Beer and Pistachios! Better than "rope and corn"

My friend, Jim Valvano, (yes the Jim Valvano who coached the NC State Wolfpack to the 1983 NCAA National Championship and who died of cancer in 1993) used to joke about exercising and dieting.

“Exercise?” Jim would pilfer from other comedians while holding court in baseball coach Sam Esposito’s office just down the hall from his own on the top floor of the three story the Case Athletics Center. “When I get the urge, I usually just lie down and let it pass.”

He would joke about Jim Fixx, who wrote the best-seller “The Complete Book of Running” and started a fitness revolution in the United States. Valvano, in his early days at State, would say that Fixx would probably die while doing what he does best, running. Fixx, at the age of 52, died in July 1984 while running. He suffered a heart attack. Valvano quit telling that one.

There was never any evidence that Jim Valvano had organized and deliberate exercise unless you counted the energy he expended while coaching in practice and during games.

For a diet, Jim had many but his best was his “rope and corn” diet of late night after games in his office, a few feet from his cathedral, Reynolds Coliseum. His “rope” was a cigar, usually a brand that could have only been imported from, say, Cuba. And, “corn” was any variety of popcorn popped in the microwave. His diets usually worked for a while, but without exercising, his weight was dependant on eating less. And he kept in good shape.

Is there a point to this story? Yes, read on.

In the last 21 months, I’ve lost 30 pounds, due to exercise and diet and not from some medical condition. At age 65, both are important. In early April 2016 at a physical, I weighed 213.5 pounds. Prior to that, according to my faithful home scales, I was at least 215.

Today, I weigh 185, butt naked, of course. The first 10 pounds were easy, reducing intake, exercising a little with walks around the neighborhood. Losing the last 10 pounds has been tougher as has been maintaining my weight, though I would like to go lower, maybe to 180.

The exercise part is not effortless but it is routine. Daily, except some Sundays, I exercise. My wife and I go to the Workout Anytime in Cary. We each have our program. Mine is at least an hour on the treadmill, walking (no running) a minimum of 3.5 miles, sometimes longer and farther, sometimes at slight inclines (2-3 degrees). Then, if the urge hits, I lift weights, some free and some machine. We’re there no more than 90 minutes. 

There are days I miss Workout Anytime to play golf, walking 18 holes (about 8,000 yards) at hilly Lonnie Poole Golf Course, carrying my 23-pound bag of clubs and balls. This routine, either on the treadmill or on the golf course, is more than a year old.

Wonderful Pistachios

As far as my diet, well, because of weight loss, I’m not as hungry as I was so my diet can sometimes sound like Valvano’s “rope and corn” effort. But mine is better tasting than Jimmy's "rope and corn" diet. A few days ago, one of my golf partners asked what I had been doing to lose weight. (Glad he noticed.) I explained the exercise and then he asked about dieting.

“Currently, I’m on a beer and pistachios with a scoop of ice cream when desired,” I said. “Beer and pistachios before dinner. Ice cream after.” He laughed, thinking that was not the case, but it is. 

Even with a diet, I'm not depriving myself of drinking beer, but I do in moderation. I’m into any kind of nuts, usually peanuts and cashews, but recently my wife brought home a bag of Wonderful Pistachios. Now, a good combo for dieting is beer and pistachios; it requires arm lifts for the beer and it can be agonizing and difficult to pry open those pistachios. Always buy pistachios in the shells. Drink a high IBU IPA!

Reduced portions on my plate, not eating just to be eating and exercising are the keys to my weight loss and trimmer figure. Unfortunately, most of my clothes are too big for me, a much better situation that when I had a hard time fitting into them. And, fortunately, I think my bad cholesterol level is down, or at least it should be. I’ll find out at my next physical coming soon.

Not Hoity-Toity: Just Down To Earth Joe Biden

Some may say I was fortunate and others would say unfortunate, but last night I attended by design and desire the Democratic Party fundraiser at Chapel Hill’s Carolina Inn at which Vice President Joe Biden spoke, presenting a pretty good case for the re-election of his party for at the very least the coming election cycle, that in two years and one more after that.

While there was a smattering of enthusiastic, but not wildly fervent, applause throughout the talk—a mixture of a prepared teleprompter text and much given speech with a local flavor and old-time political saying sprinkled throughout—I was not willing to put my hands together about everything he said, but I did enjoy being there, especially to hear the Vice President of the United States, especially Joe Biden who, I believe, among all those who ran for the Democratic nomination in 2008, would have been the best President if elected.

Reason: he knows how to relate to all people at all times, not just an elite group of thinkers one day or a specific group of a certain race or ethnic background the next: he knows how not just to give a straight message but weave it as a story, drawing in his audience as he knows the neighborhood while taking his listeners to other parts of America and around the world, giving a perspective that only Biden can do with his charming smile and serious face and delivery.

Another reason I think he would have made a good President is because of his legislative negotiating skills. Believe it or not, he knew how to get along with Jesse Helms, and that speaks volumes to being able to pass laws with votes from both sides of the aisles. Maybe it’s because of his long-time service in Congress and the many friends he made and the respect he gained from nearly all members of the House and Senate and, while that may not have translated positively if he were President, I feel he would have been able to work closer with Republicans, much closer as President than President Obama has.

