By happenstance, i wandered into a file folder yesterday while i continue to toss stuff and organize the remainder for the ones i leave behind…eventually. It is a job that will never be finished.

But the contents of that file folder put a halt to my efforts. i spent a huge chunk of the rest of the day remembering the legend. My association with JD Waits began in Perth, Australia in the autumn of 1981. We became shipmates when i reported aboard to relieve the USS Okinawa (LPH-3) weapons officer.

An aside: For some strange unknown reason, Okinawa was the only ship of the class that titled my position “Weapons Officer.” The six other LPHs titled my position as “First Lieutenant.” i preferred the latter, but i was the Weapons Officer.

i will not elaborate on the many adventures (or misadventures as some might call them) of JD and me. To cover them all would be longer than War and Peace. i plan to address many of them separately.

JD and i shared apartments twice in that wonderful period from December 1981 until May 1983, one apartment in Coronado proper and the other in the Cornado Cays with a boat slip for JD’s 25-foot Cal sailboat.

We both worked hard on Okinawa, JD in his role as Assistant Aviation Officer, and I, as mentioned earlier, as Weapons Officer, and then Overhaul Coordinator toward the end of my tour. We were admired and respected for our work ethic, knowledge in our craft, and considered leaders on the ship.

But when we were on liberty, we were acknowledged as the kings of fun, the “Booze Brothers,” the Navy version of the Blues Brothers. The file folder captured that crazy, glorious time of our reign. JD was a Chief Warrant Officer 4; i was a commander. We were single.

i am having trouble writing this because i stop and think of yet another crazy stunt we pulled off, often with the help of members of the OKI wardroom.

Of course, we blew it. JD married his first wife, Mary Lou, again. i married Maureen. Both marriages ruining the perfect bachelor existence. But it worked out. Maureen and Mary Lou became great friends, and JD and i continued our exploits, only fewer because it is a significant distance between the Southwest corner and central Texas. This, too, worked out, and we remained close, the four of us.

JD turned 82 today, just over a month younger than me. Knowing him, i think he is smiling and thinking of another outrageous idea yonder over that rainbow bridge.

Happy Birthday, JD…i cleaned this up for our wives.

Posted previously somewhere. But a key phrase in this tale again popped into my head, and the tale deserves a retelling.

A long, long time ago, sometime in the 1990s, my friend Marty Linville, told me the story. It had occurred the week before our Friday morning golf round when Marty, wife Linda, daughter Michelle, and son Michael lived in nice home on a cul-de-sac. They had good friends who lived across the street who were dedicated to animal rights. Those neighbors were members of “People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals” (PETA).

On this particular evening, they were going around the neighborhood to get people to support PETA’s efforts.

They knocked on Marty’s door. After the usual round of friendly greetings, the couple urged Marty to stop buying dairy products, eating beef or beef product, and not buying or wearing belts, jackets, or other articles of clothing made of leather.

They were obviously genuinely proud of their presentation until Marty asked them a question:

“Why do you want to kill the cows?”

Startled, the couple doubled down talking about treating the cows humanely. Then they asked Marty what could he mean by such a question as “Why do you want to kill the cows?”

Marty explained, “I’m from Kansas, lived in cow country. I can tell you if folks quit drinking milk and eating cheese, and quit wearing leather, those farmers aren’t going to keep all of those cows for pets!”

He did not tell me his friends response. i wish i knew.

Dear ESPN, i apologize.

i will try from this point on, to refrain from my nasty comments about your programming and announcers (well, maybe just an itty bit). i am, at 82, a true, bona fide, no fooling curmudgeon. i finally realized my whining is useless. You, nor the general public will agree with me. i should not disparage what i don’t understand. i will try to be better, to fit in…no, not fit in: i will always be a pocket of resistance, a seeker of truth, a believer in common sense.

You see, once upon a time, in a place faraway, i was a sports writer and then sports editor. Albeit a short time, i think it gave me a perspective most folks don’t have, and you certainly have not displayed my perception of “sports” since your inception in 1979 and the early days when you focused your athletic events on many off the beaten path — Man, i loved watching Australian football.

i wish i could start a sports journal or a sports section is a good local newspaper somewhere (are there any truly “local” papers anymore?). — Hah, what kind of punctuation is that? Oh, it’s jim jewell punctuation…if he doesn’t edit it out.

This sports section/journal would be about sports. There would be no discussion of the moral turpitude of the players or the coaches. It would contain no mention of contracts, money, politics, and most of all betting and the odds. It would not go into the opinions about officiating good or bad. It would not suggest changing the rules to attract audiences or fit into the money making schemes.

It wouldn’t address the greed that has changed sport. The change in games because of required commercials lasting three times longer or more while the athletes in every sport twiddle their thumbs or listen to their spout intricate tactics hardly ever quite executed as planned.

it wouldn’t chastise the sports moguls for extending seasons beyond the safe zone for the athletes in order to gain more money with more games. Today, Sunday, January 25th, there were two games played in the NFL. One the AFC championship game in Denver in a snow storm. It was stupid football. Had it been played in New England, it would have been worse.

It will not even chastise the interference and control of coaches in the contests rather than let the athletes…you know, the ones on the field actually “playing” to make decisions in the “game.”

This “Sports” section/journal would not spend time disecting the chicanery and bribery involved in the NCAA’s “Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) and transfer portals. And it certainly wouldn’t include stories about youngsters as young as four or five being trained to be career athlete at the expense of having a childhood.

And on and on and on.

But this dream of mine would report upon the beauty of sports, all sports; the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat; the phenomenal plays, the incredible physical ability of the players

It’s just a dream, and like Bill Veeck knew, if it became a reality, it would be bankrupt in about two months.

After all, it’s now all about money; it is not about sport or sportsmanship. It’s entertainment.

i think i’m going back to play mumblety-peg.

