Welcome back.
It's always nice to hear those words upon returning to work after a two-week vacation.
Mondays can be a doozy as it is, but that first day back can be a real bear.
Sometimes you feel like you've got to be re-trained.
Not this time, though.
Two weeks at the Jersey Shore was just right.
My two brothers, Jimmy and Joey, have rented the same beachside house in Surf City, N.J., in mid-July for 17 years.
But this year, another family who had the house the two weeks prior bailed out.
So my sister Jeanne and husband Mark Evans jumped on the opening.
Which meant Team Mannix had the house for a whole month!
There goes that neighborhood, right?
It was a relaxing time with my wife, Sherri.
Sleep late. Beach in the afternoon. Cocktails at 5 p.m. Movies after dinner.
Also read a wonderful biography of President Harry Truman, a 1,000-page book that went like that.
We went to Atlantic City, too, won $12.80 on the slots, and sang "We're In The Money," all the way back to Surf City.
It was a good time "downashore", indeed.
Especially trying to ride an inner tube in the surf and getting tossed head over heels time after time.
"Your husband is 60 going on 13," my brother-in-law cracked to Sherri.
What vacations are for in my book.
Yet when it was over it was good to return to work, too.
Welcome back.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Fun 'n' games with U.S. Census
Got a funny phone call the other day.
I had left work and was driving home when my cell rang.
"Hey, hon'," I answered, thinking it was my wife without looking at the called ID.
It was the U.S. Census folks.
I'm sure the guy on the other end of the phone --- he had a Deep South accent -- didn't expect to be called, "Hon'."
Anyway, it seems the census people were confused.
Sherri and I had each filled out our own census forms as single people living in our own homes in the spring before we were married. Then we began living together as a married couple usually does after we tied the knot, right?
I had a hard time getting that through the fellow on the phone.
Like when he asked me "What was I thinking about" when I checked off the line that said I did not spend all of my time at my last home in Bradenton?
Pardon me, pal, but I enjoyed spending weekends at the home (and pool) of my future wife.
Duh!
He also asked me rapid fire if my house was a foster home, an assisted living facility, a crackhouse, a secret ICBM launch site ...
OK. I made up the last couple, but some of the stuff was plain stupid.
My favorite question, though, was this:
"Is this (my old address)?" he asked.
No, I said. This is my truck.
I had left work and was driving home when my cell rang.
"Hey, hon'," I answered, thinking it was my wife without looking at the called ID.
It was the U.S. Census folks.
I'm sure the guy on the other end of the phone --- he had a Deep South accent -- didn't expect to be called, "Hon'."
Anyway, it seems the census people were confused.
Sherri and I had each filled out our own census forms as single people living in our own homes in the spring before we were married. Then we began living together as a married couple usually does after we tied the knot, right?
I had a hard time getting that through the fellow on the phone.
Like when he asked me "What was I thinking about" when I checked off the line that said I did not spend all of my time at my last home in Bradenton?
Pardon me, pal, but I enjoyed spending weekends at the home (and pool) of my future wife.
Duh!
He also asked me rapid fire if my house was a foster home, an assisted living facility, a crackhouse, a secret ICBM launch site ...
OK. I made up the last couple, but some of the stuff was plain stupid.
My favorite question, though, was this:
"Is this (my old address)?" he asked.
No, I said. This is my truck.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Cortez grocery touchstone of village
The “Mayor of Cortez,” Lou Nassar, was choked up.
So was his wife, Nancy.
Until retiring recently, they made Lou’s Cortez Market a neighborhood grocery in the truest sense for 32 years.
Patrons got more than cold cuts and cereal, detergent and diapers.
“You got friendship, sympathy,” said Joe Kane, a Cortez resident.
Good grades earned children a treat. Bad ones, a lecture.
New mothers brought their babies by.
Hard up families picked out what they needed and paid later.
“Lou cared about everybody,” Kane said. “We appreciated him for that.”
Read more in Sunday's Mannix About Manatee.
So was his wife, Nancy.
Until retiring recently, they made Lou’s Cortez Market a neighborhood grocery in the truest sense for 32 years.
