Funny Guy Friday... Put up your dukes...

Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark.  So, I married a funny (and sometimes sentimental) guy...
    When I was a kid, my brothers and I would fight each other all the time.  In fact, we fought our sisters, our friends, and on at least one occasion, I punched one of my girlfriends right in the face.
     You would think that my father, a very strict man, would have frowned upon this activity.  He did not.  In fact, not only did he not frown upon it, he encouraged it... okay, maybe not the girlfriend pummeling.
     I will go even further.  If we did not strike our siblings and friends with the appropriate power behind our punches or move our feet to deliver a quick follow up punch, my father would act as if we had committed a mortal sin.  These weak efforts would be met with a quick rebuke and an order to resume the violence until we got it right. And we did.  We would go back out and attempt to correctly bash some kids face in.  Occasionally... not too often... we would get our faces smashed in, but either way... my dad loved it!
     You may be wondering why my father raised his boys like we were a pack of pit bulls... let me explain.  My father was the youngest of seven kids. He was raised in Camden, New Jersey, and he told us that out of all the boys who grew up in his neighborhood, he and his older brother were the only two that did not end up dead or in jail.  And from the stories he told, he probably could have met a similar fate.
     He was a fighter.
     He once told me he loved to fight... and was good at it.  I once asked him why he started so many fights and he told me that he never started a fight... but he quickly added... but I never walked away from one either.  
     Since he was so much younger than his oldest sister, he was raised along with his nephews, who were more like siblings to him. He would often remind us that his sister used to nurse him. Ewwww!
     Despite their similar ages, at least two of them were older than he, and still they always referred to him as "Uncle Paul" up until the day he died. When they were kids, his nephews would get teased for various reasons and my father would defend them.  They were not as tough as he was, so he fought for them; he beat up any kid that dared mock his family.  And if he ever thought that he lost a fight to his nephew's bullies, he would show up every day until he thought that he got the better of them.
     He earned a reputation as a tough guy and his nephews became his promoters. My dad would tell us stories of how his nephews used to go to summer camps, arriving before he did. By the time my dad would arrive, his nephews would have already arranged a fight or two with anyone who wanted to take on the challenge.
     When I asked him why would he participate in these fights, he said... Everyone was there, so what are you going to do?
     Walk away comes to my mind!
     At some point in his youth, he took up boxing.  He loved boxing... loved to watch it, talk about it and loved to teach it to his boys.  He would show us how to position our feet and hold our hands.  He taught us how to deliver an effective jab and a powerful right.  He would then put up his hands with his palms facing us and we would bob and weave and throw punches as he moved his hands to avoid our blows.  And if we ever dropped our left hand to deliver a crushing right cross, he would manage to smack us in the face before we could deliver our haymaker. Man, he had quick hands.
     At some point, he purchased a set of 16 oz. boxing gloves. If I recall correctly, they were a Christmas present to one of my brothers.  These gloves were similar to two small pillows that fit over your hands... and allowed you to punch brothers, sisters, friends, and at least one girlfriend in the face.  Don't misunderstand, it still hurt to get punched... just not as bad.
     We had hours of fun with those boxing gloves.  We would rope off a ring in our backyard and invite friends over and go at it. We were not tough kids... not in the sense that we were going to bareknuckle it with some kid at summer camp... but my brothers and I were all pretty good boxers. We knew how to position or feet and hold our hands and throw an effective jab. We had some training  so as a result, we fared pretty well in our backyard ring. My dad would watch and occasionally call us over to tell us to go easy on some helpless sap of a kid or to admonish us for dropping our left when we went to throw our right.
     I had not thought much about those gloves until my nephew posted a picture on Facebook of one of his son's wearing them. That picture brought back a flood of memories.  Some about the boxing in the backyard... but mostly memories of my dad.
     He was the biggest 5 foot 7 man in the history of the world.  Fiercely loyal to his family and especially to my mother.  I once made a smart comment to my mother as I was leaving our living room.  As I walked down the hallway headed to the kitchen, my father met me halfway and pushed me back up against the wall.  He had me lifted up against the front door with one hand under my throat and his forearm against my chest.  He asked me why would I talk to my mother that way.  I panicked and could only come up with... the truth:  I did not know you were home! 