Last night’s affair was not your hoity-toity gathering, despite the announced minimum $500 required to get in (there were plenty there who paid less and plenty who contributed more). In today’s report of the function by Rob Christensen of The News & Observer, you are led to believe it was more extravagant than it was. Rob reported, “They grazed on hors d’oeuvres such as beef tenderloin on crispy wonton, crab crostini, and spinach and local goat cheese profiteroles.” All true but these were just bite-size finger foods being offer by the highly competent Carolina Inn wait staff, the same as if they were working a get-together by a Rams Club group prior to a football game or a UNC Board of Governors reception or a fraternity reunion. By the way, Rob left out two of my favorites being offered: some little fried green tomato thingy and the entire plate of dessert cookies, all bite size.

While there were plenty of lawyers, legislators, candidates and other back-slappers in attendance, and while Governor Bev Perdue did the quick introduction so she could share the stage with the Vice President, this was more of blue-collar than high-dollar function—the cash bar offered a substantial glass of wine for $5.00 and premium beer (thank goodness for the New Castle) for only $4.00 a bottle—intended to rally the Democratic troops—especially those who can help with additional fundraising—for the fall election than it was to put some much needed cash into the Democratic National Committee’s bank account. From my view, both were accomplished.

While Mr. Biden’s speech—purely the Company line—was interesting and made points with the faithful while trying to box into a corner the just-say-no Republicans and their failed policies of the eight years of the most recent Bush Administration, I attended for various reasons, not all to be revealed here, of which the utmost was to see and hear Biden in a small setting.

He’s the Vice President, for gosh sakes and I had the opportunity to be there. I went to see and hear President Obama when he came to Raleigh’s Broughton High School last July. I figured seeing Biden would be a lot more entertaining and give me a better perspective of why vote Democratic. He was and he did, though doing the latter is not exactly where I am now or expect to be later.

In a strange way, I’ve admired Biden, while not agreeing with him much of the time, for many years. He says too much sometimes and offers information he should keep to himself, but that’s not all bad. We know him to be down to earth as if he wants to pull you aside and give you some inside stuff to something. He’s got a secret, and he’s going to tell someone. It might as well be you. I’d love to have a sit-down with him in a secluded watering hole and get the inside scoop on his life, politics and other topics. As Vice President, he’s got to miss those types of opportunities.

One more reason for going: After the speech, he came down from the stage and worked the rope line, talking directly to and shaking the hand of at least a hundred of those there. It was fun and interesting to see him do this. He showed genuine concern when someone related a problem and he joined in laughter even when what was said was not funny but the person saying it thought so. He worked that rope line longer than he spoke to the entire group. He posed for photos take by a staff member with small cameras and cell phones, giving those who stayed a memento for life.

And, that’s one of those reasons I went. Got it! Thanks, Joe, for the photo opp, but especially for being yourself.

Playing 58 Holes Of Golf To Celebrate 58 Years

(NOTE: Excuse today’s extensive posting, but I played 58 holes of golf yesterday, and it takes a lots of words to tell about such a lengthy round.)

It was early Tuesday evening when I considered taking Wednesday off from work to play a round of golf on my 58th birthday. And, then, for some reason, when a friend asked me what was planned for the next day, my response was, “I’m going to play 58 holes of golf.”

And I did. And, it was actually not as tiring as one might think. It was challenging on several fronts, especially with a somewhat full tee sheet at Lonnie Poole Golf Course on the NC State University campus and with the course-purposely-designed rough that’s nearly knee deep in some areas.

So, with 58 holes in mind, after I posted in this space yesterday, I put together a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich on a funky-whole-grain-wheat-it’s-good-for-you bread at set out for the 12-minute drive to the year-old course that borders the north side of Interstate 40 along Raleigh’s southern edge.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I was concerned with the number of cars, thinking that just getting off the first tee in a timely fashion would be a problem, but, at 7:30 in the morning, it wasn’t. Entering the golf shop, I encounter head professional Rob Yanovitch, who is always glad to see any golfer walk through the door of this public facility (call 919-833-3338 for your tee time) and who was assisting a couple with merchandise purchases.

“Gonna play today, Jim?” he asked.
“58 holes,” I said.
“Really?” he said with a bit of reservation and excitement.
“It’s my birthday,” I explained. “I’m 58 today. One hole per year.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Take off.”

So, I saddled up on cart #6, a number of no significance except that we became good buddies over the next nine hours and I promised to mention her in today’s column. Yet that I rode is noteworthy because I usually walk. Considering the length and expected time frame of the “round,” walking was completely out of the question, not even considered.

To play that many holes in one day, especially with lots of golfers scheduled at the same course, I expected to “go through” other groups (though I guess you couldn’t consider me and #6 a group so I should have said “go through groups”). It started at the first tee when I raced to the starter who informed me that another single and his son, maybe three years old, were set to tee off. When I explained my effort for the day, the starter looked at the other player who suggested I take off. After my tee shot on the first hole, that player and his son were not a factor in round one, but I would encounter them a little later during the 58 holes.

My plan was to play the first 18 holes from the tips, the Competition tees which measure the course at 7,358 yards. The second 18 would be from the Black set of markers, a 6,901-yard layout, and the third loop would be played from the White tees, a course of 6,326 yards. All par 71. The distances for the final four holes—which were to be numbers 10, 11, 17 and 18—would be determined if and when I reached that point in the day.

