Tag Archives: life

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Darting Around

I’ve never been one for sports. I don’t religiously follow teams, though I will watch a game recap. I could never properly perform a basketball layup, throw or catch a football with any finesse, or hit a baseball no matter how hard I tried, so I was always the last one to get picked for a team.

I was turned off from tennis when some bozo said he’d coach me for free, but it turned out he just wanted someone he could blast 200mph serves at. I had even bought a tennis racket with the intention of learning the basics. Besides, I figured women might take notice (more like pity) of a strapping young man trying to whack a fuzzy yellow ball across a net and failing miserably. And, sadly, no women took notice. 

A friend of mine tried and failed to teach me the finer points of golf. While I enjoy smacking the hell out of those little white balls on a driving range, I absolutely suck at playing the game on a course. I figured that if I was going to spend that much time in sand traps, I may as well go to a beach instead.

There are really only two activities that may loosely be considered sports that I am any good at: table tennis (ping pong) and darts.

I picked up table tennis during my stint in the military while stationed in Thailand. I was looking for something to do that didn’t cost money and didn’t involve drinking. I started playing in the NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) rec rooms on the bases wherever I was stationed, and I got to be fairly good, winning more matches than I lost.

During my time at IBM, I had a manager who also enjoyed ping pong and was quite good at it, though he was half again my age at the time. We discovered that IBM had a table tennis setup in one of the lounges on site, and my manager and I would go and play during our lunch breaks. 

We weren’t in the league of those world class players who stand ten feet away from the table and can make the ball move blindingly fast or seem to hover just above the net, but we had a lot of fun. 

I don’t play anymore, though I’m sure I’ll pick it up again given the opportunity.

I started playing darts after looking for something that my then-wife and I could do together after my daughter went off to college. I bought an electronic dart board. It wasn’t very good and broke not long after we started playing regularly. But we played enough that we were hooked, so I bought better one.

While I got fairly decent at it, my ex got really good, beating me 3 out of 5 games almost every time we played. I think she practiced while I was at work, though she never would admit it. 

She had a very unconventional way of throwing. She would swing her arms like a baseball pitcher winding up for a pitch, then throw the dart, not hard, but with uncanny accuracy. My throwing style at the time was copied from players I’d seen on the internet. They all threw basically the same way; using the forearm and wrist to kind of flick the dart. These guys were pros, but my mimicked throw produced mixed results. You can imagine my frustration at losing to a woman who threw darts like a Yankee pitcher trying for a no-hitter.

Since that time, my dart throwing accuracy has improved. Back in 2019, the organization that hosted me while I was in Namibia, the Rössing Foundation, had put on a sporting event for its employees. Darts was among the activities, and I won the first-place trophy! The first time I’d ever won a trophy for anything!

That’s my friend, Florian, on the left.

While I was in Namibia, I found that the locals also enjoyed darts, and I would play them after work at a local bar. It was there, oddly enough, that I learned to associate beer with darts. An association that I enjoy to this day.

My skills had improved since returning from Namibia (so did my beer drinking), enough so that I wound up on a team in the Orlando Darts League. We played out of Fiddler’s Green in Winter Park. I was there for 3 seasons, and the second season I was there, we were first in our division and got a trophy for our efforts!  Every game was enhanced by a pint or two of Guinness. 

That’s my name I’m pointing to.

Since moving to the Greenville, SC area, however, my dart throwing skills have declined dramatically. I was still good enough to get signed onto a team out of Doc’s Tavern in Greenville, and we actually won first place in our division last season, but we did so without much help from me. This season my team, called ‘No Ton Intended’, moved up to Division 2 and we are getting spanked soundly by nearly every team we’ve played so far. And I don’t think I’ve won a match yet this season, regardless of how many beers I drank.

The plaque was a surprise. Not sure how many of those empty spots I’ll fill in.

I know what the problem is: practice, or rather, the lack of it. Like any skill, throwing a pointy bit of metal at a 1-inch diameter target about 8 feet away and hitting it consistently takes practice. Lots and lots of practice. 

A quick search on the internet reveals that professional darters practice anywhere between 1 hour up to an astounding 12 hours a day!! I’m retired and I enjoy throwing, but 12 hours a day?? 

Nope!

