Diet by App – September 6

Dear Readers:  Some followers of Cranky Man’s Lawn seem not all that enamored with such personal, mundane posts as this series on reducing Cranky Man’s physical presence in The Real World.  Yes, these status reports are more than a little self-serving and – maybe – not as gripping as my usual cutting edge opinions and humor. (Please don’t miss the HUMOR part of that last sentence.)

Anywho … It’s a PERSONAL blog!  Get used to it.

That being said, I will endeavor to make these a bit more interesting with a few stories or tidbits not normally worthy of my renown writing abilities.  (Humor … remember?)

And so without further ado …

Things that go Sock in the Night

That night was not a good night for sleeping.  For some reason my on-again/off-again snoring habit (She will claim it more On-all-the-Time.) had reared its noisy head.  I recall waking up several times with an admonishing voice in my ear and sharp pain radiating from the Her Side of my ribcage.

Yet at some point I was able to settle my snoring down and was sleeping rather fitfully.

It was still in the wee hours of that morning when I was nudged awake by my Better Half asking me to, ” … go downstairs and bring up the socks.”

“Huh …?”, I mumbled before realizing she was asleep and probably dreaming of some convoluted scenario where I was certain to do something not to her liking.

It never crossed my mind to ask what the damn socks were doing downstairs … in the dark … all by themselves.  Figuring she would simply go back to sleep I – not surprisingly – fell right into the Convoluted Scenario Trap.

I responded, “Sure, honey, I’ll get them.”  And I rolled over to get back to sleep … again.

I had been laying there for but a minute or two when I felt a sudden throwing back of the heavy quilt and my lovely wife’s legs swinging out over the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?!?”, I asked groggily.

“Well, if you’re not going down to get the socks, I guess I’LL HAVE TO!

I briefly considered letting her go downstairs to stand in the middle of the living room wondering what she was doing there or – even better – “Who the hell broke in and stole the socks?!?”  But guilt and thoughts of costly medical bills from a fall down the steps in the pitch dark convinced me to – somewhat nicely – tell her to lay down; go back to sleep; she was dreaming …

She claims she doesn’t remember The Night of the Neglected Socks; but the laughs we’ve enjoyed since have been real enough.

       

Forty pairs of socks would weigh about 15.8 pounds.

630 pairs of socks would weigh
about 15.8 pounds.

Starting weight:  236.6 lbs. (Feb 18)

Goal Weight:  200

Plan:  Lose one-and-a-half pounds a week

Daily Calorie Budget:  1913 per day  (Started at 2020/day)

Projected Goal Achievement (Adjusted):  December 2 12  

Weight on August 21:  222.0 lbs.

Weight today:  220.8 lbs. (15.8 down)

Diet by App – Hitting the Reset Button

What have I lost? Male red panda weighs up to 14 lbs.,  and he knows how to relax!

What have I lost?
Male red panda weighs up to 14 lbs.,
and he knows how to relax!

It’s been a rough Summer.

No, nothing tragic or disastrous happened, just six weeks of constant aggravation that – admittedly – wouldn’t have caused a stronger, more patient individual to blink. But sprinkle in enough mini-crises and social distractions (i.e. food-loaded events) and bye-bye Diet-by-App lifestyle.

But enough for my excuses …

The good news is that when I finally faced my non-compliance and hopped on the scale, I found that I had maintained exactly the same weight noted in my last Diet-by-App status report in June!

Apparently the new eating habits formed in my gung-ho happy months had taken hold, even my tendency to snack a bit more than I should hadn’t resulted in weight regression. My preference for a good salad – after a round of golf for example – instead of loading up on a bread-heavy sandwich – my usual menu choice – is one change in eating habits that seems to have helped a lot.

Bane of my existence ...  Can you hear it calling you?

Bane of my existence …
Can you hear it calling you?

Now I find myself avoiding sandwiches – both big and small – almost every time I have the choice in favor of lighter meals.

So here I am, hitting the Reset Button and trying to climb back on the Lose It! wagon!

So where are we?

Starting weight:  236 (Feb 18)

Goal Weight:  200

Plan:  Lose one-and-a-half pounds a week

Daily Calorie Budget:  1921 per day  (Started at 2020/day)

Projected Goal Achievement:  December 2  

Weight on June 13:  222.0

Weight today:  222.0

I am rethinking my goal weight, believing that getting my weight down to 200-205 lbs. might be good enough to “declare victory”.  But I will endeavor to keep pushing for 200 for the time being.

Shower King

Ferris Bueller was certainly King of his shower!

