Photo by Matthew Essman on Unsplash

This past weekend, although not on my "To Do" list (although maybe I should start including it), I decided to take a little time to catch up on reading. So, I grabbed the pile of newspaper articles that I've been saving to read when I have extra time (which doesn't happen often). The good news (pun intended) is that many of these articles are so old by the time I get to them, that they go straight into the recycle bin. Such as the one when Trump was still President and covered not only the pardons he had announced but also the ones that were still expected.

Anyway, I wasn't sure the subject still interested me, as obviously it was no longer relevant, but decided to give it a quick glance, which is when I saw that it mentioned how Trump had promised to "drain the swamp" when he was running for President in 2016. Before you stop reading – this post has nothing to do with politics. It's about how that phrase brought back one of my fondest memories of my Dad and a piece of paper now yellowed with age …


My dad was a consulting engineer and worked from home (which was very unusual in those days but I thought wonderful) in a room in our basement that he had converted into an office. Every day after school I'd go directly downstairs, even before running to the kitchen for a snack. I'd dump my bags, plop down (sorry, no other way of describing it) into the wooden chair in the corner, and tell him about my day. He'd turn around from his drafting table, so I could see him, and give me his undivided attention. Behind him and the drafting table was a large corkboard with assorted notes and drawings, but pinned in the far corner was a piece of paper that he'd probably put up there even before I was born.

What was on that paper always made me laugh, even though at the time I'm not sure I really understood how true it was. It was so like my dad, who had a dry but wonderful, sense of humor, sometimes silly (think Monty Python), sometimes a little sarcastic. A lot of it, though, was in his delivery – whether a story or a joke – how he'd calmly lead you into something that ended with the unexpected. Somehow, all of that came together, in what was written on that piece of paper. And although a small thing, he must have known how I'd always look at it because when it came time for me to get married and move out of the house, he gave it to me.

It has always stayed close to me, literally, in the decades since and today it's in my Red & Black binder that I use every day, especially since it's where I have my monthly calendar. And every time I look at it, I smile …

The objective of all dedicated employees should be to thoroughly analyze all situations, anticipate all problems prior to their occurrence, have answers for these problems, and move swiftly to solve these problems when called upon …. However .… when you are up to your ass in alligators it is difficult to remind yourself that your initial objective was to drain the swamp.
Photo taken by Black

Although I have subscriptions to The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal (thanks to Black), it's primarily for their arts sections, as I love their coverage on movies, theater, and TV. I try to quickly leaf through the other sections (I feel guilty just sending it straight to recycling) in case there's anything that might be remotely interesting or relevant to Red & Black. But I never expected memories of my high school senior prom to come flooding back … thanks to the business section of The Wall Street Journal.

It brought me back to the spring of 1980 (yes, I'm that old), and as my high school graduation rapidly approached, so did the senior prom. I wasn't dating anyone, and even though it was "back in the day" when girls didn't ask boys out on a date, I decided to invite Carlo, a boy I was good friends with, although I definitely "like liked" him. All girls reading this will know exactly what I mean. For boys, well, you can probably figure it out.

Anyway, I summoned up the courage and asked, and much to my surprise, no make that shock, he accepted. So, you may be thinking, ok, well, this all sounds pretty normal and uneventful, even if it was decades ago. What's the big deal? And what could this possibly have to do with a newspaper article?

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