NFL's return this week highlights sport's power in America

America's undisputed most popular TV show is back this week. So is America's most popular sport.

They are the same thing: The NFL.

Just a few years after we learned conclusively that many former players suffered brain injuries due to the sport, the NFL has a stronger hold than ever on American sports fans and it's not even close.

When asked in a recent survey, 37% of Americans said football was their favorite sport, more than double baseball, which was second.

TV ratings show an even more dramatic edge. When it comes to getting viewers, the NFL dominates other sports in America like the Bears dominated the then-Redskins in the 1940 NFL championship game: Chicago 73, Washington 0 (hey! NFL trivia!).

To wit:

Among the 25 most-watched TV shows so far this year, 15 are NFL games (Key point: only the final week of the 2020 season and 13 playoff games were played in 2021).  In fact, 14 of the 15 most-watched shows were NFL games (the exception: President Biden's inauguration, which came in sixth, just ahead of an AFC wild-card playoff game).

The Super Bowl dominates TV viewership in 2021, just like every year. But every NFL playoff game made the top 25 most-watched shows. Heck, two regular-season games made the list (and more would have, except as mentioned, there was only the one week of the regular season in 2021).

Further proof of how football dominates TV ratings: In addition to the 15 NFL games, the top-25 list of shows for 2021 also includes three college football games.

If you asked me in 2015 or 2016, I would have said that interest in football in 2021 would be on the decline. The increased spotlight on brain trauma suffered by former NFL, college and high school players was obvious. Parents would pull their sons from football in favor of other sports. The energy of most NFL broadcasts (Brash! Dangerous! Spectacular!) would wear thin.

Basketball was coming fast. It was a social media sport – NBA stars are active on Twitter and Instagram, league rumors churn year-round, it's a great TV sport. Soccer was on the way, with European leagues attracting much of the NFL's core audience of young males. Mixed martial arts was growing rapidly, with pay-per-view events airing constantly. Maybe even baseball would come back.

A few years later, the NFL is bigger, badder and more powerful than ever. The next group of TV contracts will set new records – and based on ratings, they should.

It all comes back this week as the Cowboys (America's Team) and the Buccaneers (Super Bowl champions) kick off the season Thursday. The 49ers and Raiders both play Sunday. Tens of millions (hundreds of millions?) of viewers will be glued to their screens, watching the games, tracking their fantasy leagues, enjoying what the league offers..

There's the possibility that, like me, you're not a huge NFL fan. But like many things over the past several years, get used to it.

The NFL is a dominant feature of American life and is gaining steam.

The NFL is king of American sports and culture.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com. 

NASA's artificial Mars mission plan sounds awfully familiar

You are qualified for a job advertised by NASA.

NASA is taking applications for four people to live in an artificial Martian habitat for a year. While there, they will conduct spacewalks, have limited communication with home and exist with restricted food and resources. Oh, there will be occasional equipment failures.

Kind of like that period when your toilet paper supply was running low, you walked around the block once a day and you couldn't figure out how to do a video call with family. Except you'll get paid. By NASA.

NASA seeking people for the fall 2022 mission that will be followed by two others – each lasting a year. Three tries.

The initial announcement said NASA is looking for "healthy, motivated U.S. citizens or permanent residents who are non-smokers, age 30 to 55 years old, and proficient in English for effective communication between crew and mission control." The selection of the crew will follow standard NASA criteria for astronauts, which is to say most of us don't qualify.

Candidates are required to have a master’s degree in a STEM field such as engineering, mathematics, or biological, physical or computer science from an accredited institution with at least two years of professional STEM experience or a minimum of one thousand hours piloting an aircraft.

However, that's not rigid. NASA says it may also consider candidates who have completed two years of work toward a doctoral program in STEM, or completed a medical degree, or a test pilot program. (Still, almost none of us qualify). The announcement also said NASA will consider candidates with four years of professional experience, applicants who have completed military officer training or a bachelor's of science degree in a STEM field. One more step down and many of us might qualify.

