A recent caller to the Sean Hannity radio show made one of the best political points I’ve ever heard, but it seemed completely lost on Mr. Hannity and sadly, he did not engage the discussion. The caller said a fundamental problem in our country is that we were a nation “founded on principals and few laws,” but that due to the deluge of lawyers among us, those principals are drowning in a cesspool of laws and litigation.

In a related story, a new study indicates we Americans are ruder than ever. Go figure. One cited area was the increasingly bad behavior of our children and our reluctance to do anything about it. With so many lawyers looking for any and all areas to increase demand, it seems you’re risking “catching a case” if you correct your child, nevermind giving them a good kick in the ass, not that I’m advocating that…

Just this morning I discovered that one of the bast times to communicate with my daughter Megan is between 3:00am and 4:00am. We had one of the best conversations…EVER. She is so bright, beautiful and funny. She also has the ability to read people that seems way beyond her 16 years. Watching her growing is like watching a flower in springtime as it confronts the rain and glows in the sunshine. From my seat in the stands (a good one), there are many sunny days ahead.

I had an interesting couple days in Atlanta that paired play and work beautifully. On the flight down, I was amused seeing Boston Herald sportswriter Michael Felger reading the Boston Sunday Globe sports section. Is that irony or merely a humorous sight on a Sunday morning? He was heading to see the Patriots play a very tough Atlanta Falcons club, and so was I, but I probably had the better seat. My long-time pal Tommy “Tank” Kimmel has 4 season tickets on the 30 yard line, eleven rows from the field. Sweet! The Pats won a great game 31-28 with Adam Vinitieri having just another day at the office. I spent most of the game chatting with Tom’s 13 year old son, Jared. Jared is a very cool kid. He’s smart, well-mannered and he’s a catcher, proving those are not mutually exclusive. His Dad and mom Patty should be very proud.

After an exhilarating win (for me), we listened to about half the Braves-Astros game 4 tilt while waiting in the Georgia Dome parking lot traffic. The game turned into an epic 18 inning struggle finally won by the NLCS bound ‘stros. Tough day for Tommy and Jared in the sports department, but a great day otherwise for a son and his dad. From there it was on to the Emory Hotel and conference center…

This conference was a mix of corporate and field folks getting together to kickoff a new fiscal year. It’s a time of renewal and optimism. After seeing (4,352 powerpoints) and hearing presentations from our different groups, I’ve never been more confident about our future.* I am very fortunate to work for a truly great company. Not that we don’t have our challenges, but the people we have just always get it done. It’s fun to be part of that.

*Safe Harbor Statement
This blog contains forward-looking statements that are based solely on my expectations of future events as of the date of this posting, and I assume no obligation to update any forward-looking statements as a result of new information or future events or developments. Actual results could differ materially from my expectations, but I doubt it.

Megan loves “Everybody Loves Raymond.” I don’t love Raymond, but the show is a good segue into a discussion of cast member Peter Boyle. I guess he plays “Frank,” Ray’s cranky father, but man, he has played some real “characters” over the years. Last weekend I caught a bit of “Where the Buffalo Roam,” starring Billy Murray as “Gonzo” journalist Hunter S. Thompson. Boyle plays a liberal San Francisco defense attorney who gets kicked out of court and takes up with Thompson (Murray) to cover the 1972 Super…, uh, I mean the “big game.” As “Laslow,” Boyle’s hair is perfect. In “The Dream Team” from 1989, Boyle plays an ad exec who thinks he’s “the big guy.” Of course, his intimate portrayal of Gene Wilder’s creation in “Young Fronkensteen” is unparalleled in the annals of film and his greatest artistic achievment of splendidly playing whack jobs.

