The Jamie Reports

I have to wonder what my mom must have thought when, as a 14-year old, I asked for a briefcase for Christmas. One of my television character-idols was Alex P. Keaton and I had just joined my high school debate team; as such, the briefcase was an essential wardrobe accessory. To complete the attire, I saved my own money to purchase a trench-coat; all of this to strike fear in my debate team opponents! In my briefcase, I carried my debate team plan, pens, post-it notes, some support documents, notepads, and Pepto-Bismol. I was a badass. No doubt about it . When I was 16, I started working at a local supermarket and one of my first paycheck purchases was a Motorola mobile phone. It came in a black carrying case that, unfortunately, resembled a purse, and the battery was the size of a brick. I think I may have gotten 30 free minutes a month with my plan. Phone calls were expensive and I only used it for emergencies, which included calling in my hot dog order to Midget Market ...

Today I thought I would share one of many stories about my maternal grandmother. I’m sure you will come to feel like you know her should you continue to follow this blog. A huge presence in my childhood, she is responsible for much of the way my mind works. She was one of a kind. She had this level of creativity that gave way to some pretty intense and often-hilarious family traditions. Those will have to be shared in a future blog. Whenever I visited Granny, we would sit and chat at her kitchen table. On most occasions, within minutes, she would engage me in a game of Phase 10 . She LOVED that game. And Granny was competitive and she held back no punches when games were being played. She would laugh in delight whenever she completed a “phase” in the game; regardless of the age of the grand or great-grandchild seated in opposition. And I happen to know for a fact that during her last few years, she milked her age for all its worth. We would finish a game of Phase 10 , put the car...

My First Memorial Service When I was 16 years old, I attended my first memorial service. Having never attended one before, I was very nervous. My schoolmate and friend had lost his father to cancer. So, my best friend, Tina, and I decided we would go to the service to show our respect. Now, in my earlier years, I did not cope well with new experiences. I felt much better surrounded by the safety of familiarity. So, this first-time experience of attending a memorial service had me quite on-edge. Now, to establish a visual for this story, I need you to understand that Tina and I arrived at the church and it was packed for the service. We sat on the right side facing the chancel on the fourth row. Tina sat to my right. The family of the deceased sat on the front row. The service began and all was going well. Nothing out of the ordinary; the music was nice, the message was fitting. I thought to myself, “Jamie, you’re doing fine. You’re going to get through this without a prob...

Today felt like one of those Seinfeld episodes where piles of crap happen for the oddest of reasons. Last night I began to smell gasoline in my house and became very confused. After no small amount of investigation (because I’m such a skilled sleuth at this sort of thing!), I discovered that the culprit was most likely the car parked in the garage. I deduced that it was leaking gasoline and decided to park it outside on the driveway. The house smelled so bad that I opened all of the windows (it was 40-something degrees outside) and kept them open (as well as the door to the garage) all night.  I buried myself under multiple blankets and slept what amounted to approximately two hours. I then drove my potential deathtrap to a 2 ½ hour work meeting, drove it back home, and called a friend over to help me. We washed out the garage with water and Palmolive, and, again, left the doors and windows open to continue airing out. I then called AAA for a tow truck to have my vehicle to...