Ferris Bueller was certainly
King of his shower!

Wonderful is the life of The King of the Castle!

After weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks of travel to painstakingly select the finest materials from all The Land; begrudgingly indulging the persistent needs of The Craftsmen as they toiled to produce a suite suitable to the Household Royalty; and living in the relative squalor of cramped Guest Accommodations, this morning it was This Lord of This Castle’s decision to christen the newly renovated Monarch’s Personal Retreat and Shower Hall!

Merlin-esque plumbery

Merlin-esque plumbery

As I enjoyed the warm, luxurious stream of an opulently appointed Monument to Modern Plumbery, I marvelled at the wondrous gifts of Nature and almost Merlin-like Saucery that surrounded me.  I bathed in appreciation for the impressive talents of the Artisans of the Land.

As I completed the showering process …

(Sorry … No photography was allowed for obvious reasons of Taste and in the interest of preserving the Public’s Vision and Sanity.)

… in preparation for my day among The Inhabitants of the Realm, I recalled a recent admonition from The Queen of The Manor.

“You better make sure you squeegee the glass shower door!”

Huh …?

Now I’m pretty sure there was a “Your Highness” added to that suggestion, but I might be imagining that.

So there I was … in all my Royal Splendor this morning …

(Again … Sorry, no pics.)

OK ... Here's a pic.  Use your imagination.

OK … Here’s a pic.
Use your imagination.

Working that squeegee like a one-armed Royal Window Washer …

‘Cause – ya know – I needed the other hand to keep the towel properly positioned!

Anyways, if you ever want a Crown-worthy Challenge, try squeegeeing the lower portions of a glass shower door while attempting to maintain Your Royal Dignity!

Then please, tell me how many weeks I need to keep doing this silly housekeeping chore without invoking The Queen’s Wrath …

The “G” word

How things like this start

How things like this get started

This was inevitable … the grandest development of being a Parent once the most active roles of being a Parent have run their natural course.

I’m going to be a Grandfather!

Yikes …

This is Great, don’t get me wrong.  But it’s more than a little intimidating.  Not that I find the “challenges” as difficult or the responsibilities particularly daunting.

It’s that G word …

Grandfather

I guess – after all these years considering the possibility and acknowledging the inevitability – I’m just not quite mentally prepared for such an esteemed and wordly title.

Damn, I’m getting old!

Congrats to Michael & Janelle, Jeanine & Jeff, Carol and Little Old Me!!

Mother Nature’s Little Terrorists

cold

The week before Fathers Day had been simply a miserable one.  Suffering from a bad head cold and another affliction, the details of which you should thank me for not sharing, had me irritable (OK … more irritable), whiny, and wiped out.

By Friday I was ready for the “nuclear option” which simply involved loading my body up with enough pharmaceuticals to render myself Borderline Functional and a walking (at times barely shuffling) advertisement for Modern OTC Pharmacology.

The good news … I started feeling better on Saturday, the bad news … peeing green for two days …

By Saturday afternoon I was feeling semi-human; and as is the object of my peculiar OCD, I decided to cut the lawn, both in an attempt to feel halfway normal and to avoid having to do it on Fathers’ Day.

imagesThe plan was to watch the final round of the U.S. Open Golf Championship from Merion Golf Club on FD.

So I went outside to don my special Lawn Cutting Sneakers – identifiable by the thick coating of hardened green lawn slime – and get moving … albeit very, very slowly.  Clearly, as the story will illustrate, I was not close to thinking clearly or acting thoughtfully.

As I tied my left shoe, I felt something sticking my toe.  It felt like any small piece of garden debris that finds its way inside any gardener’s shoe and thereby joins the list of recent developments longing to make my life just a bit more uncomfortable.

What I didn’t notice at first was that the “debris” was moving around ever-so-slightly all on its own.

It must have been the after-effects of all the medications I had pumping through my organs.  I actually got the other shoe on; stood up; and took a few steps towards the garage when I said to no one in particular, “What the blankety-blank is that?!?”

Still not quite over my body-brain numb, I meandered over to the porch and removed the irritated foot from the green-coated sneaker.

Maybe it was pre-meditated! (Picture from seananmcguire.com)

Maybe it was pre-meditated!
(Picture from seananmcguire.com)

A flash of yellow on my sock was like a jolt of electricity to my medication-addled zombieness.  Hopping and cursing, and flailing at the little yellow bugger, whose only sin was the misfortune of getting trapped in my smelly, foot-filled sneaker.

