Phil is Phil

Phil is Phil. Really. Yet me brother Phil seems to be a man without a name.

There's a guy Phil and I have known for years who always, without fail, in individual conversation with me brother, addresses Phil as Marty. Phil has quit trying to correct him as it simply has not worked and there appears no hope that it ever will. I realize that, as the most exalted older brother, my light shines before him and certainly obliterates his presence. Phil simply must learn to live in the glare of my notoriety. It is his cross to bear. But he nevertheless deserves his own name.

He laments that when in high school having a class with our brother Ed, Sister Teacher when reading the roll always said, "Cosgriff, Edward and William," at their names.

"Phillip, Sister," he would correct.

"Yes, William," Sister would respond.

Phil thinks that, for the good Nun, it was only a cutesy running joke. At least, he's trying to believe that.

Defend rather than Attack

One of the errors in debate is the unwillingness or inability of one side (or both) to not vilify the opponent. The sad thing is that it would be rather easy to avoid demonizing the other guy. It comes down to refusing to employ the ad hominem argument: don't attack the speaker, defend your idea.

For example, don't call the other man Hitler or the devil or by any snide name. I readily concede that your opponent may indeed be more than simply wrong. He may very well be evil. Yet that truly is a judgement beyond anyone except God Almighty's ability to make, and is actually a separate idea from what your adversary is arguing anyway. When the person and the argument are confused it really only muddies the waters more than they may already be. 

If in debate we are trying to demonstrate what is right, then strive to demonstrate what is right. Calling the other person evil or stupid or whatever negative adjective you might very much like to employ does not address their error. It can, however, turn off the people you want to convince of the rightness or propriety of a certain point of view. Flag waving may well increase your street cred. But it is ultimately only grandstanding, playing to an audience which already agrees with you.

Please forgive my over-indulging in italics. But I want to underscore, I want to fervently stress, that we can disagree without being disagreeable. Indeed that we must strive to do exactly that, even if it boggles our minds that someone might think or believe wrongly. At the end of the day, we don't need to let people know exactly what we think about our adversaries. We need to convince them to act rightly for rightness' sake.

Tommy Matchick

We don't pay enough attention to the unsung heroes of the world, the everyman who actually gets most of the worthwhile things in life done. I suppose this is simply the way things are, the way circumstances would have it. I even found out about Tommy Matchick's death by accident while trolling the Internet. He passed away yesterday at 78.

He hit a two run home run in the bottom of the Ninth Inning to beat the Baltimore Orioles (Sorry, Nick) 5 to 4 at old Tiger Stadium in a game considered critical in Detroit's race to the World Series in 1968. It was a Friday night; I remember listening to the game with me Pops on his little transistor radio. We whooped and hollered over it. Baltimore was chasing us that year, trying to keep the pressure on. 

It was one of only four homers hit by Matchick in a bouncing career which, somewhat ironically, ended with a stint on the Orioles in late 1972. His last game was October 3 of that year, as the Tigers again went to the postseason and Baltimore did not.

I'll always remember him for that game in '68. I've always had a fondness for the guys who barely make it to the big leagues and hang around enough to have a moment or two in the sun. I remember seeing him on TV in 2018 as the Tigers celebrated the 50 year Anniversary of the 1968 World Series. He appeared happy, even giddy, at being part of the festivities. Good for him that he had the chances, both in 1968 and 2018.

But more than baseball, he and his wife had two kids of their own while sponsoring 30 foster children after his playing days were over. In baseball he managed to receive a few accolades. I will venture to guess then in being a dad and foster father he garnered quite a few more. He's surely an unsung hero who's earned praise and remembrance. Godspeed, good sir.

Channel Surfing

Well, I was propped up in bed last night with TV for muh friend. Yet its offerings were thin. Could you believe they was nothing on despite their bein' hundreds of channels?

I observed Andy Griffith overseein' Mayberry. No wrong ever lasts in Mayberry, 'ceptin there only having two episodes by the time I caught up to it last evening. I proceeded to channel surf.

They was little in the way of sports beyond poker and cornhole. I got nothing against either, though I scratch me head at cornhole fillin' the airwaves of ESPN. It's fun enough, even tho a simple family reunion pastime seems outta place on national TV. Folks actually make money on that?

