Aunt Corinne passed along a recent news article about Uncle Mack, who has been volunteering to help out the Savannah prosecutor’s office, which is staggering under a crushing case load. Although Uncle Mack’s legal career, pre-retirement at least, was entirely in the civil arena, he’s thrown himself into the project, studying criminal law and helping out the prosecutors wherever he can. You can see the article here.
Uncle Mack is one of those people who has always been “involved.” When he lived in Reston, Virginia, he was active in leadership positions with community organizations and was featured in a full-page news article. (The article referred to Uncle Mack as a man in “triple focus,” because of his many activities, and had a three-exposure picture of him. It was a very nice article, but the “triple-focus” description cracked me up and has always stuck with me. Now, whenever I see UM, I try to work in a gratuitous “triple-focus” comment just for the heck of it. Now I’ve been able to work it into this blog post, too.)
The desire to be “involved” has, if anything, seemingly intensified after Uncle Mack retired from a long and successful career as an intellectual property lawyer. I’m not sure I’m even aware of all of his activities, but I know he’s been working on playing the sax in a jazz combo, he’s taken acting classes and acted in a few independent, locally produced films, and now he’s helping out the prosecutor’s office. It’s impressive, and Grandma Webner would be proud.
The experts say that a key element of any successful retirement is having interests to pursue, so you stay mentally engaged and physically active. Uncle Mack is a living demonstration of that concept.
Yesterday’s mail brought a welcome holiday gift: a book. Entitled Murder in the Village Library, the novel was co-authored by “Collett, Fogarty, and Webner.”
That’s Webner, as in my Aunt Corinne.
The back cover describes the plot as follows: “Vivid characters living in an idyllic gated community are confronted with greed, loss, and treachery in this action packed international thriller.” The book is focused on the library in the community where Aunt Corinne and Uncle Mack live, which admittedly is pretty darned idyllic. And the fact that the cover lists only the last names of the co-authors gives the book a hard-edged, two-fisted feel, like you might get in a Mickey Spillane Mike Hammer mystery.
I know from prior conversations with Uncle Mack that Aunt Corinne and her co-authors have worked hard on the book, and because Aunt Corinne is involved, you can bet your bottom dollar that the book is thoughtful, the plot is logical — and the prose is grammatically correct, carefully proofread, and properly punctuated down to the last semicolon.
Congratulations, Aunt Corinne! And if you’re interested in reading the book, I’d guess that copies are available from the Village Library itself.
It’s cold in Columbus this morning. It’s not really cold by absolute standards — at 32 degrees, it’s just at freezing, and a mere chilly precursor of the truly icy days that inevitably are coming this winter — but it’s an arctic blast by relative measurements, since only a few days ago the temperature was pleasantly in the 60s.
When I checked my weather app to see exactly what the temperature was, I noticed that it’s a heck of a lot warmer in San Antonio, where Richard and Julianne and their dog Pretty make their home. Down there in south central Texas it’s a fine 66 degrees right now, and I can imagine walking out into the San Antonio surroundings, clad in t-shirt and shorts, and thinking that 66 degrees is a nice cool start to the day — good for a stroll on the Riverwalk or, in Richard’s case, a jog. Up in Detroit, Russell’s waking up to 36 degrees and a forecast of snow flurries. And if you add in siblings and uncles and aunts, we’ve got Heidi out in Huntington Beach, California where it’s 54 degrees and the forecast is for partly cloudy skies and a high of 67, and Aunt Corinne and Uncle Mack down in Savannah, Georgia, where its 50 degrees and the week ahead on the weather app features temperatures around 70 and lots of those bright, unclouded sun icons that you always like to see.
So, right now, Columbus is the coldest place in the family, a solid 34 degrees more frigid than San Antonio. That’s why the weather app offers both the bitter and the sweet. It’s not great to be here at the coldest location, but one advantage of having a trusty weather app and a a family that is spread out from coast to coast and from north to south is we can live vicariously through whoever is getting the best weather right now. Later today, I think I’ll take an imaginary walk on Huntington Beach.
Here’s another modern cultural development that falls squarely into the “ugh” category: the Savannah airport has a designated “selfie spot” where you can take a “selfie” in front of an autumnal display of hay bales, mums, and pumpkins.
It’s bad enough that we have to put up with people taking “selfies” at every opportunity. Now we’re encouraging them to do so on airport concourses?
I’ve got to give credit to the planners who designed Savannah’s historic district. Every few blocks, running parallel to the Savannah River, are pretty little squares — like a string of pearls running through town.
Each square is a little patch of peacefulness, with its own distinctive features. Some have fountains, some have statues, some have huge live oak trees — and one has a basketball court and another is a concrete slab. I like the green, shady, mossy ones best.
If you lived in the old town part of Savannah, I expect you would have a favorite square — one where you might go to drink a cup of coffee and read a book and do some people-watching on a warm spring day. You would enjoy the deep shade and the wet smell of the earth and appreciate the far-sighted city planners who graced Savannah with its lovely squares in the first place.
Has there ever been any city dweller, in the history of the world, who has been heard to complain that their city has too many parks or green spaces? I’d love it if sprawling Columbus had more of Savannah’s squares.
Halloween is nearly upon us, and Savannah is a town with a rich ghostly past. So, the choice was clear: take a haunted house tour in hopes of seeing a spectre or two.
In our case, the destination was the Sorrel Weed house, which has been featured on those ghost-hunting shows where every scene shows guys in dim red lighting overreacting to sounds and smells and chills. It’s a creep old house, all right, with a creepy past. It’s built on the location of an old British fort, and remains of soldiers have been found beneath its basement. A doctor performed unsuccessful surgeries in the basement before the Civil War. Children died there, and a love triangle involving husband, wife, and servant ended with the wife throwing herself off a third-floor balcony to land head first onto the slate courtyard and the servant hanging herself from the rafters of the carriage house.
Alas, the apparitions were quiet last night.
We watched a video of the house’s history and appearances on the ghost-hunting shows, saw a few of the upstairs rooms, were trained on using EMF devices that are supposed to detect paranormal activity, and then were set free to roam the basement and the upper floor of the carriage house in search of spooks. It actually was pretty hilarious to see people crowding into dark rooms, carefully holding their Ghostbusters-like devices and wondering if they would get a reading or feel a chill. Then, they would be momentarily blinded when one of the true believers on the tour took a flash photograph.
And there were some true believers in our tour group, earnestly speaking to the air or insisting they had captured “energy spheres” on their cell phone cameras. They seemed thrilled by their ghost-hunting adventure. Me? I thought the house was interesting.
We’re visiting family in Savannah and have had a chance to explore the old (or historic, if you prefer) part of town. It’s quaint and charming, dotted with squares that feature towering live oaks bedecked with Spanish moss. It’s an interesting place to walk around on a cool October afternoon.