Out Late and in Trouble

Last night, I ignored man's best friend, and she was not happy. I had gone to dinner with friends, and straightaway had come home, changed my shirt, and headed back out to go to a movie. When I got home, the street was quiet, but I heard about it when I went to my room downstairs in the "man cave".

Sitting in MY chair was Millie, the lady of the house with my wife gone. Millie was exhibiting her displeasure by taking the "Kirk chair", normally reserved for the Captain. After dinner, I had ignored her royal Beagleness, and just run out again to meet my daughter at the movies.

Now, normally Millie is asleep, and at age eleven she has also turned deaf as a post. So, you can almost always walk past her and not awaken her.

Not last night. I had been taken out to dinner by friends, and we ate in a bar, which was noisy and cigarette smoke filled. The food was OK, and my buddy Max insisted on treating, so who am I to complain. Besides, both Max and I are turning deaf (him from being too close to M-48 tank guns, me from too loud Rock & Roll emanating from Studio A speakers), so it wasn't that bad. Max just takes his hearing aids out, I have to "lean in" to hear him and Carolyn talk over the din.

So, we left at 6:20, and my daughter texted me at 7:40 asking "are you bored, how about a movie", and the film was SALT, which I wanted to see. Home by 7:55, run in the door, upstairs to strip off shirts and remove most of smoky smell, and back out the garage door. Millie, on the floor asleep, awakens. Darn......so we go out for a quick pee (Millie, that is), and I shove her back inside, and drive off in the Corvette. Making it just in time, I buy the tickets for myself and Caitlin - telling her to wait inside, so I can get TWO at senior prices. Save $4.50 that way, and why not take advantage of being old.

Caitlin has purchased Ike & Mike candies and two sodas at Walgreen's, placing them in her purse. Acorn has not fallen far from family tree - why pay movie prices for candy or soda. We sit down, Caitlin says I don't smell TOO smoky, and we enjoy the movie while her husband is working late. Nice time with my daughter, and after saying goodnight, I'm off to the house.

Getting home, the street is quiet, The light is on in the upstairs window. I sneak in.......BUSTED,there is Millie waiting for me. She gives me what for, barking loudly. Fortunately, these townhouses are well insulated and soundproofed. I try to apologize (after telling her to abdicate MY throne) and we go out for a short walk, with camera in pocket, and she does her business. All is finally forgiven and the night ends peacefully. I can't wait till my wife returns next week......she can deal with the wrath of the deaf Beagle, her royal highness Millie the First. Millie generally exhibits displeasure by turning over wastebaskets, but this time she took my spot, so she must have been really upset. I'll try to pay more attention to her tonight.

Just Ducky

This is a very weathered image from the May 8, 1949, Indianapolis Star newspaper.

The caption reads "The ducks on Lake Sullivan are a drawing card for many youngsters and their mothers on sunny spring afternoons. John David Wild always makes sure mother, Mrs. John F. Wild III, and grandmother, Mrs. Clem Stair, keep him well supplied with bread for the birds."

From the date of the paper, that would make me just about two weeks past my second birthday. Times were good then, as I had no worries whatsoever. My grandmother appears to be using an Easter basket to hold the bread crumbs, and I am wearing a long coat over short pants, and some sort of short billed hat. Pictured are a Canada Goose and what appears to be a Muscovy Duck begging for bread. You have to admire my grandmothers hat - I think the Goose might want to eat those huge flowers on it, however.

Also note the masthead of the paper - "Section 3-A Women's Interests". Over sixty years ago, pictures of little boys and their mothers and grandmothers apparently were of no interest to men. You have to wonder if the Business section back then was called "Men's Interests"?

Anyway, came across this when doing the cleaning out of my mother's home in Arizona, this past several weeks. Thought it might be interesting to share, and please forgive the poor quality of the image - newsprint doesn't wear well after sixty years. Oh, my mother (now 90) is the reason I was not John F. Wild IV - some dynasties are best killed in infancy.

Sell Some, Buy Some, Worry Some

Depicted here is the home in Sun City, AZ, now listed for sale and hopefully a quick one at that. The 1990 Chevrolet station wagon in the driveway is also on the way back to Indianapolis, by car carrier. I asked my brother to snap the shot of the signing of the listing, with myself, my mother, and her Realtor shown.

The Arizona Realtor sold my mother this home back in 2000, and ten years later will have the opportunity to sell it FOR my mother and myself. For some reason, mother put my name on the deed, based on the fact I loaned her some funds toward the purchase of the property. So, now I hope to recover those dollars, as I currently have 3.5 homes and one mortgage. The year 2010 will be the year of home sales - hopefully.