Scrolling along the guide channel, one show offered the story description that 'Anna panics at finding her room on fire'. Now, I wouldn't wanna presume to speak for everyone, but it does seem that discovering one's room on fire might just incite a body to panic, sure. But that way of tellin' people what a show is about strikes my soul as understatement. 

Whilst I do pray that Anna's plight was resolved to her benefit, I turned my attention instead to the book I been reading, about the Moon landings. You know, I do believe they may have truly happened.

Yuckmeisters

We Cosgriff boys have our own brand of humor.

While out shopping with Mom yesterday, she spied a loaf of blueberry bread which she opined would go nice with coffee. So of course we bought one.

At her house a couple hours later, me, me brother Ed, and me brother Phil were sitting with her around the kitchen table having, would you believe, blueberry bread and coffee. They do in fact go nicely together. 

As we ate and talked Ed remarked, "The Holidays are cool, but it will be nice to get back into routine tomorrow (Monday, January 3)."

"I agree," I agreed. "I can open the Shop like a regular work day, and tell Phil all the work he needs to do..."

"Which I won't do," Phil interrupted.

"Which won't surprise you Marty, as everything will be back to routine" Ed finished.

Yeah, we're a little proud of ourselves.

Talk About the Weather

I've decried this before. I certainly will again. But this morning offers yet another example of the primary reason I cannot give credence to the climate change fears which someone's bizarre science insists we accept.

Ten days ago we were not forecast to have significant snow overnight January 1 - 2. Then about three days ago the weather boys and girls said to expect 1 to 3 inches...which became 3 to 6 inches by Saturday morning (which was being revised down to 2-4 inches around Midnight). Any way you slice it, I will soon be shovelling the not that long ago unexpected snow, and then cleaning off the cars. Bear in mind too that I haven't even mentioned the temperature anomalies among the ever changing forecasts during this same time period.

They can't predict the weather a week and a half or two weeks ahead of time, but the Earth is ten years from irreparable doom.

I. Don't. Believe. It.

Postscript: where I am, we actually got about an inch. More fuel to the fire so far as my position.

In With the New

Happy New Year everybody! Today is the day we make resolutions which we have every intention to fulfil, yet are successful perhaps 50% of the time. Okay, 25%. 10%. Do I hear even 1 or 2 percent? Still, many of us try our hand at resolutions. Because, hey, got to have a dream...

My main resolutions are two. One is to lose weight; that's a perennial one for most of us I imagine. But I mean it this time...starting tomorrow, because today is a holiday after all. Everything in moderation, including moderation, I was once told. Of course, the speaker was a smoker, and I don't see how you can do that in moderate doses.

The other is, and I'm truly going to have to force myself to do it (more so than the weight thing) is to begin more strenuously promoting my books. I have two in print (don't be impressed by that, as it's easy to get published if you pay for it), two finished on my computer, a third almost completed, a fourth about half done, and another debuting in a revised edition this January 17. I know how readers are, as I have become one. I only need one title to take off, and they will begin searching for me. Hopefully in a good way.

Still, self promotion is something of which I have always been uncomfortable. I don't mind promoting what is good independent of me: I sell Electric Eel drain cleaners because there's no doubt in my mind they're the best thing out there for all your drain and sewer cleaning needs. But 'Hey, hey, you there, look at me here, what I've done is really cool!' is another beast entirely. It is not a posture I crave. One likes to think things speak for themselves; the bad things we do certainly appear to draw an audience. The good, however, seem to require prompting.

To get straight to the point, I find self promotion gauche. I'm not saying there's necessarily anything wrong with it. Perhaps the issue is only a kind of shyness on my part. I know, I know, Marty shy? But believe me, there are ways in which I am, as that may be. And let's be honest: we tend to look down upon the fellow crashing cymbals as he enters the room. Yet at 61 and soon enough to be 62, if it's gonna work I'm the one who's gotta make it work. So prepare ye for what I intend to be regular flag waving for no other cause than me, although I do hope the books are worth reading too.

All that said, I'm really hoping for a great and memorable 2022. I sincerely hope it is for you. 

And FYI, my titles currently available are in the blurb to the right of this missive. David Gideon is the revised one coming out 1/17. Thank you.