Still, after reviewing my league performance so far this season, it’s obvious that I need to practice. A lot. The problem is that I have nothing to practice on. I’ve moved into my house about 4 months ago, and my focus has been on fitting up the house to make it feel like home. The apartment I had the year before I moved in was so small that I had to go outside to change my mind. (Old joke, but still makes me chuckle.) Places where I could go to practice were inconveniently far away for daily throws. What I need is a dart setup here, in my house somewhere. 

Now, I’m on a mission!

Other tasks around the house have been put on hold until I can establish a dart practice space. I can’t just throw a dartboard on a wall and have at it. A dartboard must be hung at a specific height (5 feet, 8 inches from floor to bullseye) and must be a specific distance from the throw line (7 feet, 8 and 3/4 inches). There must be proper lighting. There should be a backboard behind the dartboard that can catch errant throws without causing damage to the wall. And more. 

An engineering challenge that is not outside the scope of my abilities.

So, after careful consideration ( and a few beers), I’ve decided to build a dart practice setup consisting of, not 1, not 2, but 3 dart boards: a regulation board, a practice board where the high-point target areas are all reduced in size, and an electronic dart board.

I’m going to go all out with this setup. I’m putting it in my garage. The walls will be painted. The floor will be epoxy-coated, and the garage will be kept neat and free of clutter and accumulated stuff. 

That’s the goal anyway. Right now, the floor is bare concrete. The walls are painted, but there’s stuff everywhere. 

I’m working on it!

OK, so, it’s a work in progress, but there is progress. Check out these photos…

Turns out that grey felt won’t hold a metal tipped dart. Had to take it off.
The electronic board is just a fun addition.
Finished! Well, almost. That place on the left is for a training board.

It turned out pretty good, even after a few missteps. 

So, now that I have a place to practice, I have no excuse not to get better. But, you how people will make a resolution to lose weight and exercise more, and they spend a lot of money and buy fancy exercise equipment and set it all up, then promptly ignore it? 

Yeah. 

Stay tuned.

Vern

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New Home, New Chapter

A Lot Going On:

It’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog. It isn’t just that I’ve ignored it, I have, but it’s also because I’ve had other pressing issues on my mind. I’m not one to turn to social media for opinions about what I consider to be personal issues. I’m used to keeping very exclusive counsel, which tends to be none other than myself. 

So, though I’m still dealing with my private issues, I’ve found enough mental capacity to talk about stuff I can air publicly. And I’ve got a lot to talk about.

First and foremost, after a year of waiting, I’m finally in my new house! I’ve been in it about a month now, and I’ve got a lot to do. But here it is.

Casa de Vern

It’s nothing grand, just a small 3-bedroom, 2-bath home that’s a tad under 1500 square feet. Perfect size for a guy looking to keep life simple. 

The problem with moving into a new house (or any house that’s new to you) is that you have to somehow make that space your own. That’s what I’m up against. I gotta figure out what furniture to buy, what colors to paint the walls, what bed and mattress to get, and on and on. Of course, me being me, I want my new house to have some smarts, but I don’t want my private life a hackable password away from being on the Internet. So, I have to pay closer attention to the smart devices I intend to put in my house.

Giving My House Some Brains:

Today’s builders, in an attempt to offer buyers “smart home” options, really don’t give buyers much choice. At least that’s true for us on the cheaper end of the buying spectrum. That tends to mean that the devices they offer aren’t privacy-oriented. For instance, my supposedly smart thermostat from Honeywell will only function in a smart way if I connect it to the Internet and create an account on some server. I can do things manually, of course, and that’s how I’ve set it up, but the damned thing keeps popping up an alert screen begging me to connect it to the Internet and an account so that I may enjoy the benefits of controlling the temperature in my house while I’m not in it. 

Again, I’m all about a smart home, but why do I have to create an account for every device I install? My garage door opener wants an account, my doorbell wants an account. Heck, even stuff that’s not smart begs me to create an account so that I can activate my 60-day warranty. As you may well have guessed by now, all of these accounts are just ways for these companies to gather information about you and your buying habits. It’s not like I have anything worth hiding, and I’m not a conspiracy theorist who believes some dark and nefarious entity is using my data to mind-control me into buying more Chinese-made stuff. (I don’t need mind control, I just need a free afternoon, my Amazon account, and a credit card.) It’s just that it’s MY data, my privacy. It’s not something I want to just throw around the web and hope no bad player takes notice of it. 

So, to minimize my exposure as much as possible, I minimize the number of accounts I create and I use Apple products. 

