Monday April 6, 2020

April: Month of Coronavirus Birthdays, Hoorays and Horses’ Asses

April is the birthday month of Rileys. Eight birthdays in all of the family by a combination of three of the five kids (including me), my sister-in-law, second and third gen children of the family, and one significant other. It’s a month that requires a lot of card buying and mailing – we all live all over the place. 

It will be a month of birthdays upon which I hope we all look back with our healthy selves on our coronavirus birthday celebrations, held alone but alone together. 

Today is my big sister Marti’s day…all day. Here’s to you, Marti. We’re all singing “Happy Birthday” to you, followed by our traditional family “Hooray”  chant. If you’re not in the inner circle of Rileys, you most likely have not heard about this version of the “Hooray” chant.  

It’s an endearing chant born of a moment of serendipity during a Riley family gathering in Beech Mountain, NC for Labor Day 2008. While we were all together, Julie and I orchestrated a little cocktail hour celebration for our daughter’s recent college graduation. With champagne in hand, we all circled around on the deck, I made a short toast to Blair and then Dad started a rhythmic celebratory clap setting rhythm and we all quickly picked up on it not knowing exactly where it was going. Dad started chanting, “Hooray for Blair! Hooray for Blair!” in time with the claps. We picked up his queue and joined in unison as we hit the third “Hooray for Blair!” at which point Dad took an unexpected and startling turn to finish with, “Hooray for Blair, she’s a horse’s ass!” Bam.

We all gasped. What? Did Granddaddy just say that about Blair? Our sweet daughter? His granddaughter? A horse’s ass? We were all stunned and just looked at Dad. He seemed a little shocked himself but managed to downplay it all. He said, “What? You’ve never heard that before?” This was classic Homer, acting as if it was nothing. Then he held up his glass and said as sweet and grandfatherly as you could imagine. “Congratulations Blair. We’re very proud of you.” 

That started the tradition which has lasted 12 years because, true to Riley form, we don’t let things go. It also brings us into a closer circle of memory of Dad’s sense of humor and timing.

By now, everyone has borne the indignity of the coda to be counted a true Riley. We added that to all “Happy Birthday” songs within the family and, occasionally, with folks we trust would understand and even appreciate being included after the initial shock followed by explanation. 

So, “Hooray for Marti! Hooray for Marti! Hooray for Marti! She’s a horse’s ass!”

Happy birthday Big Sister. You…were the first born of the horse’s ass crowd. Enjoy.

 

As we continue to stay apart from each other in physical distance…Take care. Stay Safe. Call family and friends. And, continue to “Stay the F**k Home!

Friday, April 3, 2020

Finally, it’s Tequila Friday – even during the virus

We enjoy a longstanding ritual in our house of celebrating and memorialization of Finally it’s Friday with tequila. Good tequila. Sipping, savoring, lingering tequila. Not that you can’t enjoy tequila on any other day, but, what better way to set the tone that the weekend is here? And, for all of you folks reading this that are still working, yes, the weekends mean something even to retirees. It’s those two days when all our working friends are available to play with us. The approach of Friday still creates a building feeling of excitement.

Maintaining rituals that give you joy during this time of coronavirus is very important. So, whatever might bring you joy that Friday has, indeed, arrived, is cause for celebration. In this time of the virus, finding small reasons for celebration is really important to give us a bit of a release valve.  

We may not wait as late in the day to crack the bottle as per usual, but crack it we will.

Cheers to you and your joy. But first…

Finally, our Governor learned what the world knew for weeks, if not months. 

Governor Brian Kemp announced on Wednesday that he was going to sign an order on Thursday that would put the whole state of Georgia on a “Stay at Home” order on Friday because, well, he just learned in the last 24 hours (that would have been on Tuesday) that, uh, people who don’t even know that they have been infected with the virus can actually spread the virus. I mean, he’s in charge of the whole of Georgia. He has people to advise him. He could watch the news and see that all of the scientists in the land have been warning us about that fact. Not only could some person we don’t know have and spread the virus before they even knew they had it, but, actually, each of us could be infected, not know it, and spread it to people we know and love…and to people we’ll never know.

Sorry to go political on you here for a moment, but there’s a direct connection between Kemp and Trump. And Kemp fell in line with Trump’s position of denial as did many other Republican governors across America. That includes the dolt in Florida who allowed the beaches to remain open for Spring Break. Yes, the mayors and county managers played a role in that, but the governor could have used his power to protect the citizens of Florida, and those crazy citizens from out of state who flocked to what they turned into an incubation site. 

I am left without words to describe this stupidity. 

The Virus and Senior Citizens Communities

My mom lives in a pretty large retirement community in Durham that opened 20 years ago. They have been on lockdown for over a week, and had put social distancing practices into place prior to that. And, get this, they went into lockdown without one case of COVID-19! They chose a preemptive measure to protect these highly social and highly vulnerable charges. 

With the lockdown, no one passes through except for employees, all of whose temperatures are checked before they can pass. Even relatives are not admitted.

All deliveries are intercepted at the gate, taken in by the “command center,” then delivered to the residents. 

Almost all residents are on some kind of meal plan which generally is served in the dining hall. Now, residents order all meals a day in advance which are delivered to their home or apartment  the following day. Residents cannot gather or visit one another. Weekly housekeeping has ceased for fear that the cleaning crew could inadvertently spread the virus from home to home while they were, ironically, cleaning. 

This isn’t the Home’s first rodeo. They went into lockdown in 2010 when they were hit by the Norovirus. The management team has institutional knowledge built by experience and best practices. 

When news of the novel coronavirus began to service in January and February, the team started making preparations. I know because I personally spoke with the executive director. They had calls with the CDC and members of the Durham board of health along with advisors in the medical community at large. And what they learned was that this virus was coming and it was time to get ready.

They began ordering supplies in advance, reviewing with their associated medical staff from Duke University Hospital. They trained their staff, preparing them for the safety practices necessary. And, they prepared to handle the anxiety, fear and occasional anger and frustration from residents that could come with any kind of quarantining restrictions.  

Beginning in mid-March, the executive director began holding a closed circuit talk every day which is transcribed and emailed out to all residents. He has different members of his staff join him on days, sometimes to review the health side, sometimes reviewing the meals system, sometimes their director of physical fitness…you get the picture. And I receive it every day and forward to our family. 

The team has been working, adapting and improving their plan along the way.

This is how our federal and state government should have been acting on our behalf. Organizing, communicating and leading us through a planned response based on the best science supported by a prepared medical system and using military precision. 

Happily (so far) for my mother’s community, that has been the case. And, to date, not one case of coronavirus or the flu has been reported. Zero. Now that can and probably will change. But early action gives them more of a fighting chance for the most vulnerable among us.

Sadly for our country, that has not been the case. And the results have been fatal. Need I say more? 

 

The irony of this the Spring of Coronavirus

My goodness, the weather couldn’t be more beautiful. To quote my former boss, “It’s why we live in Atlanta.” Yes, every place enjoys Spring in its own way. I know that my friends in Pittsburgh do. They just have to wait another month or so for it to creep up there. Here, it just explodes. Sometimes, a little ahead of the last frost and we lose our pear and cherry blossoms, and maybe the japanese maples get stung and have to rebud. But not this year. The daffodils popped in late January and foretold a beautiful embarking into Spring. 

Beautiful until…something else blew in with it. Something else the likes of which we had never experienced, the results of which we’d never seen.

And now it’s upon us. But unlike the signs of Spring, we cannot see it. We have to avoid it “like the plague with an abundance of caution which means we are highly restricted in our outward enjoyment of the great weather. Parks are closed. Beltlines and trails are out of bounds.

If you have a yard, enjoy it to the max. Make it your private park. Julie and I have planted bulbs this year for the first time in a long time. We’re digging a little bit almost every day. Seeds are next. Flats of flowers for some of our beds are in the queue too. Only this year, we won’t be wandering through Pikes, our local garden shop. We’ll call in an order, have them put it together, and we’ll go pick it up. Not as much fun but the results are the same. Blooms that bring us joy and beauty. 

Update on playing games

Well, I told you a few updates ago that Julie and I had dusted off the Backgammon game, reviewed the rules, and now we’re playing the best out of three. Here’s the problem. It’s only taking two games each night for Julie to defeat me. She’s won four straight. Not that I’m counting. A couple have come down to her being just one roll ahead of me. Last night she emptied her board leaving me with one checker left right at the off rail. 

I’ve got to improve my strategy. 

Clark and Blair joined with their cousins, Peyton and Russell, are playing board games online. Clark is in Portland, Russell in Raleigh, Peyton in Knoxville and Blair in Atlanta. They are all big time board gamers. 

Playing video games online certainly isn’t new, but playing board games online is. They played 7 Wonders. 

 

Stay the f**k home!