The four "winners" will live in a house-sized habitat in Houston that is created by a 3-D printer. It's called Mars Dune Alpha and takes up 1,700 square feet in the Johnson Space Center.

Let's step back a moment and consider what's being sought. Those who get the gig will:

• Live with three other people for a year in a 1,700-square-foot space.
• Have limited communications with outsiders.
• Have limited food and resources.

Forget that "qualification" stuff. You're qualified for this! So am I!

This job sound like the past 18  months.

Sure, they want people to do scientific experiments to simulate what will happen on Mars, but didn't we show that we were qualified when we were creating handmade masks and finding replacements for toilet paper? Will NASA acknowledge our experience from we were having to figure out how to keep our kids learning while not going crazy? Do we get credit for our COVID gardens or our "creative projects" we started during the lockdowns?

NASA is still our best and brightest. NASA sent 24 men to the moon and returned them safely. NASA dreams big.

Mars is worth exploring and I'm on board with having people  simulate living on Mars in isolation with very little communication with their friends and family.

We could do this! However, I'm not very interested in doing it and I suspect most of us aren't.

For one thing, most of us don't qualify under NASA's exacting standards.

But the main reason we're not interested is that spending a year in isolation, trying to navigate a dangerous new world where things are difficult, unprecedented and potentially lethal doesn't sound like fun.

It sounds like 2020.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The movie-like story behind a 70-year-old electric shaver

Mrs. Brad and I drove to our hometown a few weeks ago to visit my dad. He's 90 and still going relatively strong: He still drives. He watches a lot of golf on TV. He has opinions on sports and politics and pop culture. He has a flip phone. He has a girlfriend.

As we were sitting on the couch in his apartment, Dad suddenly remembered something.

"Do you need a satchel?" he asked me. Quickly trying to remember what a satchel is (a briefcase!) I initially said no, then realized he wanted to give it to me. So of course I need one. I'm sure I could use it someday.

He brought it out, explaining its origin. He received it when he became a manager at Arthur Young & Co., the old accounting firm, in the early 1960s. He got a new leather satchel and a raise, he said. The satchel was in good shape, with some old accounting ledger sheets in it. I took it and smiled. His story made it cooler. Maybe I'll use it.

Then he remembered something else. "Oh, do you want an electric razor? It's my old one."

An electric razor?

My dad brought out an old Norelco plug-in shaver. Cool, right? The story is better.

My dad won the shaver in a poker game. On a ship. Coming back from the Korean War in 1953.

Is there a better story than that behind what's ostensibly an electronic device of the 1950s? Having left his hometown in eastern Montana, my dad joined the Air Force ahead of being drafted into the Army. He spent time in Korea (where he picked up habits that continued into my childhood, including really short showers and a love of Spam) and then came home. At that point, he was in his early 20s and hadn't met my mom. His whole life was ahead of him.

During a poker game on the trip home, one of his fellow passengers ran out of money and offered a Norelco electric razor as collateral. An electric razor! New technology!

My dad won the hand, taking the shaver.

I remember the shaver from my childhood and may have even used it on some of my early shaves. Since it's from the early 1950s, it's not rechargeable. As my dad said, in those days, if something was electric, it was plugged in.

Back at our hotel that day, I plugged it in and it worked. It was sluggish and probably wouldn't be very effective at shaving a beard without a new motor, but it was a SEVENTY-YEAR-OLD electric razor, still trying to do its job.

Before my dad was a 90-year-old living in a senior apartment complex, before being married to my mom and stepmom (both of whom died), before having any kids – heck, before getting a leather satchel for being promoted to manager on his way to being a managing partner of an independent CPA firm – he was like a movie character: A guy coming home on a ship from a foreign war, winning an electric razor in a poker game.

Maybe when I'm 90 I'll pass something like that on to my sons. Except it will be a CD that I burned on my desktop computer or something like that.

