I can confirm I’ve never heard so much complaining from friends and readers about the Twins. Maybe the state of the Twins has you down, or perhaps the grass is two feet high, and the lawn mower won’t start, or your first born was snatched off the deck last night by a swarm of giant mosquitoes.
Whatever, I get it. You’ve got the summertime blues.
But try looking at things this way: the sky is falling but at least we won’t have to deal with smoky skies the rest of the summer.
Speaking of weather, there once was a novice TV weather lady who upon arriving in this market got North Dakota and South Dakota mixed up. Couldn’t get them right on the air. I swear to Belinda Jensen, Chris Shaffer and Ken Barlow it’s true.
Day brighteners or memories to cheer us up? For starters, I can call a friend whose voice mail message (borrowed from the late Dark Star) always prompts a chuckle:
“If it’s good news or money, leave a message.”
Memories of the late Sid Hartman are amusing. On his Sunday radio show Sid was once relating information about an athlete with a knee issue. Sir Sidney described the problem as an injured “Khrushchev.”
I miss attending news conferences with Sid. One time he nudged me and asked that I open a bag of potato chips for him.
The Lord only knows how Sid is doing in heaven. I wonder if he beckons people as he did here on earth by yelling, “Hey genius.”
Maybe you have young children or grandchildren who can spark your spirits. My five-year-old granddaughter has inquired a couple times whether I know her grandmother, my ex-wife. “Do you know Gaga?” she asks.
Her father, my youngest son, had a classic observation when he was five or six that amuses me to this day. I worked at a place he heard me complain about. One day he was in the car when we drove by the office building where I was employed.
“Dad, look there’s the place that gives you nightmares,” he said.
Summer is picnic weather and I sometimes think about my mother who hated to waste food (and never desserts). One day we packed a picnic lunch in the trunk near the outboard motor. Arriving at our destination we saw gasoline had spilled out from the motor—some of it near the chocolate cake and other food. Yup, we ate around the smelly parts of the cake and threw the rest out.
Death by chocolate. Almost.
Only a new body and brain can save my golf game. I could probably exhaust disk space in my computer with all the tips I’ve acquired through the years. I am still a hacker, but I can write a book about how you can break 90.
Tennis? I haven’t played in years. My Achilles is suspect, my foot hurts and my wife would waive her finger in scorn if I took to the court. Bottom line? I just might do it sometime between Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. Watch for headlines on TMZ.
So even if you’re in a summer funk, smile, darn it. Harvey Mackay wrote in his syndicated column earlier this month that smiling makes you happier, reduces stress, helps you live longer and can even help with work promotions. “The world always looks brighter from behind a smile,” Mackay wrote.
Mackay is a close friend of former Gophers and Notre Dame football coach Lou Holtz who is known to many for his wit as well as his coaching. The following is a favorite Holtzism:
Don’t tell your troubles to others because 80 percent of people are glad you have them, and the other 20 percent don’t care.
Baseball fans should watch the new Yogi Berra documentary on Netflix or other platforms. The former Yankee Hall of Fame catcher had so many quirky malapropisms they could fill this column. A few favorite Berra quotes courtesy of a December 2021 MLB.com story:
“Baseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical.”
“I always thought that record would stand until it was broken.”
“I really didn’t say everything I said.”
About a St. Louis restaurant: “No one goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”
“Never answer an anonymous letter.”
“It ain’t over ‘till it’s over.”
Seems like baseball has some of the best stories. Dave Mona remembers being a reporter for the Minneapolis Tribune when he decided to name all-Polish and all-Italian teams. Twins manager Billy Martin, a proud Italian, offered his assistance. He got stuck, though, finding a catcher.
Then Martin came up with Roy Campanella, the great African American catcher. While others protested Campy’s eligibility, Martin snapped, “His name ends with a vowel. He’s Italian. What else do you need?”
One of my favorites from Yogi:
“Hey, Yogi, what time is it?”
“You mean now?”
Here’s another Yogi aphorism:
One evening, long after Yogi’s baseball playing days were over, his wife was in an adjacent room working on the couple’s estate plan, when she called out to him:
“Dear, you were born in St. Louis, played baseball in New York, and have lived most of your life in New Jersey. When the time comes, where do you want to be buried.?”
Yogi thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know, Why don’t you surprise me?”