Zeke's Answer for Everything

We all, well, many of us anyway, daydream of coming into big money. You know, winning the lottery or the like. Me Uncle John who I sometimes call Zeke was no different. He dreamed of winning the lottery. Indeed, he was quite prepared for it. He had in truth determined the very first thing he would do if he won. Seeing as folks like to hit you up for money if they thought you had a pile, Zeke said that if the big bucks came his way he would begin answering every single question No. Then he would answer the actual question.

"Hey John, how are today?"

"No. I'm doing great, thanks for asking."

"How about this fine weather we been having, John?"

"No. It's been pleasant, hasn't it? I might go golfing."

"What are doing for dinner today Zeke?"

"No. Well, I believe I have a taste for Mexican, now that you got me thinking about it."

Such a kidder. Until I realized he meant it.

Cosgriff Coffee

We Cosgriffs, at least us Detroit and Illinois Cosgriffs, loves our coffee. I actually get the urge double, seeing as me Grandpaw Hutchins, me Mom's Dad, loved his coffee too. Anyway, family lore, and by family lore I mean that both me Pops and me Grandpa Joe insist it's true, holds the following tale.

When me Pops was about 5, Joe took him along on a train ride to visit family in Illinois. In Chicago, I believe, they had to switch trains. There was a layover of a couple hours, so Joe takes his eldest into a diner at the station to mark the time and grab a bite.

The waitress approached right after they had sat themselves at a table. Setting down menus, she followed with the typical, "Can I start you boys off with something?"

"Two coffees, one black, one half and half," Joe responds.

As Joe tells it, me very young Pops looks up at him and asks innocently, "Joe, you gonna drink that coffee with cream?"

"Two black coffees," me Grandpa corrected himself to the waitress.

That's knowing how you like your coffee, folks.

 

Top Dead Center

Me Pops had an old friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who had a car which wasn't running right. He asked Dad to help install 'points' which older engines needed and are inside a distributor and, when set properly, allow the car to run correctly. Are you with me so far?

Normally, points were set 'top dead center'. Don't fret if you don't understand what that means. Just accept that it's important.

Cloyce, a stickler for detail, set them top dead center. The car engine ran rough. Pops took a turn at it. He adjusted the points where they weren't top dead center. The engine ran smooth.

Cloyce wasn't having it. The points had to be TDC according to the paperwork which came with them. Dad explained that the instructions didn't account for the natural wear and tear on car parts as cars were driven. It would be all right to set the points accordingly.

Cloyce drove the car running rough, because you had to follow directions. Dad shrugged it off. You can't make a guy make sense.

A United Kingdom Review

I must admit that, overall, I'm pleased with the reviews which my books are garnering. Further, I feel that a particularly good review ought to be recognized.

A fellow from England who purchased my book David Gideon had this to say:

I feel like whenever I see a book about politics I feel that it will be really boring as I'm not into that world at all.

But this book and the author surprised me with this story it is really good content and a properly written story with a shocking twist and upside downs.

Definitely recommended political fiction!

Thank you! I can't tell you how much such kind words mean to me. That's exactly the sentiment that I hoped to instill in the minds of readers when I wrote the story. David Gideon isn't really about politics. It's just the story of a good man and the good people behind him. His political career is there simply to drive the story. 

I feel good today. It's nice to be able to reach someone an ocean away who gets my point.

By the way, David Gideon is available here.

July 4, 2025

We're still a great nation which has done great things. While we have our flaws, and who isn't flawed, we exist as a beacon of hope for many. And we are certainly not nearly as bad as even too many Americans seem to think. But hubris, like all error, is endemic to the human condition.

So I'll grill today and then go see fireworks tonight, and be thankful for the blessings of being an American.

God Bless the USA. Happy Independence Day everyone.

Modern Ball

I love baseball and as a rule am not fond of the new. Anything new, although if it's worthwhile I have been known to warm up to it. I don't live entirely in the Twentieth Century; I think radio is here to stay.

There are those baseball fans who consider themselves purists to a far greater degree than myself. I don't like the designated hitter and I hate the free runner on second to begin extra innings. Yet the folks I'm speaking about like to play the game by very old school rules. It's common to find teams who play according to the rulebook of 1867 and even earlier. They assert that it's a better game. 

Um, no. The modern game with its speed and greater defense and livelier baseballs is a far greater game. The batter (sorry, 'striker') directing the pitcher (I forget his old timey name) what type of throw he'd like? Not really challenging, I would argue.

Of course, the game then was predicated on putting the ball in play, so there is that. If the old rules are what the participants like, all right. It can even be quaint to hear the fielders yell, wrong hander!, when a lefty comes to bat. But after that? Give me modern ball. It is a better game.

English Golfspeak

You have to love English golf commentators. They do know their native language and deliver it with a certain subdued style.

While watching an event on the European PGA Tour early one morning I heard two examples of this talent. One golfer barely missed a putt. And I mean barely, just grazing the cup. The commentator noted, "When he misses, he doesn't miss by much. He scares the hole."

Hah. He scares the hole.

On an errant tee shot, a golfer was begging the ball, "Right. Go right. Go right." It didn't go right. The announcer said, "Despite his heartfelt entreaties, the ball mocked him and did as it pleased."

I do like golf these days. Not necessarily for the actual golf either.