Well, actually the reclamation of my full birth name, Donal Jeffrey Brown.

I wrote a story about the father I never met. You can find it in my stack.

TODAY I get to fully honor him and my Welsh heritage.

I am wearing a suit and tie to court this afternoon. I haven’t needed to wear a full suit in decades, but this special occasion deserves it.

I am also wearing a new Celtic Cross to honor my Welsh heritage - though I thought that was an Irish symbol. It’s fine.

I’ve also chronicled my life and all of its “fun.” I survived, thrived and prove everyone wrong, everyday. That’s how I roll.

But today, I finally become ME. As I was meant to be.

After 67 years, it’s about damn time!

More often than not, there is a communality between them - and - sometimes a causal effect.

Allow me to explain

In my athletic days, these words were part of every game, match or event.

Agony, both physical and emotional are part of any competition - especially when a major award is on the line. That’s athletics, no pain no gain.

Striving to push beyond everything is the essence of a champion, Michael Jordan and other athletes who are not at their best physically - but turn in epic game efforts are the outcome.

Allow me to relate a personal event where I experienced both “extremes.” My team was involved in a College Conference Championship, against another battle tested challenger.

The winner earned their league’s bragging rights, better recruiting class - AND - an invitation to the NCAA Men’s Soccer National Championship - with a GREAT seed!

The match was a defensive juggernaut - my favorite as a left back. In the 78th minute, they uncovered a predictable flaw on the right side of our defense - made three textbook plays and scored.

Both teams fought for the final 12 minutes (plus stoppage time).

They executed the keep away perfectly. We needed to take chances to equalize before final whistle. It was a football/soccer fans dream scrimmage.

Then it happened. They became predictable and my center midfielder and I saw and exploited it.

An over-executed pass was headed down my sideline. And I was ready.

I sprinted forward, intercepted the pass, advanced it 22 yards, then laid the pass of my life to my center mid, hitting him perfectly on full stride. I continued running toward their goal, staying wide left.

The center mid pushed it out to our right striker, who made a textbook cross pass to me, definitely onside and staring down their keeper.

The pass basically dropped perfectly in front of me on the run - and allowed me to drill an instep drive past the keeper - for the equalizer in the 87th minute. Ecstasy!

The match was a cautious strategic battle for the next eight minutes (regulation plus five minutes of stoppage time).

Now it became a “Golden Goal” (sudden death) overtime.

We played on until the waning moments of overtime. If still tied, we go to penalty kicks.

We gave up a right side corner kick. A standard set play, practiced hundreds of times. A slight left swinger drifted through the goal box, as both teams prepared for the pending scrum.

It came to their right striker (my cover). I was ready for him to settle the ball and then kick… HOWEVER, he made an incredible adjustment and kicked it perfectly on the fly… quickly past me and our keeper - AGONY.

Leave it to the TV sports dolt to run out, stick a microphone in my face, and lob the ubiquitous asinine question “How do you feel after giving up the losing goal?”

I won’t repeat what I said, but those who know me, know I don’t hold back on feelings, not the best for live TV. 😈

However, as I have learned to do after every heartbreak, is to rebound with reality. It took a perfect play to beat me. He made it. I tried to get a piece of it and didn’t.

C’est la vie. Let’s go hoist a pint for the game!

But I got another moment to experience the whisker thin relationship of agony and ecstasy.

But do you?

Sure, losing is a prime chance to learn and grow, with pain and cost. Why go through all of that?

Winning is contagious. It’s also a positive learning experience - that equips you with the tools and confidence to win!

But how do you start winning?

Plan Your Work - then work your plan. As someone who has done well as a Strategic Planning “Hired Gun,” and is definitely in the sunset of a 40+ year noteworthy career, I can give you a taste of the secret sauce… KNOW THYSELF.

In the business world, this is a Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats (SWOT) Analysis. But, you can easily do this on yourself.

Take a honest, hard look at you - through these criteria. If done honestly, they will be eye opening.

THEN, figure out how you can optimize the Weaknesses and Threats - while exploiting your Strengths and Opportunities.

With these relevant “Findings,” you’re almost half way to launching your winning plan.

Now what????

Don’t Object to Goals!

You’ve prepared your optimized self to exploit… Now you need an “end game” and status checkpoints - AKA Goals and Objectives. Here’s an example:

You know a major weakness is coffee - LOTS of it DAILY.

BUT the threat to this weaknesses is not sleeping well at night and being broke. Dang!

But…. Knowing this, you can create an exploited endgame AND things you need to do to WIN!

TAH DAH!

Not so fast, Skippy! What are these things that make me WIN!

Well, caffeine breath, here ya go. Remember the first one’s free (you don’t want to pay my hourly rate for others)

GOAL: (What do we want?)

• Sleep better with more money in your pocket.

OBJECTIVES (How do we do this?)

• Make coffee at home and take it with.

• Stop going to swanky coffee shops

• Switch to decaf after 10am - preferably you make yourself and bring

• Drink more water

• Wake up more refreshed

• Have money at the end of the day

You get the idea.

Now track and give yourself credit for every one of these you accomplish daily.

As an incentive, take the saved money and treat yourself on Friday. DON’T spend all the savings - just “a little sumpin’, sumpin’” as a SMALL reward.

Rinse and repeat - until as the Doobie Brothers song goes…

🎶”What were once vices are now habits.”

BOOM! Winner, WINNER. More money to get ya’ a Chicken Dinner - AND - not fall asleep during your feast!

(Okay… work with me here, it’s supposed to be fun not a chore).