Yesterday, I began the process of signing a listing with a Missouri Realtor, to offer our current condo in West St. Louis County for sale. I expect to lose perhaps 20% of what I paid for this unit, but hopefully what I've recently purchased elsewhere will offset that loss due to the great opportunity to take advantage of depressed values on my latest acquisition. We still have to deal with the third property, in Florida - that one should sell for 20% more than I paid for it in 2003.

I have already arranged to work with a Florida Realtor, with the added benefit that my Cedars Tennis Resort condo can be placed in the rental pool until it sells. If the oil spill doesn't scare away too many tennis playing tourists, the Florida condo should cover the mortgage costs on the latest acquisition. After having three story condo homes in Missouri and Florida, we're redoing a 1988 single level garden villa on our island, taking away the popcorn ceiling and shiny white tile and replacing it with wood floors, new granite counter tops,new cabinets, paint, and new glass doors. It's going to be wonderful.

My tax preparer, however will probably not be feeling wonderful. I suspect he is going to hate me, but with the ebb and flow of deals, there's no way Turbo Tax will suffice for 2010.

Oh, yes - the 1990 Chevrolet station wagon is being sold back to the dealer who sold it to mother. With only 35,000 miles on it, the son of the dealer will rehabilitate it for his own collection. My mother is very loyal - same Realtor, same car salesperson, same son. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Long Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

This old newspaper clipping was among many, many items uncovered this past week out in Arizona, as my brother and I closed up an unused (in years) condo where our mother had taken stuff from Indiana.

It depicts a VERY young and quite skinny picture from the swim club our family used each summer in Indianapolis. I wasn't only the fourth generation to swim there, but also the last generation. Swim clubs like the Riviera existed in the post war period, and ultimately many (not all) would fall prey to individual family pools on larger suburban lots. The civil rights movement also impacted this business, and yet from an internet search, this club lives on with their web page displaying many faces, all of them pale. Groucho Marx once said "I wouldn't join any club that would have me", and as memory serves, neither would have this club have admitted Marx back in the 50's.

I did a Google search and found that this particular club exists as a private swim, tennis and fitness club. Apparently it remains as it was sixty years ago, as the photo page on the Internet shows Caucasians for every occasion, and nary a dark countenance to be found. But I digress - this picture was only to intro the story of my last five days in Arizona.

I arrived by aircraft, while my brother and his wife made the trip from Indianapolis by aged Chevy Suburban with my 90 year old mother in tow. She is a tough old bird, and while I had visions of National Lampoon's "Vacation" and Aunt Edna coming into Phoenix strapped to the top of the "family truckster", apparently this was not to be the Griswold family vacation. They arrived a day before me,and my brother had arranged for a four cubic yard dumpster.

When I got there, that first dumpster was about three feet full, and with my help we found enough true trash to take it to the four foot high limit. They picked it up Friday afternoon, and delivered another. That second dumpster was to last till the following Monday, as the process slowed down due to time devoted to shredding five years of old records with identifying numbers therein.

My job was also to mind the meals and meds for my mom, as brother and wife left Thursday night for Disney in Anaheim. This was to be their vacation, the first for many years. My brother is a saint who watches over mom from his home half a block away from the family manse. That house is next on the cleaning hit parade, and it holds not ten years of stuff (as did the condo) but closer to fifty. I remember moving into that home (5 bedrooms chock full of stuff) about the time of the picture taken above. My mother, an only child and one who remembers the REAL depression (not this fake Obama replica) saved everything. I swear we threw out the bathing suit she was wearing in the picture above - some of the few items she was willing to let go at age 90.

Dan returned late Sunday night, and fueled by a dozen cups of coffee kept the old gal up till three sorting and throwing out no longer needed stuff. He was a tour de force to watch, and that second dumpster got its fill by Monday noon. The moving van came Wednesday, a day after I once again returned to my calm life in St. Louis. Perhaps I'll write more about this journey down memory lane tomorrow, but till then remember this "if you don't use it in five years, you don't need it".

Celebrate

The picture pretty much says it all. Today we celebrate our freedoms, but on November 3rd, we validate them.

Remember, if you don't vote, you have no room to criticize those chosen to lead. If you're not registered to vote, don't delay - do it today.