If you are lonely, and many of us are. Do something about it. Call someone you haven’t talked with in far too long. Take advantage of the extra time you may have – since you don’t have to commute to work. The info on the myriad number of things that you can do with this time on our hands – which may feel like not doing anything but is actually doing the MOST IMPORTANT action we can each take. In the words of Samuel L. Jackson, “Stay the F**K home!” It’s hilariously serious. Here’s the full interview of Jimmy Kimmell with SLJ. The poem is six minutes in if you need to get to the meat of it. 

Stay healthy. Stay informed. Stay out of the parks! And stay the f**k home! 

Love ya

“I’ve been thinking lately ‘bout the people I meet. The car wash on the corner and the hole in the street. The way my ankles hurt with no shoes on my feet…and I wonder if I’m gonna see tomorrow.”   Fish & Whistle by J Prine, who else?

I can’t stop thinking and writing and talking about John Prine. So much so that I decided not to put this under the Coronavirus Diary string post. I’m breaking it out on its own. It deserves that. 

As far as John’s health and recovery go, I haven’t seen an update since his wife said that he was critical, but stable. I’m hoping that no news is good news. I’m hoping that he gets off the ventilator soon. 

After publishing yesterday’s post, I called my buddy Brad to make sure that he knew I was thinking and writing about him. He answered in that soft voice tinged with maybe some excitement that my name popped up on his phone. It had been a while since last we spoke. He’s working still at his stained glass shop in Winston-Salem, but in a reduced level. Only one other guy is working with him. They keep their distance. People stop in still to talk about making an order. He promised me that he “practices social distance. I suggested that he talk louder than his normal soft tones so they would stay at least six feet away. Otherwise, his voice draws people in too close for safety. 

One important thing that we got straightened out was that he had changed his email address and rarely checked the old one. Hence, he had not seen any of the new blog posts. 

That fixed, we moved on to talking about Prine, which took us to Seattle and our trip out there over 45 years ago. He said he didn’t remember turning me on to John’s music but he did remember how much we played Prine’s songs together. I said, that’s the way life is a lot of times. People share things with us, like dropping seeds. They don’t remember doing it or that it had that much influence on another. But those who receive the insight never forget from whom it came. At least when it made a difference in their lives that lived on. John Prine was one of the many seeds Brad dropped into my life that have grown and stayed with me ever since. And I’m grateful.

We talked about some of our other great memories, sort of polished them up again like restoring old photographs. We promised to keep in touch and then hung up. 

If anything positive has come out of John’s  illness, it’s the outpouring of love for him and his music. 

When I got up this morning and started brewing coffee, I opened up my phone and there was Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgewick, Kevin playing a mandolin and Kyra strumming a ukulele, singing “In Spite of Ourselves” for John. It’s very good. Give it a look.

Bob Umberger, another great friend dating back to junior high, wrote to me after yesterday’s post. Bob told me about a Facebook page devoted to John. Check it out. Right now, it’s post after post after post of ordinary folks playing their instruments, guitars mostly, and singing their favorite Prine song. It’s crazy. Even if the musicianship and vocals won’t launch their careers, it’s not about that. It’s actually in spite of that that they play. Alone with their guitars, fathers and sons, Husbands and wives, young and old, boys and girls, long hair, no hair, sitting in living rooms, garages, dens or kitchens, going on the record and playing for John, playing for his recovery. I spent the morning before Julie was up strumming through the posts.

Bob also told me a story about his John Prine sighting. Bob lives and works in Nashville.

On Christmas Eve (1:45 pm ish) John came into the liquor store where I work. (And hopefully be able to go back to if this rona will ever leave). He was buying for a party: bought handles of Smirnoff and Tito’s, a fifth of Capt Morgan and a six pack of Yazoo Gerst Amber Ale. I helped him find his items and chatted a bit. I told him I loved his work.

You never know when or where you’ll run into someone. Hopefully, John will make it through this and come visit Bob at the liquor store once again.

Searching for one thing often discovers something else.

Last night, I searched to find the photo I had saved of John to use in yesterday’s post. The search under “Prine” pulled up the photo plus a Word doc with “Prine” in the title dated April 15, 2005. I opened it up and there was a review I had written about a John Prine concert. Fifteen years ago! That might be the last time that we saw John here in Atlanta. I had forgotten that I had written it to be honest. And, back then, I didn’t have a blog. I guess I was just writing about stuff for myself and waiting for the interweb to get going so I could one day start self-publishing in a blog.

I don’t think anyone has ever read this piece except for Julie. I’m sure I shared it with her. After all, she’s a major part of it. Unfortunately, I didn’t mention the venue in the review nor the actual date of the concert. We can’t remember those details but it most certainly occurred around my birthday in April of 2005 Here it is…

John Prine In His Prime

This won’t be your regular review. It will be about the music and the musician, but we don’t love music solely because of those reasons. We love our music because of what it does to “us.” So, even though we talk about “them,” the musicians, we mostly talk about us; how their music affected (affects) us. When you engage in a discussion with others it boils down to how and when “you” discovered them – and this can get very competitive in the “who heard who first.” And this review will have a little comment on that. But I just felt like I needed to set the record straight on what kind of review this is. It’s personal.

I didn’t go to the concert intending to write about it so I didn’t observe it like a journalist, noting the song list in their actual order. Julie bought the tickets as a birthday gift, just like she did some 25 years ago.

I could not wait but I also couldn’t prepare. You know what I am talking about. You build your anticipation for a live concert by listening to the music of the artist that you have in your collection. It’s a weird ritual but one that many of us go through.

But in this case, I’m stuck in between technologies. When it comes to John Prine’s music, I’m stuck in the album world – not that there’s anything wrong with that except that I don’t have a working turntable hooked up. I have a turntable that works – bought it with my new fancy digital dolby system. But I don’t have the cabinet space for it. But that’s my issue. It all goes to say that, well, John Prine has been around much longer than digital audio formats. Okay, so I’ve established that I didn’t do my homework and refresh my memory of all of his songs and the lyrics etc. What I found out was that it really wasn’t necessary.

I think of Prine a lot living around Atlanta with its many four-way stops. One of his songs, “the accident” is about “a four-way stop dilemma. We all arrived at the same time. I yielded to the man to right of me and he yielded right back to mine. Well, the yield went around and around until Pamela finally tried. Just then the man in the light blue sedan hit Pamela’s passenger side.”

From the moment John stepped out on the stage and started plunking I was home. Home with the melodies and the lyrics which just flowed out of my head to the constant rhythm of his alternating bass note guitar picking style. My wife and I can not agree on the first song of the night, mostly because after a night of song after song the memory of the order fades. However, his last song, “Paradise,” was a beautiful rendition that brought Keb Mo back on stage for a duet.

 So, the first song, we think, was “Fish and Whistle” but we’re not sure. And it doesn’t matter the order. All that mattered was how the night and being in the same room with John, mattered to us. 

That’s right. It’s personal.

One more video: Stephen Colbert had John on the show in 2016. They sang a song together. “That’s the way that the world goes round.”

 

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

An American Icon is Sick. Very sick.

On Monday, 3/30, I became aware that John Prine, one of my longtime favorite singer-songwriters, was in critical condition and intubated after a sudden worsening of his health. The culprit, novel coronavirus. John has had multiple bouts with cancer over the last few decades so he is highly at risk. His wife had tested positive before him. Her health is improving. So many have reached out on Twitter to wish him well, to share what his songs have meant to them, and to celebrate his songs by playing them. 

Odds are that you aren’t 100% sure who John Prine is but you probably have heard tunes that he wrote covered and made famous by other performers. He has always remained active but he got his start in the early 70’s, discovered by Kris Kristofferson. Bonnie Raitt covered “Angel from Montgomery,” a touching story which begins with, “I am an old woman, named after my mother, My old man is another child that’s grown old.” 

He had a real sense of humor to his stories captured perfectly with “Dear Abby,” about the famous advice columnist, “Dear Abby Dear Abby you won’t believe this, but my stomach makes noises whenever I kiss.”

He wrote about everyday things with an empathetic eye towards the human in all of us. In “Sam Stone,” he wrote about the war and how it left many veterans empty and addicted. Watch the video. It’s amazing.

“There’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes,

Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose.

Little pitchers have big ears,

Don’t stop to count the years,

Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios.”

He wrote about old people in “Hello in There” and their need to be seen, recognized, if just by saying hello. Joan Baez covered that song and said it has long been one of the most requested songs at her performances.

Johnny Cash said, “John Prine is 24 and writes songs like he’s 240.”

My buddy Brad Brown introduced me to Prine in the summer of 1974 as we drove across country together, playing our guitars by campfires along the way. I remember getting Brad to teach me “A Good Time” in our rented home in Seattle. John’s music became a friend and companion of mine and Julie’s ever since.

Right about this time of the year in 1979ish, Julie took me to see Prine as a birthday gift. He performed at Charlotte’s Ovens Auditorium. He played all by himself, just him and his guitar. I don’t think that he ever changed guitars all night. He was a chatty, self-deprecating performer and joked about how he used basically the same three or four chords in all of his songs. Which is basically true and one of the wonders of music – how it revolves around simplicity. 