     He tightened his grip and advised that if he ever hears me speak to her again like that I would be... and I quote:  picking up your teeth with a broken arm. 
     I fared better than the Washington Post striker who was picketing outside of a local store.  My dad dropped us off and went to park the car.  As we entered, this poor unsuspecting union worker grabbed my mother by the arm.  Bad move.  One punch later there was one less lucid picketer.
     Yeah, my mom was off limits!  
     My father treated everyone with respect so long as you treated him with respect. He did not always offer his opinion, but if you asked, you'd better be ready for an answer... good or bad!  He was a loyal friend who would be the first to respond in a time of need.  He was a gentleman.
     Remember the story about my punching my girlfriend?  Well, she and I had the gloves on and she started coming at me.  I retreated.  She kept coming and I kept retreating.  She was throwing wild rights and wild lefts.  At some point, I stopped and threw a little tiny jab at her... just to slow the attack.  Down she went.
     Now you may think that I would have been worried that I knocked out my girlfriend.  A little bit yes... but what I was really worried about was how I was going to explain to my dad that I punched a girl!  Luckily, she was okay and laughed it off, and he never found out... and I improved my record to 24 wins and 3 losses!
     You may be wondering why I am writing about him this week.  It is not his birthday.  It is not the anniversary of his death.  It is nothing, really.
      I am writing about him today because I saw a picture of an old pair of boxing gloves.

Funny Guy Friday... Breaking all the rules...

     Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband, Mark.  So... I married a funny guy.
     I hesitate to write this.  I should probably plead the 5th... but Cheryl and I channeled our inner Bonnie and Clyde last weekend.
     Up until last Friday, we had obediently complied with the Governor's shut down order, even if we had not exactly agreed with it.  I go off to work every day and only leave the house to grocery shop.  Cheryl was home bound weeks before the decree from "on high."  In fact, if I didn't tell Cheryl what was going on in the world, she wouldn't even know.
    Some husbands may take advantage of this situation.  Seriously, honey, the Governor said that Tuesday is a statewide golf tournament and every male over the age of fifteen who has a set of clubs has to play!  I do try to keep her properly informed... with my own little spin on it, of course!
    Anyway, last Friday, Cheryl convinced me to run away with her to Ocean City to go to our condo (we own it).  We did so with full knowledge that the Governor did not want us to leave our home and that the Mayor of Ocean City would not welcome us... at our condo (we own it)... in Ocean City!
    We left under the cover of darkness and in our haste to sneak out of town, we forgot to eat dinner. Our first stop was at Wendy's where we were greeted by a nice maskless young man who took our order.  Our food was then prepared by a different, masked man but without gloves, wrapped up by yet another maskless young man and ultimately delivered to us by a maskless older man.  Totally normal under normal circumstances... but we are not operating in normal circumstances.
    This is when my lovely wife chuckled and made the observation that four people that we had never met can prepare and deliver our food to us, but the local priest at our church cannot serve us communion.  She does not get out much but when she does... and I allow her to have her own thoughts... she nails it!
    Once in Ocean City, emboldened by our successful escape from home, Cheryl scoffed at the closed beach signs and took off towards the ocean.  I refused until I saw that there were a few other renegades out there... all probably 60 yards safely away from us... but some (gulp)... flaunted "The Man" by holding hands with one another. I have seen anchor men condemn this abhorrent behavior on the nightly news as violating social-distancing rules. Seriously, does it occur to these talking heads that these hand-holders are probably not total strangers that met out on the street and then decided to march down the block hand in hand? My guess is that they may be a couple that decided to take a walk. I digress.
     Our lone trip away from our condo (we own it), was to the hardware store.  I am always friendly and am just a bit curious as to other people's opinions. I do not get angry at them when their opinions differ from mine, nor do I judge them.  I am just curious.  I completely understand why they feel the way that they do... and at the outset of this episode, I am not sure that I disagreed with them. Remember those original models predicting over a million deaths in the United States alone?
     It was during this conversation that I heard the quote of the day... You have to "comply" because you just don't know, it could be helping people.  
