Laundromats are a hot opportunity, but for me, it was a paycheck

Laundromats are apparently a hot business opportunity.

The "incredible business opportunity" is apparently driven by social media – particularly folks on TikTok, who tout the amazing cash flow from a business with a containable startup cost and a steady income.

Allegedly.

With the exception of a few times our washing machine broke down, I haven't gone to a public laundromat in decades. However, I was once a big deal in the laundromat industry. 

If owning one is a great business chance, working at one was . . . well, it wasn't so glamorous, but glamourous-adjacent? That's a surprise if you think that working at a place where people bring their dirty laundry is spectacular. It really isn't.

Take it from a veteran: I spent my first year of college working 40 hours a week at the 7th and E Launderette in Eureka, which was unsurprisingly located at the intersection of Seventh and E streets. It was owned by the father of my friend Jim Johnson. Late in the summer before I started college, Jim told me he was leaving to take another job (or to go to college?) and asked if I was interested in a full-time gig. I needed  more money, so I left my glamourous position at McDonald's and took the laundromat job.

In the new gig, I didn't just watch people drop quarters in a washing machine or dryer. At the Seventh and E Launderette, we also took in laundry – people would drop by their clothes to be washed, dried, pressed, folded and returned. I guess these people didn't have a washer and dryer at home and didn't want to sit around a laundromat for a few hours each week (we had a bench that was about five feet long for customers to sit!). Our drop-off laundry clientele was largely older, single professional men.

Each weekday, I would attend class in the morning, then report to work at 2:30 p.m. and spend two-plus hours folding clothes. The washing/drying/pressing/folding part of the building was in the back; the 20 or so washers and dryers were in front. There was a counter between them. During those hours, I was the ambassador to the laundromat, occasionally addressing issues in the public part while continuing to fold.

I was not good at folding clothes, but Mr. Johnson and my other co-worker Joyce (who seemed to have worked there for decades) tolerated me because I showed up every day for minimum wage. I did learn a valuable skill: How to fold a fitted sheet. We called them "contour" sheets and I've had a few occasions to show off that skill. (Two pre-journalism jobs taught me flashy skills: I can fold fitted sheets; I can toss a pizza.)

At 5 p.m., Mr. Johnson and Joyce went home and I transitioned to being purely a laundromat attendant. After a brief dinner, I'd sit behind the counter, listen to the radio, do homework and occasionally solve  laundromat problems. I'd refill the coin-operated vending machine with laundry soap, fabric softeners and laundry bags. I'd show newcomers how to insert the coins. I'd reset the circuit breaker when the machines would stop. I'd slap an "out of order" sign on a machine when it didn't work (and leave a note explaining the problem for Mr. Johnson).

During those long nights, I occasionally worried that a customer might go crazy or try to rob me, since there were long stretches when there were few customers and there was a fair amount of shady foot traffic around 7th and E Streets. However, nothing happened. The most memorable night was when several employees of a visiting carnival came in, stripped to their underwear and washed their clothes. I wasn't sure what to do, so I did nothing.

It was boring work. It was reliable, but lonely. I'd listen to sports on the radio, including the famous Monday Night Football game when we learned that John Lennon had been shot and killed in New York.

I'd wait until the last customer left at 10:30 p.m., then wipe down all the machines, mop the floor, put all the money in an old wooden cashbox and hide it under clothes in a laundry basket. The box was never stolen during my tenure, even when I forgot to lock the door (!) while leaving.

Decades later, people consider laundromats a gold mine. Maybe they are. I suspect they're not.

Things changed – laundromats are largely cashless, with comfortable places to sit. Your typical laundromat doesn't have an 18-year-old listening to AM radio while doing math homework. They may be an opportunity to get rich, but remember this: There may be $30 in quarters plus another $40 in bills hidden in a wooden cashbox behind the counter and the guy who works there might occasionally forget to lock up.

However, if he's lucky, he can learn how to fold fitted sheets and move on to a job at a pizza parlor (at 6th and F streets, two blocks away!), where he learns how to toss pizzas.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

As baseball lockout looms, who should we blame?

Imagine a world with a limited number of grocery stores in each town. The richest people bid for them, because the stores are guaranteed money-makers. Even if you don't make a big profit, there is such a desire to own a grocery store that you can always sell your store for double what you paid for it five or 10 years ago.

What if the grocery store owners start complaining that they're not making enough money? They think that other grocery stores have an unfair advantage, because they are in a richer part of town and spend more on their displays. The complaining store owners still make plenty of money and can still double their investment by selling to an eager buyer. But it's not enough. They need to cap the salaries of their workers.

Forget that these rich people make plenty off their business and can make a huge profit by selling. They want more money! They blame the workers for the fact that the owners in the nicer part of town spend more money.

The grocery store owners are like major league baseball owners.

