April 14th is such a special day for me.  It is the day that my wife celebrates her birthday.  In turn, I celebrate my wife.

Since the day that you entered my life, the world has been brighter; the days much happier; the future more purposeful; and, there was never a doubt in my mind, all these years later, that you were the wellspring from which all of these things came.

God has been very kind to me.

I hope you never know how much I love you, for it affords me the numerous opportunites to show you in every way possible.

Happy Birthday, Lvoe.

Yours always,

Mike

On this day in 1974, Henry (Hank) Aaron hit home run number 715 to break Babe Ruth’s long-standing mark.

I remember it because I was with my great-grandmother, “Nannie”, and just prior to the great event, she was trying to educate me on the proper time to say, “You’re welcome”, when the occasion called for it to be said.  Nannie was all about protocol, and did her best with the child she had to work with.

Nannie loved baseball, and we watched many games on NBC, particularly on Saturdays (as became the custom afterwards) when I stayed for the weekend.  But on this particular Monday night, 39 years ago, she said if Hank did what was expected, I wouldn’t forget it.

Aaron did, and I never forgot, Nannie.  I love you.

P.S.  I also got better at saying, “You’re welcome.”

I’m woefully deficient in hobbies.  Always have been, and I’m not sure why exactly.

So, I’ve decided to do something about that.

I was watching videos of the late Joe Pass, jazz guitarist extraordinaire, and some of his concert footage.  I was immediately struck with the idea that I could play music, and enjoy the guitar as he did.

As a young fella, I “played” guitar; much, the same way as I “play” golf.

So, I’m gonna take lessons, and I’m gonna learn chord structure, music theory, and other things.  I bought a Reverend Manta Ray HB, and I’m gonna play it until I puke.

We’ll see how far this goes.  Annette’s already said she’s looking forward to being serenaded.  I can be a troubadour.  Or troubledour; your choice.