Here are my favorites from the old days. He just put out “The Tree  of Forgiveness” in 2018. I’ve got it on vinyl. Just because he made it that way.

• Sweet Revenge
• A Good Time
• Paradise 
• Christmas in Prison
• Angel from Montgomery 
• Please Don’t Bury Me
• Blue umbrella 
• Sam Stone
• Hello in There
• Fish & Whistle

Here’s what people are doing

Just how close is too close

A close friend who works in tech support was told to stop coming to work after 3 people in the same building tested positive. He’s now working from home, but that is just how close things can come to folks we know and love. The good news is that it is a big building and none of those with the virus worked in his firm. There are elevators though. Door knobs. Entrance areas. You know, those “high-touch areas” the public health officials are all talking about. 

Come on, man!

People continue to show their arrogance and false feelings of invincibility, no matter their age. It’s not just drunk college kids in Miami.  Julie and I took a ride with the top down on Sunday. It was gorgeous outside so we tooled around down to Paper Mill Road, a winding road that dips  way down to Sope Creek, then back up again. It’s a natural area with the bones of an old mill that used the water from the creek to power its grist. It is now surrounded by giant homes in this hilly, tree-covered landscape. The creek gets pretty wide and flows over large rocks that people like to climb out on to enjoy the sun parsing through the overhanging tree limbs and listen to the running water.

 Sope Creek Park has a trailhead and parking area up on the hill. It’s famous out here in East Cobb. Now, Cobb County smartly closed all parks recently. As the road started to descend down to the creek we came around a bend to cars parked on the berm. As we crossed the bridge and looked down the creek we could see that the whole area was inundated with people, people who ignored the sign that it was closed to the public. Parents with kids, teenagers with each other. I mean, come on man!  

On being a certain age

Since retiring, Julie and I have really committed to walking two or more miles a day, even through the winter, even in the rain! We’ve never seen so many people walking these suburban streets. Being homebound with kids has turned East Cobb into one big park. 

The other day as we began our walk, we chatted from a safe distance with our next door neighbor. They are great people. He threw out there that he would gladly pick up some items for us the next time he heads to the store. It was a sincere gesture and with twin girls, he’ll be hitting the store more than we would. Then I realized that we’re basically his parents’ age and in that “high risk” age window and that he was offering to do some old folks a solid. I really appreciated his offer and covered up the slight hurt I felt because, well, he’s right. It’s a reminder that we are in that window. Fact. I mean, I am retired. We do qualify for senior discounts and we are on Medicare. So duh. But I just hadn’t thought about it from the perspective of someone lending a hand perhaps because I’m of a certain age. Well, it is nice to have people who care living next door. I remember when we were them, living next door to senior citizens and lending a hand. 

Shopping in the midst of the Virus

My good friend needed some things from Home Depot so he drove over. He found the parking lot full of tents. Home Depot employees were out there managing the access into the store. Whatever their limit was, they would not let more people in until an equal number of customers left the store. You waited in your own parking space forcing social distancing. He was glad to see that kind of oversite. Once inside, however, he said it was the typical shoppers’ free for all. People just went to find whatever they needed and if it happened to be next to where he was in the aisle, well, they shopped as if it were “the old days.” He had to constantly work to maintain social distance in the aisle. I need some stuff from HD myself. I’m ordering online. 

Julie and I thought that we would try the online ordering service at Whole Foods to supply our weekly needs. We’re generally a two store shopper. Publix for the bulk and Whole Foods for what we can’t find in Publix, in particular certain fish and cuts of meat, but most importantly, coffee. 

Julie spent the bulk of yesterday morning on the Whole Foods website on her computer, building a list, but somewhere in the process she was encouraged to download the app on her phone, and so she did, which then meant she had to start over on the order. This was a very difficult time in our morning. A more even-keeled tempered person you won’t find on earth was stuck inside the app, muttering to herself and to the app and highly, I mean, highly, frustrated. She didn’t hear anything that I said, and seemed just a little angry at me for what she was experiencing. The good news is that she was finally able to submit the order. And, if you are an Amazon member as we are, delivery is free if you order $35 or more. Well, as you know, it doesn’t take much at WF to tee up $35 worth. However, once finished it didn’t appear that delivery was available but they could fill the order for pickup. Then, she got messages from our “shopper” that certain things weren’t available by the brand and would we want to substitute “X.” Very cool. Then, sooner than we expected, the order was filled and ready. We went up to WF and parked in the special spots for pickup. A staffer came to our car, verified the order and loaded the trunk.

We discovered as we unloaded that the order got sort of messed up due to starting online and a little operator error in conflating the two processes. So, Julie just added those items into the rest of the things we needed from Publix. Then, using Instacart, went through the same process. They couldn’t promise delivery before Friday, which was fine. No rush. An hour later, she saw that our shopper was texting her and shortly our order was filled and we got a call that he was at our house! So, wow. And Publix only charged $3.99. Of course, we tipped the shopper via the app. Very smooth. We do have to count on the employees to be “clean” but it surely feels safer than going into the store and being around a whole lot more folks. 

Healthcare for your pets

A young woman we have known since she was really young now works in a veterinary hospital in North Carolina that is part of a university teaching facility. It has remained open and she’s deemed essential, so she reports to work. The hospital is still maintaining  wellness appointments for the animals. I found that kind of weird since all of my doctors have postponed all well visit checkups, and, if you are in need, they are scheduling tele-health visits. FYI, this is one of the things that I believe is long overdue and it will outlast this virus. It’s something that the AMA has actually fought because it doesn’t want to change the practice of medicine paradigm. Maybe more on that later. 

Celebrations in the light of Social Distancing

A former colleague of mine at WSB-TV retired today after 42 successful years. As you can imagine, it wasn’t your normal retirement day at the job. Almost everyone is working from home just as she was on this final day. 

She cleared out her desk at the station yesterday almost all alone. Her friends in the department decided that they could not let her go with so little fanfare. They came up with a two-pronged approach that honored her and social distancing at the same time. For those who could, they were asked to drive out to where she lived and they would form a line of cars and drive by her home parade-like honking horns. And for those who couldn’t be there in person, they hosted a Zoom meeting. It was a blast. I know there will be a real celebration down the road when we can all hug and kiss and slap on the back and shake hands, but this at least said, we love you, and what a great career!  

Inner Peace and an even lighter note

A friend sent this to Julie. It’s a good way to end today’s update. 

Heard some advice on the radio last night. It said to have inner peace, that we should always finish things we start,  and we all could use more calm in our lives. I looked through my house to find things that I’d started and hadn’t finished, so I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Whiskey, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of wum, tha mainder of Valiumun srciptuns, an a box a chocletz. Yu haf no idr how feckin fablus I feel rite now. Sned this to all who need inner piss. An telum u luvum. And two al bee hapee wilst in de instalation.

 

As my mother loves to say, quoting an old and long departed friend, “That just shickles the tits out of me.” I think I quoted that correctly. I’ll have to call Mom and get her to verify. That will tickle the shit out of her.

Anyway, Stay healthy. Stay informed. Stay out of the parks!

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Life moments we are missing

The safety efforts of shelter in place and restricting travel has affected us all, but in many it is taking away opportunities of a lifetime from being with your family on life moments like the birth of a baby, the death of a loved one, and just some of the natural moments our children experience growing up. Here are a few stories within my circle. 

Congratulations!! As of late last night, my baby sister became a first-time grandmother! Her son and daughter-in-law live in a fairly remote spot in East Washington State north of Spokane. But for the coronavirus, my sister would shortly be on her way to join them as they brought their baby girl home. That is not going to happen as planned and no one knows when it will be safe for her visit. It’s one of the heartaches and sacrifices many are experiencing. 

A few weeks ago, my cousin’s husband fell and broke his hip requiring a quick scheduling of hip replacement surgery. The Friday before his Monday surgery the Virginia hospital went on lockdown, blocking my cousin from going into the hospital as her husband’s health advocate.

When he had surgery on Monday she was allowed to wait in the surgical waiting area and see him as they rolled him out of recovery and before they took him on the elevator.  To say that was stressful is an understatement.

His discharge on Wednesday took place in the parking lot.  We are so glad that he is at home, in no pain and has begun in-home PT.  This will be a 12 week recovery.

 

A dear former colleague’s oldest child is now a senior and soon to graduate from high school. I visited my colleague and her husband in the hospital 18 years ago and held their newborn daughter in my arms. Now, what would have been a very happy and naturally bittersweet time for her daughter, turned sad and empty as she and her class missed their prom, spring break and, most likely, graduation. It’s an emptiness by which this graduating class of 2020 will always identify, the Coronavirus Class.

And this from another special cousin who is a nurse practitioner, on the front lines in Arizona. 

