Recently, I listened to a wonderful podcast and a clip from This American Life about preschool children constantly tattling on each other. I didn’t realize this was such a big deal, but when I asked my daughter, who is a preschool teacher, she told me it was a huge part of the class.

With the parents’ and preschool staff’s permission, a journalist set up an old red wall phone in the classroom that recorded the children’s voices. He placed a sign over the phone that read “Tattle Phone” and recorded a message thanking the children for calling and asking them to “Tell the Whole Story” of their complaint. The kids absolutely loved it; the phone was ringing off the hook all day long.

The comments are truly delightful; I especially love two from young girls. One softly asked about a boy: “Who farted in my face?” and quickly added, “And the worst part was he didn’t say he was sorry.” Another girl started with, “Thank you for taking my call. I have to go now,” and about an hour later, called again to say, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry I had to go.” Children are wonderfully honest, unafraid to share what’s on their minds. We can all learn something from these charming stories in “Tales from the Tattle Phone.”

Yesterday, I shared my thoughts on shampoo, and I think it’s only fair we hear from Old Spice as well. Honestly, I can’t think of a single man who hasn’t used Old Spice aftershave lotion. Chances are, if you’re in a room with 100 guys, someone will smell it.

It was probably the top-selling aftershave—or close to it. And let’s not forget, every young boy eager to impress girls would douse himself in it for a dance or a date. I still use it myself, even though the glass bottles are no longer available, and it’s no longer manufactured by the same company. But whenever I walk into a meeting or a room, I can still feel that confident vibe of Old Spice over any new, less memorable foreign aftershave.

Some time ago, a friend gave me a book as a birthday present. It resides, every day, on my bed stand; little did my friend know that this book’s title was my mom’s iron-clad daily rule for me.

This book was written by a US Navy 4-Star Admiral, who headed up, among other things, the US Navy SEAL program. He wrote this book to offer words of encouragement and simple wisdom. If he only knew that my mom’s advice pre-dated his by decades.

Every day of my life, I make my bed; leaving it unmade is unthinkable. My mom accepted no excuse for an unmade bed. Illness, anxiety, a surgical procedure, or laziness didn’t matter to her; over time, I took her mandate as a part of life.

On page one, chapter one of his book, the author says: “Start Your Day with a Task Completed.” My mom never wrote a book, but she impressed me with the importance of starting each day with a feeling of accomplishment.

Thanks, Mom; the Admiral agrees with you.

Every so often, I watch the movie Casablanca. For a movie made in 1942 and filmed in Burbank, California, it’s incredible how popular it is. Even more impressive is the pairing of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Whenever I watch it, I find a scene or two I might have missed earlier.

Ingrid Bergman is luminescent; Bogart is the bad guy gone good. No matter how often I watch them together, I can’t imagine another couple capable of making this movie. So yes, here’s looking at you, kid, for many more years.

Attending the Kentucky Derby in the company of 150,000+ of your best friends must be fun. Being at the rail when the sun comes up with the horses a few feet away from you is an unbelievable experience and, one that I’ll never forget.

Churchill Downs sets aside two days for a program called Dawn at the Derby. Each year, it allows spectators to enter before dawn to watch the morning workouts of derby horses.

It’s incredible to stand at the actual rail (something 99% of anyone will never do) and watch the jockeys blast past. The horses are far larger than you’d think, and they move. They thunder past the rail, close enough for everyone to feel their hooves hit the ground.

One of the best parts of the dawn workout is when the jockeys slow down and let the horses walk alongside the rail; they are close enough for a person to reach out and touch them. I’ll never be fortunate to see the derby, but each year I make a beeline before dawn to share in this beautiful experience.

Many of us my age fondly remember reciting the Pledge of Allegiance before school started. We knew the words well and felt proud to say them aloud. Today, this tradition is becoming a distant memory in schools. Yet, every day, news outlets highlight the importance of taking pride in our country. It’s a shame to think that we might not see this meaningful practice return—imagine flags waving in classrooms and children’s voices echoing through the halls. How could anyone not find this inspiring?

Often, I reflect on the things I have done throughout my lifetime that may have caused harm to someone, resulting in pain or discomfort. As I am closer to the end of my life than he beginning, thoughts like this are more common. I read something today that made me pause; it was a devotional that addressed forgiveness, titled as shown above. It is painful to think about the times I have disappointed or hurt someone. In my heart and prayers, I hope that somehow I have asked others to forgive me. The wonderful Rector of our church offers me absolution through confession; every time he does this, I am thankful. I do “humbly confess my sins”.

This was a Monday. At this exact date in time, I was probably walking the halls of Jefferson High, thinking of when the lunch bell would ring or what my girlfriend, Diana, had in mind after school. Frequently, someone would plan a party in their parents’ garage, so we would look forward to a make-out party disguised as a social gathering, where we would certainly hear these songs over and over. My personal favorite was (and is) “Rebel Rouser” man, that guy could play his Twangy Guitar. Ah, memories – I often hear that song on Spotify – Who knew?

Until recently, I’d never used Facebook Marketplace; it seemed like I lived in a cave, but it was new to me. I needed a printer stand, so I signed up for the marketplace site to see what was available.

Well, I found a terrific one that’s perfect for my space, and it was a genuine bargain. It appears that I visited Bloomingdale’s, and a decorator assisted me. Since then, I often browse the marketplace site, and seeing the items folks put up for sale amazes me.

It’s like looking at people’s closets, garages, and reminders of past wins and losses. A case in point is the increasing number of wedding and engagement rings, bridal attire (worn only once, please), and shoes that look pretty tired out. Yet, the shoes are always offered as “new in the box” despite clear evidence that they are ready for the trash.

It’s fascinating to see the range of goods (and services) offered on the site. For example, just today, I saw a “nearly new” RV that looked like a home on wheels offered at $142,000. A few clicks later, I saw a 2004 SUV for $1,000, and the seller posted this comment: “Actually, the photos make the car look better than it is.” I like that guy.

The site is addictive. It’s like watching QVC beaming from a garage sale. Please don’t think I’m critical of the site: I sold a car on Marketplace in 3 days to a family whose daughter is beginning college, and it was her first car. She was thrilled, and so was I.