Before you Android and Windows fanboys start yelling, let me say that, while Apple products can and do fall prey to hacking and other such nefarious activities, it’s been shown time and again that Apple’s focus on security and privacy exceeds what is available on Windows and Android systems. 

The problem, however, is that, because Windows and Android systems try to put gee-whiz technology in the hands of the general public quickly while being less concerned about privacy (see Alexa’s ability to do far more than what the current implementation of Apple’s Siri can do, but also note that Siri tries to keep your requests and data local and in your control), there are more smart devices available for those systems than for Apple’s HomeKit smart system. Luckily, that’s changing.

A new standard for smart systems, called MATTER, looks to unify smart systems and the devices they support. Apple has wisely started supporting the MATTER standard. Now, instead of having to download an app and create an account to install and set up a smart device, you simply scan a QR code on the MATTER-compatible device. HomeKit, Alexa, Google Home, or other smart systems that support MATTER will recognize the device and integrate it into your system automagically. You can then interact with that system to set up the device’s features and functions. Truth is, currently some features and functions are only accessible through the device-exclusive apps, but that’s changing as the MATTER standard evolves.

A MATTER Smart Plug. Couldn’t be easier.

For example, smart camera doorbells offer advanced features like face recognition, activity zone alerts, and more. Those advanced features that are currently not accessible through HomeKit, Google Home, or Alexa, which only offer access to basic functions, like an alert when someone rings the doorbell. If you want to use the more advanced features, then you must download the device’s app and create an account. As I’ve said, MATTER fixes that, or will fix it. The MATTER standard for camera doorbells will be in the next release. With all of the more advanced features, it is a bit harder to work up a standard for more complicated smart equipment.

Anyway, it’s happening.

BTW: Reach out if you’re thinking about giving your house some brains. I may have a few suggestions for you that might help make that move easier.

Projects, Projects, More Projects:

Back to my new house.

Another task one must complete to make a house a home is to decorate. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no good at decorating. The décor in my last house might be called ‘Modern Man-Cave’. I painted the walls colors that I liked and put in furniture that appealed to me. The place was clean, spartan, yet comfortable, at least to me it was. And I guess that’s what’s important. Now, however, I want a bit more than clean and comfortable. 

If you’ve read some of my earlier posts, then you may remember me talking about following the Mid-Century Modern design ethic, and while I was tucked away in that tiny apartment waiting for this house to be built, I bought a few items that I thought would work well once I moved into my newly completed house. 

It turns out that the pieces I bought, a credenza and two chairs, do indeed follow the Mid-Century Modern design, but the chairs are a bit too big for the space they were intended for. Even so, it’s starting to come together, albeit slowly. That’s okay; I’m in no rush.

Since moving in, I’ve bought a nice dark brown leather couch, a small black coffee table, and a cool, small, black swivel chair. I had only bought one chair because I wasn’t sure I’d like it. Now that it’s here and definitely fits the space, I want to buy another, but the price has increased by about $200. I suppose I have the current administration’s tariff policy to thank for that. Now I need to wait to see if it will ever go on sale. 

Every day I try to check an item off the very long list of things I need to do. One project I recently completed turned out great. 

At 14 feet by 16 feet, the large bedroom is easily the largest room in the house. With a nice-sized walk-in closet and a large bathroom with a large bathtub, tiled shower, and a closeted toilet, the bedroom is more like a suite. 

I wanted to do something interesting for this bedroom, to elevate it to a sanctuary yet remain in keeping with my minimalist Mid-Century Modern ideology. While browsing design articles and sites, I saw a dining room that had a floral mural on one of its walls. The wallpaper mural set the tone for the whole room, and that gave me the idea to try to find something like it that might work in my bedroom. It took a while, but I settled on a foggy early morning forest scene. It took me, and it took a friend, and me an afternoon to put it up. I’m quite happy with the results.

Wallpaper mural looks like I can walk into my wall.

Now I’ve got to paint the other walls, put up window treatment, find a suitable area rug, set up the bed, and so on. It may never be completely finished, but it has a great start. Once I get the room further along, I’ll post more photos.

More on my new house adventures in a bit.

Stay tuned.

Vern

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Gravity

I left Baltimore when I was 17, leaving behind everyone and everything I had known up to that point. Since then, I’ve never truly felt settled. No matter how far I’ve traveled, how breathtaking the vistas I’ve seen, or how fascinating the people I’ve met, there was always this persistent attraction, like gravity’s pull of a massive star on a small, wayward rock in space, towards the mid-Atlantic region of the U.S. 