Arizona is having more cases a day. Yesterday evening about 500, this evening over 600. One person, age 60, and with diabetes, died 6 days after getting sick. Delayed diagnosis even though she and ther doctor acted pretty quickly. As you know, I am an NP working in a clinic. We are doing patient phone calls only for those scheduled to visit. Thursday staff started bleaching both buildings. Only two people in my building today.

If I go anywhere, I wear one of the safe masks and gloves and use hand sanitizer and wash my hands so much they might fall off one of these days.

The family of the woman who just died said, “Tell your loved ones you love them often. We never had a chance to say goodbye.”

Very sad.

A couple of parting notes:

Our trash company alerted us to the fact that they are seeing a steep rise in the amount of trash they are picking up, making their trucks fill up sooner and require more runs to the dump. This is most likely due to the fact people are staying home thereby generating more in-home trash. They asked that we not put out large items that require special pickup until things return to normal as they don’t have the time or staff.  

In California, Gig workers for Instacart, the grocery delivery app, are planning to strike protesting the company’s lack of worker protection measures during COVID-19. It has not provided protective measures like hand sanitizer and disinfectants to its workers.

Here is an interesting article on Why Soap Works in cleansing your hands and why cold water works as well as hot. 

Stay healthy. Stay informed. Find more time for you, after all, you’ve now got the time. And, if you like a good drink, try a Quarantini.

March 27, 2020

Gettin’ By, Living it Day to Day

For some reason, this piece of lyric from an old Jerry Jeff Walker song keeps rolling through my head. I guess it suggests some feeling that we’re all going through. And although the song is lighthearted, in direct opposition to what is going on in our world, it serves some purpose of thought for me. And I would say, I’m not alone. We are all looking for how we get by and through an unprecedented moment in time in our lives, in our country and in the world. You have to look back to WWII and 9/11 for events the effect of which engaged the globe. For many people, the fight is on the front lines of healthcare. From EMTs, to physicians and nurses, hospital staffers to police officers, fire fighters, national guard members, city, county and state public servants, their jobs put them in harm’s way as they fight this disease. They are working tirelessly to care for patients, making and overseeing public health policy and enforcement. For them, this isn’t a matter of how to stay entertained because I’m quarantined. For them it’s a matter of life and death. It’s the question of how I care for and treat this person who may or may not be infected by the disease, while not getting sick myself.

For those of us who are not required or not trained to be on the front lines of this pandemic, we all need to remember there are those who are. The odds have it that you have multiple people in your family and circle of friends who are. That’s what I’m learning as I’ve spoken with you and heard from you since I started writing this tiny little blog.      

Rekindling “Life of Riley” was a goal of mine as soon as I  retired in 2019. Apparently I was too busy in retirement and the day’s passed so fast that I couldn’t sit down and write anything. The fallout of Coronavirus gave me the kick in the butt and the time to get at it. I thought that just sharing experiences that add personal context to this crisis through the lens of others might be worthwhile. 

So, how are you getting by? How are you keeping your connections with close personal friends and family? Protecting your and your family’s health? Exercising? Entertaining your mind to relax from the angst of the isolation and worry over the virus? 

Keeping in touch with friends and family relieves some of the feeling of isolation and thank goodness for the internet. Virtual certainly doesn’t replace a hug or a handshake but imagine this scenario taking place in the 1980s when the interweb didn’t exist. What feels like living under a cloud today would have felt like almost total darkness. 

We used Zoom to hold a family gathering. It worked great except that the free version clips you off at 40 minutes. And we experienced that twice! That’s how much we had to share. It’s a solid presentation in which you can see everyone’s video image on the screen together. And the cut off is little more than an annoyance.

For many, the opportunity to work from home seemed like a dream come true, but it takes some getting used to, especially when EVERYONE in the family is at home. It’s like summertime except there is almost no where the kids can go to play, and certainly, they cannot play with others outside of their brothers and sisters. So, that’s a pile on of stressors that increases the claustrophobia, tightens the nerves and adds to the angst. 

TV, the newspaper and my feeds are loading up on “top ten things you can do in quarantine” to help you get by. I’m sure that you’re getting bombarded as well.

Many are pulling out their old board games, or, if you’re like our kids, ordering some new ones…and there are a passel of games available out there. One that came out a few years ago is even called “Pandemic.” It’s one of the few games in which the players work together rather than compete with one another. Players team up to strategize their moves in order to stem and conquer a worldwide pandemic. I looked it up just now and discovered Steam, a website on which you can actually play board games online, including Pandemic. Obviously I haven’t tried the website yet but maybe you gamers out there will give it a go and let us know.

Julie and I turned to one of the oldest games on record, Backgammon. It dates back over 5,000 years to Mesopotamia! We found our board, blew off the dust, reread how to play…yes, it has been that long that just setting up the checkers correctly took some help…and played a game. I’m hopeful that we’ll keep playing. Back in our early dating days in Charlotte, Backgammon became the thing. Bars hosted Backgammon tournaments and always had the game on hand to accompany the beer drinking. I had a Backgammon party at my apartment with about ten boards set up inside and outside. It was packed and everybody played. There’s more to that story but it’s about a boy and girl sharing their first kiss after the last party guest left. But that’s for another time. 

Now that the gyms are closed, if you’re looking for an exercise app let me suggest one I’ve used for over five years. It’s called BodyWeight. It has great warmups, plans, exercises and stretching cool downs. The app does cost $5 but hey, you are worth it. There are tons more out there and I see exercise and yoga trainers offering free sessions because of the virus. 

And, I’ll finish today’s captain’s log with this thought on toilet paper. Yes, toilet paper. My local Publix said that when a shipment arrived that morning they didn’t even bother to stock it on the shelf. It vanished from the pallet in minutes. Now, without getting too personal, I would wager that you don’t really think about how many squares you routinely use during those personal moments, but I will bet you that you use more TP than necessary. That said, if you can cut the number of squares by half you will automatically double the amount of TP needed in your current inventory. This also cuts the amount of paper waste added to the sewers. Just saying. So, do something good for the environment and cut your stress in half. You’ll find it’s quite a relief.

Have a great day. 

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

What I’m hearing from family and friends

I’m not mentioning names to protect the innocent and I hope that you don’t mind that I share your story while maintaining your anonymity. I think it will help all to know the various experiences others are going through “on the ground” and in some cases, at “ground zero.”

“Shelter in Place” is forcing uniform cancellation of everything from the Summer Olympics to our dream vacations planned during this uncertain time. 

Doctors are cancelling regularly scheduled appointments and turning their attention to treating only sick patients stricken by coronavirus and everything else. And the doctors that I know are justifiably concerned about their safety and that of their family. Their hospitals are facing critical shortages of the now famous PPEs as well as test kits and ventilators. Most are teleworking, seeing their patients online. Some who work in hospitals have been told that they may be called in to work in the hospital. If they are called, they will not be allowed to return home for the foreseeable future. They will live in dorm rooms near the hospital. 

One contact of mine with military friends from his service days said that the military is working from home. Another told me that his son serves our country on a military base which has multiple confirmed cases of coronavirus. So far, his son has been unimpressed with the policies put in place to protect the rest of soldiers from infection and is resigned to becoming infected.

On the work front I hear from those young enough to still be working that WFH, Work From Home, is getting more than a test drive. And I believe that businesses are learning more about their capabilities in that regard than they had explored before, hanging on to the physical control of having people in the building. They’re meeting using different group video chat software like Zoom and instant messaging software like Slack to keep the work flow flowing. 

Former colleagues of mine at Channel 2 are all mostly working from home. The station IT folks set up laptops geared to access to the inhouse systems from the Newsroom to Sales to Traffic. One individual said that 95% of the newsroom was working outside of the building. That’s amazing. Here to for, only the reporters and photographers regularly worked outside of the building. All of the producers, writers and managers were on the floor, sitting side by side within sight and ear-shot  so they could pass along information to each other as rapidly as possible. WFH will be a gamechanger lasting well beyond the current public health crisis. 

On the other hand, I know business owners who now have almost zero business going on and they are very worried. Yes, they and their employees can work from home, but what do they do if they have nothing to work on because all of their clients have frozen their account. Particularly hard hit in my circle are folks in marketing and public relations. Although it is a critical time in the need for companies to communicate with their clients and their employees, they are withdrawing to save money and hopefully save their business and save the jobs of their employees. 

And, then, there’s my mother. At 96 she’s certainly in that age window of vulnerability. Her retirement center has closed down any and everything that brings people together, starting with meals in the large dining hall. 

The management is delivering two meals a day to its  over five hundred people living there. It’s a combination of independent living in duplex style homes and apartments to assisted living setups and a care facility. Closed are the onsite clinic (they will go to the resident’s home),  the exercise and swim centers, the gift and beauty shop, the library, and even the puzzle and card tables. No outside visitors are allowed in. And there hasn’t been a case of coronavirus in the village.

Mom is a very social person and I know she’s more lonely due to this, but they went through this exercise during the Norovirus in 2010. They have sea legs. 