Two days after my 82nd birthday, i sit with my thoughts after a quiet day pursuing home tasks to complete. Today, was marvelous.

My favorite and most emotional moment came when my grandson, Sam Gander, sent me a text that would make any grandparent tear up. Talking to my two daughters, one in Las Vegas, one in Austin, Texas were real close to Sam’s text in my emotional moments.

A call from my Vandy running mate, Cy Fraser, from Orcas Island, Washington in the San Juan Islands took me back to wonderful times both back in Old Hickory, Nashville, and Lebanon, but our times together since then.

The birthday wishes on Facebook moved me enough to try and thank folks personally rather than sent out a generic thanks. i may have done just that but suspect i may have missed a few while i wrestled with the electronic world.

Maureen and i celebrated on the eve of the birthday. We went to the San Diego Symphony and had a light dinner afterward.

The San Diego Symphony presented Johannes Brahm’s Piano Concerto, No. 1 in D Minor, Opus 15, and Anton Dvorak’s Symphony #7 in D Minor.

Since Mrs. Gwaltney taught me piano for a couple of years, which i gave up after the eighth grade because i was devoted to football. i did go to Peabody College and participate in a recital, playing a classical piece i do not recall. i have been intrigued but not involved with classical music since then. Cy Fraser introduced me to Handel’s “Water Music” and Dvořák’s 9th , “The New World” Symphony while we were at Vanderbilt. They since have been constantly on my play lists, and i keep adding new found ones i enjoy. The two we heard on Sunday have been added.

While listening, i looked about the impressive hall. It was full, nearly all attendees were old, but there were younger folks in the audience. i wore a sports coat but chose not to wear a tie. It didn’t matter. All manner of dress, both men and women, were on display. There was one guy in tee shirt, Bermuda shorts, flip flops, and a baseball cap. i saw several in tuxedos.

Style of dress did not seem to make a difference. .

When the music begin to play, it was, as they say, quiet as a mouse. i compared the silence while the orchestra performed to what was going on in most of the television sets in the country: the NFL playoffs.

None of the symphony attendees were screaming, making weird gestures, and contorting faces. Of course, there were no visible cameras to egg them on. None were booing the the referees, the other team, nor their own team when they played poorly. Of course, the only team was the symphony orchestra, and there were no refs. No one in the orchestra made a play and then self-promoted with silly dances.

Since i was a sports reporter and editor, i’ve always wanted to watch a sports event where no one screamed, made an idiot of themselves, nor booed as if they expected to impact the outcome. That doesn’t happen.

Sitting there on Sunday, i was entranced by the complexity of the music and the flawless coordination of all of the musicians, especially the incredible pianist, Marc-Andrè Hamelin, the guest conductor, Thomas Guggies, and the orchestra.

If you have never been to a symphony performance, i suggest you try it if you can. i think you would enjoy it. And i am sure you would not get hoarse from screaming while listening.

Even at this age, i just keep learning.

i have learned to live with maladies, injuries, and possible improvements and cures. i’ve learned how lucky i am to have avoided any serious ones up until this past year.

In regard to those maladies, i have confirmed that Preventive Maintenance as i learned it in the Navy on my first ship and practiced until the last ship serves one well if they practice it in their personal health.

i have learned that politics is nasty, that those in the field spend more time getting reelected and hating the opposition than serving the people.

i have learned there are lots of people, smart, good people even, who will believe anything if it makes them feel good about what they already believe, and hate, not understanding is the major factor for disregarding truth, and that hate is driven in turn by fear.

i have learned that every group of people regardless of how they are grouped are the same. Those groups have good, well-intended people who are concerned with the welfare of all the group. Those groups have people just trying to make a living and not make waves. They all have scoundrels with no concern about others who will stoop to the lowest level of the human kind to get what they want. In fact, nearly all groupings are mirrored by the others.

i have learned that “easier” is not the path to happiness and satisfaction, that hard work is satisfying, and doing a job well can give one a feeling of accomplishment, regardless of the complexity or difficulty.

I have learned that college and professional sports are no longer “sports.” They are now careers in the entertainment business. i still watch to see great athletes perform, but i’m now limiting my watching to teams that are my favorites. i do this with a sense of humor when fans frothing at the mouth do really stupid things to be on the screen, and when commercials are stupid, which is most of the time. i don’t laugh at sports announcers or many supposedly sports media experts: i cry.

i have learned that “dressing up” for occasions, even just a dining out with my wife or friends makes me feel good about myself. i try to follow Dave Carey’s dictum of dressing up one level from the group with whom you are meeting is a good practice. (Apparently, this is not the case with anyone two decades younger than me, and i do not fault them.)

i have learned that treating folks as equals, dealing with them truthfully, and not trying to impress one’s own beliefs upon them can produce wonders.

i have learned that younger folks treat older folks differently. i am a “has been,” and my thoughts are viewed as antiquated, not in touch. There is a touch of respect and understanding, even caring, but they won’t listen to what i have to say.

i have learned that my memories are precious and a fuel to keep on living as best i can.

i have learned that living has no right answer. If you have your right answer, it won’t be the right answer for others. Compatability of right answers are as good as it’s going to get.

i have learned to consider all of the possible risks and benefits of whatever decision is facing me before making a decision, any decision. This should be done with the knowledge that even that may not bring about the results i desire.

i have learned i should live attempting to do what’s right. Often that is the toughest of the choices.

And i have learned that my friends, regardless of political, religious, financial beliefs are a treasure to me, and i appreciate them all.

So, today, i wish all of you the best on my happy 82nd birthday. We’ve got several more left, i think, but i still hope all of you outlast me…and i hope to live as long as my father, one month shy of 99, and my mother, one month shy of 97.