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Davis Young
- Dec 20, 2022

DY: In Just a Few Words (#114)

Betcha thought I was gonna say Christmas.

Ask people what the best day of the year is and you will get a lot of different answers. Many - especially kids - would likely pick Christmas (this upcoming Sunday for those readers not keeping track). Who doesn’t love a day filled with gifts and tracking Santa on NORAD?

Then, for the football lovers/social revelers among us, there is New Year’s Eve (including this year’s Ohio State college playoff game with Georgia) and New Year’s Day, when a record amount of traditional pork roast will be consumed while watching more football and trying to get rid of headaches from the night before.

For my grand twins, Izzy and Jake, yesterday - their 16th birthday - was the best day EVER. Not so much for their parents, who are currently combing through auto insurance quotes for not one, but two, new drivers.

That said, I think the best and most important day of the year is actually tomorrow - the official start of Winter. Why, you ask? Only 90 more days till Spring and 180 till Summer. Yes. That's right. Just six short months till we can crank up some new skin cancers sitting in the blazing Ohio sun.

Have you noticed that every year at this time a large cloud emanates along the western shores of Lake Erie (think Toledo) and peacefully covers the lake for the next few months? And, that the days have been getting progressively shorter? No sun and short days is not a good combination. But, the first day of Winter is the last day that is shorter than the one before. For the next six months, starting tomorrow, every day will be longer than the one before. Summer is on the way.

I have a tree I like a lot. It’s a pin oak. While my other trees (and various shrubs) drop their leaves in the fall, the pin oak drops its leaves in Spring and, immediately thereafter, new buds and leaves sprout. So, if you see me raking leaves in May, you know Summer is next.

In the meantime, put a smile on your face. Enjoy the filthy slush that will destroy your driving vision as you careen into the side of somebody else’s vehicle. If you fall, remember the joy of catching yourself as you slide down your driveway and stop right at the edge of the street. That’s an annual sport I wouldn’t want to miss. And, don’t forget to have a blanket in your car just in case you have to turn it into a motel some night. A motel without a blanket is not a good thing.

Hope is here and help is on the way. Keep your head up. Here comes Summer.

And, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa - or, as daughter, Tracy, used to say - Happy Christmahanukwanzika!

DY: In Just a Few Words is a blog that comes out when something needs to be said or every Tuesday - whichever comes first. Davis Young is a communications professional who adds 50+ years of experience and perspective to issues of the day. His emphasis in DY: In Just a Few Words will be humor (a touch of sarcasm here, a pinch of facetiousness there...). Once in a while, he will touch on something a bit more serious - but hopefully not too deep or depressing.

This blog is a product of DY Author & Speaker LLC. Feel free to quote content with attribution. Respond. Agree. Disagree. Share the content with your friends. Heck - even invite him as a speaker for your group! Enjoy!

Davis Young
- Dec 13, 2022

DY: In Just a Few Words (#113)

Some memories last forever.

I was a little guy in the 1940s and early ‘50s. I remember those times well. And, I think about them every Christmas.

My family never had any extra money. We did o.k., but there wasn’t a lot to go around.

Do you remember when your local bank had a Christmas Club? It was a way to let the bank use your funds while it applied a semblance of discipline all year to your Christmas savings. My parents walked into their bank every week and deposited three or four dollars into their Christmas Club account so they would have enough money to buy gifts when the holidays rolled around again. Many families did the same thing.

That account helped them buy me a fat tire Schwinn bike, followed in another year with a bell to warn others I was approaching and a handlebar basket where I could store stuff like a baseball glove. I put a lot of miles on that bike.

Another year, I received hockey skates. I was a terrible skater. But, that didn’t stop me. I used those skates on the frozen swimming pool of a well-to-do farmer who lived nearby. That was a gathering place for neighborhood kids. I can still remember the sound of cracking ice and the cold winter wind that always seemed to be blowing at us.

Perhaps most memorable of all was the Christmas I came downstairs to find an electric train circling our tree. It was 1948. Over the next several years Santa added more track, a train station, some scenery, switches, a better transformer and various other extras. I loved that train and played with it for several years.

A bike. Hockey skates. An electric train. Kid stuff, yes. But, adults don’t forget those special gifts. And, neither do I forget my parents and their weekly pilgrimages to the bank to deposit into their Christmas Club account.

We have a new seasonal sign in our kitchen that says, When you stop believing in Santa, you get underwear. Fair enough.

Christmas is for kids of all ages. And, truth be known, we are still all kids. None of whom want to get underwear for Christmas.

But, the magic of Christmas isn’t in gifts like bikes, skates, trains, or even underwear.

The true magic of Christmas is the memories that are made.

Davis Young
- Dec 6, 2022

DY: In Just a Few Words (#112)

When did it all get so serious?

Football is a violent game. So, too, are hockey and, far too often, basketball (which I frequently refer to as hockey without pads). In many respects, we find ourselves re-living the Wild West. But, this is not a blog about guns. Rather, it’s about violence in sports - both on and off the field.

Very recently - in the state up north - there was a terrible incident when both the Michigan State and University of Michigan football teams were using the same tunnel to leave the field after MSU fell in Ann Arbor. Most of us have seen the video by now. A couple of Michigan players were pushed, shoved, punched and kicked repeatedly by a group of MSU student athletes. It was really ugly. As of this writing, seven MSU football players have been charged; six with misdemeanor charges and one with a felony. Additionally, MSU has been fined $100,000 by the Big Ten Conference.

We’ve also had our share of out-of-control incidents here in the best location in the nation. Several years ago, our star Cleveland Browns player took his helmet off and used it to whack the quarterback from our most hated rival, the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Another time, a fan was arrested for throwing a bottle at the team owner.

Worst of all was the 2001 late-game disaster when officials (two plays later) reversed a previous ruling. How do you do that? Bottles went flying. The officials had to run for safety.

I was there on a frigid day in 1981 when the Cleveland Browns fell to the visiting Oakland Raiders. An errant pass was intercepted just when the local guys were about to score and win. The nearly 78,000 fans who were there fell into total silence. When they had recovered from their shock, frustrated ticket holders launched glass bottles as they reacted to yet another Browns disappointment.

But, it doesn’t have to be this way.

From 1953-57, I sold programs at all of the Princeton University games. In those days, Princeton was often ranked in the Top 10. Yes, an Ivy League school. Plenty of fire water was consumed, but no nastiness before, during or after the games by the players or the crowds.

Which gets me to the Army-Navy game of 1961. I was there. Each team wanted to win, but the teams, coaches and fans were models of discipline as they cheered loudly, but behaved perfectly not only during the game, but for all of the traditional pre- and post-game traditions. That said, did you know this game had a four-year hiatus from 1894-1898 because a couple of fans nearly got into a shooting match (yes, with guns) as the inmates just about took over the asylum?

Hey, fellas, let’s not lose sight that it’s only a game.

Or, at least that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

My father was a West Point graduate. His best friend over the years was a graduate of the United States Naval Academy. Imagine that. A close friendship with the hated enemy.

Next thing you know, I’ll create a friendship with somebody from Dook.

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