An old friend of mine was running a checkout counter at a store when a customer sneezed all over him. He quit his job on the spot, hung up his apron, washed his hands and face and went home. 

 I share these stories  with you knowing that it’s not the inside scoop of the news day. It does bring it home for me and hopefully, you.  I’m sure that you have your own experiences. Share them with me and you’re sharing with others.  

My best wishes to all. Now, go wash your hands!

March 24, 2020

Grocery Shopping during the Virus

On Monday Julie and I saw that Publix was opening one hour earlier on Tuesdays and Thursdays just to serve seniors. 

Being “seniors,” we decided to take advantage of this opportunity. Maybe there will be more available since the store would have restocked overnight and we were being given first dibs. When we shopped last week we found very little fresh fruit and vegetables available. No chicken and very little beef. Certainly, there was no toilet paper either. 

So, we  got up at six this morning, an anomaly since we retired, enjoyed a quick yogurt and fruit breakfast, and drove the few miles to Publix at Piedmont Commons. As we were heading over I mentioned to Julie that I wondered what the turnout would be. I could imagine it actually being greater than the midday crowd because it was so specific to seniors. Turning into the parking lot at 7:15 told the story; The lot was full-on Saturday mid-morning packed! 

Thankfully, the Publix team was out in force and ready to assist. Many manager-types were running the checkout and bagging groceries. An employee welcomed us in the entryway and pointed us to shopping carts he’d already wiped down with disinfectant so they were ready to go. The model of efficiency.

Julie and I split up. She headed to the right of the store for meats and I made a beeline to the paper products aisle. I found that the shelves were totally barren. No TP, napkins or paper towels. I asked an employee and he said they received a new shipment yesterday and they flew off the shelf as fast as they could stock them.

I found Julie in the meat section but there was absolutely no fresh chicken on the shelves.

After that disappointment, we were very thrilled to see that most everything else was in stock including in the fruit and vegetable section. 

I must add that maintaining social distancing was impossible due to the size of the crowd, narrow aisles and checkout lines.

Many folks wore masks and gloves but most didn’t. It was a friendly and normal shopping mentality, not mob like in any way. Just crowded. People were civil and patient. And very, very senior. 

As we checked out I asked the manager bagging our groceries if they were surprised that the “pre-open” strategy for seniors actually had the wrong effect: bringing in more people than normal in a smaller window. He said that they were. I’ll be curious to see if they revise the practice.

I also asked him if Publix had given direction on whether or not to ask customers not bring their own bags because they could be contaminated and then contaminate the bagging area and the person bagging. He said that management had discussed that and decided to let the customer decide. 

Bottom line – I’ll probably scout the store later in the day and compare the size of the crowd and the  availability of food before attending another senior moment.

I do want to thank the Publix employees, all of whom are working extra hard to serve while protecting us and themselves. We were happy to see most items available. 

 

Most of you already know that I retired at the first of the year just shy enough of 42 years with COX to go ahead and round it to 42. Wow! What a final year it turned out to be.

First of all, I had a plan. Or I should say, Julie and I had a plan. That plan was to retire either in April when I turned 65 or, at the end of 2018. As we were running up to the end of 2017, I was leaning towards April. But it wasn’t anything that I had shared with anyone at work. The timeline for sharing the plan was part of the plan and it would be closer to my end date.

Then, a few things happened, starting with four key people at the station retiring within a year’s time. They caught me by surprise and, it turns out, they all had their plans too.

And those individual and personal plans resulted in over 150 years of institutional knowledge rolling out of the station over the course of six months.

VP & GM Tim McVay, my boss since 2011, and Deborah Denechaud, Director of Sales, retired at the end of 2017. Then, in April, Programming Director Art Rogers retired followed by Director of Community Affairs Jocelyn Dorsey in August. It was like a graduation class closing out incredibly successful careers and signaling the end of an era in many ways. And this was MY class. We had all grown up as managers together.

Then, at the end of 2017, Cox Media Group announced that it was restructuring the Atlanta properties as of January 1, 2018. The restructuring would integrate TV, Radio and Newspaper into one unit with new leadership. In the place of the traditional leadership positions of TV and Radio general managers or a publisher for the newspaper, this transformative structure created leaders in three key tracks: content, marketing and sales. These three leaders were tasked with breaking down barriers between the units to harness the power and unique competencies of the three business operations and see what we could do together.

Also in 2018, two historical milestone events were occurring: the 50^th  anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on April 4^th and Channel 2 WSB-TV’s 70^th year on the air on September 29^th.

Big moments like these are why you work for Channel 2. This station has the depth and breadth to “get” to the heart of what those moments mean to the community and we have the historical footage that few TV stations have maintained. The team here of programming producers, marketers and journalists knows how to tell big stories like no one else with the skills in using the new media to put the historical coverage into modern-day context and storytelling. And, both events gave the three outlets, WSB-TV and Radio and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the opportunity to really dive in together and demonstrate how working together makes for better community coverage in the end.

So, layering all of these things together as the year was beginning, I decided to stay for the whole year. I could accomplish a lot in doing so and really cap my final year with Cox and Channel 2. I could also lend consistency in a sea of change and work with the new leaders to assist in the transition.

Although it was very lonely without my colleagues of the last 18 years, I’m so glad that I did it that way. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

In early October, after the two brand-defining milestones of Dr. King and our 70th, I spoke privately with Jane Williams, the CMG EVP overseeing Atlanta. Jane is a longtime  friend and colleague, a former Director of Sales for WSB-TV who left the station in 2007 to become COX VP of TV Sales. But, in her heart, she never left Channel 2. I can’t begin to express my gratitude to Jane and the personal attention she paid to my retirement, and for her leadership and friendship over the years.

A week later, I announced it to my staff prior to the station staff the following morning at the quarterly station meeting. It’s funny that I was probably more nervous in facing and making that announcement than any presentation before. It was a very big personal reveal, which, once said out loud, is hard to take back. Retiring is a defining moment in a person’s career and life.

The announcement really set the ball in motion. The November sweep gave me something to really focus on and put my shoulder behind. Then, bam! It was December and my time at Channel 2 was over after 19 years.

But, not before the station held a retirement luncheon complete with special guest speakers, live music, food from Fox Brothers Barbeque, some really cool gifts and plaques, and, of course, the tape. Barry Sinnock and Lisa Spivack, my cohorts in creative minds, produced a great video voiced by our veteran station announcer, Scott Chapin.

The event was an amazing honor. Never had I been showcased and celebrated as on that day. And, my 95-year-old mother flew in from Durham to join us. What a joy it was. And, what a way to go out.

I am so fortunate, so grateful and oh so proud – proud of the work of the amazing people with whom I partnered over the 42 years, proud to have worked at WSOC-TV, WPXI-TV and WSB-TV and proud to have worked for COX.

One of my plans for retirement is to refocus my energies from managing to rekindling the pursuits that started me down this path in the first place, writing, music, photography and visual arts. And, leverage those interests with the master’s class that I received in digital and social media during the last 15 years of my career.

As I relight this blog of mine, I wanted to share with you what I believe that I said that day in my last official act as the Director of Marketing for Channel 2 WSB-TV.

Retirement Luncheon Remarks

December 11, 2018. WSB-TV Studio A

There comes a time and the time for me is now. On October 10th, in a station staff meeting, I announced my decision to retire. After 19 years at Channel 2 WSB-TV and almost 42 years with COX, it was a true bittersweet moment and led us to today and this wonderful gathering.

First off, let me say thanks to each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to come and be here together. I hope that you can feel how you fill up this room with greatness, because that is what you have achieved over and over again and it exudes from your combination of forces – a force multiplier, something we’ve been calling our “secret sauce” for some time. Keep that. It’s precious. It makes you stronger.

And thanks to the team that is putting this on today led by Barry Sinnock, Lisa Spivack, Donna Lampkin and Sabrina Guler. You sure know how to throw a luncheon and make a guy feel special.

I want to thank Jane and Mike for being here representing Cox Media Group and for their support through the years.

And, I want to congratulate and welcome Sean Garcia who will be the next Director of Marketing for WSB-TV. Many of you know Sean from his nine years here in marketing. He went on to Jacksonville as promotion manager and then became Marketing Director at WFTV in Orlando. Welcome Sean. You’re going to do a great job here.

Gloria Lee, the Vice President of ABC Affiliate Marketing and Promotion flew in from LA to be here today. Gloria and I have worked together for almost 20 years starting with my move from Pittsburgh to Atlanta. We both began our new journeys at the about the same time in 1999. Very earlier on in my tenure here I served on the ABC Affiliate Marketing Board for four years, two as a regional representative, one as president, and finally as ex-officio. Gloria and I really got to know, respect and love each other as we partnered in ways to impact the brands of both ABC and Channel 2.

And I want to recognize the royalty of faces back in the building today! To see Monica, John, Greg, Bill, Tim, Debbie, Art, Jocelyn and Donna Mayer-Todd – all these former greats in our station who did their part to punch that “Best Station in the Nation” ticket, thank you for our years together and for coming today.