Or maybe . . . it will be an electric shaver that my dad won on a transport ship in 1953, coming home from the Korean War.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Tomato Festival poetry sample shows my credentials are ample

The Fairfield Tomato Festival (now called the Tomato and Vine Festival) returns next weekend.

It was canceled last year due to the pandemic, but remains one of Fairfield's best events. Notably, my son (now 30) and I saw "The Goofy Movie" for free at the downtown movie theaters in the early years of the event. So there's that.

During the festival's history, I've made probably several pitches to become the event's poet laureate.

Not because I want to read my poetry in public. Not because I'm the greatest poet in town. It's mostly because it would be a great addition to my LinkedIn page and it provides me a column topic during the dog days of summer.

It's selfish. But it also seems like something the Tomato Festival organizers should consider, since having a poet laureate would add a layer of class. Otherwise, the Tomato Festival will be trying to ketchup with other festivals. Get it?

That's not a poem, that's a joke, but it shows my cleverness.

Anyway, here are some samples of my poetry (consider this my resume):

SONNET

What fruit does yon county seat honor?

Its beauty is far greater than the plum

We use it on burgers and on hot dogs

It's detractors? Universally dumb

During August we hail thee as queen fruit

Thine taste and thou uses we celebrate

For thy majesty serves as the top seed

All other contenders are second rate

We'll beat towns that fete the digestible

With you, our great Tomato Festival

HAIKU

Oh, downtown Fairfield

Oh, Tomato Festival

Oh, add the word "Vine"

LIMERICK

In Solano's fields it brings lots of loot,

But is a tomato a veggie or fruit?

Whether it's either or neither,

Just please take a breather

At this festival that question is moot

RHYMING COUPLET

All hail the tomato, for all that you do

You originally come from our friends in Peru

The favorite in salads in South Carolina

The top exporting country is actually China

It provides useful fruit for a son or a daughter

And 94.5 percent of its weight is from water

While weeding around them, keep on your glove

In France it is known as the "apple of love"

For Solano County, it's agricultural glue

In dollar volume of crops it's ranked No. 2

As California's sun rises, the vines they stretch up

Creating what can be used to make ketchup

If hearing these details make you feel shook

Go find Tony Wade and buy his history book

ACROSTIC

Touch the world, wild vegetable

Or are you a fruit, as our teachers told us?

Maybe you're a combination of veggies and fruits

After all, you don't have to be only one thing

Turn your focus to ripen and feed us

Or become pizza sauce or a V-8

Even then we'll enjoy you

Surely that spells out your name!

BEATNIK POETRY

Solanum lycopersicum!

Grows on the ground!

Tomato, potato, tornado!

Spinning to infinity!

Your juices are blood red, the blood of tyrants!

Curse the darkness!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

How drinking sour milk didn't teach me anything

One night decades ago–when Mrs. Brad and I were still dating–we ate dinner at my parents' house.

I had my own apartment, but it was important to visit my parents so they could get to know my girlfriend. Mrs. Brad and I were getting serious.

My parents weren't warm and fuzzy. I was used to it, but Mrs. Brad (who was still a couple of years from officially becoming Mrs. Brad) was understandably nervous around them.

We sat down to eat dinner and I poured a big glass of milk (then, like now, I drank milk at most meals. It does a body good ®). Mrs. Brad similarly had a glass of milk. My parents probably had wine. We were eating roast or casserole or whatever people my my parents' age ate in the early 1980s.

Mrs. Brad took a sip of milk. Unbeknownst to me, she realized it was sour.

Meanwhile, I was telling some long-winded story and didn't see her react. I ate some food. Then I took a big drink of milk, chugging it down. It took a second to realize what was happening.

The milk curdled in my mouth. It was awful. It was sour. It was disgusting. I still swallowed it.

I lunged for the carton and read the label. The milk was two or three weeks past the expiration date. Making a face, I announced it to the table.