It was on the 2nd tee of the day when a wave of disappointment struck. A three-some was noticed at the 3rd tee and a twosome was on the 2nd green. “This is going to be a slow and long day,” I thought, but after playing number two and driving to the 3rd tee, I thought of an alternate routing to get past the two groups. About as far away from the clubhouse you can get, and across Main Campus Drive from the Centennial Campus Middle School, is a complex where the 3rd and 5th greens and the 4th and 6th tees come together.

After I putted out on #3, the twosome, just now teeing off of #4 suggested I go through, but seeing the threesome on the 4th green, I passed on their suggestion and went with the alternate plan: play #6 and #7, then the 5th and 4th holes, and move on to the 8th tee. Because of the layout of the course, this was possible, and in my humble opinion is a better routing than the design, with apologies to Arnold Palmer and his design team. Several months ago, I suggested this same scheme while playing with two others as we were being held up by two groups at the same location of the course.

My plan yesterday worked well except for one thing: I played #6 and #7 and arrived at the 5th tee just as the twosome, which had only completed the 4th hole during that time, was teeing off. “Now, may I go through?” I asked. And I did, hitting two of my better shots of the day, striking a solid drive and a six-iron to about 8 feet from the pin on the 462-yard, slight dogleg right, par 4, but missing the putt. From then on, it was smooth sailing to complete the first 18 holes, only encountering early morning maintenance crews on the back nine and finishing the round in about two hours.

This is definitely the way golf should be played. Too many people take too much time, checking the wind, using range finders (distance determiners for those not in the know), standing over the ball until they feel like swinging. It’s just golf, and unless you’re in a tournament or playing for tremendously high stakes, have fun on the course. Hit the ball and move along. Use the sprinkler heads for yardage. Pull the club on first instinct. Understand that the distance may say 177 yards but that if you hit a 177 yard club, or even a 167 yard shot, the ball will not end up near the hole and that the better idea is to play to the right side of the sloping green with a 160 yard hit and let natural contours take over. Course knowledge is a lot better than those time consuming devices, head counselors and the mimicking of PGA Tour players who play under a lot better course conditions than most of us.

After exiting the 18th green, I found an approaching bag attendant who was surprised to see me so early and who wanted to clean and stow my clubs. Thanking him for his assistance, I explained the 58 holes, jumped in the cart and headed toward the starter positioned near the putting green. “The front is packed,” he said. “You’ll have to wait for a while.” I pointed to the nearby 10th tee, and he told me to take off as no one was exiting the 9th green. As it turns out, when I checked in two hours earlier, the pro used his walkie-talkie system to let the starter and course rangers know what I was there to do. All day, they were extremely accommodating without disturbing normal play. By the end of the day, there were many other players who knew of my quest, cheering me on as I continued to move throughout the course.

But, hitting off of the 10th tee (Black tees now), I noticed a solitary player approaching the green. It was the man and his small son from the original first tee. The man was trying to hit onto the green and putt while his son decided that the sand bunker in front of the green was a sand box for play. They soon were on their way to the 11th tee and I was soon there as well. I was motioned through, and never looked back, playing my way through the back side with its wonderful rolling hills and exciting views of the downtown skyline of Raleigh. It really is picturesque and should be enjoyed by all, golfers and non-golfers alike. Visit Lonnie Poole golf Course in Raleigh and see for yourself.

Over at the 14th hole, a par 3 that sits in a low spot with the green surrounded by trees not allowing for much air circulation and therefore susceptible to thinning grass and bare spots, an electrical company crew was working on a huge fan to remedy the air flow problem. As I walked onto the green, one worker looked at me and asked, “didn’t we see you just a few minutes ago?” It had been about an hour earlier. Actually I saw them again at the 4th tee during my third round.

Two holes later—remember the twosome and threesome I passed by re-routing the front side?—I was asked if I wanted to go through. So, on 16 and 17 (my 25th and 26th holes of the day), I passed the five players I went through and around 22 holes earlier in the day. They were joking and playing and having fun. I was on a mission. After my 27th hole, the attendant looked at me in shock. “You’ve already played another 18?!?!” I chuckled and drove toward the first tee.

“Slam booked,” said the starter.
“Any non-foursomes?” I asked.
“A twosome on the tee and this twosome waiting,” he said, pointing to a couple of players on the practice green.

I opted for the first tee twosome, a father and son—a civil engineering rising senior at NC State—who were getting ready to hit from my Black tees. “May I join you for nine holes?” was responded with “of course.” And it was a good break from the race-speed of the earlier 27 holes. It was only 10:30 a.m., and besides, having a little competition was enjoyable. Neither of them had played Lonnie Poole, and asked throughout the nine about the course. The father had an interesting yet deliberately—not fast but not slow by any means—pace of play and game and a positive attitude. Recent physical problems with his right arm caused his game to change from a left to right ball movement to a left to left direction. “Any suggestions for changing that,” he asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Aim to the right.” It worked.