Hey, this year has really been something hasn’t it? A very special shout out to Paul Briggs, Moya Neville and Donna Hall for their leadership through the year. No one has worked any harder than Paul, Moya and Donna on such a huge project as aligning TV, Radio and Newspaper together as one. Thank you.

I want to thank my wonderful partner in life and love, Julie Hazelton Riley. No one knows more than you, Julie, about the life of being married to a husband and a TV station at the same time.

Julie and I met within my first month at WSOC-TV. We’ve been together ever since.

 

Thank you for all of your love, support and inspiration over the four decades. You gave me strength, wisdom and courage to make the difficult decisions along the way, and you were there for so many celebrations. And, all that hard work is soon to pay off in retirement. Right?

We’re so proud of both of our now grown children.

Our son, Clark, lives in Portland and works for a huge software firm. Unfortunately, he couldn’t swing the extra week to be here this far in front of Christmas. Love you son and we can’t wait to celebrate with you. Clark worked the infamous Channel 2 and Georgia Lottery patrol for a couple of summers.

Our daughter, Blair is here today. A former WSB-TV intern, she now works in Atlanta for a big time global public relations firm. She’s taught me a lot over the years about PR.

Julie and the kids lived the TV marketing life. Clark starred in his first of many TV promos when he was around two. It was a morning promo and he was wearing the full uni-jammies with feet. The kids and their friends were extras many times over, and they have been to enough parades and fireworks to last a lifetime.

Like any good speech, I want to thank my mom and dad for all their love and support through the years. Dad passed away three years ago. We never stop missing him but he continues to be on my personal board of governors.

Mom is here today. Mom would you stand up please. Ladies and Gentlemen, the wonderful, unsinkable, hilarious and loveable, Martha Glymph Riley. She’s 95 damn years old, and she flew alone down here from Durham NC to celebrate with us. She’ll tell you a thing or two about a thing or two, in particular she has a few words about Atlanta’s airport!

Leaving is not easy and I have been very moved by the outreach of folks from inside and outside of COX with whom I have worked over the years. This company gives an employee a long reach.

I can’t tell you how much I have loved and appreciated working for COX starting way back in 1977 in Charlotte. This company nurtured me, promoted me and gave me every opportunity to succeed, and, allowed me to fail some along the way. I have had other offers over the years that stirred me a little, but when I opened up the hood on those organizations, they never equaled the character of COX. They were good, but not great. Attaining success but not through the same values as I have always felt resonated inside of the core of who we aspire to be at COX.   COX has been my family.

I admired Jim Kennedy from the day that met him at Lake Hearn not long after he took over the company reigns. He stopped by to talk with a handful of us marketers from the COX TV stations. He was so down to earth, and so appreciative of the work we all did to contribute to Cox’s success. He wasn’t too proud to openly discuss the difficulties and challenges he found in his new role, and he just hoped that he would measure up.

Well, through Jim’s leadership, this company went from good to great, growing it exponentially into the behemoth it is today. Thank you, Jim, and the COX family and now, Alex Taylor, for staying true to Governor Cox’s core beliefs: treat employees like family and always do the right thing.

Maintaining those core beliefs starts at the top. As a manager and leader, I have worked for extraordinarily supportive bosses in John Howell in Pittsburgh, and Greg Stone, Bill Hoffman, Tim McVay and Donna Hall here in Atlanta. The best of the best.

And, I hold the various teams with whom I’ve had the opportunity to play, lead or partner in the highest esteem. Each project and situation built a whole new “band of brothers and sisters.”

My father worked for the same family-owned company for 35 years. It was his passion and joy. I’m so lucky to have found the Cox family, pursue my passions and joys, and then, be able to retire from the company that launched my career…and, to retire from this great station of ours.

Channel 2 WSB-TV, is unlike any other. To get the opportunity to work here is a big darn deal. It is another to pass the test that the staff here puts to every new employee – you’ve got to represent and know your stuff. You’ve got to give it all you’ve got and what you give must be of the highest caliber. Working with the best makes you better and it makes us all work constantly to improve. We owe that to each other.

The pressure to succeed here is immense. There is so much pride and purpose, so much responsibility under such scrutiny. It is after all, the hometown of the company. This is the Cox family’s TV station. The one they and all of the senior executives in the company watch. It’s also the one their friends watch. And nothing can really prepare you for that.

Here’s to each of you, and your journey. Whatever your career plans, after years of hard work, stress and satisfaction, it will happen overnight, and you’ll be where I am. Moving on.

I know that you will nail it and continue to make a great company greater. I’m depending on you.

But before I “move on,” I want to end with a special thanks to the #1 Marketing and Design Team in the Country! Please stand and show yourself:

Barry Sinnock, Lisa Spivack, Julie Schulman, Donna Lampkin, Jamila Tyson, Mario Mendez, Adrianne Klabik, Ty Cody, Theresa Ferguson, David Ferebee, Corey Tatum, Sun Hey Kim, Daniella Lubisco, Shawn Goodrich, Shawnte’ James and Caleb Diaddigo. I just love saying those names. They show the diversity of this great group and they each are as creative as they sound.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your dedication, creativity, innovation, commitment – for sleeping here during the storms –promoting our people and our brand with love and devotion and providing a keen sense of protection and guardianship. You are simply the best. The station owes you a real standing “O.” I know that I surely do.

What an honor it has been to work with each of you here today.

Channel 2’s mission is to do well and good at the same time, to hold the powerful accountable, to communicate with our viewers on all platforms, and inspire them with the stories of Atlanta, that they can only get on Channel 2 Action News and WSB-TV.

We’re proud. We’re hungry. We’re beyond competitive and we’re dedicated to the community we serve and to each other to deliver “Coverage You Can Count On.”

“We are WSB-TV!” Say it with me! “WE ARE WSB-TV! WE ARE WSB-TV!

And that is what I will miss every single day. I will stay close with my Channel 2 and COX Media Group Atlanta family because you will come into my home and into my phone and into my car whether it’s televised over the air, on cable or over the top, and, through radio, newspaper, social and digital. It is all Channel 2 Action News and WSB-TV. It’s all the result of what YOU do Every Day. Every Newscast. Every program, promo, ad sale and master control switch.

Thank you Fred Blankenship. You are THE Master of Ceremonies and the master of getting us all up and on to great things in the morning.

As my father said to me, “It’s been a great ride.”

”Thanks for coming.

Burgh Riley

December 25, 1999-March 25, 2017

Started on March 25, 2017

Seventeen years ago, he was the transition allowance. Or at least the getting of a dog was the allowance made when we uprooted our teenage kids, Clark and Blair, from their only known home in Pittsburgh and moved to Atlanta, Georgia.

“You have ripped us away from all of our friends,” said a very unhappy Clark. “I want a dog.”

To be honest, I caved on the idea pretty quickly. I felt pretty darn horrible about the timing of moving our family. The kids were in that very tough age of having cemented friends, playing sports and doing well in school. Not to mention that we all loved our life in The Burgh. We had drilled very deep down into our souls about this opportunity. Finally deciding that we would go for it set in motion so many forces that it felt like all of a sudden we were in our new home in East Cobb County, Georgia. And Clark wanted a dog. We felt like, well, he deserved to get something. Blair, of course, wanted a dog as well to go along with our cats, Crazy and Zoey the mountain cat.

“So, let’s say that we’re open to getting a dog; what kind of dog were you thinking about?” I asked. “A Great Dane,” Clark quickly responded. “Whoa there!” I laughed. “That is a huge dog. You really need some space for a dog like that to run.”

“No you don’t,” he said. “I looked them up. Great Danes are wonderful house pets.”

“Maybe, but not in our house. They’re just way too big. Think smaller.”

“Okay. How about a Lab?” he suggested. I thought about that for a minute. Labs, too, are big, but nothing like a Great Dane. Plus, I had been around some and they are wonderful animals. Sweet as can be. “Okay. Your mom and I will talk about it.”

And we did. I don’t remember much about the discussion but shortly we were driving southeast to just below the Atlanta airport, turning down some country roads finally finding the address our vet had given us. He recommended this country boy breeder because he was known for breeding great Labs and he had a new litter…with papers.

This was 2000, the new Millennium, beginning of the new century. Before Google maps, WAZE or the Channel 2 Traffic app. Getting there was a journey in and of itself. It was a home address, not a business. What we found was a very modest ranch home with an old Camaro in the driveway. It was definitely the home of a single man. Sparse. Simple. Down right plain. But, clean.

The pups had full run of the utility room and hallway in the back of the house, which had newspapers spread out to protect the linoleum floor. The mother, a Yellow Lab, was out back. The father was a Black English blockhead Labrador that had served his purpose and returned to England, leaving this brood and papers with very fancy names of the pups’ ancestors.

The litter was a mix of both solid black and solid ivory puppies although one ivory colored cutie had a black spot on his back. “I’m probably going to end up with that one,” the breeder sighed. “Nobody will want him with that spot.”