BUT you’re a WINNER! Yeah, you “lost” things, but did you really in the end? You have more money, should be sleeping better and overall be healthier. (Psst… ALL wins!)

Try this out for yourself and see what happens. After all…

When there’s a WIN, there’s always a WAY.

It was a productive day, the sun shone bright and the sky’s didn’t drip. I tackled my yard work, as Roscoe supervised.

I went to my office/music place and went through my daily warmups, riffs and noodling. I found two noodles that could find their way to a score.

I’m not a music theorist, I know what sounds good to me.

Daily music time is my “mental floss,” taking the hours of making insights in geodemographic trends into tactile sound.

I look forward to tomorrow’s lock down, recording my part to include with over 165 outstanding ukulelists around the world. We are the UKE HEADS, a virtual band with a record already available for sale. “12 MULTITUDES” will be released in 2027.

This “concept album” according to founder/leader/Canada’s Ukulele Virtuoso, James Hill, is a wonderful departure from standard ukulele fare.

We are really pushing our skills (YAY!) and will produce an international ukulele aural feast, that will forever change opinions of the “cute little 4-string guitar.”

My heart health took a much needed turn for the better. I was able to get an appointment to see my second cardiologist - an ElectroPhysiologist. EPs look at the heart’s wiring to find out why my keeps running too fast.

With a notable change in Beta Blocker and less BP meds, my resting heart rate dropped from a fast 115 to the mid 60s (where it should be - AND - where they can finally get a decent CT scan to see exactly what needs to be repaired in my ticker!

As I’m writing, I’m at 73bpm, MUCH better - considering I was really active today.

So my heart will soon be as healthy as the rest of my body! A very great thing.

I have a great deal to be thankful and grateful for.

It’s GREAT TO BE ME!

Thank you God and the universe!

This is the first verse of a Jimmy Buffett song by the same name. But this phrase is significant - especially if you’ve been away from whatever you call “Home”.

Or you never really had one.

I fall into this last category, not by choice, but lack of birth right. I was born into a well-off family, with a newly-widowed woman and her two late-teen-age daughters.

Oh, and me.

As, basically, a single young child, growing up in what should be an “empty nest” situation, it was an awkward (and ultimately painful) arrangement. I became an adult before second grade, riding herd over an alcohol-fueled, nightly battle royal (with carving knife duels that Frank Sinatra serenaded). Hey! At least they weren’t beating/mentally abusing me!

Obviously, this wasn’t home.

So the concept of “going home” from college, and other things I could come up with to get of of there, did not bring “warm fuzzy” coming back to the old homestead.

C’est la vie.

However, not only did I survive… I THRIVED! To prove the world wrong (and to be visible to the best career openings) I was top of the class in my two undergraduate degrees: Architectural Engineering and Quantitative Marketing, as well as a nearly finished MBA (Hey! Nielsen Media Research made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, Capisce!).

In the beginning, apartments were the way to be. No fuss or muss. I could travel for business and not have to worry. Then the “American Dream” called.

A spouse and I bought a house. A quaint ‘50s rambler with decent bones, and enough land to be manageable. It was near the METRA Commuter Train to my downtown Chicago office (where I basically lived - until the call of the road went heavy international).

I lived out of a suitcase, in preferred hotels where I became known by the staffs - thanks to my recurring business in that city. Sure it was a long way from “home,” BUT it felt much more like HOME than the dwelling I co-existed in. As a introvert who tries to make people smile and laugh (think Robin Williams - a LOT of similarities between us). I relished the freedom, autonomy and happiness of being on my own again!

In hopes of trying to save a dying whale, I took a FT job with a major hospital system in Pennsylvania, I had done a lot of consulting with. It was a “homecoming” for me. I was born near Pittsburgh and received my AE degree in Philadelphia. So, being basically in the middle of the Commonwealth seemed right.

My insignificant other and I purchased a lovely Century+ home, in a really nice neighborhood. I love this house. They definitely DON’T build like this anymore. But, it’s not “Home.” Steps are underway to stop the madness and trying - I will be a free man ASAP, this home will be sold and I will relocate to South Central PA, where the organization I work for, is located.

YET this will be fairly temporary. In 2027 I am fully following my artisan passions. Regaining the ME that I was… spontaneous, traveling and living life to the fullest! SO, I am seriously considering a motorhome.

I can have my dog(s), go where I want to, busk and play music anywhere that will have me and Carpe Living, “Doggy Stylin’!” Dogs live in the moment, why should I.

At this point I don’t really have anywhere or anyone in particular to consider.

But there are drawbacks… It will be hard to perpetuate my woodworking/lutherie passions from a rolling home. These things will fall into place in the not too distant future.

So, “Home” is where YOU make it. OR want it to be.

For those of you, not audibly challenged, here’s the song, referenced above…

Donal Edward Brown passed away of a major coronary in 1958, at the age of 37 he left behind a wife, two daughters (nearly out of the house) … and me.

This was six months before I was born. I used to joke “Well, he got an idea about what was coming and took the first exit he found!”

Obviously, I never met him.

Nor did I hear anything about him from my mother.

…she was too busy scraping the spouse barrel to find a reasonably well-off dolt – who wanted the hell out of Franklin, PA. She found one. They got married, it adopted me – and spent the next 11 years making my life a physical and emotional hell. But this is NO tribute to him.

My father’s family was the third most influential in a two-horse northwestern PA town that was on life support. But the Miller’s, Sibley’s and Brown’s ruled.