The owners of the 30 major league franchises (27 of whom are billionaires, with an average net worth of $4.7 billion) will lock out players Dec. 1, demanding that the players agree to a salary cap, locking in in a predictable profit margin for the owners. Despite a lack of evidence, they say that small-market teams (such as the Milwaukee Brewers and Tampa Bay Rays, who played in this year's World Series) can't compete with that grocery stores in the rich part of town (the Los Angeles Dodgers and New York Yankees, the latter of which hasn't won a championship in 17 years).

However . . . when the owners lock out the players, the public historically sides with owners and calls the players "selfish."

How did baseball owners, many of whom inherited fortunes and none of whom we entertain us, become sympathetic figures? It's mystifying.

The looming owners-forced lockout will almost certainly wipe out some or all of next season and it makes no sense: Every owner in major league baseball could spend more and be fine. The Brewers and Rays proved that you don't have to do that to succeed.

The truth? Baseball (and other sports) doesn't need a salary cap. When team owners don't spend, they make a business decision, like the grocery store owner choosing not to remodel the deli section. Like every business, baseball owners make bottom-line decisions, but unlike other businesses, owners can cash out for a huge profit at any time.

Baseball isn't a level playing field, but then again, nothing is. The cash flow of grocery stores, barbershops and restaurants depends on where they're located. Same with sports teams, to some extent.

Baseball's "small-market" problem is a factor, but owners can address it without locking out the players. Baseball owners could pool their local broadcast revenue (one of the biggest reasons for income disparity) and divide it equally. They don't. Sharing local broadcast revenue would provide the soon-to-be Las Vegas Athletics and the Miami Marlins (both owned by a men worth at least $3 billion) more money to "compete" with the Dodgers, Yankees and Red Sox.

If that isn't enough, they could sell.

The San Francisco Giants sold for $8 million in 1976 and for $100 million in 1993. Now they're valued at $4.1 billion. Adjusted for inflation, the 2026 value is 100 times greater than it was in 1976.  That's adjusted for inflation.

The last time a major league baseball team sold for a loss was 1973, when George Steinbrenner bought the Yankees for $10 million. Now the Yankees are now valued at $10 billion – an inflation-adjusted increase of more than 100 times. Every dollar they spent on the purchase in 1973 – adjusted for inflation – is now worth $100.

No one ever loses money by owning a major league baseball team. Everyone who owns a baseball team is fabulously wealthy.

So when the owners lock out the players Dec. 1, there will be a temptation to say it's just billionaires and millionaires fighting over how to divide the pie. However, the fight is entirely the responsibility of the billionaire owners.

They already have incredibly profitable businesses. They want their employees to sacrifice so they can make more money.

When baseball starts losing games next season due to the lockout, don't blame the players. This is an owners-started money grab.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

How many TV sets are enough? Survey says we don't know yet

Back in the day – before we paid $7 for a cup of coffee, had cameras on our cars and bought gourmet food for dogs – the family television was a big deal. It was in the living room and was the center of the familial universe.

In my day, we had a 21-inch screen, although there was always a friend whose family invested heavily in TVs and had a 25-inch screen. In that world, the biggest sign of success was a family with two TVs. And that second TV was almost always in the parents' room, where they could watch the late local news and "The Tonight Show" before they fell asleep to prepare for another day of presumably smoking cigarettes and drinking black coffee from Stryofoam cups.

When my dad married my stepmom, we suddenly had two TVs! One in the family room and the other in the living room, which was largely off-limits to children (because we might leave footprints in the carpet, I think). The "living room TV" was one of the big console sets that took about 90 seconds to show a picture after you turned it on, so I almost always chose the 21-inch RCA in our family room, where I could watch while sitting in my beanbag chair and tossing a nerf ball at my sisters.

Fast forward to 2026. We all have smartphones that can show us a nearly infinite amount of video. Yet we still have TVs. More TVs than we had 50 years ago. Way more.

According to a recent survey, a quarter of American households have two TVs. Impressive? Well another 39% have three or more. That means that nearly two-thirds of households have at least two TVs.

That's impressive, although it's hard to know why. Why would you have five or more TVs (Which describes 9% of households)? There can't be that many people who want to watch Johnny Carson's monologue before they go to sleep, can there?

When I was a kid, two luxuries were shorthand for someone being unreasonably rich – wealthier than anyone I could know, the kind of wealth only held by people like Howard Hughes, the members of the Beatles or E.F. Hutton. Those people had telephones in unusual places like their car or their bathroom and/or they had TVs in their bathroom or kitchen.

If a TV show character watched a kitchen TV or took a call in their car, they were uber-rich.

Now, we have phones in every room, as long as we take our smartphone around the house. And many of us have big TVs in the living room, each bedroom and the kitchen, so we can watch . . . Cable news? Sports? YouTube videos of old TV shows we used to watch when we had one TV?

