Down and out semi poet who is down and out in the Low Country of South Carolina after living in Atlanta which is not to be confused with the south, the old south or the new south. Atlanta was a global metropolis with all the pluses and minuses that comes with that. The low country, low because it is low, 8 feet above sea level, is not Podunk but once you get to Podunk, turn left. I try to chronicle a small part of all that through my daily haiku for you.
So now what? Delay McCarthy again? I’ve been told there were some concerns about how another year sitting on the bench would affect him. And would it even help? Every question has a cousin, and suddenly they’re multiplying. Can a raw but talented quarterback grow fast enough to match a team built to win yesterday?
I think that’s pretty good.
Good enough to repeat.
Every question has a cousin, and suddenly they’re multiplying.
Can a raw but talented quarterback grow fast enough to match a team built to win yesterday?
Applying to other topics … Can a Saturday Morning TV Anchor run something else like the Frosty Boy Ice Cream Stand in Grand Rapids, Michigan or, just wondering out loud, the Department of Defense?
Every question has a cousin, and suddenly they’re multiplying.
mystery of trees and water and all living things borrowing time
Salt Marsh on Pinckney Island, SC at Sunset, Nov 28, 2025
They used to say we’re living on borrowed time but even when young I wondered who loaned it to us? In 1948 one grandpa died stretched tight in a misty oxygen tent, his four sons gathered, his papery hand grasping mine. Only a week before, we were fishing. Now the four sons have all run out of borrowed time while I’m alive wondering whom I owe for this indisputable gift of existence. Of course time is running out. It always has been a creek heading east, the freight of water with its surprising heaviness following the slant of the land, its destiny. What is lovelier than a creek or riverine thicket? Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water and all living things borrowing time. Would I still love the creek if I lasted forever?
Debtor by Jim Harrison as published in Songs of Unreason (Copper Canyon Press; 2011).
What is lovelier than a creek or riverine thicket? Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water and all living things borrowing time.
Walking on Pinckney Island, the day after Thanksgiving at stopped at this spot, looking west, where I have stopped hundreds of times.
I have stopped hundreds of times but I have never stopped time other than by capturing a moment using the phone on my camera.
Back it the day, it might have been called a still shot, I guess from the painters, still life.
Nothing about this picture is really still.
The tide is moving the water out at 6 knots.
The Sun is spinning away at 1,000 miles per hour.
The earth tips 1 degree north of south each day depending on the season.
The clouds and marsh grass move with the wind.
Everything is in motion.
All by accident.
No Artificial intelligence.
No photoshop.
Say it is an unknown benefactor who gave us birds and Mozart, the mystery of trees and water and all living things borrowing time.
I might have captured the moment but the time is borrowed.
hail victors valiant raise next generation right sing to the colors
I am pretty sure that I have related the story of the night I got a phone call from my brother Paul that opened without a hello or greeting, but the words, I AM INCENSED.
This was kinda startling for two reasons.
One was that my brother Paul, so far as I know, never called anyone in his life.
And, Two, my brother Paul, so far as I know, had never been incensed about anything in his life.
Paul had just paged through the latest Michigan Today Alumni Magazine and found an article that recognized some family that had 6 siblings who had all earned degrees from the University of Michigan.
This was not right, Paul, declared and he called me and he told I had to do something about it.
So I got in touch with the Alumni Association and let them know that the Hoffman Family had a little bit more history to recognize.
Started with Grandpa Robert Karl Hoffman, the 1st Hofman born in the US and the 1st to change his last name to Hoffman, he was the 1st one to graduate from Michigan with a DDS in 1911.
Then our Dad, Robert Paul Hoffman, who graduated with a DDS in 1942.
Then the siblings.
Paul, Jack, Mary, Janet, Tim, Lisa, Me, Steve and Al graduated from Michigan stretching out over the 1960s. 70s and 80s.
Growing up, I knew there was only one college for me and I was so focused on accomplishing graduating from Michigan that when I finally DID graduate, I was at a bit of loss of what to do next and maybe still am.