"This milk is way past the expiration date!"

"I thought it tasted off," Mrs. Brad said.

She hadn't said anything, although it was really my parents' fault for keeping milk weeks past the expiration date.

Disgusting. Decades later, I still remember the horror.

You'd think an experience like that would make me vigilant about expiration dates. You'd think I'd throw out food as soon as it passed its due date. You'd think I'd be nervous about eating old food.

You'd be wrong.

I thought about the Mrs. Brad Sour Milk Incident (which is what historians call it) recently while reading an article about food expiration dates. The article highlighted the confusion Americans have about food expiration date labels and why the confusion happens: There's little rhyme or reason to labeling. The rules are kind of made up and our reaction is to be overly careful.

According to an eight-year-old study, Americans throw out between $1,365 and $2,275 worth of food every year. A decent percentage of it is still good, but the fact that food manufacturers have varied standards to determine the date (switching between "use by" and "best by" dates as one example) means that we're not clear when to keep it and when to throw it away.

The article explained why proposed solutions don't work. It reminded us that our leaders tend to favor deregulation. As consumers, we buy more than we need and want new things to replace it.

Here's all I know: You'd think that a bad experience would change a person's perspective on it, but I survived the Mrs. Brad Sour Milk Incident. Decades later, I'll take a chance on milk that's past it's sell-by date. I'll eat fruit that's been in the fridge for a month. I'll take my chances.

The point: We don't always learn the lessons we should, even though I'll never forget the night at my parents house when I chugged down a glass of sour milk.

However, I don't trust expiration dates. Actually, I don't care about them. In a variation of the old saying, there's no use crying over sour milk.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Count me out when people say they could beat up a rat

A survey by YouGov America reveals that 72% of respondents thought they could win a fight against a rat.

A rat? I couldn't win a fight with a rat if I was armed with a shovel, gun, dynamite and full body armor. I'd still scream and run away.

I'm not a fan of rats. Not a fan of fighting, either, which may be related.

For years at our home in Suisun City, I battled field mice. In the yard. In our shed. One memorable time, the mice were angry after I fed their friends poison, so they chewed through a plastic gas container, hoping to burn down our shed.

It was terrorism. It worked: I was terrified.

That was mice. To get a comparison for a rat,  think of yourself as a mouse and your crazy cousin as the rat. You know the cousin: The family member most likely to start a fight or to show up drunk a a major affair. The one who thrilled and terrified you in childhood. That cousin. They're the rat in this comparison.

If I couldn't win a fight with a mouse, I couldn't win one with a rat.

I'm not sure I could beat up any animal, but ask Americans and most think they could beat up some animals, at least according to the Yougov America survey. That includes house cats (69%) and geese (61%). Are Americans unaware that cats are insane and would never quit fighting? Have they never been to a local park and encountered an angry goose (every goose)?

These Americans-vs.-animals survey results are a follow-up to the original study. In the first survey, YouGov asked people who would win in a variety of animal fights to determine which animals are considered the best fighters. The animals with the highest winning percentage among matchups were considered the best fighters, so this isn't science. It's not based on facts. It's based on what people think.

The elephant was considered the most difficult animal to defeat in that survey, followed by the rhino. Both were estimated to win about three-fourths of their matchups, narrowly ahead of the grizzly bear. Cheetahs, by the way, were picked to win 56% of their fights, which shows that we have some work to do to convince people that cheetahs never prosper (Get it?).

Humans, meanwhile, were picked to win only 17% of their fights, a winning percentage better only than the goose (again. Have these people never been to a local park and encountered aggressive geese?).

The follow-up survey – the one that provided the percentage of people who thought they could win a fight with a rat – asked whether people thought they could win a fight against a variety of animals. As mentioned, respondents were confident they could win only against the rat, house cat and goose. Most of us think we'd lose to most animals. For instance, fewer than 30% of Americans think they could win a fight against a large dog, chimp, wolf or crocodile.