Donal Edward was a Mechanical Engineer from Penn State (like my oldest sister’s husband, later). The Brown Boiler Works started in Franklin when Miles Paul Brown emigrated from Wales with his family to Pennsylvania, and started a steel tank fabrication company – that basically reshaped the oil and petroleum industry, during their heyday.

My father apparently was a really smart Welshman. He held at least three original patents in the late 1950’s – including the first spiral stairway around an oil tank. That’s is chest-pounding pride, still for me.

In 1955, my family moved to Houston, TX, where Brown Boiler Works designed and built the first major refineries in Houston – which basically precipitated the migration of the Oil Industry from our next-door PA neighbor town, Oil City, to TX.

OOPS.

They came back to Franklin in 1958. During that year, I became more than a gleam in my father’s eye. He WAS so sure that I was going to be a boy. Sure, he loved being a girl dad – but he wanted a boy – an heir to the BBW’s future and fortune.

Then he died.

And everything went into a psychotic blender with B.F. Skinner at the switch. Especially my life.

BUT… my German/Welsh heritage got me through, along with a healthy need to prove anyone wrong.

I not only survived but I THRIVED. Still do.

I became an Architectural Engineer from Drexel University in Philly (sorry Dad and Jay). I designed the nucleus of two FL housing developments (which have survived EVERY hurricane, I am very proud to say!). But housing was a losing proposition in the early 1980s – so like everyone else – I went to “Business School,” found market(ing) research, analytical marketing, strategic planning – along with minors in psychology and statistics. ALL of them have served me Very well in my 40+ year career. It took me all over the world, garnering a fair amount of industry acclaim as the “GURUSHA” of strategic marketing and new products. I can also walk through retail stores or drive past ‘health-plex’ hospital facilities, taking pride that my effort made all of them happen. EPIC coolness and pride.

But I did not fall into the family plan. I did not become a PSU mechanical engineer, ran the Boiler Works, marry Mary Helen Miller (which would have been a nice collaboration), and basically live and die in NW PA. Sorry Dad.

BUT here’s the great part!

I have become more and more of an complete believer in Tarot and Oracle readings – and their mostly successful outcomes – for me anyway. As a statistician, I tested the shit out of this “phenomena,” with an exhaustive four-month experiment - which I proved the null hypothesis quite handily – even jiving with three FB readers more directly often than status quo.

I have wanted to reclaim my actual birth name, since I was 10 – but my “parents,” who literally beat me one night – after they heard I had written my birth name on paper in first grade – were still alive – with an extremely small role in my life. Well, they finally died – but life got in the way.

On April 9,2026 that changed. I filed a petition with the Lycoming County Court to reclaim my name. I passed the PA State Police background check (hell, I had to pass Interpol and Scotland Yard background checks to work in Europe, so this was no big thing). Paid a bunch of money to place advertisements of this event in the newspapers – like that many people know who I am, care, or can read around here). So…

On Thursday, June 4, 2026 – around 4:00pm - I will legally become Donal Jeffrey Brown!

Even better, I have my father’s spirit with me! After filing the paperwork, I began to feel a presence. My dog Roscoe definitely feels it and used to guard me continuously. Things started happening around me that could only be attributed to something non-human, with how they happened. A set of golf clubs the “father” gave me to use one time, have been knocked over three times since April – with NOBODY near them.

I had a much-needed, hard to get, cardiologist specialist appointment, SHOW UP on 5/11 – for that afternoon at the Specialized Heart Hospital in Wilkes-Barre, PA. I drove the backroads through the Allegheny Mountains (literally six blocks north of my house) to W-B. On the way I passed…

• Brown Tree Farm (my surname)

• Franklin Township (my hometown’s name)

• Eckel’s Auto Repairs (My mother’s maiden name, and her father’s profession)

WOW. This many are not coincidences - even to this grizzled statistician!

Ironically, I was going to take a different route. I needed gas. When I got back to the highway, “Magnetic Mary” wanted me to turn right, NOT left – which put me on the path to wonderful irony.

My NEW Cardiac ElectroPhysiologist, did a few quick tests, reviews my extensive crappy heart history and my outstanding everything else with me. She changed my Beta Blocker and BP medication and sent me on my way.

Since then, My heart rate is now consistently 35 points lower than my fairly high, triple-digit normal. (WOW). If it continues this way – and doesn’t crash my blood pressure – they will finally be able to get a much better CT scan of my heart, which is necessary to see what else they need to do, surgically, to repair things in my heart. It’s GREAT to be ME!

Thanks Dad!

In the process of closing this life chapter, I’ve done a lot of soul searching. I can assure you that is extremely difficult at times, but the end result is a heart and soul free of whatever junk had accumulated in there, the last 35 years.

There are several things that I now know I should have listen to myself BEFORE I became involved/entrapped. However, I have been able to reconcile all of them, albeit one, that will begin its happy extraction/termination by mid-June.

Happily, there are even more people/places/and activities that would NOT have happened if I wasn’t involved in that 35 year stint. In a nutshell, here they are:

Successes: This period of my life was a continuation of my growing international opportunities and proven successes. My life’s mantra is and has been “MAKE A DIFFERENCE.” The information and guidance I have provided to clients in Europe, Asia, North America and the UAE, has been mutually beneficial and rewarding for all involved. I nailed my manta here - something I am, and will always be proud and grateful for the opportunities to make a difference.

Mentors: In 43 years thrashing through the business world, I have amassed twenty Mentors who made a HUGE difference in my business (and three, my personal life as well). They were always there, no matter what, to speak with and counsel me. I will forever cherish the grueling hours in the trenches and the extremely wise advise (and “War Stories”) we shared. I am eternally grateful to these men and women for helping me stay true to my mantra.