     Cheryl immediately cut the conversation off and said, Well, I am here to just get a key made, while I thought, yes, it could help... or it could not!  It could be that we shut down the greatest economy in the world because it could be helping people. On the other hand, it could not be helping people as much as we thought it would and it could end up hurting more people than it helps.
     So allow me to opine.
     I am not a medical doctor, but I do pay attention. When Cheryl and I first got married, she was the first in her family to marry.  I, on the other hand, was the last in my family to get married. Not surprisingly, I was the Cool Uncle and was always hanging out with my many young nieces and nephews. Apparently, my brothers and sisters never were good at practicing safe social-distancing!
     Anyway, anytime my family would get together, Cheryl would catch whatever the sickness of the day happened to be.  I, on the other hand, never got sick. Cheryl had the immune system of a gnat!  To this day, when the kids are sick, I am the one who lays with them, hugs them and kisses them.  Cheryl is holed up in our room under a wall of pillows.  I am not kidding when I tell you that she caught the flu from her sister while talking to her on the phone... on the phone for goodness sakes!
     Could it be that we need to build up some immunity to this virus and anchoring in our home does not allow for this.  In fact, couldn't it be doing more harm than good.  Of course, we are told we have to stay home in order to "flatten the curve."  Flattening the curve, they said, would allow the hospitals to continue to operate.  By clearing the decks at the hospitals, they would have room to treat the hundreds of thousands of Covid 19 patients that the models (remember the million death models?) predicted were coming.
     Funny thing about closing down the hospitals in order to save room for patients that end up not coming in the numbers predicted... it turns out that the hospitals don't make money under these circumstances. When hospitals don't make money, hospitals lay off workers and potentially... shut down! So we accomplished the goal of not overwhelming the hospitals, but in doing so, we are on our way to putting them out of business.
     As I mentioned, I am not a doctor so I ran my "immunity theory" by a friend who happens to be an ER doctor.  Not only was she not dismissive, she felt there was medical support for that opinion... and I got the impression that she agreed with me. None of that really matters because nobody really knows for sure... which is scary considering the drastic measures taken to combat the spread of the virus.
     Even if quarantining (Cheryl refuses to use the word quarantine as she points out that you quarantine sick people, not healthy people) were the right move... and folks can certainly effectively make that argument... how long does it continue?  This has been going on for six weeks and we are never going to have zero cases.  If we are going to wait for zero cases, we may never see another roll of toilet paper!  We really cannot wait until it is perfectly safe because life is never perfectly safe. Cheryl has pointed out that a life fully lived will never be perfectly safe and why would anyone ever think that it would be.
     Back to our weekend.  We returned home late Saturday night but not before we hit the DQ for some "unprotected cones."  With our adrenalin running at an all time high, we decided to expand our crime spree!  We had the itch and we needed to scratch it!  Breaking the laws of one state was not enough... the next morning, we would be heading south of the border... to Virginia... not Mexico!
     Cheryl had been advised by a pair of underground Catholic dissidents that there was a Mass by a rogue priest in a Virginia city far, far away.  She lobbied all week to make a run for it and I finally acquiesced.
      I am not at liberty to disclose the exact location of the Mass, but suffice it to say we will most likely head back again this week.  And not just because it is directly across the street from an eighteen hole golf course... although getting in 18 before Mass couldn't hurt... but because we were able to receive the Eucharist.  Talk about having to scratch an itch.  By the way, the Eucharist was the only part of the Mass that I understood because the Mass was the original Latin Mass.
      Besides the language barrier, the Mass was interesting... the only time that we got out of our car was for communion. Oh the irony... breaking laws to attend church!  Do I have to confess this transgression... you know... when the confessionals are... er uh... allowed to... you know... open back up? I say no! I say never!
     As you read this tale of lawlessness, you probably think that I am a real badass! Well, truth be told, I am not.  I am as far from a badass as you can imagine.  I am a goodass... the ultimate rule follower.
     I was worried the entire drive to Ocean City and was nervous as soon as we crossed the Virginia state line. Cheryl slept most of the way, and if she wasn't sleeping, she was commenting on the beautiful landscape! She finds beauty in all things... even lawbreaking!