Not that I cared.  Them and me, we have a history.

So its broken corpse was left in the middle of the front porch as an example for all its surviving breed, as this was not the first time I had been the object of this ambush tactic.  My pain this time was just as real as the last.

It was a Summer maybe five years ago.  A rather hot but enjoyable day at Five Ponds Golf Course in Warminster.  Having just finished hole 11, and moving casually off the green to our carts and the 12th tee.

As my friends and I are sometimes prone to do, we had procured a few adult beverages – in can form – from the snack stand at the turn.  My first beer sat in the cart opened and awaiting my return.

As I tilted can-to-mouth and gulped, I immediately thought, “What did those two (fill in the blank) put in my drink?”  But as I moved to spit out the foreign object, I realized it wasn’t an “object” at all.

hunter-killer terrorist hornet

hunter-killer terrorist hornet

Jumping up and spitting was never done so quickly or violently, my mind raced to the possibility that the “thing” might go the “other way”.  My panic and confusion didn’t help matters and My Little Stowaway got stuck on my lip …

You can imagine the result.

Several jabs later, I finally got the little bugger out.  Only he wasn’t no “little bugger”.  She – obviously a She – was a hornet about the size of my thumb.  She had got me at least twice on the bottom lip.

Instantly, I was in mucho pain and running through my dictionary of colorful colloquialisms.

My friends – on the other hand – were in hysterics … until of course they saw the size of her broken corpse.  They were awe-struck for about 10 seconds.  Then the hysterics started over again, only louder.

images-2Guys are funny that way, although I will say it does take your mind off the possibility that you could be dying of anaphylaxis.

We considered what we should do, given my obvious discomfort and size of the animal that had attacked me.

Well … actually they decided.  I was still hopping around; swearing a lightening-blue streak; and stuffing ice into my mouth.

Naturally they decided to keep playing unless I wanted to “Go crying to my mommy; and get my boo-boo fixed.”  Or words to that effect …

Guys are funny that way.

Mother Nature has it out for me ... Why?

Mother Nature has it out for me … Why?

Of course I decided to keep playing.  Figuring, if I’m going to die, I might as well croak on a golf course, as is any serious golfer’s dream.  Just think of all the neat stories my friends could tell as they divvy up my golf equipment and supplies after the funeral!

Yep, guys are funny.

I’m not sure why Nature hates me.  I always pride myself on my live-and-let-live outlook, so long as you’re not a weed on the lawn or a mouse in the house.

On the other hand, I did par that long, straight and difficult par-5 that day!  Moaning, groaning, and adding a few new entries into the vulgate along the way …

I lived to face Mother Nature’s little terrorists another day.

So as Fathers Day was spent watching the U.S. Open Golf Championship, I couldn’t help but think maybe Phil Mickelson – as he faded in yet another Open – could have used a few hornets in his shoes that last day at Merion!

Mickelson could have used a jolt.

Mickelson could have used a jolt.

The Cranky Hobo

images-1Life at my house is officially in total upheaval.  And like a lot of people, I detest disruption in my daily routine, the fabric of my life.  However, change is the inevitable development of these middle-aged years.

Just as many males will meander through the various temptations of the Mid-Life Crisis … convertibles, sky-diving, yoga, andro-gels, and women much too young to take them seriously;  many females find one significant outlet for their restless middle years …

Home Remodeling!

It’s an age-old phenomena.  Every husband, lover, or significant other will eventually experience the dread, the uncertainty of the day they step through the front door to find paint swatches scattered across the vestibule/bathroom/kitchen or hear the warning claxon of those immortal words, “Honey, I’ve been thinking …”

Yeah, right ...  This has never happened.

Yeah, right … Assuming it’s a married couple, my bet is this never happens.

No fun nor favorable experience ever grew from such innocent beginnings.

That’s not to say that the End Results are not good, uplifting, exciting, renewing …

But no one, who is not a contractor or do-it-themselves nut job, EVER enjoyed the in-between parts.  The preparation, the shopping, the displacement, the mess, the shopping, the selection process, the color wheel migraines, the shopping, the second thoughts, the changes to all the decisions you thought were already made, the re-shopping, and worst of all the construction disruption …

And that’s where I am stuck now … in the worst possible space in the house … my refuge, my quiet place, my comfort zone, my Fortress of Solitude …

Yes, they are tearing apart my master bath.  Bad enough the bedroom, but the bathroom too?!?

Now what am I going to do?

Apparently, it’s living as a Hobo!