Friends: Here where the list decreases precipitously. I have had only one true best friend, Timothy Gretz, in my life. Tim and I were gas and matches, but were always there for each other, through really thin and thick. Nobody has or will EVER come close to equaling him. Having his come into my life as a child was the greatest thing I’ve ever known or experienced. He made my childhood worth surviving - something I will always treasure and thank the Universe. Tim earns my highest gratefulness for just being there… for me. He died on Thanksgiving night 1981, plowing underneath a Bekins Van Lines truck with such impact, It killed the truck driver days later.

Cowardly me could not attend his funeral and internment, nor the Memorial Soccer Game held in his honor for a decade later. One of the things I believe I finally have made peace within myself. I know he’s fine. He comes to me during the Thanksgiving holiday and has long since forgiven me.

Family: Since my family puts the word FUN in “DysFUNctional,” this is also very small sample size. I guess I should be grateful that my mother didn’t abort me, given she told me about the two older brothers I could have had, but… She had reason. My father, died of a massive heart attack at 37 yrs old - six months before I was born. Instead she kept me, married a full devotee to operant programming with capital punishment reinforcement. But, being a determined, strong and ornery German/Welsh boy, I not only survived but THRIVED. I cheated the Reaper five times so far in my 67 year life, giving it every opportunity to get me. We are entangled for number six, as my heart is a human landfill that runs way too fast. BUT the number six WAS ALWAYS MY PLAYING NUMBER in all the athletics I thrived at. SO, not yet, sickle thing!

Another part of my final metamorphosis is to reclaim my actual birth name, which was initiated in early April, 2026. Since that time, I have definitely felt the presence of my late father, Donal Edward Brown. I have happily and proudly chronicled the life of this incredible human, his patents and other salient things - that I missed. BUT now he IS with me - and shows up (sometimes humorously) in things that happen around and within me. On June 4, 2026 I proudly and happily re-become Donal Jeffrey Brown. I was not able to do it during my prime accomplishment years, since my “parents” were alive. But now it WILL be DONE. I am eternally grateful to Donal Edward, my sister Becca and her late husband Jay Bailey (who became my real father in so many ways) and my Grandma and Grandpa Eckel (mother’s parents). These recently mentioned family members tried constantly to adopt and save me from my “fun.”

Finally, there is an incredible lady who passed through my life for a brief time this year. Though a short time, I formed strong, deep feelings for her (which I hope flickered within her), but the timing wasn’t right. Fortunately, she was able to finally get through to me about the (chronically-abandoned person’s perceived) need to “overshare.” Which is overwhelming to most everyone else.

That stuck in my pea brain. and Formed the nucleus for my Last 30-day long soul search - which was the final piece to free and liberate me, my bind body and soul for my long-awaited next chapter. Though away from things, I still hold her dear and hope our paths cross again. I am eternally grateful for the precious moments we had and hope she stays happy with her incredible smile that enlightens the dreary world.

By believing in themself AND their team, AFV Richmond eventually earned a spot in the F.A. Premier League for the first time ever! As a former, high-level competitive footballer (soccer player), I appreciated the story line - but everyone could get Lasso Fever!

But talk is cheap. Sure you can say “I BELIEVE!” but…

Without the work to find yourself, make necessary deletions and enhancement to yourself AND DO IT! You really cant fully achieve that wonderous, emotionally freeing and powerful place in your life.

I am happy and proud that I have done all of this, over the last 60 years. Sure, it was heart/soul breaking work. Reliving past traumatic experiences from childhood through later adulthood. The countless rejection, mocking and abandonment I survived and thrived from.

I had a secret weapon, I’m proudly of “off the boat” German and Welsh lineage, with a “just watch mentality.” I’ve proven so many people wrong over the last six decades, which only fanned the flames of desire and success!

I also found spirituality two years ago. As a child, I was going to become a Jesuit Priest, as I saw them as people of high moral/ethical values, who were empathetic, caring and sharing to EVERYONE! Sadly, I became disenchanted with the Church (NO, I wasn’t molested - I would have killed the bastard who even tried to touch me!) and “Organized Religion” in general. I won’t go into things - for those who do believe in the Church of any denomination. Please do whatever makes you feel whole and alive!

I’m talking about Tarot and Oracle readings.

As a degreed Architectural Engineer, Statistician/Demographer and a Strategic Planning “GURUSHA” (which one client called me), my “BS Meter” is highly sensitive to things like this. HOWEVER, I quickly learned, I was wrong (for me, anyway).

I started seeing these Tarot Readers popup on FB. One time (for some reason) I decided to listen. Damn, if they didn’t describe my situation at that time, almost down to the letter. HMMM…

SO, I bought a deck of Tarot cards and set up a statistically valid behavior test. For three months, I drew three RANDOM cards - every day at the exact same time - while voicing my question to the universe. I wrote down the findings. I also had a three columns to the far right on the Excel sheet (yeah, I’m a compu-stat geek), where I recorded if the actual outcome Agreed, Disagreed, or was Neutral to the findings.

Ninety-days later, I found:

• Agreed with cards: 81/90 days

• Neutral to cards: 11/90 days

• Negative to cards: 8/90 days

Furthermore, I found at least two or three of the five I followed consistently - to have similar results.

HMMM. Not bad at all.

SO, I started periodically shuffling/dealing my own AND checking my Five FB folks. Status Quo on findings and outcomes.