We plan to have a Fourth of July barbecue with our neighbors. Everybody brings a dish, and Max (our most decorated veteran) will prepare the meat. This is a wonderful neighborhood and one we'll miss when we finally move full time down south.
Tonight we'll watch the fireworks, either in person at a local park, or on PBS for their annual program "A Capitol Fourth".

As a veteran, albeit a dubious one ("combat disk jockey" - see my FB and prior posts), I am proud of the men and women who protect our freedoms - perhaps our politicians after November will pay them the respect they deserve. Hope springs eternal.

Eye in the Sky

By August of 2001, construction was moving from exterior to the beginning of interior build-out. I wanted to see a different perspective, and to record it for the project album I had been assembling.

Enter a check ride in the County Police helicopter, which was conveniently based at the Chesterfield Airport about half a mile from our construction site. The St. Louis County Police did contract policing of our City of Wildwood, and were very savvy about marketing their services to local Mayors. I had been in office about 18 months at that point, and our precinct Captain suggested I might want to show our latest City Administrator the width and breadth of our 67 square mile city. He was just coming on (our fifth administrator since 1995)at that time. The flight operations facility was in Chesterfield, the city next door - so we drove there and took off. I had the foresight to take my camera along, and our pilot was accommodating. The shot of the building was taken on the return approach into the pattern.

While you can't see them from this perspective, the building had a wedding cake top floor, with two large patios. One patio was off the employee cafe, the other off my offices and the Board room. Both were great vantage points to watch air shows every year. Those rectangular shapes on the roof are air conditioning units - we built everything over-sized, to allow for growth. The building cost $12 million, and the payback has already been reached, as cost against the rent we had paid at the prior leased locations. Today, the building remains a legacy I am very proud to have left to the citizens of the State of Missouri.

P.S. - That City Administrator is still there today, so some decisions made under my term as Mayor indeed had "legs" - but I gave Dan good advice "to keep your head down, and let Joe run the place". Joe has been there since 1995 - he's the true Survivor.

The Dirty Secret

For several years, I found myself enjoying moving dirt. I was simultaneously trying to run a 3.8 Billion dollar agency, whilst being Mayor of a 32,884 citizen town. In the year 2000, I became a Mayor and in 2001, a General Contractor. I still have my hardhat and safety vest, found today in the garage as I pack for yet another significant move.

The picture showing the ceremonial shovels was breaking ground for Westridge Centre, on October 3, 2002. That's me in the shirt and tie - taking time on my lunch hour to work in a groundbreaking for the City of Wildwood. The fellow in the orange shirt is Tom McLain, a developer whom I later appointed to the Planning & Zoning Board. I believed town boards needed to have representatives from all points of view, something the people I had defeated two years earlier found anathema. I knew I'd be a one-term Mayor, since I had won with only 36% of the vote against two "progressives" who were enamored with their limited vision. The tall fellow is Joe Vujnich - a very talented planner, albeit somewhat in love with New Urbanism, and allergic to drive through restaurants. The other guy is Tom's architect. Eight years later, this development is now built out, across the highway from a new Community College and the YMCA (which I wrote about earlier). I'm proud of my "responsible development" legacy in the City of Wildwood.........and no, they didn't name the town after me, only half of it.

The other picture, using the backhoe as a backdrop, is of our McCarthy Brothers project leaders, Dale Mueller and Vickie Ash. Both great people to work with; Dale is still with the company and Vicki retired last year. The lady who defines "pretty in pink" is Carla Land, of my senior staff. Carla was my number two person on this project, and she did a fantastic job on every item I tasked her with accomplishing.
I recall she had great taste in decor, and went to Chicago to the Merchandise Mart to pick out office furniture. She handled the move from the old offices to the new, and sat in on any meeting where I couldn't. A true lady, she wasn't afraid of climbing high steel in blue jeans one day, and reporting to the Board in heels the next. The building project started in February of 2001, when the ground was still frozen, and the 80,000 square foot building was completed in November of 2002. In the intervening 21 months, I probably had the most fun of my career - we had a great staff who could deal with student loans, but I was frankly tiring of the bureaucratic rat race, and this project was reinvigorating to say the least. Little did I realize that one year later, I'd find myself headed into retirement. But that's another story, featuring a contract, a great lawyer and a nice pension.

In looking back, I think the beginning of the 21st century was my best decade, and certainly broadened my horizons. I was a CEO with over 200 people, and a Mayor dealing with sixteen independent council persons. The ride was intense and exhilarating, and wisely I got off before my health and heart exploded. I now look back fondly at all the people with whom I was lucky enough to surround myself. They were all true professionals, all focused, and still all friends. LG - life's good.