Sometimes good stories happen to lucky storytellers

I always told my students that good stories happen to good storytellers but they said, “No, you are a magnet for stories, albeit a very large one. Stuff just always happens to you or in front of you.” Last Friday I stopped to take pictures of six Hispanic workers (could be relevant) rolling out carpet manually (insert Manuel Labor joke here) because a certain machine was not on site. The temperature was hotter than Juarez at the summer solstice. Then this Bluetooth-wearing average white man starts laying his funky union music on the work crew and they produce pink slips of paper and willingly start writing information into his spiral notebook instead of electing option two which would be killing his fat butt. Athletic Director Bob Cilento showed up just because he saw me and we both commiserated and speculated and quickly realized we didn’t know anything about union workers wanting to do a job for which they had no expertise. The best way to watch a hockey game this fall once this project is completed is from a wheelchair; there are ramps and pads, just remember to lock in the brakes. Any spot in one of the two bleacher sections and you will be looking through fencing but at least you can’t see much in front of either goal.

Jogger’s Lament - An elective misery all-about-me personality type tapped the wrong dude in the wrong place at high noon saying to me, “I thought the referendum defeated the second turf field.” I explained to this person about the realities of referendum monies and he said, ”They have money for a second turf field but none to reimburse teachers for taking classes to get certified in autism?” I was ready to certify him as autistic or at the least aggressively self-centered. I explained that state monies earmarked for capital projects cannot be diverted to the self-perpetuating certification racket.

Tyler Townsend to Frederick Keys - I should be able to remember where Tyler is playing because I’m always losing my keys and my name is Frederick. Tyler, a former Cape star and third-round pick by the Orioles, battled back from a hamstring injury and in 30 games for the Delmarva Shorebirds, Townsend tore apart South Atlantic League pitching, hitting .342 (40-117) with three home runs and 26 RBIs. As of July 24, he leads the Orioles’ minor league system during July in batting average (.354). Additionally, he is second in the system during the month in RBIs (21).  Townsend was in the starting lineup for Frederick last Sunday night playing first base. Frederick is high level A ball; the next stop is Bowie which is Double A. Googling Frederick Keys will get you there for all you Tyler Townsend fans.

Soak up the sun - Cheryl Crow and I were soaking up the sun for a stint at the finish line of last Sunday’s Sussex Family Y five-miler. I took her picture saying, “You look like an Andrew Wyeth painting come to life.” I expected her to say “Talk about lame lines,” but rather she said, “Ah, that’s so nice,” and she told me she volunteered at the SPCA and was there to get runners for the 2nd Annual Race for the Paws 5K on Aug. 21 at 8 a.m. disem”barking” from the Starboard in Dewey Beach.

Snippets - Molly Lingo, oldest of the five Lingo girls of Drew and Kate Lingo, recently graduated from Kutztown University with a perfect 4.0 average. Last person I knew to do that was my wife from Penn State and look at the bad decision she made. Great job Molly, not even an A minus in art history or music appreciation or geography for the criminally insane? The 15th annual Dewey Beach Sprint Triathlon is Sept. 18 and raises money for the kids’ campaign of the Sussex County YMCA. Entries have been closed at 1,100 unless you know somebody, and trust me, none of us do. The Walk to Defeat ALS is also Saturday, Sept. 18, starting from the Rehoboth Bandstand and there are still plenty of openings. Registration is at 8:30 with the walk at 9:30. I will walk with the DeStasio family. Iron Mike DeStasio recently participated in a fundraising golf tournament for my cousin Larry O’Rourke and on a certain hole hit a stroke below an eagle which he tells me is called an albatross although I discovered in 1935 it was called a dodo, an extinct bird with a great name. So why did the nuns call me dodo brain?