Living out of boxes and cardboard “valets” … Nothing where it’s supposed to be.  Nothing where it can be found without crawling around on all fours and opening no less than three 20-gallon sized Rubbermaid containers.

Showering in the Commoners Bathroom (Ew … What is THAT?!?) and soon to be sleeping in a strange, cramped bed.

No man was meant to live like this!

And right about now, there’s this very attractive, extremely gifted housewife, sitting at her desktop Mac, reading this blog with a building whistle of steam leaking from her ears, muttering, “Oh stop being such a baby!  Why can’t you be excited?!? They’ll be done in two weeks!”

Mona Lisa's iconic smile rumored to be the result of Color Wheel Dementia during rehab of her Camden, NJ row house.

Mona Lisa’s iconic smile rumored to be the result of Color Wheel Dementia during rehab of her Camden, NJ row house.

Yeah, right … And I’m Mona Lisa.

It’s already been roughly three months of shopping and searching, searching and sampling, sampling and spending … and we haven’t even gotten to the Color Wheel of Mind Numbing Choices.

“Honey, do you like the Tawny Apricot Caramel (beige) or the Cinnamon Mud Brickle (reddish beige)?”

Of course, it will all look magnificent once it’s completed, as it always does.  She does have a gift for getting it right.

It’s just those intervening 18 weeks in Hobo Hell I dread.

Two weeks?!?  Yeah, right …

Diet by App – June 13

The continuing saga of Better Living through the Lose It! iPhone app.

What have I lost? Male red panda weighs up to 14 lbs.,  and he knows how to relax!

What have I lost?
Male red panda weighs up to 14 lbs.,
and he knows how to relax!

Starting weight:  236 (Feb 18)

Goal Weight:  200

Plan:  Lose one-and-a-half pounds a week

Daily Calorie Budget:  1925 per day  (Started at 2020/day)

Goal Achievement:  August 3 19 24 Sept 5 27

Weight on April 10:  224.0

Weight today:  222.0

Been a tough month … Had several distractions and events that waylaid the diet discipline and worse, precluded the ability to get my normal level of exercise.

On the other hand, it’s amazing what a few minor and seasonal health issues will do to your appetite and caloric intake.  Combine that with the usual, customary, and required activities of a lawn care nut job and suddenly you have progress … albeit on a delayed and meandering curve.

I have resolved not to bother my readers with updates that show no progress, so feel free to thank the blogging gods of Meaningless Post Minimization for your uncluttered read feed.

But that’s OK, since I am looking at this as a long-term project … on my own schedule … there will be plenty of almost-meaningless updates!

Apologies to Lose It!‘s desire that I stick to the program schedule.

Once upon a Furlough …

Chuck Hagel

DoD Secretary Nagel, it’s “fair” to furlough Navy employees, despite the assertion that cuts can be absorbed without furloughs.

Well, it finally happened, after 33 years of Federal employment … My first Adverse Action.  A furlough, long speculated upon and hanging out there like a piece of space rock that you know is screaming – maybe more like meandering – towards you; yet you’re not quite sure if or when it might hit, or how big the mess if it does.

So it appears to be hitting, regardless of my own personal opinion (denial?) that there was no way they would allow said space junk to impact.

The story gets much uglier the further you peel the onion.

My first attempt at writing this, the day after we received our Notice of Proposed Furlough, came off like an angry rant … which it surely was.  It went in part like this:

I’m mad at all the bozos in Washington, D.C.!  All of those who would rather drive their ideological stakes into the ground and tether to those constraints the Government’s ability to function, the Country’s long-term economic health, and the tenuous condition of the Middle Class rather than dealing with the realities of the National Budget!

That goes for the Democrats as much as the Republicans, the Conservatives as much as the Liberals.  Governance requires Adults.  Unfortunately few can be found among those currently taking up space in the building they call The Capitol.  A building which frankly should have a sign draped across the front, advertising it as “The World’s Largest Day Care”!

bg-1-136694

But the biggest chunk of anger I feel is towards The White House …

That last part won’t surprise anyone who has visited here before, as I reserve a  particular animosity for those who created such an unpredictable sequestration gamble with the livelihoods of working class Americans!

But yes, I feel a little better today, thank you.  Still more than a little pissed however.

The reason is summarized somewhat by today’s title, “Once upon a Furlough …”, a twist on a phrase used by story-tellers since at least the year 1380 according to the Oxford English Dictionary.  Afterall, sequestration with all its head-scratching “cost savers” – among them the furlough of federal employees – is great big Fairy Tale.  And the story has its origins in The Oval Office during the 2011 debt-ceiling negotiations.

