Aging

poor georgie’s almanack:

Fullmerite, the opposite of Kryptonite. 

Today Paul Fullmer’s wife Sandra informed legions of his fans that Paul is struggling with pneumonia and under hospice care.

The long time head of Selz/Seabolt, a Chicago public relations company, Paul hired me to lead the company’s Washington, DC office.

He is a gentle, but firm man, an extraordinarily thoughtful strategist, writer, and editor.  Paul is the smart affable type of boss few have the good luck to work with.

Occasionally, I flew into Chicago for meetings.  If the timing was right, Paul would invite me to lunch with a few personal friends.

Not surprisingly, because Chicago is such a big-time sports-infused kind of town, even before the waiter could take our orders, there would begin a discussion of the latest rumors about the Cubs, Bears, Blackhawks, Bulls and, especially his beloved Notre Dame. 

One day new topic arose … aging.  That was the day I became a Fullmerite, a follower of Fullmer.

Kryptonite, you might remember, is an alien mineral that drains Superman of his powers.

Fullmerite is a concept that has the power of making anyone a super man.

What Paul projected was to enjoy life as much as you can, do the best you can, and most of all, be a nice person.  It can be empowering.

Paul Fullmer is a very nice man.

I love that guy.

George Kroloff



Paul and Sandra Fullmer (center) pose with Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer during an annual meeting of the American Society of Golf Course Architects.  Sandra is a world class golfer. 
(Photo courtesy of Paul and Sandra Fullmer)

NEW YEAR'S PROVERB

New Year’s proverb.

 

As of heads of state going back further than the successors of Genghis Khan kept forgetting. 

 

One who measures his success by comparing it with a foreign ruler is starting off the New Year on the wrong foot.

 

 

Dark Materials

poor georgie’s almanack

His Dark Materials #1. 




A true Presidential Debate story that ends in a terrible pun.

While flying into St. Louis in 2000 to work behind the scenes at a presidential debate I read a review that said a trilogy of books written by Philip Pullman was even better fantasy than the Harry Potter.  Nineteen years later, Pullman’s trilogy is the basis for the HBO series “His Dark Materials.”

When the first day of set-up for the TV debate finally ended I set out to buy Pullman’s “The Golden Compass, and a cigar, a bottle of red wine and a big chunk of cheese.

The team working with the nonpartisan Commission on Presidential Debates was very comfortably housed in a Ritz-Carlton hotel.  My upper floor room featured a glass paneled door with a permanently attached gauze-like curtain inside.  The door opened to reveal  a small balcony with a small round table and a small chair.   I rearranged a couple floor lamps just inside the air-conditioned room to shed just enough light through the curtain to be able to read the book on the balcony.

Then I dug into the cheese and filled the big wine glass.  A hotel towel was my placemat.  Immediately, I was enveloped by Pullman’s writing.  

At about page three, with eyes riveted on the words, I reached for the glass and inadvertently tipped it over.  The contents spilled out onto the rim of the patio.

Glass didn’t break.  Cleaned the table with the towel.  No harm done.  Refilled the goblet, and on to page four.

Maybe 15 minutes later, the book’s fantasy spell was abruptly broken by a very scary real-life rustling noise from behind the glass door.  A huge shadow appeared on the gauze curtain … it looked like a very big man, or maybe a Rottweiler standing on two legs, a top leg touching the door knob.

I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no way to yell or even breath because my wildly beating heart was exploding inside my narrowly constricting esophagus.

The door slowly swung open and a dapper giant of a man quietly asked, “Are you alright?”

It took but seconds for my heart to slither back into it’s assigned cavity and the reason for an unexpected visit from Hotel “Security.”  

Someone below had seen red drops dripping from my balcony and assumed it was vital fluids.

Thus explaining why, in fantasy cops and robbers tales, police officers often are called bloodhounds.

nazi image, disturbing fact

poor georgie’s almanack:

Disturbing thought and image. 

DNA researchers report that, through intermarriage, all native Europeans are cousins with a common ancestor born around 1000 AD. 

Thus, Nazis killed their relatives.

In my mind is the black widow spider that eats it mate.