He picked us as the story goes.

That made us give serious thought to picking “Spot,” but then this solid ivory puppy came up to greet us and that was that. He picked us as the story goes. We made the deal and worked out the arrangements. We had to leave him with his mom for a few more weeks. On the drive back to the house we talked about names. “Iceburgh” came to mind first, thinking about his coloring and the mascot for Pittsburgh Penguins. Then, we shortened it down to “Burgh,” a fitting tribute to our previous home, friends and…hockey team. And, to forever remind us of our wonderful 15 years there as we began to build a new life in Atlanta.

Two weeks later we returned to pick up our first ever puppy. And so it began, our life with a dog uniquely named Burgh, who lived up to his name and more.

The early days were a mix of wonder, angst, frustration, sleeplessness and laughter. The hard part was it was like having a newborn baby in the house again, this time whimpering and barking instead of crying. Julie took the brunt of it and I wasn’t sure that she was going to make it with all of the other stress in moving, getting the kids into new schools and learning the ropes of life in Marietta. All while I was spending most of my time at work or commuting.

But then Burgh made it through a night, then another, and then he was good.

Next, we had to learn how to train him faster than he learned how to train us. We beat him in some points and he beat us in others. He turned out to be extremely smart and picked up on things quickly.

It became his job, his morning routine. And he did it every morning like clockwork.

One thing he learned early on, with a little help from Julie, was to pick up the morning paper in the driveway and bring it to us. It became his job, his morning routine. And he did it every morning like clockwork. We’d let him out the back door and he would trot around the back of the house to the bottom of the driveway, pick up the day’s AJC and return to the back door. Of course his reward was breakfast, which he gobbled up in a few bites. If, for some reason, the paper was delayed, he was left empty, having not performed his job, and he was not right until it finally arrived and he could go get it.

He learned how to be a great walking partner and learned the route by heart. There was one bridge over Sope Creek next to the golf course that had a huge tree growing beside it with vines hanging down. Something about it riled Burgh every time we approached it on the outbound leg of our walk. His hair stood up on the back of his neck as a slow low growl grew from his throat. When we were about 10 yards from the bridge I would let go of the leash and he would charge it, ending up with a few fierce barks over the side of the bridge. Julie and I decided it must be the bridge troll. Interestingly, it had no effect on the walk back. He repeated this attack every walk for the next 15 years.

Burgh was unique. He was Labrador retriever that really didn’t retrieve. He was interested in fetching a ball or a stick a maximum of three times. Then, he lost interest and wandered off or lay down.

He was a Lab who didn’t like water. He wanted to jump in, but he just couldn’t.

He was a Lab that didn’t bark at people who came to our front door. So he wasn’t much of a guard dog. To him, no one was a stranger, and every one wanted to pet him. Even kids afraid of dogs.

In the hierarchy of personality traits Burgh was a beta. Maybe even a theta but most certainly not an alpha dog. His little Jack Russell cousins (Page and Maggie’s pups) ran over him and out tugged him in tug of war with a rope. He just didn’t see it as a competition for very long and let go, even after swinging them around effortlessly, he gave in. And they would bark and growl as if to say, “You may be big, but you’re not that tough.” And he seemed to say, “Uh, well, okay.”

He was a dog that turned out to be allergic to cats…and we had two of them. Once diagnosed, I gave him monthly injections for almost sixteen years.

He was a dog that would go the full trip to anywhere without going to the bathroom. Even the six hour drive to Durham. Even when we stopped and hoisted him out of the car so he could go. He’d sniff everything in sight, but never go until we arrived at our destination.

He was a (young) dog who held it all the way to Beech Mountain, passing on the opportunity to go in a brief walk around the grounds. Then, in the excitement of all of the greetings in Marti’s family room, we heard the kids yelling, “No Burgh!” I turned around as he deposited a big one just to announce his presence with authority.

He was a dog who snored, especially when he slept on the floor of our bedroom – for many years. I would often get out of bed and roll him out of the snore.

He was a dog who went out in the morning to pee and turned up wonderingly following his nose in the back yard of our neighbors, totally ignoring our calls even when he stared right at us.

He was gentle and tolerant with his much smaller, higher energy cousin dogs, Grounder and Sketcher, Page and Maggie’s Jack Russell Terriers. He’d let them lead the way on walks, and entertained their playfulness and games that they would start, often around his head, ears and nose.

He quickly grew large enough to be a bonafide counter surfer, training his owners to never leave bread anywhere near the edge of the counter or it was gone. He was also adept at opening the cabinet door under the sink to get into the garbage. We solved that with two tactics; installing child protective closures as well as never throwing away bread or meat in that particular trashcan.

He mastered the art of the heroic pose, ears up, standing tall and surveying his area with a strong oversight. And when lying on the floor, he crossed his front paws, suggesting his true and supreme reign of confidence and self-assurance.

He was the youngster who, with the van full of Hazelton cousins, dropped a deuce in the back of the car, creating a lot of excitement and laughter and wailing from the kids, screaming for me to open all of the windows and forcing me into an “emergency” pull over on a neighborhood side-street. When I stopped the car, the side door flew open and the pack of kids abandoned ship, holding their noses, leaving me to deal with the surprise package. Burgh sat there wondering why everyone jumped out of the car and left him alone.

He was a show stopper on our walks, and we walked everywhere with him. People always smiled as we passed, staring at this beautiful dog. Often they just had to walk up and pet him. Kids hugged him and scratched his ears and kissed his nose. Burgh slobbered all over them and they loved it.

His good looks and talent earned a starring major role in an in-house video screened at my company’s annual conference. In it he not only picked up the paper, he started the coffee, turned on the TV – to Channel 2 Action News “This Morning,” of course – checked out the station’s website before getting in the car with his mom. He punched the knob on the radio dial to turn on WSB-AM 750. He was amazing! And he loved his media.

As he hit 15, he let us know that he needed to shorten his walks from 2 miles to just the neighborhood. Gradually he told us that a walk up the hill was enough. At 16, the cul-de-sac was enough. And then one day he seemed to say as he handed the paper to me that, well, that was that. He just couldn’t make it to the end of the drive and back anymore. That last time he said, “I’ve done all that I can. You’ll have to get your paper from now on.”

He was, and forever will be, the greatest dog of our lives.

He was Burgh. And, like I did this morning, I’ll never pick up a paper from the driveway and not think of him and how he transitioned us from Pittsburgh to Atlanta, from high school to college and from college to life. That’s a lot of work for one dog. And, that is why he picked us. I, for one, am forever grateful.

Note: It’s taken me over a month to write, re-write and rewrite this again. And to find just the right photos and a video of his paper delivery.

Since I first started, we received his ashes, held a small memorial and committed them into the ground in our back yard. We placed a memorial bench over the site to give him a place still in our lives.

To this day, when I wake up in the morning, I think that I hear him barking, as he did a lot in his last year with us when he couldn’t get up by himself. And when I open the kitchen door I still have a brief expectation to hear his nails on the hardwood floor as he got up to greet me.

And every evening when I return home from work and open the door from the garage I reflexively anticipate him there, happy to see me, or at least hear him and am almost surprised to remember that he is gone.

This weekend I caught up with my dear friend and former boss, John Howell, with a long overdue phone call. As we worked our way through how the family was doing John said that Gail had wondered just the other day about how Burgh was doing. He went on to say that he had told Gail, “Honey, I’m sure that if Burgh had passed that Steve would have published a long article with photos and video accompaniment to let us know. I think it’s safe to say that Burgh is still with us.”

I sat on my answer for moment before saying, “John, you’re right and it’s already written. Burgh passed a few weeks ago and I just can’t finish what I’ve written. Every time that I edit it, I add more that has to be edited.” He expressed his condolences and how he knew what Burgh meant to us and that Burgh was a really good dog. A beautiful dog. 

I started that editing circle again this morning. Firmly committed to putting it to bed by finding and repairing misspellings or grammatical errors, smoothing out sentences and adding the pictures. But then I added more copy, including this “Note.”

I realized in the process that Burgh stood for more than a dog in our lives. His time with us marks a terribly important passage in our lives. The two go hand in hand. My hope is that he always felt safe, loved and happy. He surely seemed that way to me except for the final days.

A few weeks before Burgh died, Julie had an idea on how to pay tribute to him after he was gone. She started saving bagged newspapers in a grocery bag which I stumbled into in our garage. That’s when she told me of her idea. The weekend of his passing, we laid them out on the driveway at the spot where he found the paper every morning. The photo homage to our paperboy says it all.

Thanks for reading. I hope you got to pet Burgh at least once in your life, and wipe some slobber off of your sleeve and ivory fur off of your black pants. It would have been worth it.

One of the many wonderful things about Father’s Day has been its tie to the final round of the US Open. And, this year, it returned to historic Oakmont Country Club just up the Allegheny River north of Pittsburgh. And that opens up the door to some memories of extra significance and some storytelling.

