When Someone Asks. . .

Hopefully, these two gentlemen are not talking at great length about their ongoing aches, pains, and respective tales of woe.

Among the many ideas imparted to yours truly by my late maternal grandmother and late mother are two related points.

First, whenever someone asks how you are, simply reply, "Very well, thank you." You could, if you feel up to it, also ask "And you?" My grandmother always instructed, however, that other people do not really want to know how you are. They are simply being courteous in most cases, so give them a courteous (and concise) reply.

My own addition to this piece of advice? Save the detailed, angst ridden answers for your analyst or medical doctor. Behind closed doors. It's far better to leave certain things to the imagination.

Second, my late mother always advised to spare everyone the excruciating details of your personal aches and pains in whatever form those might take. As she used to say, the world is a highly interesting place. Lengthy discussion of one's great aunt's neighbor's mother's cousin with an ingrown toenail, who lives down the street and around the corner, is excruciatingly dull as well as crass. It's far better, ol' Mom advised, simply not to join in such topics of conversation and do one's utmost to change the subject. And, she added, you certainly do not share your own aches, pains, or latest tale of woe.

I suppose, in our current era of general over familiarity, obsession with sharing in the name of personal authenticity (Spare me!), and tendency to blurt out even the most personal details via social media that this point is lost on a lot of people. But there we are.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

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Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan. Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake. J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville. A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended. But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available. In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination. I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall. I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation. Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold. Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario. But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh. Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan. Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt. Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode. However, I was not completely useless yesterday! I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch. The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings, took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific. I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age. As it is, my sister and

Classic Style

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