2026 is a “make or break” year for me. I have at least four events I MUST change/eliminate within 365 days - to pursue a life that is LIVING - following my artisan passions, spontaneous events/trips, etc., even possibly a finding a lady friend to slowly live, laugh, grow and (possibly) fall in love with - who wants to be a part of my great new lifestyle.

The change/elimination/reclaim phase is WELL underway! On 6/4/26 at 3pm I appear before a magistrate to reclaim my ORIGINAL birth name - that was stripped from me. After this, other necessary actions will begin in earnest. My goal is to be relocated, to southern PA (where my company is located), separated and (hopefully) very close to extracting myself from a 32 year marriage, that eroded quickly within the last two decades (despite my and her daughter’s efforts to save her).

Anyway. I AM here to TELL you that there is SOMETHING to the Universe and spiritual world. As I write this, I definitely feel a presence from my deceased father I never knew. He’s been with me since I filed a Petition for Name Change in early April.

Though this liberatingly-freeing needed gesture, a lot of my “baggage” has fallen off me - leaving extremely self-confident, excited to re-become ME again!

How about you? Are you feeling lost, confused and otherwise stagnant? There are options to help you help yourself.

You just gotta BELIEVE!

“Be good and you will be lonesome.”

---- Mark Twain, Following The Equator 1897

In 1988, Jimmy Buffett took this sentence and wrote “That’s what Living Means to Me.” In is words…

“Back toward the turn of the century, you know, Mark Twain took a trip around the world on a steamship, and he wrote a book called ‘Following the Equator’. And the opening page has a dedication that says, ‘Be good, and you will be lonesome,’ which for me, still seems to work in the fabulous eighties.” ---- JB

Anyone who has plodded through my brain-dumps knows that Jimmy Buffett is my spirit animal – sadly turned angel.

Jimmy lived life to its FULLEST, or has he eloquently put it…

Jimmy LIVED! He sailed, flew planes, traveled the world and celebrated everything. Now THAT’S Living!

I was extremely fortunate to meet Jimmy at the famed Flora-Bama bar in 1982 (literally built over the two state lines. JB loved the F-B so much, he wrote Bama Breeze.

A buddy of mine and I were frequent flyers at the F-B, when we weren’t matriculating at the University of West Florida. Joe (Gilchrist) took a shine to us, being regular, paying customers and all (he was the owner then).

One night Jimmy came in, bought the bar a round of Corona (yes, Virginia, before he had Landshark, JB was sponsored by the delightful lime-filled cerveza then) and jammed with the band on stage.

Joe brought him to the table into possibly the first Meeting of the Minds (if you know…). Starting with Coronas and literally finishing a bottle of Mount Gay, we talked as the memories built…

Well, until the next morning. Mark and I woke up on the Gulf shore – not “knee crawlin’, slip slidin’, Reggie Youngin’ Commode huggin’ drunk. We were God’s own drunks and fearless men!” We were also hungover. Or as Jimmy wrote…

My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don’t love Jesus
(Oh my lordy, it’s that)
It’s that kind of mornin’
Really was that kind of night
Tryin’ to tell myself that my condition is improvin’
And if I don’t die by Thursday, I’ll be roarin’ Friday night

Mark Twain deeply influenced JBs life and song writing. One great example is this simple, but poignant track about life and how it should be approached.

I was blessed to live in a time where auto-tuned hacks make millions from their talent-impaired legions. Bob Dylan, Gordon Lightfoot and others filled our lives with stories. However, Jimmy Buffett and Harry Chapin filled my ears, heart and soul with lovely stories, chock-full of meaning and music. Thank you!

If you haven’t listened to Jimmy Buffett, give him a listen… If you get it, you’ll be

Here’s a taste. Cause the first one’s free…

For you erudite types, here are the words:

Back toward the turn of the century, you know
Mark Twain took a trip around the world on a steamship
And he wrote a book called ‘Following the Equator’
And the opening page has a dedication that says
‘Be good, and you will be lonesome’
Which for me, still seems to work in the fabulous eighties

[Verse 1]
Jason Mason hears the sound
The whistle blows in Congo town
And the mail boat’s in, mail boat’s in
Brings him things from oh so far
Old magazines and Snicker bars
A simple man, a simple plan
The world’s too big to understand

[Chorus]
Be good and you will be lonesome
Be lonesome and you will be free
Live a lie and you will live to regret it
That’s what livin’ is to me
That’s what livin’ is to me

[Verse 2]
On a timeless beach in Hispaniola
Young girl sips a diet cola
She’s worlds apart, worlds apart
Spirit of the black king still
Reverberates through Haitian hills
He rules the sea and all the fish
What if he had a TV dish?

You might also like

[Chorus]
Be good and you will be lonesome
Be lonesome and you will be free
Live a lie and you will live to regret it
That’s what livin’ is to me
That’s what livin’ is to me

[Bridge]
Now in the far off regions, the foreign legion
Keep the thieves and the predators at bay
While closer to home, some bad boys still roam
The streets aren’t safe so give it one more day
One more day, one more day

[Verse 4]
Stories from my favorite books
Still take on many different looks
And I’m gone again, home again
“The time has come,” the walrus said
And little oysters hide their head
My Twain of thought is loosely bound
I guess it’s time to Mark this down

[Chorus]
Be good and you will be lonesome
Be lonesome and you will be free
Live a lie and you will live to regret it
That’s what livin’ is to me
That’s what livin’ is to me
That’s what livin’ is to me
That’s what livin’ is to me

[Outro]
Thank you, Mark

No, thank YOU, Jimmy.

Sail on! Party on! Bubbles Up.