In some ways, maybe the most confounding result isn't that 61% of people think they could defeat a goose or that 72% are foolhardy enough to think they could outfight a rat. It's that 6% think they could win a fight with a grizzly bear.

That means roughly one out of 15 people you know thinks he could beat up a grizzly bear in a fight. You know who that includes?

Your crazy cousin. The rat.

Now do you understand why I couldn't beat up a rat?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com. 

Making a spectacle: When I fell down and literally hit the 'ooof'

The most distinctive thing was not the rarity or that it hadn't happened in decades.

The most distinctive thing wasn't the public setting or the embarrassment.

The most distinctive thing was the sound.

"Ooof."

I was walking a couple of weeks ago from the parking lot toward my local grocery store. My mind was presumably wandering – my workday was over and I was picking up some food to bring home to Mrs. Brad. Who knows what else I was thinking: about the weather, my workday, the Giants, Paul Anka songs. Who knows?

All of a sudden I was on my hands and knees, sprawled on the sidewalk. I had tripped over the curb and fell down in public for the first time in decades.

What?

I checked to ensure I was OK. Then I looked around to see if I'd made a spectacle. Then I realized the sound I'd made.

I heard myself proclaim "ooof!" as I fell, as if I were a cartoon character.

Ooof.

I immediately jumped up. Only one person seemed to notice – an older man who asked if I was OK.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him. "I don't know what happened."

I checked my wrists. Fine. My hands were slightly skinned and my knees were sore, but I was good.

Then I wondered if he heard me say "ooof."

We fall down a lot as kids. At least I did.

Skinned knees were common. As a youngster, I consistently picked gravel out of my hands and occasionally banged my elbows. Perhaps I was a clumsy child, but there was rarely a three-month period in the years before I turned 10 during which I didn't fall down.

I fell down at school. I fell down on the street. I fell down in my yard or while playing sports.

It stopped as an adult. I have fallen a few times, but generally while playing sports. I got knocked down a few other times, or stumbled and caught myself – but it was usually when something unusual happened.

Not this time.

I was walking through a parking lot. The sidewalk was marked. I'd entered the store many times before. I wasn't shuffling my feet.

I was going into the store to buy two or three items at the end of a workday and suddenly I was on the ground.

Having loudly said, "ooof!" Who says that?

The next day, my right knee was skinned, but my hands weren't sore and my wrists were fine. I had no injuries from my mishap, other than my pride.

It was a reminder of my clumsy childhood. One moment, you're walking along, enjoying a fine day. The next moment, you're splayed on the ground, embarrassed and afraid that you're hurt.

You've said "ooof." Someone asked if you're OK. You get up and insist things are OK before you start walking and confirm that you're indeed OK.

The bad news: I fell down in public.

The good news: As far as I can tell, no one noticed.

The likely news: Some people went home that day, telling their friends and family about the guy who fell down at the grocery store and shouted "ooof."

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The fleeting popularity of women's names (or boring repetition of men's names)

Since I'm old, this isn't a surprise: The five most popular names for girls in the year I was born were Lisa, Mary, Susan, Karen and Linda.

That was how things were in a world where many TV shows were still in black-and-white, but things have changed.

Out of those five names, only Mary (which ranked 124th) was among the top 700 names for baby girls in 2020. Linda (825th)  and Karen (831st) were among the 1,000 most popular names for girls, while Lisa and Susan fell off the list.

I presume that a 20-year-old reader of this column (welcome, young person! Now turn down that music and stop looking at your phone!) would feel the same way about those facts as the 20-year-old version of me would have felt hearing an old person talk about Ethel, Maude and Gertrude being popular names when they were young: Who cares?

But my point isn't just about names becoming less popular. It isn't to make fun of unusual names are now high on the list.

My point is that women's names are much more mercurial than men's names. Way more.