Sequestration Fairy

Sequestration Savings Fairy

At that time The White House was working with the Democrat’s Congressional delegation, trying to figure a way to wheedle agreement from the Republican side of The House to raise the federal debt limit.  It was then Chief-of-Staff Jack Lew (now Treasury Secretary) and White House Congressional liaison Rob Nabors who “brain stormed” The Great Sequestration Gamble of 2013.

The idea being that the sequestration would be such a painful penalty for not agreeing to a future “grand bargain” on the budget and deficit, and more importantly on what – if any – cuts could be made to said budget, and who and how much more in taxes would be paid.  This “pain” of course was aimed squarely at the Republicans, a bet on the prospects that the politics of the situation would force the Republican’s hand at a crucial moment.

Like much of what this Adminstration does, it was a poorly developed gamble that was just as shoddily executed, minus any form of Presidential Leadership, and with no fall back position other than to blame the whole mess on the Republicans in Congress.

Problem is the ploy required building sufficient political pressure to force Republicans to seek a deal.  But the Republicans dug in; refused to yield on earlier commitments to taxpayers; and held the Democrats and The White House to their promise of suitable budget cuts without more in tax revenue than Congress accepted to avoid the other contrived 2013 budget trigger – the New Year’s fiscal cliff .

Leadership???

Leadership???

The Democrats’ problem – and a continuing theme – became the need for strong Leadership from The White House.

As Scoobie Doo was so fond of saying … “Ruh Roh!”

Of course no Leadership emerged … only insistence that more tax revenue was the solution and a lot of political rallies disguised as “taking the argument to the people”.

“Ruh roh …”

Sequestration Dragon

Sequestration Dragon

And when the time came for the put-up-or-shut-up necessary to cut the heart out of the Sequestration Dragon, The White House decided to double down and really force the issue.  Though it would not be through strong leadership, circumspect vision, and the art of compromise in seeking a deal on spending and taxing.

No, no, no … Instead came the none-too-subtle message to the Republican caucus in the House of Representatives, Refuse to surrender, and the Country will suffer!

“Ruh roh …”

That’s how we ended up with the silly cancellation of White House tours, hand-wringing over Easter egg hunts, contrived air travel delays, and accusations that every unfortunate event from a bridge collapse to the bombings in Boston were the result of the sequestration.

pennyHowever, as I outlined earlier this year, the actual affect of sequestration on the 2013 fiscal budget was just 1% of everything the federal government will spend in Fiscal Year 2013.

A penny on every dollar!

And yet, here we are.

For federal employees of the U.S. Navy, the sequester furloughs are particularly infuriating because they are completely unnecessary!  Secretary of the Navy, Ray Mabus and other senior Navy executive leaders have made it known that the U.S. Navy could comfortably absorb the sequestration-driven budget cuts without a single civilian furlough.

Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus

Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus

The response from White House Cabinet DoD Secretary Chuck Hagel?  Yet another absence of Leadership … Insisting that the Navy furlough it’s civilian workforce in order to “be fair” to those who work for the Army and Air Force.

What?!?

Yep, that’s right  … Fairness now is the real reason for the furloughs of Navy employees as opposed to “the extraordinary and serious budget challenges facing the Department of Defense” as my deliberately misleading furlough notice states.

DoD has every indication that the Navy can absorb its share of the shared pain from this silly sequestration without affecting the incomes of its civilian employees; yet they insist the Navy reduce their employees annual earnings by 20% in order to “be fair” to those working for the Army and Air Force!

Welcome to Fairy Tale Land!

So what’s a Federal Employee to do?!?  Make them pay more of course!

imagesOne of the protections, federal employees enjoy is that of the Merit System Protection Board.  The MSPB is expecting a potential tsunami of appeals over the furloughs being forced on federal employees.  Since an appeal to the MSPB can cost the Government up to $10,000 (See “Cost of Appeals”), the Federal Government desperate for a way to stay within budget and sacrificing its employees, ends up potentially paying twice as much as it expects to save for each employee who decides to file an MSPB appeal.

For this reason every Federal Employee should consider filing an appeal regardless of how dim the prospects are for vindication!  For Navy employees in particular, Chuck Hagel has laid a very nice gift at your feet.

You can view instructions and a link to the appeal process here.  MSPB even has an e-file application to ease the confusion.  Furloughed employees have 30 days from the date-of-notice or from the first day-of-furlough, whichever is later, to file their MSPB appeals.

There … now I feel much better!