I’d joined the Air Force and, like many others in the military regardless of the branch of service they’re in, I moved from place to place when ordered to do so. But military life, while vastly different and far more interesting than my life on the streets of Baltimore, was too restrictive for me. I was honorably discharged after 9 years of service. My wife wanted me to remain in the military for a full two decades and retire. In retrospect, I likely should have, but at the time, staying in was becoming increasingly difficult for me. I felt like I was missing out on a technological revolution, something I believed I needed to be a part of. This was the early 1980s, when computers were just beginning to permeate every aspect of people’s lives. I firmly believed that my career, my future, was intimately dependent on that blossoming technology. So, I left the military, dragging my pregnant wife, my son, and a miniature Schnauzer from North Carolina to California in a tiny Honda, and in search of a new life. 

From that point on, I went wherever an opportunity to advance my career presented itself, and often those opportunities were in places I’d never imagined I’d be. Places with names like Redondo Beach, California; Winooski, Vermont; East Fishkill, New York; Ashdod, Israel; and Oviedo, Florida. Ultimately I wound up in Florida, but regardless of where I landed, there was always that familiar, subtle, but insistent pull, an unfulfilled yearning that, at times, I couldn’t quite articulate and I could never adequately satisfy.

After my children grew up and started their own families, and after my marriage ended, I found myself in a position where I could, if I truly wanted to, allow myself to be drawn by that subtle attraction. I suppose, at that time, I didn’t want to. I had built a life in Florida. I had close relationships and places where I could simply be myself. Yet that yearning persisted, refusing to be suppressed or ignored. 

In 2017, after weathering an emotional storm, I found that I needed to travel and make a positive impact on some cause, to focus on something beyond my personal interests. So, I joined the Peace Corps. That was an incredible and fulfilling adventure, but in 2020, COVID abruptly ended it, leaving me back in Florida with that ever-present yearning, persistently beckoning.

Deciding to leave a place that has been your home for over three decades isn’t easy. I grappled with that question for a very long time. I was aware that, just as when I left Baltimore many years ago, I would be leaving behind so much that had become an integral part of who I am. It takes time to adapt to a new environment, even one that was once familiar to me. I would be trading cherished relationships, familiar places where I’ve always felt welcome, and the comforting warmth that comes with familiarity for strangers, new places, and periods of loneliness. If my decision had been solely based on emotions, I probably would have chosen to stay. However, other factors influenced my choice, and yes, that persistent yearning weighed heavily in my ultimate decision to leave.

Click to see the video.

Now, several months after moving to a place just north of Greenville, S.C., I’ve begun to settle. I don’t need Apple Maps to find my way around anymore. There’s a bar in a restaurant that I stop in from time to time. The barkeep knows me well enough to have a Modelo Negra with lime on the counter by the time I pull up a stool. I’ve met some interesting people in that restaurant too; a retired lawyer who’s lived in the area since 1995, another Florida transplant who shuffles between a tiny house in the hills of Tennessee with an amazing view to D.C. with Greenville as his way station, a comedian who’s promoting a show to support The American Cancer Society, and so many more.

There are real seasons here too; the luminous mating dance of fireflies in the summer, a kaleidoscope of colors in the  autumn, biting cold winds in winter.  

And snow!

Click to see the video.

I hadn’t been in a significant snowfall in more than 20 years and it was wonderful to see. I had a silly grin plastered on my face to whole day while it snowed. I was so inspired by it that I produced a short video. You can see it by clicking on the photos..

As I look forward to spring, I’ve noticed that the yearning that has been my constant companion for so very long is quieter now. While it still lingers, its influence has diminished. Instead of dominating my quiet moments, it now coexists with a more reserved presence. I interpret this as a positive sign, indicating that I’m on the right path, that being here where the trees dress and undress to fit the seasons, and where the landscape undulates like frozen mountainous waves towards the horizon, feels like it’s where I need to be. The yearning’s continued presence, however, suggests that there is still more I need to do.

My sister recently texted me about an event that might finally satisfy that yearning. In May of this year, my paternal family members will gather in southern Virginia for a reunion. I believe the southern Virginia border, westward towards West Virginia, is the epicenter of the attractive force that has been tugging at me for most of my life.

I don’t know much about my father’s family or its history. I do know that both my mother and father originally came from the southwestern region of Virginia, and that there are many who bear the Seward family name who still call that area home. In fact, I had seriously considered settling there myself. 

