Morning all:

“No matter how rich you become, how famous or powerful, when you die the size of your funeral will still pretty much depend on the weather.” — Michael Pritchard

somewhat bleary eyed this morning; sorry. Not exactly a funeral, but last night the success of our deck party was still very much dependent on the weather—which was perfect right through 1:00 AM when the last guest left. Now my coffee or I am afraid that my forehead will crash into my keyboard.

Running dual screens on the computer at my desk, yesterday I kept the one locked on the NOAA weather website. All week the local television weather weenies had been predicting high winds, thundershowers, and penny-sized hail—none of it very good for a deck party. NOAA was more in my camp, a chance of pop-up t’showers and definitely one in the early afternoon, then clearing. Exactly at 1:00 the skies darkened, lightning flashed, and the rains came. By 2:00 the drying started. Our party was a big success. Our fifty or so guests agreed. NOAA rules!

I am approaching that stage of life where Marcia thinks I need to explore a career beyond my career. Unstated in that thought is the fact that she just wants to keep me out of her hair. Well, this week, thanks to the G-8 meetings in Germany, I discovered exactly what I want to embark on for my next career. I want to become an anarchist.

Anarchists have it made. They would appear to have a revenue stream and available time to head anywhere in the world at a moments notice for a fun week of mayhem. These weeks, all staged to coincide around a major global leadership event, allow them to tour anything from downtown areas in major world cities to upscale historical resort areas. At times the fun extends farther and the thrill of water cannon comes into play. Other times it is the street-filling fog of tear gas which provides the “sine qua non” element that completes the picture. In all cases, dress is casual, a bandana over the face always looks great, and some looting is quite acceptable.

I can’t wait for my first Anarchist invitation to be delivered, complete with a “BYOR” (bring your own rocks) request at the bottom (see sample above). I am already packing a large bag of marshmallows in preparation for a mid-town bonfire.

This week, fifty-two years ago, I set out on a marvelous summer vacation with my grandfather and namesake. I remember my mother waving from the airport rooftop viewing area and smiling through her tears as I climbed aboard a shiny silver and blue KLM DC-6B. The DC-6B was a sixty some seats, four engine, propeller powered aircraft, that, after refueling stops in Newfoundland Canada and in Ireland, brought me safely to Amsterdam; amazingly, all in under twenty hours.

Make it a great week everyone. First some more clean-up from last night’s festivities—so far I’ve had to get up twice to stop the cat from scavenging. Then it’s probably a trip to the outdoor market for fresh fruits and veggies. As Sinclair Lewis once mentioned in one of his writings, “people will buy anything marked one to a customer”, me included. I best hurry before it gets to that point.

Cheers,
Dirk