The son was another story. He’s a nice player but has studied the game and the younger tour players too much. He’s got a routine on every shot and can’t understand or figure out why his ball kept going to the right, on a straight line. “It’s your stance,” I eventually told him. “You’re aimed dead right.” When he repositioned his feet, the ball started to split the fairway. But, he also has an affinity for a 60 degree wedge, a relationship, I believe, he has developed from watching Phil Mickelson. This kid used his 60-degree to chip from anywhere near the green, once using it on well manicured grass from about 6-inches off the putting surface. His ball came to rest about halfway to the hole.

Years ago, I was taught to use my putter from off the green, especially when the grass is cut smooth or if there is no grass at all. Instead of watching Mickelson play, I suggest older footage of Byron Nelson, Ben Hogan, Bobby Jones, Sam Snead and others, using a putter, or at the very least a much less lofted club, when close to but not on the green, especially when just 6-inches away. “I’ve tried it, but can’t make it work,” the son explained. It takes a special person to understand and know how to putt from off the green.

At the end of that nine, I needed a break and a friend had texted me (yes, I Blackberryed while playing golf yesterday) and said he would drop by the course to buy me a birthday lunch. I took him up on the offer and had a 30 minute break and a chicken salad sandwich before presenting myself to the starter. First tee was open; hit it. In the first six holes, now playing from the White tees, I went through one foursome who asked me what hole I was on. “The second,” I said, but then realized I should have said my 38th. “Third 18,” I told them as they encouraged my efforts.

On the 6th hole, a 141 yard par three, I sank a 20-foot birdie putt, my only under-par hole of the day, and then joined up with another single, an OBGYN doctor who works at Wake Medical Center, on the 7th tee. We played together through the 18th hole, enjoying conversation—only about golf and not about our business—and comparing notes about Lonnie Poole Golf Course. Though he’s not a native of the area, coming to Raleigh from Minnesota, he’s become a Wolfpack fan and made a donation to the NC State golf course. He’s, therefore, a charter Partner, as I. But, his work schedule does not encourage him to pay an annual greens fee, though he plays about twice a month during warm weather. When I asked why he chose to be a State fan upon moving here, he said he didn’t like Duke or North Carolina when he lived in Minnesota so NC Stare was his choice. “I just wish our teams did better,” he said.

We both think the layout of Lonnie Poole is good, interesting, challenging and fair, no matter which set of tees is played. We both look forward to a couple of years from now when the course “grows in” more and has a more mature look, feel and play, though we both complimented the conditions of the greens. The final 12 holes of my third 18 were very enjoyable and at a slower, but not miserably slower, pace. We even enjoyed several deer crossing various fairways, numbers 7, 12 and 15 in particular.

And, then it was on to the final four holes. Another man and his son were teeing off or so it seems. Actually, it was just the son, practicing for a qualifying round next week for the North Carolina Amateur. They had no problem with me tagging along for a couple of holes before, at the 11th green, they turned right to the 12th tee and I went left to the 17th tee to play the my last two holes, the 135-yard par 3 17th and the 463-yard par four 18th, of my 58 on my 58th birthday. After putting out on the last hole, making par there and at 17, I walked the hill by the green to my cart; the attendant was standing there with a damp towel. “Done?” he asked before attending to my clubs.”Finished,” I smiled as he wiped the club heads.

My goal for the day was to shoot a 255 or better, a bet thrust on me by that lunch friend. I shot 259, an average of less than 5 shots a hole: 4.47. My rounds were 83 from the Championship tees (course rating of 74.4; slope of 137); 81 from the Black tees (72.3; 131); and 77 from the White markers (69.3; 124). I played the final four holes one-over from the Black tees. I used just four golf balls all day, losing three Titleists with NC State logos. One birdie, #6 on my third 18; made 3 on the par-3 8th hole each time. And, made a six on the par-5 15th hole hitting the ball twice into water hazards: One in, two out, three in, four out; chip to hole five; putt six. I hit 27 of 42 par-4 and par-5 fairways from the tee, just 20 of 58 greens in regulation, and had only 98 putts, obviously the key to my success in scoring yesterday. I started at 7:30 a.m. and completed the 58th hole at 4:45 p.m., just 9 hours and 15 minutes with a lunch break.

Playing 58 holes of golf in one day is not my record. I played 100 holes of golf several years ago as a fund-raiser for the Cary YMCA, and, along with a couple of buddies, I played 54 holes a day for two straight days four or five years ago, on our annual excursion to the Linville/Banner Elk area of North Carolina.

I had nothing to prove on my 58th birthday by playing 58 holes on May 26, 2010, the 58th anniversary of my birth, but when I was through, I felt I had accomplished something of some significance. It was just an idea I had two nights ago, and I’m glad I followed through. If I had just done that—follow through—a little bit better on some of those shots yesterday, my scores may have been better.

Maybe, just maybe, it’ll 59 holes next year this time. Anyone want to join me?

Celebration Of Two Births: Home and Me

Fifty-eight years ago today, at a time of day which could be confirmed by looking at my birth certificate, I was born. It was that day my Dad, already with a wife and two children (I was number three of six) and living in the cramped Weatherspoon Apartments in Sanford, called Calvin Caviness (I think) to start framing his new house in McCracken Heights, at least a half mile, maybe a whole mile, north of the city limits proper of Sanford.

The footers and the foundations had been laid months before May 26, 1952 but the house was not on its way up, and now was the time to take leap to more space and a home that would last and last and last, one that would be home, really home, for a long time.

