2011 RhodySquash RI Open

Made it to the finals ... forizzle!

Weekend at Maddox ... not Bernie's #lamejoke

Smile needs some work

Last weekend, Gabe and I joined the legendary Ed Maddox at what we had come to know as "The Cape." It was, as always, an absolute pleasure to see old friends, discuss new experiences, and attempt -- ultimately to no avail -- to cure Maddox of his liberal leanings. While somewhat hesitant to get in the car without a helmet, Gabe eventually agreed to drive up with me, after we finished coaching the Saturday session of RhodySquash. We came to find out that "The Cape" is in fact Cotuit, a lovely seaside town. Despite a very late start, we arrived in the afternoon, and shot the s**t with Maddox for about an hour, after which we went to see Anonymous, the logical movie choice after a full term in Shakespeare and the Death of Kings. Dinner with a live band followed, and though we all tried to survive insipid Republican soundbites and watch the GOP foreign policy debate, we eventually hit the hay (under heated blankets I might add). The next morning, I tried to recreate a Choate breakfast for a Choate alum and teacher, but was too out of my element. If only I had a picture of the final product! Maddox gave us a tour of Cotuit, after which Gabe and I made the long trek home.

Jeffery Laikind visits

I had the pleasure of hosting Jeffery Laikind last week at my house! Originally, I planned the visit to catch up with Mr. Laikind post-graduation and show him RhodySquash, an organization which benefited immensely from his advice in our early, "I have no idea what I'm doing" stages. As Chip lovingly describes, he was a Choate Godfather to me, and his advice and wisdom consistently proved accurate. On Wednesday, I picked Mr. Laikind up from the Amtrak station, after which we had a nice lunch at a diner. We headed to TMS in what would prove a corroboration of Murphy's Law. First, the bus was 15 minutes late, prompting me to think that on the one day that we had a visitor, the transportation fell through. In addition, we ran into a student we rejected earlier this year. Though 25 minutes late, the actual program ran quite smoothly, and the kids responded extremely well to many of Mr. Laikind's stories of adversity from his childhood. That night, Mr. Laikind and I went to Thames Street Kitchen. RhodySquash and fundraising were the subjects of conversation, but we also had an opportunity to catch up on a more personal level. Mr. Laikind slept the night, and after an inspired breakfast of egg-sandwiches a la our alma mater -- Choate -- I drove Mr. Laikind back to Kingston and resumed the ever difficult task of fundraising!

The magic 15

Recruiting Board members has proved difficult. 15 doesn't seem like a big number. It is. Board growth has been stagnant. We have seven, myself included. I've been going for big names and big money. If StreetSquash has Mort Zuckerman, why can't we have Ruth Simmons? This rant amounts to one concern; I have always had the nagging fear that RhodySquash suffers from"small town fundraising syndrome." Compared to New York, there are only so many people, and even fewer play squash. As essentially a professional fundraiser, I begin the conversation with "squash is not a vegetable," before I can even explain the RhodySquash mission. That said, our job is not impossible. On more than one occasion, and correctly so, I've been reminded that Newport is the land of the rich, once home to the Vanderbilt's and Astor's. I'll eventually crack this fundraising cookie. In the meantime, we've already secured slightly over a half a year's budget!

So it's been awhile ...

This has been a pretty busy week for me re: RhodySquash. We've transitioned from recruiting kids to fundraising. Kids are number one, obviously. I couldn't raise money for an idea, however. Imagine me asking, "support the budget of a non -- but soon to be -- existent program." That's not how it works. As I've mentioned in the past, we have 13 enthusiastic and low income students from Thompson Middle School. Aside from implementing the mission, our Board has charged me with broadening the fundraising base beyond the generosity of a few families. To that end, I continue to fill out grants (though my court tennis doubles partner informed me that we we're unsuccessful with the RI Foundation) and have approached every credit union in the state. Next I'll hit up the law firms, and we'll go from there. We continue to plan for the 2011 RhodySquash RI Open for individual donations. In addition, I had a lovely lunch with Martha, the director of Universal Promise, and we exchanged ideas that mutually benefited both our nonprofits.


Also, having been inspired by Diners, Drive-in, and Dives, I went to Crazy Burger and it was totally underwhelming. Does Guy fake pleasure. On a price/satisfaction/convenience scale, I'd choose Five Guys any day!

Happy St. Crispian's Day!

"This is good stuff." - Ned Gallagher, Shakespeare and the Death of Kings, Spring 2011

Enter the KING

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
    But one ten thousand of those men in England
    That do no work to-day!
 
KING. What's he that wishes so?
    My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
    If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
    To do our country loss; and if to live,
    The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
    God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
    By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
    Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
    It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
    But if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.
    No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
    God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
    As one man more methinks would share from me
    For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
    Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
    That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
    Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
    And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
    We would not die in that man's company
    That fears his fellowship to die with us.
    This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
    He that shall live this day, and see old age,
    Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
    And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
    Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
    And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
    Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
    But he'll remember, with advantages,
    What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
    Familiar in his mouth as household words-
    Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
    Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
    This story shall the good man teach his son;
    And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
    From this day to the ending of the world,
    But we in it shall be remembered-
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
    For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
    Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
    This day shall gentle his condition;
    And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
    Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

A lovely weekend in Boston!

Photo courtesy of Gail

Armed with a driver's license, I headed to Boston to see the Head of the Charles. I was lucky enough to stay with Gail, my Mom's best friend from childhood. Gail met me at Back Bay, and we quickly went to Cambridge. For some reason, I expected to see 1000s of people; it seemed there were less (contrary to what the pictures suggest). However, Gail and I headed to the Reunion Village, hoping to see some Choate friends and faculty. Gail can attest; for the tuition, the Choate tent proved profoundly disappointing. Even Deerfield offered Dunkin! The Charles itself was spectacular. Reunion Village lies between the Weeks and Andersen Bridges, the most precarious straight of the course. You may remember that a Chinese boat crashed and sank at that point last year. We witnessed some world class crew, and I've been inspired to try intramural rowing next Fall. Alex Brake, my Latin buddy, joined us for a while, before Gail and I left to work out. That night, we ate at a great Japanese restaurant called FuGakYu (chuckle, chuckle). Exhausted and exposed, Gail and I hit the hay pretty early. The next morning, Gail and I had breakfast and shopped, after which we bid farewell, and I took the lonely ride home.

The experience was great; but I'm with Gail on Boston. I've checked it off of my "to live" list, ever mindful that it has an incredibly unfavorable tax structure.

Photo courtesy of Gail