We mortal Pirates and Parrots will KEEP the party going.

A desire is effectively an emotion in the mind, attached to some experience.

However…

Both desires and emotions are formed automatically as the mind's best attempt at guiding our survival and social interactions.

The mind create desires, which in and off themselves can be harmless

Emotions amplifies desires, sometimes to dangerous levels.

By controlling one’s emotions, they can make their life wonderful or fearful. Emotional maturity (EM) keeps emotions at bay.

EM also moderates desires by reevaluating the “rational” need for the the desire in question

Dan Ariely has made a good living (despite the Duke kerfuffle) at espousing his treatise on those who rationalize dishonesty to justify those acts.

While Dan is extensibly correct that humans are not random in their irrationality. I want to believe that Emotional Maturity is rational thinking and practice that standardized irrationality.

But what do I know…

I played lead guitar in the “Beach Bazookas,” a High School buddies garage band who became good enough to headline at events, 1976 prom and a couple of bars.

My 1959 Fender Jazzmaster were the same age and temperament. I could shred the mighty Zep or softly play jazz love songs. The world was my oyster (aw shucks…), I was going to be the next Jimmy Page or George Benson.

Though my hair was below my shoulders those days, living in heat/humidity required a thinning “clip ‘n dip” occasionally - to make living less sweaty. Eddie Chance was the man for the job. A great barber, storyteller and picker, he knew and saw a couple of our gigs - so he said “Hey! A bunch of my buddies and me are getting together to pick and grin Saturday night in Ellenton. Ya’ wanna sit in?” Being a sponge for all things musical, I said YES!

We get to the house where a bunch had gathered. We walked in - and my jaw dropped…

Sitting on a stool, directly in front of me, was Dickey Betts!

Now, if you’re not into Southern Blues/Rock, or have knowledge of the Allman Brothers Band or Dickey Betts and Great Southern, Mr. Betts (may his soul rock on with Duane, Gregg, Barry and Butch). Is one of the great guitar gods. He was a mentor and became a friend, through those jams.

We tore through some blues, soul and ABB classics in a night that will forever be one of my BEST youthful memories.

As we were packing up, Dickey patted me on the back and said, you got chops son! I stumbled out “well my dream is to try to play as best as I can to be like you and Duane (known as “Skydog”. Dickey stepped back, looked me up and down, saying “Well, you’ll never be Skydog, and might get on my heels, but you are definitely a Feisty Dog!”

As Paul Harvey said decades ago “…and that’s the rest of the story.”

It has been one of my theme songs since, but NOW it’s my anthem.

For decades I’ve lived survived the life I was “supposed to lead.”

I’ve made a strategically actionable difference for business clients, worldwide. Something I am very proud of. It’s still really cool so see some of my “kids” on store shelves or buildings.

But I wasn’t ME.

Over the years, I found and treasured passions that I let go. No longer.

My “Back to the Future,” three-year plan is locked and loaded.

• I reclaim my full birth name on 6/4/26.

• I am unpacking or tossing out baggage that holds me back.

• I will regain my full independence by EOY 2026.

• I will fervently follow my passions and quit my decade-old career in 2027

  I want to become a FT artisan. Woodworking/Lutherie, photography, playing/recording music, and attending every ukulele festival I can, world wide - playing, learning, growing and having FUN. (hell, I’m even going to try to sing solo!)

Basically living life to the fullest! What I call Carpe LIVING!

I have fully embraced the life of a dog. They offer unconditional love and attention to those they care about. Most importantly - THEY LIVE IN THE MOMENT.

What a GREAT concept! I’ve termed it “Doggy styilin.’ ” (If you know me you know my way with words and phrases).

Anywho, This song is NOW my ANTHEM. Here are the words. The song YT link is below. Enjoy… and Carpe LIVING!

It’s the reason for living
That’s what I’m giving
I don’t need a history lesson to tell me why
I mean I’m in no hurry
To hustle and scurry
There’s so much to see and life ain’t gonna pass me by

Tomorrow’s right around the corner
I’ll get there somehow
But I’m stuck in the meantime
And I love the now

I love the now
(All the faces and places)
I love the now
(All the rats and the races)
It’s the only place I’ve ever been
It’s the only way that I know how
Don’t talk about your superstition
Don’t talk about your cat’s meow
No don’t talk about tomorrow tonight
I love the now

It’s true we got problems
How do we solve ‘em?
Better break out your thinking cap and your old dust comb
Searching for answers
Like interpretive dancers
He asks me for reasons and tells me to wait for the tone

The whole damn world’s gone crazy
The moon is jumping over the cow
How can you help but not love the now?

I love the now
(All the ranting and raving)
I love the now
(All the cussing and craving)
It’s the only mess I’ve ever seen
It’s the only place where I know how
Don’t talk about your futuristic
Don’t talk about your these and now
Don’t talk about tomorrow tonight
I love the now

Sitting on the G
Waiting on the O
I’m exactly where I want to go

I love the now
(All the pain and the pleasure)
I love the now
(All the blood and the treasure)
It’s the only circus that I know
It’s the only ring where I’m allowed
Don’t talk about a standing ovation
Everybody take a bow
But don’t talk about tomorrow tonight

I love the now
Don’t talk about tomorrow tonight
I love the now
Don’t talk about tomorrow tonight
I love the now

Many moons ago, I was an architectural engineering student, with the grades and gumption to become the next great residential designer. Then the housing recession dropped in. Determined to NOT be a draftsman, I ‘pivoted’ to what many in the early 80s were headed, business school.