Today has been a bad day. Fortunately I didn’t realize the Sox (Red) game began at 4:00, so I didn’t tune in until I finished my last email at 6:43. So, it’s over. The magical mystery tour that began last October ended tonight with a loss to another very good Sox (White) team. With their pitching, defense and timely hitting, they’ll be tough to beat. They also own the home field advantage the rest of the playoffs. After skipping one year after 86 years, it’s time to say again: Wait till next year…

No Red Sox tonight. Come to think of it, not much Red Sox the last two nights either.

Recently a acquaintance wrote, “you are a pretty fair man, bro.” I think “fair” was meant as “of reasonable judgement,” as oppposed to “fair” on the Excellent / Good / Fair / Poor scale, but I could be wrong. I believe being “a pretty fair man” is a, uh, fair description, but not a complete one. My self-assessment includes descriptors such as honest, smart, quick, funny, giving, emotionally closed off, immature, judgemental and shallow. I think those all even out to a C, C-.

I like to think I’m always trying to improve as a person, but in the day to day blur of life, I can’t say it’s conscious decisions to improve, but more unconscious ones fueled by simply trying to do the right thing in life. Besides, I always have tomorrow to be better, right? Well, no. Eventually there will be no tomorrow for all of us except vampires, and we never know when today will be it. I don’t know where I’m going with this, except to say try to enjoy every day, smile, laugh and love one another. There are magic moments in each day, but usually we’re too busy to see them. I’m going to try to be more open to them…

Earlier today I noticed my Megan just had a glow about her, so I told her she looked good and that she was a beautiful young woman. She kinda blushed. Who knows how that simple thing will affect her?

“You know we just don’t recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they’re happening. Back then I thought, well, there’ll be other days. I didn’t realize that that was the only day.”

Friday was an interesting day. Waking up without an alarm at 4:40am was probably a good thing and an indication my “body clock” knew what the day held in store. The sunrise Friday morning painted a picture that whispered, “an interesting day is on the horizon.” The week was a blur, beginning with a visit to a soggy Fenway Park Monday night with good friend Jeff. We manuvered (and when I say “we,” I mean Jeff) through traffic, parked for $20.00, and waited with other hopeful Sox fans under a spitting sky seeking refuge in the old ballyard.

We arrived right at the start time of 7:05, and had time for two $6.75 Harp’s on draught and a couple $3.75 hot dogs before they announced the game was off and would be replayed Tuesday at 1:05. On the way out of the garage, Jeff asked me how Richard Nixon compared to George W. Bush. Jeff’s a student of history and I’m his living artifact. I think I said Nixon gets a bum rap because of Watergate, and that diminishes the accomplishments he made, starting both the end of the Cold War and the beginning of China as a world economic power. (Side note: If we handle the China relationship right, we become productive global partners. If not, WWIII likely destroys life as we know it.)

So it was Game, Rinse, Repeat and we both were able to make it back to Fenway for the Tuesday matinee, won by the Sox. There, I admired the artistry of the mobile hot-dog vendor. Sadly, a tough young Toronto club took the next two games of the series, essentially allowing the Bronx Bombers to win their 8th consecutive AL East title. On Friday morning I was presenting to 100 or so co-workers, and used some Sox-Yankee fodder as a light opening. I knew it would work on these members of Red Sox Nation and a few subversive embedded Yankee fans. Fear is often interrupted by nervous laughter. At five minutes to my 9:00 presentation, I got a call telling me I had to be at a very important, non-negotiable “meeting” with Megan that very same hour. Enter rush of adreneline. I saw my new boss looking at me and I know she was worried. I guess my face says quite a bit at times. Once the session began, there were no thoughts of the scheduling conflict. I’d simply do my job and then beam myself 30 miles in time for the appointment. Everything went well, but in the afternoon I just began to shut down. A lingering cold, fewer visits to the gym, and 24/7 stress are taking their toll, but I do feel things are turning. In that early morning sunshine, I lingered on my porch and soaked it in. Another new day. Another reason to believe the future will be bright…and colorful.