I intend to go to this reunion in hopes that I can learn more about why I’m so drawn to that place. 

There’s a memory I have, a recollection so old it’s like a faded photograph, that might hold some clues.

When I was very young, maybe 3 or 4 years old, I remember a long trip that my father took me on. I recall seeing lots of trees as he drove for what seemed like hours and hours. When we finally stopped we had pulled into a long dirt driveway, each side was walled by tall green corn stalks. At the end of the driveway stood a modest house. A huge tree stood next to the house.

During one of my visits to Baltimore as an adult my sister told me that the house with the tree exists. The house and the farmland around it belongs to a relative on my father’s side. The memory has left me wondering, and hoping, that that place is what has been pulling at me all these years, that my returning to it will finally sate that yearning and I can find some peace.

I look forward to May.

Stay tuned,

Vern

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Pieces and Parts

I left home when I was 17. It seems I’ve been traveling ever since. 

The truth is that, while I am prone to moving around, I’ve been in one place for the largest portion of my life. That place is Orlando, Florida. I’ve been here close to 30 years! As I think about it, I find that it’s hard for me to reconcile the fact that so much time has passed, and so much has changed.

When I came to Orlando I was married, working on building my career in IT, and saw being here as another adventure. Things pretty much worked out along those lines. Fast forward 25+ years and I am now divorced, retired, and getting ready for another adventure. I’m moving to South Carolina.

Some may see this new chapter as an ill-considered decision, but a lot of thought went into it. I knew I would leave Florida eventually, well before I knew where I would wind up. I was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. To paraphrase a lyric from Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘The Boxer’; four seasons, deciduous trees, hilly landscapes, and cooler weather are a breed in me, a need in me. There are other factors that pushed me into deciding to move, but, if I’m honest with myself, I knew it was always going to happen.

When I first started looking around for places I might land my first consideration was in the Appalachians, specifically south-western Virginia. My parents and my grandparents came from that area and I thought it might not be a bad idea to get back to my roots, learn more about my family’s history. While in the Peace Corps I had thought that maybe I should expand my search. While I love nature and being outdoors, I am an urban kid at heart and there are only small to medium sized towns in that part of the country. 

I then considered Johnson City, Tennessee. It’s certainly big enough with a nice size university in town, guaranteeing a level of diversity and urban flavor that I like while being close to many state and national parks. And that area has a thriving music scene fed by its proximity to Bristol, Tennessee and Nashville. 

But I had a chance to stay with some friends who live near Greenville, South Carolina. Each time I visited my friends showed me more of what Greenville had to offer, which turns out to be quite a lot. Like Johnson City, Greenville is close to one of our country’s original music generating cities. The area chock full of talented artists and musicians. It’s near many state and national parks and only a few hours from beaches, for when I feel the need to see the ocean. The weather is mild, varied and, most of all, the area has four distinct seasons. And I can afford to live there. What’s not to like?

Even though Orlando has never felt like home to me it is a place that I’ve come to love. If you spend 25+ years in a place there’s bound to be something about it that becomes a part of who you are. That’s really what happened to me. I’ve enjoyed the beaches here, and the storms. When the weather is nice it can be really nice. Most of all, I’ve enjoyed the people I’ve met while here. Most of them I knew from my job, but lately, many are people I’ve met who share a common love of music, among other things. These are people I can truly call my friends. As I pack up my belongings and prepare to leave the house I’ve owned for 10 years, my heart aches as the many, many memories drift through my mind.

One of my friends wrote a poem to commemorate my leaving. It so inspired me to write one too. So, to my many wonderful friends, a poem:

Pieces
By Vern Seward

I like to think that I’m a wandering man
Never satisfied to stay
To leave my footprints in foreign sands
And relish foreign days.

But truth be told, where ever I go,
Whatever sights I behold
I leave behind a part of me,
A little bit of my soul.

And yet my soul is not undone,
It’s bigger than before
For each bit that I leave behind
Is replaced by even more.

For in whatever place I be
It’s the people whom I meet
That makes each place a memory,
That makes my soul complete.

And when I leave for other sights,
For places yet to discover,
I take the bits of soul they gave,
Which helps mine to recover.

Now, to those I leave behind
Please know that I take with me
The bits of you that are so fine,
Pieces that will sustain me.

Be well.

Stay tuned.

Vern