Today, those houses are not built. Most new homes are just temporary structures, made to last not so many years before overhauls are required in the kitchen, in the bathrooms, in other areas before trying to sell and move on. Very few families live in the same house for enough years to call it home, a life-long home.

We did. In Sanford. In McCracken Heights. To prove it, I can produce a record from Progress Energy that says the house…the home… at 526 Forest (legally it’s Forrest but we called it Forest) Drive in Sanford has been a continuous customer without interruption or transfer of service to anyone else since January 31, 1953. It was Carolina Power and Light back then, or may it was something else, but even today, as we are close to selling the home, nearly three years after Mom passed away and now just days away from 13 years after Dad died, the memories stay with us.

That was a home, not just a house. It’s where six siblings grew up though from oldest to youngest 16 years apart. Lots of memories come from the home, more about the house and family activities than about our own mischievous doings. There’s the hardwood floor on the main and second floors of the unique split level house and no wall-to-wall carpet except in three lower level concrete slab bedrooms. There’s the beautiful pine paneling on that level in the hallway, in the den and in Dad’s office, up the stairs, in that hallway, and in one bedroom.

There’s the Paris wallpaper with views of the Eifel Tower and the Champs d’Elise in the dining room that had a table with enough leaves to expand it to seat 23 and a built-in buffet with glass covered wooden cabinets. If the walls in that room could talk, we would hear stories about lunches and dinner with Dad’s business associates and relatives from both sides of the family, the Pomeranz members from Dad’s side and the Overton and Brooks aunts, uncles, cousins and souls (some lost; some found) on Mom’s side.

In the early 1960s, that dining room was used for a middle of the night emergency meeting of the Roberts Company Board of Directors as a fire engulfed its headquarters just four blocks away. It was the scene of food for celebrations of births, weddings, anniversaries, presidential elections, of Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas breakfasts.

The living room would have better been labeled as the life room where music flowed from the “record player” and the radio and where the ivory keys of the Steinway Baby Grand piano were tickled over and over by the long fingers offered by Mom. It never took long for someone to encourage Annie Laurie to play, and she was the best, often performing from sheet music but much better when playing from memory and by ear. What would you expect from a Meredith College music major?

The house was built with three bedrooms up stairs—the master for Mom and Dad, one for our sister Suzanne and one to be shared by our brother Rob and me—and one down downstairs for visiting business associates and a relative here and there. Then along came brother Brooks, so Rob, the oldest, moved to the guest room and Brooks moved in with me. And, on the adjoining lot, Dad built the Guest House—for visiting business associates and a relative here and there—and a swimming pool. But then along came the twins, sisters Sarah and Laurie who got the bedroom assigned to Brooks and me and we moved into a temporary partitioned area of the playroom until a two bedroom addition was built.

That playroom was the site of many Halloween gatherings. Mom dressed up as a witch, offered the neighborhood trick or treaters a special brew (fruit punch) and told ghost stories. Birthday parties galore and just a big room for play; that was the play room. It was also where, one Christmas, Santa Claus left a huge Lionel train set and board with track laid out in an interesting design. None of us saw it as we made our way to the living room that special morning. I remember Mom and Dad suggesting to all of us to go look in the play room to see if Santa left something there.

The kitchen was less of a gathering spot as it is in many and most homes today. It was a work area where Mom ruled with assistance of Janie and Hazel and others who helped her with food prep and laundry and house cleaning and raising six children while Dad worked. He also had an office, and that small room had as many memories of his efforts to create income as the rest of the home did from a family perspective.

The back yard was huge, again by today’s standards. From one end to the other, it’s at least 150 long with a tall wooden fence bordering two sides. The lot has a depth of 200 feet. In McCracken Heights, the main house is by far the largest in the neighborhood and the Guest house is the smallest. Together, the Pomeranz Estate stands tall. That back yard was the site of many baseball and football games, horseshoes, tether ball and short game golf. Easter egg hunts, a wedding and reception, and many, many, many family evening dinners on the back porch, only interrupted by the sound of race car driver Glen McDuffie testing his tools of trade one street over or by a neighbor in just a bathrobe trying to slip past along a walkway to the Guest House: “The showers are full at my house; may I use your Guest House shower?”

We—meaning you and me, not just my family—have memories of places we’ve lived and what it means to growing up. So, what is being written here is nothing really special except to me and my family and a few neighbors and friends who can relate. But, what’s important, especially to me, is that I like to take credit for the start of something really good and lasting.

It was 58 years ago today that the order was given to drive first nail into the first board of the frame that actually start the house that has always and will always be my home. Today, as I do every year at this time, I celebrate two births: mine and our home. Thank goodness both are still alive.

Two Landmarks Still Standing Tall

It was one day last week, as I was returning to Cary from my childhood home of Sanford, just about 30 miles from my current residence, when I decided to detour a little, going north on US Highways 15 and 501 to downtown Pittsboro and then east on US 64 to Cary.