* Led Zeppelin – The Rain Song

According to the Center for Disease Control (CDC), cigarette smoking remains the leading preventable cause of death in the United States, accounting for approximately 1 of every 5 deaths (440,000 people) each year.

It goes on to estimate that 22.5% of all adults (46 million people) in the United States smoke cigarettes. So, if 22.5% of adults smoke and 20% (1 in 5) of all deaths each year are attributable to smoking, then the math says that if you’re smoking, IT IS KILLING YOU.

Another set of statistics indicates it is either not smart, or it is stupid, depending on your perspective, to smoke:

So, I know you’re smart, so please try to quit.

Friday was the highlight of any golf season, the 9th annual “Funnyman Open.” It’s a best-ball tournament started by Mr. George Prehatin. There’s a great deal of work that goes into organizing the event and George does it all simply to gather his friends and associates for a day of fun and bad golf. And fun it is. There’s really no feeling (well, maybe the feeling of being naked in a busy, public place comes close) like striding up the 18th fairway and being booed and cursed by the mob of early finishers perched on the bar porch overlooking the final green at the Windham CC. My team finshed -3, which was good enough to win in previous years, but out of the money in ‘05. Still, it was a fun round and it was great seeing all the hecklers afterwards. Best line I heard was about my light orange Polo shirt. “Hey Leo, does that shirt come in a man’s color?” Thanks for a great day, George.

So, golf bombs… Thursday night was another night of interrupted sleep that resulted in my watching “Secrets of the Dead” on PBS. The episode was called, “Bombing Nazi Dams” and was the story of the how the British devised a bomb to skip like a rock across a pond and then using golf ball-like backspin, crawl down the face of the dam until reaching a depth for maximum destruction. At one point, the British team devised a round bomb encasement with dimples because it would travel twice as far as a non dimpled case. It briefly touched upon the aerodynamics of the golf ball and the dimple effect. The Physics of Golf will help you get wicked smart about it. It does not, however, include a calculation adjustment to correct my slice.

Speaking of dams, yesterday there was a brief mention of 20 Taliban arrested for attempting to blow up a dam in Afghanistan on the eve on their nation elections. Reports indicate thousands could have been killed by floodwaters if the plot had been successful. I sure hope our Homeland Security department takes note of the attempt. The death toll in New Orleans would have been unimaginable if those levees were blown up with a fully-populated city instead of a largely evacuated one. In other areas across the country, cities, counties and states argue over who’s responsible to pay for strengthening the many dams and levees holding back disaster. Maybe it’s time to spend some of the Iraq hell-hole money on our own security infrastructure…

Back in High School, an amusing little trick I’d do to entertain friends was fire-breathing in the grand tradition of KISS’ Gene Simmons. Toward the end of “Firehouse” from the classic “KISS Alive” record (8-Track in this case), I’d fill my mouth with the butane from a Bic lighter until just before the point in the song when Gino would let fly. I’d then hold a lit flame aloft for dramatic effect, and just at the right moment when the fire-engine sirens were blaring, puff the butane out to achieve a glorious plume of flame about oh, three inches long. Oh yeah, that kept us entertained many a night back in the um, day. Of course, the key to Gene’s technique was achieving a fine mist of propellant in order to produce a crowd-pleasing flame, but I never actually tried it with kerosene…

Forward some 30 years to this past Thursday night when I was in Hartford for a meeting and dinner. We went to the VP of Worldwide Services house for some apps and drinks before dinner. Now Joe (my bosses bosses boss) is very cool, as is his wife who I’d met once before at a holiday party… On the way there, my friend Barb says something to the effect of this being an opportunity for me to make an impression… So, I’m mingling and at one point was facing Joe’s wife and a woman from one of our field offices. As I take a sip of Chardonnay, suddenly a nagging cough hits me and transforms me back into Gene as I spray “a fine mist of propellant” all over the two of them. Somehow I don’t think that’s what Barb meant about making an impression…