But first, 13 months after Dad’s passing, I celebrate Father’s Day thinking of him and the many great times we shared together. And, I celebrate our Riley family as well, which just grew by one in April with the birth of Katherine Riley Gerke, daughter of my niece, Claire and her betrothed, Luke. Then, we’ll grow even more in October when Claire and Luke wed followed two weeks later by Clark and Ashley’s wedding.

Back to the Open and Oakmont…

In 1994, when we lived in Pittsburgh and I worked for WPXI-TV, an NBC affiliate, I scored four tickets to the Saturday round courtesy of my then boss, John Howell, and NBC, which was picking up the tourney starting the following year.

Mom and Dad’s drive up from Durham to join us coincided with the infamous OJ White Bronco chase on June 17, 1994. A very surreal event to be sure.

We had a blast at the tournament even though it was a sweltering 95 degrees. The tickets gave us club house access and parking right inside the entrance. We walked the entire course that day, and appreciated the shade of the trees that have now been famously removed. On Father’s Day Sunday, we watched on TV as the championship ended in a three-way tie between the baby-faced, gum-chewing, smooth swinging nobody, Ernie Els, Loren Roberts and the much maligned Brit, Colin Montgomerie.

Ties after 72 holes are settled with an 18-hole playoff on Monday. Mom and Dad stayed and we watched that amazing test as well, which ended in a two-way tie between Els and Roberts. Those two went into sudden death and Els won his first major at 24.

Four years later, John and I were invited to play Oakmont through the station’s sponsorship of the Western Pennsylvania Golf Association’s Centennial celebration. With an opening for a fourth, John offered up that I should invite Homer. This is the story of that day.

Oakmont Tuesday

July 28, 1998

As early as 5:30 arrives in the morning, it seemed to just creep into view on my digital bedside clock. I had waited all through the night: 1:30, 2:30 and 3:30, when I let the cat drag in, 4:30 and finally 5:30. Time to get up and get ready to play, no, experience, the penultimate in golf at the historic Oakmont Country Club. Home to amateur and major PGA championships that lists more PGA winners than any other course except for Augusta National.

And Dad, John Howell and I were set to play with Rosemary Studer – a member, our host, and a 12 handicapper. She was standing in for her husband who was unable to play.

Excitement doesn’t begin to describe the feelings coursing through my veins.

And the weather was set to be picture perfect. We were instructed to wear pants just to avoid any potential for embarrassment for too short of shorts.

John picked us up right at 6:30 in his Cadillac. We arrived at 7:15. The bag master took out our clubs from the trunk. He looked at John’s ball retriever, removed it from the bag and said, “You won’t need that here. No water at Oakmont.” He loaded our clubs onto a flat back maintenance cart and sped away saying as he drove off that we would find our bags on the range.

We walked up to the clubhouse. Rosemary bopped down the stairs and introduced herself, already familiarized with our names – the perfect host.

We each were assigned a caddie – no carts allowed at Oakmont without a doctor’s note. No carts. No cart paths. The way golf should be played.

We loosened up at the range, hitting balls stacked in perfect pyramids. And on the famous practice putting green tied to Number 9 green, I got to feel the magic of Mr. Stimpmeter. I learned what “slick” meant. Johnny Miller said one of the many impressive things about Oakmont lies in how it stays ready for championship play, never letting it’s pants down.

And almost before I realized it, we were leading off the day’s field on Number 1, the hardest starting hole in golf, according to Miller, the winner of one of the most storied Sunday rounds in US Open history, in the heat of a Pittsburgh Summer at Oakmont.

I almost fainted in my backswing, managing to sail it down the left side of the fairway, finding the first of many of Oakmont’s infamous bunkers. The son of the developer, W. C. Fownes Jr., was said to place new bunkers where players managed to miss the others already lying in wait. My caddie said, as we started off the tee, “You struck it very well. Just a little left, right in the trap Ernie Els found in the playoff round in the ’95 Open.” Well, I’d never played a course with that kind of name-dropping possible.

Walking down the fairway, looking at Dad and John, with our caddie entourage, it felt like we were walking on hallowed ground.

As if the round meant anything of significance, I could try to take you through it all, but relax. I won’t. I brought some good parts of my game, a lot of very good drives with my new Big Bertha driver.

“Yep, I think the boy done out drove his knowledge.”

On the seventh hole I really connected. Rosemary, a great admirer of other’s shots, couldn’t get over how well I struck it and how far it traveled. Dad, in classic Homer style, quick with the needle, said, “Yep, I think the boy done out drove his knowledge.”

But my irons searched for targets, left and right of where I meant to aim, and putts that made me feel heroic, and putts that shook me to my toes, as balls rolled slickly by the increasingly tiny cup and continued and continued on as if gravity would never halt them.

None of us lit it up but Dad put up a fight and broke 100. John brought a decent game. I felt good breaking 100 too. and learning that sometimes a four putt wasn’t all that horrible. Rosemary very quietly shot 80 something. She graciously hosted us for lunch.

And boom, we were through, left to recall our play around the dinner table and savor a great day on a truly great and historical course – the best on which I’ve ever teed it up. It couldn’t have been any more special with Dad. I took some photos during the round, picked the best, mounted our card and the pencil, and framed them for Dad to commemorate our round. I gave it to him for Christmas that year.

Post Script

I was planning to include some of the photos of that day and went off searching for them. Two hours and lunch later, I can’t find them. We have a pretty organized drawer of photos but the 1998 years are missing. I did a lot of searching and got lost in what I found on my way to not finding the set I wanted. Such is life. It’s a journey of the unexpected while you’re on your way to what you expect. Happy Father’s Day to all. There’s no greater blessing.

So, it all almost came to an end before it really got off of the ground. I’m speaking about this long love affair between Julie and me. “Bonehead” is how I would describe me then looking back from now. But then, well, I thought I was doing something pretty swell for our first birthday celebration together.

You know, that first birthday/holiday is a weird affair. You can’t skip over it like nothing was happening. But you don’t want to overstate anything that might put too much pressure on the new relationship.

I should have just bought her a new album or three. We both loved music so much. I was smart enough to remember that later, but not this first time. Having no real plan, I went to the farewell party for a reporter leaving WSOC-TV. It was kind of a combination party/yard sale. The stuff looked good in her place and I was in need of something to make the right statement and show my understanding of Julie, and, the point in which we stood in our new relationship. I thought that I found it. Actually “it” was a pair of matching beautiful (I thought) living room lamps. Julie and her roommate, Diane, had the coolest apartment, very well furnished mostly by Diane courtesy of her recently ended marriage. I thought Julie would enjoy getting and having something of her own in the scheme of the apartment décor. It was that, combined with having nothing in hand and no real plan, and, this sounded pretty good to me. I mean, who wouldn’t want a matching pair of yellow lamps?

I found out pretty quickly when I presented them as her birthday gift. Shortly thereafter, she cooled our relationship and then, cut it off.

Now, I’ve told this story many times in our 38 years together. Why? Because I’m still a bonehead. It usually doesn’t ingratiate me well to Julie. She feels a little embarrassed that she stopped our relationship because of her dislike of my gift. I know this and yet still I trod where I shouldn’t.

But, the truth is, I love this story. I love how young we were when it occurred. I love how dumb I was. And how my stupidity insulted her sense of thoughtfulness and caring. It gave her good right to question whether she wanted to invest her future into such a thoughtless, if endearingly handsome, bonehead of a guy.

I usually tell a little more of the story just to dig my hole a little deeper.

See, she broke it off just before Thanksgiving when my folks were driving down to Charlotte to enjoy the holiday with my sister, Marti and me, and to finally meet this wonderful girl that I’d been talking about since, well, early summer.

That was a tough one to explain to the folks. I’m not sure that I connected the lamp part of the story in explaining to Mom that, well, things had cooled and they weren’t going to meet the girl of my dreams…at least not yet. Thanksgiving was not so great that year.

Oh, have I mentioned yet this critical fact: Julie lived next door to me. Our townhouse apartments shared the same common entry. Her front door was directly across a 10-foot space from mine. Hard to be that close and broken up.

But we were. The next week I could hear her leaving for work in the morning – I worked the night shift. I watched her get in her yellow VW Super Beetle and drive off with my heart. But I left her alone, which turned out to be the hardest and smartest thing that I’ve ever done. See, although I left her alone, I lived next door too, and she felt my presence as well. The happiest day of my life was when, a week later, she knocked on my door, told me she missed me. I told her that I was sorry. She told me she was sorry.

It tells the story of our lives together. That’s the hardest patch we’ve ever had to endure. That one week apart, unhappy with our relationship, gave us both enough time to realize that we were meant to be together. And we have been ever since.

And that’s why I love telling this story the most. And why I love yellow lamps although I don’t own any. It’s a story with a happy ending that keeps on going.

Happy Birthday Julie Hazelton Riley. You’re the best thing ever to come into my life.