I wanted to get a first-hand look at the Chatham County Courthouse, or at the very least what’s left of it, after that devastating fire that pretty much destroyed it several weeks ago. To count the number of times I’ve used the traffic circle around that building would be futile. From Sanford, going through Pittsboro to Chapel Hill or Durham or even to Darlington Heights VA, home of great-aunt Sudie where we picked fresh eggs out of the chicken coop and where we played in her old general store that also served as the crossroad’s Post Office, or from Raleigh, taking US 64 and NC 49 in Asheboro to get to Charlotte, back when there was no Pittsboro bypass, always took us though Pittsboro and into and out of that traffic circle.

The stately courthouse, as it rose from the horizon as we approached, was always a wonderful sight to see. It was one of those travel landmarks that told us where we were, unlike much of the non-descript Interstate travel of today. So, one day last week, for the first time since the fire that toppled the clock tower and basically gutted the official seat of justice in the Chatham County seat of county government, I quickly recalled the many memories of driving though Pittsboro, including the time as college students, several of us made two or three laps around the circle before exiting to the west.

Expecting the worse, what I saw didn't shock me, though I’m sure it is not as good as my visual experience that day. The brick walls still extend upward for a floor or two with scaffolding all around what’s left. I expected to see rubble, but was amazed at what I found. So, after a moment or two of gawking and remembering, I veered my car to the right and started out of Pittsboro on what is now business 64. Less than a block away is the Hardee’s, a used-to-be-stop for a biscuit and coffee on early morning trips through, when I drove through instead of around Pittsboro.

Noticing a distinguished gentleman, in coat and tie on a hot day, standing at the entrance to the parking lot at Hardee's as he looked right and left, glancing in every direction as quickly as he could, I slowed my car, afraid he might dart into traffic for some reason. But then I recognized him, or at least I thought I did, as I drove past. At my first opportunity, I made a left hand turn and completed a U-turn, heading back to confirm his name and see if I could assist him, if he needed such.

“Sir, are you Robert Morgan?” I asked, turning into the Hardee’s parking lot. “And, if so, what are you doing standing in front of Hardee’s in downtown Pittsboro?

“Yes, I am,” said the former United States Senator who served in Washington DC 1975-1981. He was also elected as North Carolina’s attorney general prior to his Senate election. “And,” with a sly grin, he continued, “I’m in Pittsboro because the lawyering business in Lillington is a little slow these days. I’m here because this is where the action is.”

He wasn’t kidding about his identity, but he was about being in Pittsboro to ply his trade. He was there, waiting for a pre-arranged ride with a friend to go to the funeral of former US Representative Ike Andrews. That service was being held just a few miles away in Bonlee NC, one of the important seats of the Brooks family of which I am a descendent. Mom always said Ike was a relative. Somewhere in the official “Brooks Reunion” history is a marriage that included an Andrews of Bonlee.

Senator Morgan was glad I stopped that day last week. We had crossed paths way back when. Way back when he was running for various offices and I was participating in elections, working for Democratic candidates. He’s from Lillington; I’m from Sanford. He knew my parents. I reminded him that former NC Lt. Gov. Dennis Wicker is a childhood friend and high school classmate, and he joked, “And, you tell people that?” Senator Morgan has always had a quit wit, and even after a stroke many years ago, he retains that character trait and issues it at every turn.

We talked a little about politics, especially about the current race for US Senate, especially because he’s a friend and fan of NC Secretary of State Elaine Marshall who led the Democratic Primary earlier this month but who’s in a run-off for the nomination. “It’s just not right that those people in Washington are trying to tell us who to support,” Mr. Morgan said of the influence of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee and its endorsement of, including supplying of money to, Cal Cunningham against Marshall. “You know,” he made a point to say, “if he’s elected to the US Senate, our two Senators will live no less than 15 minutes apart.”

Our fun continued, talking about politics and elections as Senator Morgan continued to look right and left, hoping to notice his “ride” had arrived. At one point, we talked about his defeat to Republican John East in the 1980 election. I was working for United Press International on election day and night, located at a computerized vote reporting station in Raleigh, studying maps as the returns were called in, and helping to justify the “calling” of winners.

Early in the evening Morgan had a substantial lead over East, and when I was asked to call Morgan the winner, I hesitated and started to gather the data to show why he would probably lose. The votes from the highly populated areas, Raleigh, Greensboro, Charlotte, had been reported, but the rural areas were not in. Before I could make my case, UPI and other organizations, called Morgan the winner, that he was re-elected. “Mark my word,” I told my boss, “in two hours, you’ll retract and East will win because of the vote from eastern North Carolina.”

Two hours later, my prediction came through. That day in Pittsboro, Senator Morgan confirmed he knew what I had predicted. “I had been painted as a liberal, and you know that’s far from the truth,” he said, “and all those friends of mine in the eastern part of the state were not going to vote for a liberal. I knew it would be a tough election. But that’s politics.”

I asked Mr. Morgan if I could give him that ride to the funeral. I wasn’t dressed to honor Ike Andrews, but I would be honored to help the Senator from Lillington. He refused, said his traveling companion would soon arrive, and resumed looking right and left. I shook his hand, told him it was a privilege to talk with him that day. “The honor is mine,” he returned. “And, thanks for recognizing me and stopping.”

As I drove away, glancing in my rearview mirror, I could see the old Courthouse but I also had Senator Morgan in my sights as he was looking right and left. What I saw was two landmarks in North Carolina history, both still standing tall.
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THE POLL:
There were just 23 participants in the last poll on this page which asked “What is your primary source for news?” But, if the responses are indicative of the mainstream, I’d say daily newspapers, local and national news television broadcasts and local and national radio news reporting are in trouble.