My roommates knew the story of me getting into Michigan and they all agreed that the school changed the rules so it would never happen again.
And there were more graduates to come.
The spouses of Paul, Janet, Lisa and Al who graduated from Michigan.
Then the nieces and nephews of the 4th Generation who graduated from Michigan.
A couple of editions later, the Alumni Magazine ran an article that stated simply, they didn’t know what they were getting into when they recognized that family with 6 graduate siblings.
They didn’t know what they were getting into as they heard from so many other families, who I guess, were incensed.
The heard from several families also with 6 sibling graduates.
The heard from several families with 7 sibling graduates.
The heard from a couple of families with 8 sibling graduates.
But they only heard from 1 family, the Hoffman Family of Grand Rapids, with 9 sibling graduates.
If we act like we own it, at least we are acting honestly.
Work is starting on that 5th generation.
Me and grandson Ian – it’s his 1st time for the game with that team … class of 2047?
If you been to a game in Ann Arbor and listened to the crowd sing The Yellow and Blue with the band you know that 95% of the crowd knows one word, HAIL!.
We had a family tradition of singing The Yellow and Blue at family gatherings if the mood was right and by unspoken agreement, we would all drop out and let Dad sing the HAIL by himself.
With that memory in mind:
Sing to the colors that float in the light; Hurrah for the Yellow and Blue! Yellow the stars as they ride through the night And reel in a rollicking crew; Yellow the field where ripens the grain And yellow the moon on the harvest wain; -Hail! Hail to the colors that float in the light Hurrah for the Yellow and Blue!
Win or lose today, Hurrah for the Yellow and Blue!
naw, he said, now what would I want to remember … a thing like that for?
In 1966, George Plimpton wrote a book titled Paper Lion as an inside view of pro football by going through the pre-season with the Detroit Lions.
He came out with a follow up book in 1973 titled Mad Ducks and Bears that told the story of the years after 1966 through Plimpton’s friendship and interviews with Detroit Lions Alex Karras (The Mad Duck) and John Gordy (The Bear).
In Mad Ducks and Bears, Plimpton writes about what it was like for Karras and Gordy to play with Quarterback Booby Layne who both men acknowledged was a masterful football player but a pretty nasty guy otherwise.
Both men carried long grudges against Layne that lasted through their careers.
Plimpton relates this story told by Alex Karras, writing:
The two of them sat quietly, thinking back on those days. Finally Karras said, “You know something crazy? Bobby Layne was traded away by Detroit to the Pittsburgh Steelers. He ended up his career there. We played them one Sunday, and this play came up where he was chased out of the pocket and ran out of bounds. I was chasing him, really reaching for him, and when we got out of bounds I still went for him. I racked his ass. Back behind the bench somewhere. Knocked a water bucket over, I remember. I don’t know why I did it. It was crazy. We got a big penalty and I was chewed out plenty.”
“What about Layne?” I asked.
“I can remember him looking at me out of that crazy helmet he wore. ‘Hey, what did you do that for?’ he says. “I couldn’t have told him. No way.”
Later in the book, Plimpton recounts how he had the chance to meet Bobby Layne, spend some time with him and interview him.
Plimpton writes:
“Bobby,” I asked, “do you remember a game when you were playing for Pittsburgh in which you were run out of bounds, and Alex Karras came out of nowhere and really belted you one? They damn near threw him out of the game for it? A water bucket went over. It was way out of bounds. Do you remember that?”
Layne was silent for such a long time that I thought he had his mind on something else and had not heard the question.
“Naw,” he said finally. He reached for the door handle of the jeep.
“Naw, now what would I want to remember a thing like that for?”
Folks, the next time someone suggests that the Lions’ wear throwback uniforms, throwback to those great Lions’ teams, throwback to those great Lions’ games, throwback to those great Lions’ memories that we all say:
“Naw, now what would I want to remember a thing like that for?”
No Haiku For You 