have a new term, “social distancing”, where we apparently live stream our dates, weddings and get together’s. We now need to observe rules, last enforced when I was at a middle school dance. For you Over the Hill folks, the old three-foot rule is what I am referencing. The problem is the rule is now six feet and there is a 60 second rule as well.

But I am an optimist by nature. This too shall pass, and I will do my best to observe the rules. In the meantime, I am working on distracting people from wanting to talk about nothing but Coronavirus. By midweek of our vacation it was impossible to have any conversation that didn’t include it. What would start out as, “where are you from” and “how long are you here”, reverted to what are we going to do about this pandemic? Now some were clearly panicked while others were skeptic at best. Some were downright resistant. I am by no means picking sides nor am I trying to downplay the seriousness, but I do know that panic and hoarding will not improve our lot. We need to get back to some sense of normalcy and it can start with our conversations and breaking our addiction to 24 – 7 news casts. We cannot put our heads in the sand, but we must avoid digging a trench we may never be able to escape. As I sit here, and with due consideration that this is an international hub, I have seen so many masked individuals that for a second, I thought I was in an Oceans 11 movie.

All of this will pass. It may get darker before it gets better, but it will pass. For now, I am thankful to be on the last leg of my journey home, sad having left paradise this morning and ready to self-quarantine for fourteen days, or so I am told. I will not miss some of the meetings that have been cancelled and I will improve my Zoom skills for the meetings still scheduled. Life will go on. Some things may never return to the way they were, that is a hint to search for stock in companies and processes that will benefit by the change in the way we do business. Successful businesses adapt and we will as well.

So, in closing, My Corona doesn’t need to be about our downfall but just a song when we were asked to do what we do best, laugh in the face of adversity.

Early Morning

Deb and I leave tomorrow morning for a week in St Lucia. When I say tomorrow morning, I mean early tomorrow morning. And since my wife believes that being there on time means two hours before, early tomorrow morning might be an understatement. We will be leaving our home at 3:45 AM as in “Ah Man” it’s still night. Now there’s just one more little problem, daylight savings time is also tomorrow morning. When we planned this trip several months ago, I am sure I raised that issue. I am also sure no one was listening.

This thought crossed my mind. If the clocks change at 2:00 AM, maybe I just stay up and change them then. Of course the time would then jump from 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM, my alarm would go off and I could save all that time I would have wasted sleeping. The truly amazing thing in all of this is the fact that an Uber will be coming to pick us up at that hour. Yes, I scheduled it. No way was one going to be just hanging around at that hour.

So there it is. If you are escaping the cold weather of winter and trading it for the weather of the tropics, no sense letting the day get away from you. If you are reading this from Wisconsin, know that by the time you read it, I should already be sitting on a beach, toes in the sand and a tall drink in my hand watching the sun set over the ocean. Eat your heart out, but for God sake, Sleep In.