With my analytic acumen, curiosity and the aforementioned gumption – I found my calling – market research!

There was a curriculum that more than peaked my curiosity – and saved me from becoming a bookkeeper or lawyer. The result: a successful career with many new product success, as well as saving consumers from myopic, ill-fated organizations – who listened to my timely, accurate and actionable metrics and insights, and turned things around.

During these days, burnout was my Achillies heel, ultimately taking me down. My savior: woodworking and making things I designed – that people liked. This WAS my ‘mental floss” (thanks Jimmy Buffett) it not only buoyed my spirits, but my ‘creative juices’ as well. There were many overnight ideas that popped into my pea brain. Some went into scrap wood storage, but many made it home with someone who ‘got it,’ and wowed some judges at juried art shows.

These days I’ve turned to another challenge – being a luthier. A former guitarist, hampered by shattered knuckles from a youth well survived, I turned to the ukulele. Two less strings, but a TON of fun! I’m NO Jake Shimabukuro, James Hill or Daniel Ho, but I can handle 90% of the required left-hand dexterity to make it sound (hopefully) worth listening to. I have a button on my straw fedora “I play the ukulele for free, but I’ll stop for money” (I did have an art show patron toss a twenty into my lap while I was playing, then said “that was fun, but I want this item”

When my lucrative woodworking enterprise came to a grinding halt, when I needed to relocate to an area with a median income below $25K, that was that. Eventually (eight months.) I decided I NEEDED TO MAKE SOMETHING – and turned to my adventure of being a luthier.

You talk about precise measurements, thicknesses and construction – become a luthier! Fortunately, my past learning has been invaluable. Now when health issues aren’t, I take commissions to design/build someone’s dream ukulele. It’s spiritually (and financially) rewarding. The ability to create something that someone wants AND cherishes is a huge high! The only downside: I would love to have that instrument too, but that’s for a post on Ukulele Acquisition Syndrome (UAS) which is great for business!

Bottom Line: Do what makes you happy!

It’s never too late to start. If you love to make things – MAKE THEM! If you love to sail on the ocean – anchors aweigh! If you like meditating while watching your navel… well, you do you…

It’s an amazing technological marvel. It tracks virtually everything, then track, trends and reports. It’s a statistician’s wet, um never mind.

But I also have two beagles, Marjorie and Camryn.

Who needs a stinking wrist tchotchke when you have them.

Precisely!

For the unknowing, the beagle is the air siren of the canine world. Their AROOS are loud, proud and timely.

They also have an uncanny sense of time. Allow me to show their talent.

7:30am daily (sometimes on weekends). Cammie, my snuggle buddy, arises – almost to the minute! First, she bump me or gets in my face… THEN she climbs OVER me.

TIME TO GET UP, DAD! Nature and food calls! CHOP CHOP!

The day officially begins at the Feisty Dog Kennel Club.

Then it’s Margie’s turn.

After their morning constitutionals, Margie begins circling the dining room, living room, kitchen. Rinse and repeat.

But NOT without AROOOOing the whole time.

DAD! Get off your ass, put down your coffee – and feed ME! Okay Cammie and Roscoe (my GSD/Boxer) too.!

Like clockwork. 9am and 6:30pm. Set your watch with it.

Beagle time. I love and need it!

People.

… I miss

… I don’t miss

… I wish I’d never met

… I mourn

… I miss more than I can bear, most times

…I wish I had more more chance

Places.

…I’ve seen and experiences

…I’ve never seen and wish I could

…I wish I had never been

…I wish I could be now

…I wish I had one more chance

Things.

…I’ve done

…I haven’t done

…I’ll never do

…I’ve said

…I’ve should not have said/done

…I wish I had more more chance

This is the fate of someone who thinks - 24/7/365. It has been beneficial most times, devastating the rest.

But it’s draining. Especially when the negative are greater.

I’m a survivor and thriver. I’m all or nothing. I’m confident, appropriately cocky and sarcastic. And want people to smile - and hopefully find their happiness.

I don’t fear death.

The reaper and I have had five battles so far. I’m still here.

But sometimes, you play all of your aces and the playing cards in your hand are all jokers.

C’est la vie.

With the exception of my father, who died from a bad heart (thanks Dad.) at 37, my family have all made it into their mid 80s. Theoretically, I have close to two decades to Carpe LIVING!

But, there are no guarantees. That’s how it should be.

If someone knows they are going to die in a pre-determined year - great.

But what’s the FUN in that?

Like having a child (something I will never be able to do), I believe that not knowing allows for more thought and possibilities.

At first, I was relieved. Given my childhood and youth, I didn’t want to any possibility of subjecting my child to the physical and emotional “things” I did.

As I got older I started wondering and wanting - especially now - as I retake my actual birth name, lineage and heritage.

I come from a family of successful engineers. My Father and older Brother in Law were highly successful Mechanical Engineers from Penn State - with patents, world-changing products, etc.

I’m a Architectural Engineer from Drexel University. I too had a short, but fairly notable career. During my Practicum, I designed six homes, called innovative and ahead of their time (in the early 1980s).

There are over 150 of them on the central Gulf of Mexico - built after I left my profession, since there was no need for Architects during a definite housing fallout. Like Thomas Patchen, I was “found” after my time.

C’est la vie.

But I KNOW MY HOMES have survived every hurricane. THAT is a great legacy - even if nobody knows or cares.

Jimmy Buffett lovingly chronicled Patchen’s work and later success in “The Death of an Unpopular Poet.”