Of the 23 who took time to vote, 43% of the respondents voted for the Internet as their primary source for news while 17% selected each of the newspaper, television and radio answers. And, one person (4%), trying to be as funny as I was for putting in the selection, said “Word of Mouth” is its primary source for news. Of course, the good news for newspapers and television and radio stations is that a lot of the news found on the internet is put there by newspapers and television and radio stations.
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Sorry for my absence yesterday. I was traveling and not prepared to post.

Strong, Swift Action by O'Brien a Must

To his credit, one—and maybe the only—rule Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski has for his players is to do nothing that discredits Duke University. As narrow as that decree may seem, it’s very broad in scope, though I do not know the penalty Coach K applies for such transgression or if he has ever had to enforce it.

Food for thought: If, a few years ago, the Duke lacrosse team had been given the same diktat, there may have never been a party with an exotic dancer. Though participants of that party were found not guilty of charges related to that party, the ensuing publicity did as much to damage the reputation of the (Ivy League) Durham school as the recent national basketball title did to boost it.

The late, great NC State basketball coach Jim Valvano used to say he had no rules for his teams because, if he did, surely one of the demands of the way he wanted his players to act would be broken and then there would be circumstances and penalties to face. That’s an extreme way to approach team discipline.

When Wolfpack guard Morris Rivers, in December of 1973, was arrested and charged with stealing a 35-cents tin of aspirin, he was made to sit out one game on the schedule, but it wasn’t for his arrest and the bad publicity that followed. A few days earlier, at the suggestion of the other guard, Monte Towe, on that NCAA National championship team, coach Norman Sloan had installed a curfew rule because Monte though the team needed something to keep the team on edge. Rivers sat out a game because he broke curfew. That’s enforcing the applicable rule.

I have no idea of regulations NC State football coach Tom O’Brien has for his players, but it’s time to use quick and effective enforcement. Yesterday, four Wolfpack football players were charged with misdemeanor violations of either possession of drug paraphernalia, simple possession of marijuana, and/or maintaining a dwelling for the purpose of using a controlled substance.

Each could be found not guilty, but the reputation of NC State has been damaged. Not just locally either. This story is nationwide as is any similar story of this nature coming from any college. Do not blame the news media for this coverage. Blame the students. As football players, or as any college athlete, they live in a glass house with all the world watching. They get extreme amounts of publicity for playing in front of 60,000 people each Saturday. They should expect to see their names splashed in the newspapers when they are also a part of the police blotter.

O’Brien, though a school spokesman, released this statement: “I have been made aware of the situation and appropriate action will be taken.” The players are:

Tight end George Bryan, who as a sophomore last season made first-team all-Atlantic Coast Conference based on his 40 pass receptions, 422 yards gained and six touchdowns, was charged with maintaining a dwelling for the purpose of using a controlled substance.

Senior offensive tackle Jake Vermiglio, who the school is pushing as an all-star player for next season, was charged with possession of drug paraphernalia, simple possession of marijuana and maintaining a dwelling for the purpose of using a controlled substance.

And, also charged with possession of drug paraphernalia, simple possession of marijuana and maintaining a dwelling for the purpose of using a controlled substance were defensive linemen Markus Kuhn and JR Sweezy, both expected to figure prominently into the Wolfpack’s defense this fall. Sweezy is already on the outs with O’Brien after being suspended from the team earlier this spring after being charged with misdemeanor assault and misdemeanor larceny in mid-March.

A legal search with warrant resulted in the seizure of three plastic bags with about six grams of marijuana, two homemade bongs, and other incriminating items including a box of ephedrine sulfate injection capsules. There will be no charges on the capsules but, since ephedrine is a NCAA banned substance, this may open an entirely new can of worms. Sanctions by the NCAA could be worse than results of the misdemeanor charges of yesterday.

If you’ve been around college athletics in general, you’ve seen this situation many times. The charges and the circumstances may be different but the damage to the reputation of the school is the same, no matter the severity of the supposed crime. As a keen follower of NC State athletics, I’ve seen this played out—unfortunately—many times before. And, I’ve seen worse than what happened yesterday without penalty, and I’ve seen lighter misbehavior result in harsher penalty than what I expect this time.

I hope, not based on a guilty or not guilty verdict, “appropriate action” by O'Brien will be swift and send a message to those four and the rest of the team that this behavior will not to be tolerated. Found guilty or not, maybe all four need to be suspended indefinitely from the team. Maybe Sweezy’s suspension needs to be permanent.

And, please don’t say anything about suspending these players or any players, especially those being counted on as team leaders, as penalizing those who stay on the straight and narrow. Those four—part of a team—knew what they were doing, and didn’t have to do it. Maybe it’s common occurrence with teammates but these four got caught. Maybe O’Brien is not tough enough on his players.

Again, I have no idea of rules set forth by O’Brien, but I hope at the very least he has one that’s along the lines of Krzyzewski about not embarrassing or discrediting the University. Perception of wrong-doing usually is worse than the wrong-doing. And, NC State needs nothing to project that perception. Strong swift action, guilty or not, on these four will help to diminish but not completely erase the bad perception.

