Lessons learned in life

 At my recent birthday party, someone asked me to write about what I had learned in my first 83 years. What? I’m not 100. I’m not qualified. But here goes:

—If your back hurts for no good reason, look to your head, not your back. It’s amazing how much the mind, often stressed, controls the body.

—Career is important, but so is family. Keep them in balance.

—My biggest regrets are not over things I have done. They are over things I haven’t done.

—When mistakes are made, don’t always blame yourself. Some things were just meant to happen.

—You learn the most from failures, not successes. I have recalled some setbacks and decided they led to something better.

—“No man is an island” as I learned recently from an old book of that title by Thomas Merton. I have tried to be an island most of my life, but I find that the most satisfaction comes from interacting with people. (I used to play music only for myself but now I try to share it with others. Does this column count?)

We are so fortunate to even be on this planet. We have to give something back. True satisfaction comes from contributing something to it. That can include good dead or even a friendly smile.

— Ask me again when I am 100.

Why small towns are better

Why live in a small town like South Boston or Clarksville? I asked some people who have moved here from big cities.

1.                  People are friendlier. While Holly Stadtler made some friends in bigger cities, she knows more of her neighbors in Clarksville. “I feel like it’s easier to borrow a car, borrow a shower if the plumbing is out, bum a ride, ask for someone to pick up a grocery item or let the dog out when we’re gone all day,”

2.                   Traffic is light. When I go back to Washington, I am shell-shocked. The only traffic jam here is when the train goes through South Boston.

3.                  Things are less expensive. I know many people who can work from home via broadband Internet, saving on rent or mortgages and taxes they had to pay in a big city. We used to take our car here for repairs  because they were more expensive in an urban area.

4.                  Online ordering. We may not have a Costco or a Whole Foods, but you can get just about anything you want on Amazon or other online retailers. It will be delivered to your door.

5.                  Safety. “The biggest advantage to me is the sense of safety and security,” says a Clarksville resident. Yes, you might meet a bear, but probably not a dangerous man.

6.                  Scenery. If you do have to commute, a drive through Southside is a lot prettier than the Washington Beltway. Says Sharon Satterfield of Oak Level, “There is nothing better than taking a drive down country roads to enjoy the beauty of fall or spring.”

7.                  Health: “The slow pace is better on our stress level,” says Alejandra Martinez of Cluster Springs.“We have those amazing farmers’ markets where we can stock up on fresh produce where you actually know and are friends with the people who grew it.”

8.                  Volunteer and cultural activities. You can be a big fish in a small pond if you are an actor, musician, artist or organizer. It’s much easier to get something started than in a big city.

9.                  Central location. They aren’t very close, but you are only a few hours’ drive  from the ocean, the mountains, Raleigh-Durham, an international airport, Duke’s fine medical center and six Atlantic Coast Conference college sports teams.

Familiarity. If you go to a restaurant, The Prizery or the Clarksville Community Theater, you are almost sure to find someone you know. That wouldn’t happen to locals visiting the Kennedy Center or DPAC in Durham. In fact, people are so familiar that recent arrivals have trouble getting used to friends and service people just showing up and knocking on the door. “We’re here!“

Ya Gotta Know When to Fo ‘Em

  

I have a confession: I play online poker for a half-hour every night.

What? The mild guy who goes to monthly prayer breakfasts?

Yes, and I have accumulated $840 million  so far.

Oh, I forgot to mention: It is not real money.

So with a new casino opening within 30 miles, I thought I would teach them a thing or two!

I wonder if I could use  my online winnings as a bankroll. I guess not. I wonder if this newspaper would stake me. I guess not. Might this be a tax-deductible business expense? Don’t think so.

I showed up last week at Caesar’s Virginia with a line of about 12 guys waiting for the 10 a.m. opening. They all seemed to know each other. They all looked alike, about 60 years old.

This place had only been open for a month. They can’t be tourists. It turns out, a lot of them were local retired police. Do they come here every day?

