i am in the midst of changing some things, here and in my life. Here, i am dropping the title “A Pocket of Resistance” from the post headline. This is a category on my website. i have long thought it redundant, especially when i began providing the link to The Lebanon Democrat’s website and my Tuesday columns.

These changes will take quite a while because i am old, slow, technically challenged, have fat fingers, and don’t retain how-to information like i used to do. But i am changing.

It has occurred to me lately anyone who reads this probably knows why i call my stuff  and me “A Pocket of Resistance.” Just to revisit, i will provide a long ago post on that later…if i can find it.

A significant reason for these changes is i have rededicated myself to writing some books. JD Waits and i wrote a fun and i think useful book on leadership and management in the early 90’s. We called it “The Pretty Good Management Book.”  Recently, JD called and asked if i still had an electronic copy.

“Of course i do,” i replied and then couldn’t find it.

So i begin recreating an electronic file from my hard copy. i realized the information was still extant and still funny (to me and JD at least). i am still in the process of recreating and trying to edit and update where needed. Once completed, JD and i will make it available at a price like the one we offered for some consulting services as “The Jewell-Waits Group” back in the 90’s. Back then, we decided to not charge the outrageous fees most OD consulting firms charged. Our flyer had a stick drawing of a bird with the lead-in “Just like a little birdie, we work ‘cheep, cheap, cheep.”

We didn’t get much business. JD moved to Houston, then Raleigh, then Bastrop, working in Austin. i did a lot of other things that also didn’t make much money.

i am now working leisurely on the book again.

i’m also working on a short booklet, i wrote for my grandson. It was the precursor to my autobiography i am writing for Sam. Due to the distance between our homes and other factors, i don’t spend as much time with him as i would like to spend (like all of the time). Also since both of my grandfathers died before i was born and my parents never talked about them that much, i really don’t know what they were like, and i don’t want Sam to not know about me. So i continue this project, which likely will never be finished. i have no intention of publishing this one. It’s purely for Sam.

But the booklet he has is about the rules i try to follow in living my life. Most are not new, but things i believe are most important. i borrowed many of my rules from others. The booklet gave a bit of explanation and history about each rule. i am thinking of making that available to other folks. My working title is Papa’s Pretty Good Rules for Living.

Then, there is there is my experience on an Indian Ocean deployment as executive officer of one of the first ships with women as part of the crew, and the first to spend extended periods at sea with those women officers and crew. My working title is Steel Decks and Glass Ceilings.

i continue to work on a children’s poetry book with illustrations by my daughter Sarah. Sam already has a copy of the manuscript. i call it Willie Nod and Some Such Things.

There is another poetry book out there. And if i ever really get motivated, i might turn several unpublished short stories into a novel.

So all of this green italic stuff started as a short introduction into a post about mopping the floors. i’ll save the bulk of that post for later. For now:

Yesterday afternoon, i mopped the tile floors in our house because of some goofy things i did yesterday morning. Our house flooring is about fifty percent tile. It’s a fairly big house. It took a long time. i thought a lot.

The sorting, scanning, throwing away, and organizing continues…endlessly. Then momentarily stopped as i ran into a pile of photographs from my last year in junior high. i longingly tried to remember every moment.

The below is a partner to the photo that will accompany my column tomorrow in The Lebanon Democrat.

1958 was one of the best, if not the best, year of my life — of course, i didn’t know then. Lebanon Junior High was simply fantastic. i was a football and basketball co-captain with Jimmy Gamble and Clinton Matthews respectively. i was a co-star in the eighth grade play with Sarah (Sassy) Ward, and was the male lead with  Martha Donnell as the female lead in the eighth grade operetta. i even made good grades, including a classic moment when Mrs. Purnell told me she could see by the look in my eye i finally understood the rudiments of algebra. Everyone was great friends. The teachers were kind and effective, and Mrs. Burton, a first-year principal was absolutely delightful. The beautiful Elaine Davis even wore my letter sweater.

And yes, i really didn’t understand it was to be my pinnacle. Mind you, i ‘m not complaining. Life has been good, and even if i could change a few critical points, which might have contributed to making a little less money, not becoming a successful writer, or whatever, i wouldn’t change a thing: i have an incredibly beautiful, talented and loving wife, two spectacularly talented and capable daughters, and a grandson who continues to make my buttons burst with pride. So no, i’m not complaining. i wouldn’t change a thing.

Back to the subject at hand, the  below picture is the cast of the eighth grade play that wonderful year. Mrs. Burton, who ran the whole thing is appropriately in the middle of the photo.

For all my old friends:

In today’s “Writer’s Almanac,” the lead item notes this day in 1796, George Washington’s farewell address was published. i think the old dog knew what he was talking about:

Now only eight years old, the Constitution was in danger, Washington feared, of falling prey to the whims of popular sentiment. In 6,086 words, his address seeks to encourage the nation to respect and maintain the Constitution, warning that a party system – not yet the governmental standard operating procedure – would reduce the nation to infighting. He urged Americans to relinquish their personal or geographical interests for the good of the national interest, warning that “designing men” would try to distract them from their larger common views by highlighting their smaller, local differences. “You cannot shield yourselves too much against the jealousies and heartburnings which spring from these misrepresentations; they tend to render alien to each other those who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection.”

A whole bunch of people my age, including me, disparage the ubiquitous use of iphones and smart phones among today’s youth.

i remain saddened neither of my daughters nor son-in-law get a daily newspaper, the stuff of my dreams for most of my life and now an integral part of Maureen’s and my morning routine.

i don’t often comment about my regrets about the next generation and their children being immersed in technology: mobile funs, video games, television, and such instead of what we had…before television, of course.

i often comment to Maureen — but seldom to others as i recognize i am old and don’t completely understand how those younger than i go about living just like my parents didn’t understand about how i went about living: different times, different culture — i am concerned about how all of this technology, innovation, social and health concerns might limit our grandson in the scope of his learning about the world.

Then after learning my grandson has his own iPhone yesterday, i asked my daughter and son-in-law about rules and if i could have his number.  Within the half hour, i swapped to text messages with him and received a Facetime call.

For over a half-hour, Samuel James Jewell Gander regaled me with a tour of his home, an introduction to Gordon, Sam’s relatively new gecko, a detailed description of several stuffed animals, and a narration about Sam being a “guide” tonight for parents at the PTA meeting (Blythe is the PTA president). There were several other revelations underway when his father, Jason, came home, and then Maureen came back from shopping, generating another tour and other stories for Grandma Mo.

It was tough cutting off the call, but knowing he had to do his homework (he told me about that as well) before the PTA meeting, i began easing out of the conversation.

It was tough.

It was tough because i was in heaven. Grandson and i just chillin’. The only thing that would have been better would have been to have the tour in person.

So now, every once in awhile considering decorum and proper distribution of time in Sam’s rather full schedule, i will talk to Sam. Just Sam and me.

Lord, that’s heaven. Pure heaven.

Thanks, Blythe and Jason…oh yeh: and Sam!

i may have posted this before and you may have to zoom in to read it. It is a poem my Aunt Colleen Prichard wrote soon  after i was born and her finance, my Uncle Bill Prichard was flying his fighter out of Belgium — the name on the nose cone was “Colleen.”

This is especially for all of my Prichard family. i just wish i could remember her in those days. Oh what gloriously romantic times it must have been…not to mention scarier than hell.