Consider this: The year I was born, the top five boys names were Michael, David, John, James and Robert. In addition to being very vanilla (which, coming from someone named "Brad" is worth noting), those names maintained popularity over the years.

In 2020, they ranked 12th, 28th, 27th, sixth and 80th among boys names.

The top-five boy names from nearly 60 years ago are still among the top 100 (and all but one are among the top 30). The top five girls' names from the same year? One is 124th, two rank in the 800s and two dropped off the top-1,000 list.

In fact, of the top 20 girls' names from my birth year, only Elizabeth ranked among the top 100 in 2000. Eleven of the top 20 boys names remain in the top 100 and all of the top 20 remain in the top 600 names for 2020.

Boys names are stable. Girls names fluctuate dramatically.

Why is that?

By the way, I checked 1880, the first year for which the Social Security Administration provides this information and the boys' names were consistent with 1962 and 2020 to some extent. Among the top 20 girls names were Minnie, Ida, Bertha, Cora and Nellie. The top boys names are largely still popular, 140 years later.

Why did this happen? Why do women's names change so dramatically over the years, while many of the core boys' names remain the same over time?

Here are three theories:

a. Boys are often named after a father, grandfather or uncle, leading to a repeating of the same male names.

b. Girls are much more creative, so parents are more creative in picking girls names.

c. I have no idea.

And of course, I also did what you would do. For the year of my birth, Bradley (my full name) ranked 87th. Last year it ranked 272nd. Still a classic, right? (The first name "Mrs. Brad" didn't make it on either year's lists. Hmmmm.)

Oh, and a final request.

Will the last Lisa, Karen and Susan please turn out the lights when you leave?

If that's your name and you're reading this, you're a classic. But a classic like the dinosaurs, not like a classic car.

Don't get mad at me, Karen!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Russian dream to clone Scythian warriors is terrifying, absurd

For those of us who grew up during the Cold War, this is par for the course for the "Evil Empire": A Russian plot to abuse science in an effort to control the world.

Really.

The background: During a recent session of the Russian Geographical Society (which probably doesn't have a cool magazine like our National Geographic Society), Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu suggested using the DNA of 3,000-year-old Scythian warriors to create new people.

Read that again.

Sounds like a James Bond movie, right?

It might just be crazy enough to work. Or at least get a chance to work, since Shoigu is a close ally of Russian President Vladimir Putin and as you know, Russia is a Vlad, Vlad, Vlad, Vlad world.

Can you imagine if this works? Our finest military personnel might have to fight soldiers who were created with the DNA of warriors who lived 1,000 years before the time of Christ.

Seems scary.

It also seems like an insane idea for someone who is the defense minister for one of the world's military powers.

Here's what I know about the DNA donors, based on extensive research (Google): The Scythians were nomads who traveled Europe and Asia for about 700 years, building an empire that lasted for several centuries before fading out. Kind of an national version of the Rolling Stones.

Fast forward to about 20 years ago, when archeologists discovered the remains of Scythian soldiers in a burial mound in Siberia. It's almost always frozen there, so the DNA was preserved, like a popsicle in the back of your freezer.

Here's what Shoigu said to the people at the Russian Geographical Society: "Of course, we would like very much to find the organic matter and I believe you understand what would follow that. It would be possible to make something of it, if not Dolly the Sheep. In general, it will be very interesting.”

What? (First, literally "what?" Did the quote get run through a translating app, which made it seem so stilted? Secondly, figuratively "what?" What he's saying is insane.)

Shoigu is suggesting cloning. He's wants to bring back warriors who lived thousands of years ago, presumably to form an army. To conquer the world, if my childhood cartoons are accurate.

There are, of course, some significant problems with Shoigu's plan.

First of all, would it even work? Scientists cloned Dolly the sheep in 1996 after many attempts. There's probably been subsequent cloning since (can someone confirm?), but cloning a human from preserved DNA is another issue.