And the winner is: Jim Pomeranz (finally!)

Until yesterday, when I received an email from Hal Goodtree at the website CaryCitizen, I can’t remember the last time, recently anyway, I won anything other than maybe a hole in a golf match which happens only every now and then. Oh, I might have won $3 on a $5 lottery ticket, but is that winning? I remember going to Las Vegas once and returning to the question, “Did you win?” My answer was, “Yes, I won $50, but I spent $100 doing it.” The sign of a real winner!

Many summers ago, sometime in the late 1970s, I won a contest offered by an OD radio station. (To the unknowing, OD is short for Ocean Drive SC, the home of Carolina Beach Music, that shagging kind of music.) To win the contest, not only did you have to know the answer to the question but you had to go to the radio station and arrive first with the correct answer. I was sitting on the beach, listing to beach music, drinking a favorite beverage and basically not caring about anything, much less a radio contest, but I knew the answer and sort of knew the radio station location. I walked about 10 blocks, got there first, answered the questions correctly and won one ticket—yes, just one, not two—to a Jimmy Buffett performance later in the summer at the Myrtle Beach Convention Center.

While on the subject, I'll finish the Buffett story before I get on with winning-something yesterday. I’ve seen Buffett perform many times in my life, dating back to the 1970s when he was starting his ascent: at the Frog & Nightgown in Raleigh’s Cameron Village Subway where he played his acoustic guitar and sang as he sat on a stool in front of maybe 50 people; in the Pier, a larger (150 people) nightclub across the hall from the F&G, with his Coral Reefer Band; in 800-seat Stewart Theatre in the University Student Center on the NC State campus; in Reynolds Coliseum on the State campus; in the (name of the year) Amphitheatre in Raleigh; and in a driving rain on July 4th in Carter-Finley Stadium.

The best Buffett concert was with my winning-ticket freebie in Myrtle Beach. It had a 7:00 p.m. starting time, and, right on cue, Buffett walked onto stage with that acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder. To everyone’s surprise, he was unaccompanied as he took a seat on a lone stool on the front edge of the stage. For the next 150 minutes without pause or interruption, Buffett was vintage Buffett. The audience listened and took part but didn’t drown out the crooning. On a drugless and alcohol-less high, I left, or at least started to leave, as Buffett ducked behind the curtain and a local act started to set up. By no means was Buffett the warm-up for the next group, a name I had already forgotten.

As I was exiting, several people enthused with the next group of aspiring artists were pleading for those leaving to stay. I listened to the convincing words, even took a 45 rpm record being handed out and agreed to listen to it later. At the last moment, just before walking into the summer air, I turn around and went back inside for a song or two. When I left, a persuader asked for my opinion. “Not exactly my style of music but I’m sure they’ll do okay. Good beat.” As it turns out, that group was Alabama, just getting its start along the South’s Atlantic Coast. I haven’t a clue where that 45 rpm record is today. Not a bad winning ticket, huh.

So, yesterday, I received an email from Goodtree, CaryCitizen editor and publisher of CaryCitizen, a really good site for lots of good stuff happening in Cary. Better than any other website address for lots of good stuff happening in Cary. If you're interested in Cary, bookmark the site. Anyway, Hal was writing to inform me I had won two tickets for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Benefit Show, May 1 at Koka Booth Amphitheatre. My name was selected out of a hat from entrants in a trivia contest who answered correctly five questions. Turns out seven entries gave the correct answers and my name was drawn. I was pleased with my fortune and surprised of the few correct entries.

With the internet at hand—available to nearly everyone—and a little knowledge of the subjects, and with most of the answers on the Koka Booth Amphitheatre website, I took a shot.

Question 1: Finish this line: “Mama told me, yes she told me….”

My answer: “Mother (not Mama) told me, yes, she told me I’d meet girls like you” (from Cheap Trick’s Surrender)

Question 2: Who played acoustic guitar behind Jimi Hendrix on “All Along the Watchtower?”

My answer: Dave Mason

Question 3: What band covered “Hippy Hippy Shake” for the movie “Cocktail?”
My answer: The Georgia Satellites

Question 4: This drummer was a founding member of The Plastic Ono Band
My answer: Alan White

Question 5: The Candymen and the Classics IV gave birth to this group in 1970
My answer: Atlanta Rhythm Section

When I submitted the answers to CaryCitizen, I knew each was correct (maybe I should stick to contests about music), but there’s something special about receiving an email or a telephone call or a letter or being told in person that you have just won…anything. Especially another story to tell my grandchildren.
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To see the story about my name being drawn (and for the names of those so cheerful people in the photo on this page), go to: http://www.carycitizen.com/2010/04/19/and-the-winner-is-jim-pomeranz/

To read more about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Benefit Show, click this link: http://www.carycitizen.com/2010/04/15/rock-hall-benefit-in-cary-could-be-triangles-signature-event/

To read a story I wrote about the new Bojangles coming to Cary for my website and then publsihed by CaryCitizen, go to: http://www.carycitizen.com/2010/01/23/caryites-rejoice-bojangles-is-coming-to-town/

And, to enjoy CaryCitizen, go to http://www.carycitizen.com/. It’s all good. Thanks, Hal!