Patrons got more than cold cuts and cereal, detergent and diapers.
“You got friendship, sympathy,” said Joe Kane, a Cortez resident.
Good grades earned children a treat. Bad ones, a lecture.
New mothers brought their babies by.
Hard up families picked out what they needed and paid later.
“Lou cared about everybody,” Kane said. “We appreciated him for that.”
Read more in Sunday's Mannix About Manatee.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
GOOOOOAAAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!!
"Yes! YES! YESSSSS!"
I went a little crazyWednesday morning when Landon Donovan slammed home the dramatic game-winning goal in those frantic final minutes of Uncle Sam's Group C final over Algeria.
"Yes! YES! YESSSSS!"
OK, maybe a little too crazy.
I was at work.
The boss even came out of her office and sternly reminded me, "This is a newsroom."
I felt like I was at home. Or in a sports bar.
Instead, I was at the Herald newsroom, watching the maddening World Cup match with a handful of colleagues, a few of whom were in an office World Cup pool.
A World Cup pool? Yes.
I enjoy soccer, but not that much.
An emotional investment? I'm good with that.
Especially Wednesday.
After so many missed scoring chances -- and another blown call by an official -- it was driving any American soccer fan nuts.
I had a feeling it was going to go down right to the excruciating end.
When it did in the 91st minute, what a euphoric feeling.
"Yes! YES! YESSSSS!"
Sorry, boss.
I went a little crazyWednesday morning when Landon Donovan slammed home the dramatic game-winning goal in those frantic final minutes of Uncle Sam's Group C final over Algeria.
"Yes! YES! YESSSSS!"
OK, maybe a little too crazy.
I was at work.
The boss even came out of her office and sternly reminded me, "This is a newsroom."
I felt like I was at home. Or in a sports bar.
Instead, I was at the Herald newsroom, watching the maddening World Cup match with a handful of colleagues, a few of whom were in an office World Cup pool.
A World Cup pool? Yes.
I enjoy soccer, but not that much.
An emotional investment? I'm good with that.
Especially Wednesday.
After so many missed scoring chances -- and another blown call by an official -- it was driving any American soccer fan nuts.
I had a feeling it was going to go down right to the excruciating end.
When it did in the 91st minute, what a euphoric feeling.
"Yes! YES! YESSSSS!"
Sorry, boss.
Monday, June 21, 2010
New Rays' ballpark? Good luck
So Rays' owner Stuart Sternberg wants a new stadium, preferably in Tampa.
I hope he succeeds.
The Rays are a regional asset, indeed, and they're spinning their wheels at the Trop.
Just don't hold your breath, Stu.
Unless Florida's economy gets markedly better and soon, and the current public mindset about financing a professional sports stadium changes, I have serious doubts about a new Rays' ballpark coming to fruition.
On the other hand, if Tampa's business, civic and political leaders are intent on making it happen, I imagine there are some creative ways to put together a financial package and pull it off.
If the Florida Marlins can do it, why not the Rays?
Of course, Miami's a different world.
I used to think the Trop was OK, given its location for us folks south of the Skyway.
Not anymore.
The Bradenton Marauders are why.
Since the Florida State League came to Bradenton this year, I prefer spending my time and my money at McKechnie Field enjoying professional baseball in my backyard.
I do hope the Rays' owner gets what he wants, especially for all of the loyal fans I see around town sporting Rays' gear.
Me? I've got my hometown team and I know they and the Mack are here for a good long time.
I hope he succeeds.
The Rays are a regional asset, indeed, and they're spinning their wheels at the Trop.
Just don't hold your breath, Stu.
Unless Florida's economy gets markedly better and soon, and the current public mindset about financing a professional sports stadium changes, I have serious doubts about a new Rays' ballpark coming to fruition.
On the other hand, if Tampa's business, civic and political leaders are intent on making it happen, I imagine there are some creative ways to put together a financial package and pull it off.
If the Florida Marlins can do it, why not the Rays?
Of course, Miami's a different world.
I used to think the Trop was OK, given its location for us folks south of the Skyway.
Not anymore.
The Bradenton Marauders are why.