Secondly, even if Russian scientists could pull that off, they wouldn't create adult warriors. The cloned Scythians would arrive as babies. They would be raised by modern parents (or perhaps, if movies are any indication, by some evil/kind benefactor). It would take two decades before they could be soldiers, 20 years during which they would probably become fascinated by video games, music, pop culture and fast food.

It's hard to imagine all the potential issues they'd face. Would nature win out? Nurture?

The third big issue is that Shoigu thinks 3,000-year-old warriors would be a huge asset, despite the fact that Scythian military success was based on equestrian skills and crossbows.

OK, I feel better now. The crazy Russians may try to recreate an ancient group of warriors, but I'll take my chances with the American military against a bunch of cloned Russians who ride horses and shoot arrows.

And play video games. Right?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Celebrating a uniquely jubilant July 4 . . . and more notes

This is a unique Independence Day. In the 245 years since 1776, we have rarely so appreciated the general feeling of freedom – not just being part of the world's greatest nation, but being free from so much fear, isolation and anxiety that we felt a year ago.

Oh, masks, too. We're generally free from masks.

Take a moment today to appreciate the difference from July 4, 2020. A year ago, we were in our first reopening (although we were really just ensuring the spread of the coronavirus, leading to further shutdowns in the fall). We were in the middle of the most divisive presidential election of our lifetimes. We were trying to navigate nationwide protests.

A year ago, it felt a little bit like the world was coming apart.

We're certainly not in a perfect scenario in 2021. The social and political divisions that made 2020 so nerve-wracking are still there, even if they're a little  under the surface. COVID-19 is in retreat, but not fully defeated. There are still plenty of things about which to be anxious–gas prices, social justice issues, whether the Giants can keep winning, etc.

But July 4, 2021, is so much better than July 4, 2020. And there's reason to think that the next six or nine or 12 months will be better than the previous ones.

Maybe I'm a Pollyanna, but this is the most optimistic July 4 I've experienced in a long time. Maybe in my lifetime.

Sometimes it takes a terrible year – arguably the most anxiety-creating year of our lives – to make us appreciate normalcy.

On to the topics du jour . . .

• • •

Clarification: When I said "Maybe I'm a Pollyanna," I was being rhetorical.

I'm definitely a Pollyanna.

• • •

Last reference to 2020: Remember when we used to complain about a year being terrible because a lot of celebrities died?

Remember 2016, when Prince, David Bowie, Nancy Reagan, Garry Shandling, Merle Haggard, Muhammed Ali, Gene Wilder, Arnold Palmer, Alan Thicke, George Michael, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds all died? Remember how people consistently said that it was the worst year ever?

Now we have a different perspective.

I'm not glad that celebrities die, but 2020 changed that storyline, right? A famous person dying doesn't make a year bad for those of us who don't know them personally.

More than a half-million of our countrymen dying does that.

• • •

High five: Best songs with "America" in title (apropos to my age, they're all from the same era):

5. "We're an American Band," by Grand Funk Railroad. Includes the timeless lyric, "We're coming to your town, we'll help you party down."

4. "America" by Simon and Garfunkel. Paul Simon's lyrics about a young hitchhiking couple provide a melancholy look at America in the late 1960s.

3. "Young Americans," by David Bowie. This was Bowie's first American hit. Even better? Lyrics reference Barbie dolls, Richard Nixon and quote the Beatles' "A Day in the Life."

2. "Living in America," by James Brown. The anthem from "Rocky IV" was  Brown's last real hit song.

1."American Pie" by Don McLean: Arguably one of the 10 greatest songs of the past 80 years, even though it's overplayed on the radio.

• • •

Parting shot: For the first time in our marriage, Mrs. Brad has latched onto a sport without me.

The Tour de France is on TV for five hours a day, every day and she watches. Of course, I'm not home much of that, but it's kind of remarkable. She started watching bike racing last fall during the pandemic and now is interested in three-week race across Western Europe. Every day she tells me about athletes I don't know.

Now I know how she's felt for 36 years.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.