I went to B-School and found my professional passion: Strategic Analytical Social Scientist and “Gurusha” (guru/shaman - given to me by Bill Pulte SR. (not his dickhead Jr. namesake who is F’ing up HUD - and profiting from it.).

After 37 years of traveling the world successfully helping develop at least 25 new/re-formulated products and services - receiving wonderful recognition among my peers in the 1990’s and early 2000’s, my health started paying me back for the long hard hours on the road.

At 67 I am still finding pearls of proven strategic planning wisdom, this time for retirement living communities. In my 42+ year career, I have analyzed the entire life spectrum: Birth to Death. That’s really cool and rewarding.

I plan to die at my computer, as I keep searching for strategic gold - OR - playing my ukulele, in search of the lost chord (ala Moody Blues). Going out MY way!

To complete another oversharing word salad, I have to refer to the final verses of Jimmy Buffett’s “He went to Paris” While I am pretty sure I wont make it to 80, the words fit.

Now he lives in the islands,

fishes the pilin’s

And drinks his green label each day

Writing his memoirs,

losing his hearing

But he don’t care what most people say

Through 86 years of perpetual motion

If he likes you he’ll smile, then he’ll say “

Jimmy, some of it’s magic,

some of it’s tragic

But I had a good life all the way“

@Ally Hamilton told me something I responded with to her was…

Wow. This is amazing, Jeff. I feel like you have a book here if you feel like writing one, and if not, I hope you write some essays about all of the above.

I’m not one to ignore a lovely lady’s wonderful view of my drivel, so here we go…

(For the record, this is from N.I. not A.I.)

In the beginning, there was that ‘apple thing,’

‘Ya know: Adam, Eve ribs, temptation, good/evil, snakes – the makings of a Tarantino or Ed Wood classic flick.

Then things went south.

It starts with “tradition” and “manly” men.

Back in the dark ages – you know way before Paul McCartney was in Wings – there was a patented blueprint for “MEN.” Billy Joel has a great synopsis:

Every child had a pretty good shot to get at least as far as their old man got.

Thanks Billy.

Yes it was a vibrant, yet formulaic and boring time. Boys had manly behavior (literally) beaten into them. Let’s review, shall we.

· MEN are strong.

· MEN are STOIC - WOMEN show emotions, that weepy, weak crap…

· MEN take care of women and their progeny

· MEN are the KING of their Castle.

· WOMEN are to be seen and not heard

· MEN are the breadwinners – WOMEN make the sandwiches

· MEN conform. (Homogeneity was in then. Unique was for, well them…

Any MALE who did not live ALL these values to the FULLEST were, well them…

AHH, good times, good times… The kind Dr. Spock and B.F. Skinner preached.

Fortunately – this knuckle-dragging, misogynistic value system evolved in most locals where I.Q.s exceeded 95.

Plus, those pesky women got bitchy…

While the Suffrage movement began in New Zealand in 1893 (YES that’s correct.) It didn’t hit the U.S.A. until 1920 – when pretty ladies were allowed to vote (wasn’t that white of those MEN).

That started the ball rolling. Let’s enjoy what was recently lost:

o 1963: The Equal Pay Act is passed in the US.

o 1964: The Civil Rights Act outlaws employment discrimination based on sex.

o 1960s: Introduction of the birth control pill increases reproductive autonomy.

o 1972: Title IX in the US guarantees equal access to education.

o 1979: The UN adopts CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women), known as the international bill of rights for women.

o 1994: The Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) is passed in the US to address domestic violence and sexual assault.

o 2010s-2020s: Continued focus on global gender equality, with UN Women highlighting ongoing efforts to combat violence and ensure representation.

This was perfectly fine for the 95+ populace. But MEN in “those areas” ‘didn’t take kindly to women folk havin’ dem highfalutin ideas… Women folk were here to cook, clean, breed and basically be a slave (not black – too dang much trouble with that).’

But “hep” was on the way for the neanderthals…

In 2007 the “Tea Bag Party” formed to protest government spending and taxes, government handouts, illegal immigrants (boy do I have a cross to burn about this one…), that dang ObamaCare, and upholding The Constitution of the United States of America. It died in 2016, but…

As a joke “business icon, realty TV star and a legend in his own mind, Donald John Trump thought it would be funny to run for President. His handlers fed him the appropriate pablum for the neanderthals (HE HAD TO BEAT A WOMAN). But his first rodeo was a clown show. With little to no political or public support, he failed.

He had the 2020 election stolen from him by “Sleepy Joe/Brandon.” But like a cockroach he crawled out of the NY/Palm Beach sewer with MAGA (Make America Great Again).

THIS time he had the morons all riled up.

MAGA MUST “learn dem libtards and “Laffin’ Camala,” “Lyin’ Camala,” and most notably, “Crazy Camala.” a lesson and NOW.”

You know how that ended and is going…

BUT… there is hope. Many ‘of dem libtards’/humans with 95+ I.Q.s have been breeding themselves. Raising fine young women and men – who are the antithesis of the ‘old ways!”

There IS HOPE.

IF we only have a country left…

· MAGA stripped all rights (including to live and breathe free) of everyone NOT white, male and (the most important part: RICH!)

· The Constitution is one of those banned books, along with every one of those pesky ‘check & balance and “rule of law” annoyances.

· Misogynistic knuckle-draggers rejoICE!

HOWEVER, there is STILL hope for those frivolous things like manners, courtesy, free speech ‘unalienable rights’ to crawl back out of the ‘drained swamp.’

If ANY of US are allowed to vote our conscience.

I’m stepping off my soapbox now – but stay off my lawn!