Diet by App – May 13

The continuing saga of Better Living through the Lose It! iPhone app.

What have I lost?  Four-month old black bear cub weighs 12 pounds.

What have I lost?
Four-month old black bear cub weighs 12 pounds.

Starting weight:  236 (Feb 18)

Goal Weight:  200

Plan:  Lose one-and-a-half pounds a week

Daily Calorie Budget:  1940 per day  (Started at 2020/day)

Goal Achievement:  August 3 19 24 Sept 5

Weight on April 10:  225.0

Weight today:  224.0

Another two weeks, another pound …

My only complaint so far about the Lose It! app is it’s overly optimistic calorie budgeting.  According to my original plan creation, I should be losing 1 1/2 pounds a week.  As I have been very faithful in my inputs – both food intake and caloric output – throughout the process, I can only assume metabolism is the variable.

I’m no saint, and might fall off the wagon once or twice a week; but not to the extent – calorie wise – that would limit my weight lose to 1/2 pound a week.  Usually these bouts of non-compliance have more to do with events and social occasions.  I might partake of added calories, but I generally keep it relatively healthy.

Even my night-time snacking has improved immensely.  And though it hasn’t disappeared completely, I have been able to limit it considerably and dutifully account for those calories in an effort to keep myself honest.

Pretty certain there’s a metabolic connection to the differences between the Plan and the Result.  Lose It! is after all a fairly simple calorie counting program.  There is no attempt to account for anything other than the straight caloric inputs and outputs one experiences during the day.

I’m pretty sure there has to be a difference between how a 50+ male and a 25 year-old male burn off calories or metabolize their food intake.  There are weeks where I feel as though I have burned a lot more calories than my progress demonstrates.

Yet I guess I can’t complain because I’m still losing.  It’s just taking longer than I expect.

If you take a look at the data presented at the beginning of each post, you can see where the goal achievement date has been pushed from early August into early September now.  This is automatically recalculated by Lose It! each weigh-in based on your progress-to-date.

I’m simply in for a longer haul than I had hoped.  But maybe this way the changes in behavior will last a lifetime.

Oh, Danny Boy

222204_1030753005290_9994_n

Daniel J. Shortall passed away on Thursday, April 25 after a rather sudden, devastating, and senseless illness.

My cousin was but 47 years-old.  Much too young to leave his family and friends; he was one of the youngest of a rather large herd of cousins, who trace their roots through a double-digit sized brood of Shortalls, who lived in the Germantown section of Philadelphia.

As with many Irish Catholic families, the playing of Danny Boy is often a part of saying goodbye.  That his name was actually Danny made this particular rendition – in bagpipes no less – so much more poignant.

But truth be told, I didn’t know Danny very well.  Being a decade younger than me, I was more familiar with his older brothers and sisters.  Much of what I do know about him came from studying the array of pictures, now popular at many viewings and funerals, that attempt to present a mosaic of the deceased’s life.

It gives visitors a sense of who the person was; what they loved to do; and who they loved.  Personally, I believe part of it’s value is giving surviving family members a chance to relive those moments that meant so much to them and the loved one they have lost.

217613_1018859947971_5527_n

Danny in front of
“Touchdown Jesus!”

In any case, the biggest single thing I learned was that Danny really, really, really liked the University of Notre Dame‘s football program!  A rite of passage for many Irish Americans …

For this side of my extended family, who trace their roots through a double-digit sized brood that inhabited the Germantown section of Philadelphia up until the 1960s, Fighting Irish football was THE football outlet, long before the professionals became local headliners.

My father had the ND bug; and although it didn’t take with me, it certainly did with my brother.  At times it is so strong, you can almost hear the “Rudy” chant!

Throughout the years as with many large families, it becomes a practical impossibility to keep tabs on everyone, let alone maintain close ties.  Several cousins have tried to hold regular gatherings in the past.  It works for a while, then the demands of Life take over and those good intentions slip away.

Then the only time you see each other is at funerals.

After reading through this several times, as is my habit before I post, I realize I haven’t said much of anything about Danny.  That’s a bit sad – I guess – yet honest given the circumstances.

218001_1018860027973_6111_n

What I can conclude about Danny is this …

One measure of a life lived is the people who have come to love and respect you in the course of your travels.  If a person has interacted with those whose paths they have crossed with Honesty and Sincerity, the people you touched will honor you when you depart this earthly existence.

From the number of people who came to pay their respects this past Tuesday and Wednesday, Danny Shortall was greatly respected and incredibly loved!