They even took me under their wing. “Don’t leave your bag behind the chair like that. It will get It will get stolen.” “Remove the rack when you place the chips in front of you.” “Those chips are 5’s, the dealer can give you change.”

Hey, you are talking to a guy who spent two years in Las Vegas and occasionally plays low-stakes poker in Reno!

The biggest drawback, and the reason I probably won’t play again: I couldn’t see the cards. They had to tell me what the five “face-up” cards were in no-limit Texas Hold-em. I am too old for this.

But on the first hand, I was dealt a king and a 10 and they told me there were an ace, a queen and a jack on the flop. I have a straight! Wow.

I think I bet $30, though I’m not sure what the chips meant. On the last round a young guy, out of place in this group, raised me $100. Against my straight? You are a fool! But I folded.

“Good fold,” he said as he announced he had a full house! He was right.

I sat through a bunch of weak hands but then I was dealt an ace. There were two aces in the flop. Three aces! I checked and did not bet as I learned to do in online poker. Everybody would know I had three aces and fold. I bet a lot on the next hand though and my buddy next to me hung in there. On the last card he got a flush and won!

The worst thing of the whole day came when he told the others, “I could have raised, but felt sorry for him.”

“Leaving so soon?” He said after I lost $134 in 20 minutes. Yes, and probably forever.

Pickett was horrified, as if I had lost the house and farm. “It was for my column,” I said. “Why didn’t you just interview these people?” She said. But I had to try it. And if I had won, this wouldn’t have been such a good column now, would it?

I have not been a fan of gambling for years, and I’m not so happy to see a casino nearby. Figure how much of those former policemen’s pensions is ending up in other people’s pockets.

But I expect to eat at the restaurants. More on that later.

“Go East Young Man”

 

The meeting at the Fairmont Hotel bar in San Francisco marked a turning point in my life in 1963.

“How would you like to come and write  for me at the Delaware State News?” said Jack Smyth, the publisher, who was attending a newspaper convention.  Smyth decided to interview me there after I answered an ad in Editor & Publisher magazine.

I got the job, but I guess I committed a gaffe. “Mike only had one drink and left,” he complained to people later.

When I told my mother about the job, she was horrified. “Delaware?!!!” She lamented. After graduating from UC Berkeley, I had worked for three months in a summer replacement job on the staid Berkeley Daily Gazette. She expected me to stay in the area.

But I piled my belongings into my 1956 Ford and crossed the country to Dover, Del., a small town but also a state capital. I had to borrow money from Smyth when I got there. Smyth was a native Pennsylvanian who definitely had the luck of the Irish. A farmer came into his newspaper in Renovo, PA., telling Smyth of a dream he had: There was natural gas on his property. Smyth invested in the exploration, and sure enough gas came up! As soon as Smyth moved to Dover to open a daily newspaper, the population spiked when the government installed an Air Force base.

Smyth was loads of fun but drank a tad too much.  He would write editorials against his wife in the newspaper and hosted a drinking lunch for the news staff on Fridays. A fake April Fool’s photo on the front page April 1 showed a C-133 cargo plane crashing into the state capital.  Base employees were not laughing!

Smyth was pilloried by a rival newspaper for writing in November, 1963, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and his name is Jack Kennedy, and he should be shot literally before Christmas.” (He said later he meant figuratively.)

The newspaper was a great training ground for a young journalist. Besides writing headlines and designing news pages, I got out to cover speeches by John F Kennedy (eight days before he died), Barry Goldwater and Lyndon Johnson. I covered the school board and often the city council. I wrote a column called “Go East Young Man.”

But then I got called up for six months of active duty in the Army Reserve. Smyth hadn’t thought to check my draft status but helped me get into the local unit. While I was gone, his doctor insisted that he sober up to stay alive.

He did, but the fun was gone. When I returned, there were no more wild lunches or crazy editorials. Budgets and professionalism mattered. He began a Sunday statewide newspaper and chain of newspapers that stretched to Arizona, where he later moved.

I love living in a small town now, but I didn’t as a 22-year-old. While Petula Clark was singing “Downtown” on the radio, I was heading to Pittsburgh.within six months.