Aging like a werewolf

Age comes upon a person with relentless ferocity, churning ever forward.

This is not all bad. Getting older has its benefits. For one thing I've gotten smarter -- or at least it seems that way. For another I've gotten wiser -- ditto. In some ways I've gotten better looking -- double ditto.

It's not all good, either. Eventually of course, death comes -- sooner for some than others. But even for those of us lucky enough to hang around for a while, some weird things occur.

For instance it wasn't until about age 45 that I began to snore. Until then I was a quiet sleeper, and proud of it. Then one morning my wife mentioned that I had snored a little the night before. I remembered finding this amusing. The second time she told me also was funny. But the third, tenth, fiftieth became not the least big funny, because I had no desire to ruin her sleep anymore than my own. And make no mistake: snoring wrecks it for both of you. My wife is kept awake by the noise, and I'm kept awake by my wife shaking my shoulder and saying, "Jim, you're snoring ... Jim, you're snoring ..." while I groggily respond, "Huh? What? ... Huh? What? ..."

The weirdest thing about snoring is how the snorer doesn't have a clue. I can be lying there making enough noise to terrify a nearby werewolf, and yet I'm blissfully unaware of it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm as silent as a baby.

After my wife has woken me up a couple of times, I then enter into a sort of half-sleep in which I'm fighting not to fall back all the way, which will bring on the inevitable snoring again. I figure that if I can stay awake long enough for her to fall asleep, then maybe I can sneak off after that and not disturb her.

Oh well, what can you do? Age is that way.

Let's not even get into balding, pot bellies, and hair on my ears.

The good news is I don't have that one problem that comes with age! Fit as a fiddle there -- triple ditto. :)

The Name of the Wind is terrific

One of the best books I've read lately is The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. This book is extremely well written and conceived. Certain aspects of the plot, character, and setting aren't exactly to my liking. I prefer a larger dose of monsters and magic. But The Name of the Wind's overall excellence overcomes any shortcomings. I'm looking forward to book 2.

To be young again

Ah, how time flies. This is me, 31 years ago.

See below for what I look like now.

What's in a name?

On Aug. 26, 1957 in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., James Sheldon Fuller entered the world. Quickly, I became known as Jimmy. And I had a lot of energy. Whenever I started to do something reckless, my mom would say to me, "Why would you want to do that, Jimmy?"

When I was in second grade, my parents divorced -- and my mom remarried. Mr. Melvin became my step-dad, and my real dad, Mr. Fuller, sort of stepped out of the picture. Even though I was never legally adopted, I assumed the name Melvin. I became Jimmy Melvin. But my step-dad liked the name James, so I became James Melvin. At the time, I agreed that James was cool.

When I entered high school, I decided that James was no longer cool. And so I became Jim, which I remain to this day. I was able to obtain my driver's license under the last name Melvin by getting a note from my high school principal, and I grew into adulthood/credit cards/student loans/mortages by using my Melvin driver's license. (This was all legal, so don't freak.) I even got a passport under the name Melvin by filling out some long-winded forms.

And so, I am Mr. Melvin to this day.

Do I prefer Melvin over Fuller? No. Do I prefer Fuller over Melvin? No. For whatever reasons, I grew into the kind of adult who doesn't give much credence to names. I judge people, including myself, by their behavior. My behavior has been great in some ways, terrible in others. Like most people, I would assume.

Before my mom died, she and the rest of my family took a driving trip to the mountains, and we rented a white van to hold us all. The van didn't handle well, especially on inclines, and at one point I was faced with driving up a very steep hill. My sister was in the passenger seat, and I turned to her and asked her if I should attempt it. And from way in the back of the van, I heard my mom's high-pitched voice say, "Why would you want to do that, Jimmy?"

I laughed until I cried. At that moment, at least, I was still Jimmy.

But above all, I was still me -- great and terrible.

I drove up the hill. And we went on our way.

Many mini thoughts ...

* Sure would have been nice to see Tom Watson win the British Open. Once Tiger's out of a tournament, I usually lose interest. But Watson brought back my enthusiasm. The guy's 8 years older than I am -- and about 50 strokes better on the golf course. I was proud of him.

* My Honda CRV is doing some weird things lately. Mainly, it tends to not want to start, as if the battery's gone dead, and I'll turn the key and turn the key ... and suddenly it will rev up as if nothing's wrong at all. It has 140K on it. In the old days, I already would have traded it in. But having no car payment means more than ever, doesn't it? By the way, what's the best hybrid out there right now?

* I really wish it would rain more around here. Rain can be a pain sometimes, but when it goes day upon day without raining, that's really disheartening. Plus, it seems to rain everywhere else but on top of my house. Who doesn't enjoy sleeping with the windows open when it's raining? Even thunder can be soothing. Anybody know any good dances?

* The best movie I've seen in a long time is Dark Knights. I recently rented it and watched it for the first time. Heath Ledger was even better than advertised.

* Does anybody remember Cop Rock from the early 1990s? I've been watching songs on You Tube. I'm one of the few people who seemed to love that show and its music.

* My wife bought me a massage chair for Father's Day. One of the best gifts she's ever given me. I'm using it right now. Gawd, I could get a massage twice a day and not get sick of it. I also adore back scratches. It always amazes me how few people like back scratches or have even given them much thought.

* Bottled water or tap water? I prefer the taste of bottled water. But am I just being bamboozled?

* Sunrise or sunset? I'm a sunset guy.

Do you find this amusing?

Today, my wife and I took my three youngest daughters to Carowinds, a Disneyworld wannabee near Charlotte, N.C. Soon after arriving, we waited 45 minutes in 100-degree heat to get on the Rip Roarin' Rapids, only to have the ride shut down about 20 people from our turn to get on.

Later, we bought and shared two seafood platters at $12.99 apiece, six bottled waters at $3.75 apiece ($4.06 after taxes), and six Diet Cokes at the same price. We tried to buy two margaritas at $7.49 apiece, but they couldn't sell them to my wife and I because they had no one working the cash registers who was 21 or older. Overall, we spent more than $100 on food and drink and were still hungry. And I can tell you, it's not because we're pigs.

I actually enjoyed the hokey ice skating show, but only because the theater was air conditioned. Anything with either air conditioning or shade was awesome.

Overall cost: just shy of $300, not including gas. And there was nothing priceless about it.

Ironically, we all were in great moods on the ride home, simply because we were riding home (and my Honda CRV has great air conditioning).

As you can tell, we're just not amusement park people.

Flashes of brilliance

What is it about fireflies that is so fascinating? For me, there's almost a supernatural allure. The way they come and go, flashes of temporary brilliance, unplanned, unpredictable.

Though I was born in New York, I spent most of my life in Florida on the Gulf of Mexico, where there are no fireflies. Since I've been in South Carolina the past few years, I've been reintroduced. They never cease to amaze me.

My daughters love them too. They chase them down and capture them in glass jars. I only allow them to imprison the fireflies for a minute or so before letting them go.

As if mere glass could contain them.