Since the Florida State League came to Bradenton this year, I prefer spending my time and my money at McKechnie Field enjoying professional baseball in my backyard.
I do hope the Rays' owner gets what he wants, especially for all of the loyal fans I see around town sporting Rays' gear.
Me? I've got my hometown team and I know they and the Mack are here for a good long time.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A sharecropper's Father's Day legacy
Dorothy Simmons had Georgia on her mind.
Ocilla, Ga., that is.
She moved here in 1954 from the small farming community, but neither the feel of the soil on her fingers nor the life lessons she learned as a girl working on a farm ever left her.
They were her father’s gifts.
Claude Miller was a south Georgia sharecropper and worked until 1994 when he passed at 79.
“My daddy loved farming. He loooved it,” said Dorothy, now a 74-year-old great-grandmother in Palmetto.
She was 18 when she and first husband Alfonso Anderson arrived in Bradenton and settled in the Rogers Garden Apartments. Though times have changed, she felt an immediate kinship with rural Manatee County.
“When I came here there was more farming and families going out on those farms,” Dorothy said. “The daddies, the mamas, the children, all of them teaching them about work ethic.
“I know that’s how we were on the farm. Daddy telling us about life. I know farming isn’t easy, but it had good in it. It taught you something.”
Read more in Sunday's Mannix About Manatee
Ocilla, Ga., that is.
She moved here in 1954 from the small farming community, but neither the feel of the soil on her fingers nor the life lessons she learned as a girl working on a farm ever left her.
They were her father’s gifts.
Claude Miller was a south Georgia sharecropper and worked until 1994 when he passed at 79.
“My daddy loved farming. He loooved it,” said Dorothy, now a 74-year-old great-grandmother in Palmetto.
She was 18 when she and first husband Alfonso Anderson arrived in Bradenton and settled in the Rogers Garden Apartments. Though times have changed, she felt an immediate kinship with rural Manatee County.
“When I came here there was more farming and families going out on those farms,” Dorothy said. “The daddies, the mamas, the children, all of them teaching them about work ethic.
“I know that’s how we were on the farm. Daddy telling us about life. I know farming isn’t easy, but it had good in it. It taught you something.”
Read more in Sunday's Mannix About Manatee
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Take me out to the, uh, ballgame?
Ever done something like this before?
When I read in last Sunday's Herald sport section the Bradenton Marauders were "returning" from the FSL All-Star break and resuming play Monday, I immediately thought, cool!
After a long road swing, they're back at McKechnie Field.
So Monday morning I grabbed two tickets, packed my Marauders' ballcap, T-shirt and a pair of shorts to change to go to the ballpark after work.
Told my wife I'd grab a hot dog at the park, so don't worry about fixing me dinner.
Even said to the boss as I went by her office that evening, "I'm off to the ballyard."
But as I drove down Ninth Street West, I noticed no lights were on at the Mack.
And as I pulled into the parking lot behind the Boys & Girls Club, I saw there were no cars, nor the friendly parking attendant.
Uh, oh.
So I pulled out the tickets:
Bradenton Marauders vs. Jupiter Hammerheads --- Thursday, June 17.
Dummy.
I drove home and ate cold leftover chicken wings.
When I read in last Sunday's Herald sport section the Bradenton Marauders were "returning" from the FSL All-Star break and resuming play Monday, I immediately thought, cool!
After a long road swing, they're back at McKechnie Field.
So Monday morning I grabbed two tickets, packed my Marauders' ballcap, T-shirt and a pair of shorts to change to go to the ballpark after work.
Told my wife I'd grab a hot dog at the park, so don't worry about fixing me dinner.
Even said to the boss as I went by her office that evening, "I'm off to the ballyard."
But as I drove down Ninth Street West, I noticed no lights were on at the Mack.
And as I pulled into the parking lot behind the Boys & Girls Club, I saw there were no cars, nor the friendly parking attendant.
Uh, oh.
So I pulled out the tickets:
Bradenton Marauders vs. Jupiter Hammerheads --- Thursday, June 17.
Dummy.
I drove home and ate cold leftover chicken wings.
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