     Consider this for a second.  I was worried making the two hour drive from our house to Ocean City to visit our condo (we own it) and I was nervous attending a Catholic mass in a neighboring state... when I was out of my car for less than three minutes!  I actually rehearsed my lies to the imaginary police officer that might pull me over. Did I say lies... I meant lines!  
     I cannot believe that I am the only one who thinks that we are ready to resume living our lives.  And I say this recognizing that there have been a lot of great things that have come as a result of staying home.  Families have had opportunities to enjoy each other's company... playing games, sitting around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows, enjoying a beer or two or other adult beverages, preparing and eating dinner together or just talking. Besides all the great family time, we are all going to have clean houses, nice yards and know neighbors that we never knew existed six weeks ago!
     It was on the drive back from Virginia that I had a few sobering thoughts. First, why can't churches in Maryland (and everywhere else for that matter) conduct mass like the one we had just attended. Sit in your car and dial the mass number on your phone and after the consecration, wait for your vehicle to be summonsed to the outdoor altar and then return to your car after receiving the Body of Christ! Not ideal but a workable solution.
    Think about this... Easter Mass was not be celebrated anywhere in the world. I am not a theological scholar... but the Catholic Bishops dropped the ball.  A friend told me that Saints are made in circumstances like these and our bishops shut the doors to the church and locked out the flock! It would have been easy to lobby the State to allow for some form of the Mass... just call the same lobbyist that the Home Depot, liquor stores and pot shops hired to get the green light ! Those lobbyists got the job done for their clients. The Catholic Bishops, on the other hand, voluntarily rendered themselves non-essential at a time when they were most needed! While I am thankful for some of the local priests who have continued to allow for confession and adoration, they are in the minority. This is a sad statement for the church and a mistake that may prove to be costly in many ways.
    My second thought is that the shut down... in its current form... has to end. The models were wrong and social distancing worked. While I acknowledge that this is a very serious and deadly virus, the circumstances have changed. The numbers do not add up. The further we go with a total shut down, the closer we get to a depression. What do the models say when the United States, and thus the entire world, enters into the second Great Depression. Doesn't really matter what the models say because the models are wrong. But one thing is undeniable... poverty causes death and the ruination of people's lives! I do not need a model to tell me that!
     I honestly believe that people in the United States think that we can shut our economy down and then start it back up whenever we want.  Don't these people ever watch sports and see when a team clinches the play-offs early in the season and then rests all their starters... that never works.  I also think that many people think that we will never run out of money. I was going to write that the American people are like my kids... but my kids know the value of a dollar... which will be about thirty cents once this is all over. Our country cannot maintain this level of spending.  
    I don't see this as choosing money over life.  I understand what this is doing to families and I understand the serious nature of the virus. But look at the current numbers and it does not warrant a continued shut down. This is not a money vs. life argument... it is a life vs. life argument.
     New York Governor Cuomo said we can do both... and I agree with him.  If keeping social distancing is necessary for the time being, keep social distancing,  If you are a high risk, by all means, stay home.  If you want to wear a mask, wear a mask. Preferably, wear a cool one like the ones with a clown face or a bandana like you are a cowboy robbing a stage coach. While those masks don't necessarily help anybody... another theory that my doctor friend seemed to concur with... people feel better about being around you!
    For the time being, we make compromises.  We...and by we, I really mean someone a lot smarter than I... will come up with a cure.  We are the greatest country in the world... I am not embarrassed to say that.  Of course, I wasn't embarrassed to say I was the Cool Uncle so maybe I am not the best gauge for what is or is not embarrassing. But it is true. We are the greatest country in the world because of our virtues, our courage, our freedom, our liberties and our laws.
    Of course, we all know what the previously mentioned Clyde Barrow's famous last words were... "It takes a virtuous, courageous man to assert his liberties and freedom to occasionally break quarantine laws!"
    Just kidding, he did not really say that.  I made that up to make me look more like a badass than a goodass rule-follower!  And as I reread this I have come to an even more sobering conclusion... Cheryl is the real badass in our family!
    Dear God... please make this end!