You could make the case that TV sets, which have dramatically changed over the years, are the cockroaches of entertainment devices. They're survivors. The humble TV set (or not-so-humble 98-inch screen with anti-reflexive coating, theater sound and high-end picture quality) has made it through the cable TV explosion, the satellite dish era, the cord-cutting era, the streaming era and the "Bluey" era. From variety shows in the 1950s and 1960s to today's video shorts, people still use television sets to augment their smartphones.

Will we continue to add more TVs to our homes? Will we start putting two TVs in the living room, one in the backyard, one in the garage, one in each bathroom and one on the inside of each cabinet in the kitchen?

It seems unlikely, but had you asked me what percentage of Americans had at least five TVs in their house, I would never have guessed 9%.

If you'd told 9-year-old me that during my lifetime nearly 40% of households would have three or more TVs, my jaw would have dropped as I waited for the TV to warm up so I could see if "Sanford and Son" would be a re-run (which I'd watch anyway. We only had three stations and one of them was a PBS station).

Given the choice between living in the era of three TV networks and one family TV and now, I would . . . heck, I'd choose now 1,000 times out of 1,000. Even though Mrs. Brad and I are in the 25% of the population with one TV, we each can watch whatever we want on our phones, including a "Sanford and Son" rerun.

That Fred was crazy!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Should we be concerned that pizza-like Mercury is shrinking?

Our smallest neighbor continues to shrink, like your great-uncle who was 5-foot-4 and 125 pounds the last time you saw him.

No offense to your uncle. There's nothing wrong with being 5-4, 125. But if you used to be 5-8, 175, that's a fair amount of shrinkage. If you disagree, ask Mercury.

The innermost planet in our solar system is not only shrinking (shrinking!), it's shriveling at a faster rate than previously thought. It's like Mercury took GLP-3 drugs and is now back to the same size it was when it was a high school sophomore.

Scientists working at the German Aerospace Center's Institute of Space Research (which those of us in the space game called GACISR, pronounced "Gack-us-sir) – last month said that Mercury was shrinking at as much as a 30% faster rate than previously thought and that it had lost up to 14 miles in diameter. That's the greatest loss in diameter since Adele or John Goodman dropped weight, depending on which offends you less.

Part of the planet's size loss is due to constant bombardment by debris, similar to the plight of bad performers during Vaudeville (a 100-year-old pop culture reference!). But the bigger impact of that bombardment is that it hid the loss of size, kind of like wearing a Mumu after you've dropped 20 pounds on a starvation diet.

Very few spacecraft have visited Mercury, mostly due to the planet's high temperature and concern over getting Mercury poisoning (get it?). To be fair, part of the reason for our lack of visitation is also due to Mercury's terrible tourism advertisements, which proclaim "come to Mercury and see if you can survive 0.000001 seconds in our toxic atmosphere!"

Mercury has been shrinking since its formation, 4.5 billion years ago. That's because it has an incredibly hot core (Mercury's core is the same temperature as pizza sauce fresh out of the oven). The heat isn't what makes it shrink; it's the cooling, which is only due to the heat, so never mind.

As the hot core has cooled over the millennia and megaanna (a new word! It means millions of years), the mantle and crust (another similarity to pizza sauce: Mercury's core touches a crust!) keep tightening, making the planet like someone wearing Spandex pants that are two sizes too small.

The concern is that Mercury could either get so tight that it explodes or shrink so much that it needs help to reach the top shelf to get a Mars bar (planet joke! The first-ever planet column I've written without a "Uranus" joke!)

On the other hand, Mercury is only about 3,000 miles across, so the14-mile shrinkage is the equivalent of a 200-pound person losing nearly a pound. Maybe it's not a big concern.

But scientists seem excited and fascinated. They haven't been this engaged since they kicked Pluto out of the solar system for gambling (I can't remember if that's the cause, but I think so).

An article on Mercury's shrinkage, published by NBC, quoted Japanese scientist Gaku Nishiyama, who is part of a team researching Mercury. “We are quite excited,” Nishiyama was quoted as saying, adding that “we are approaching the reality of Mercury’s evolution.”

Here's the reality of Mercury's evolution: Like most things that get really old, it is shrinking. Unless I'm badly mistaken, I suspect Mercury also is having a harder time hearing conversations in busy restaurants, has to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and often wonders what caused various aches and pains.

I hope Mercury doesn't merely waste away to nothing, but it's had a 4.5-million-year run, which is pretty good. And when you think about it, if you have to lose a planet, would you rather use Mercury or Uranus?

I was so close to breaking the Uranus joke streak!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

El Niño will be terrible. Or not. The story of a 'weather event'

 

As you have heard, we're entering a Super El Niño season, with equatorial Pacific Ocean water temperatures 4 to 6 degrees warmer than usual.

That might cause a significantly wetter winter than usual for the West Coast, based on the history of El Niño events (this is the biggest El Niño since at least 1950!). Unless it results in a regular winter. It could also mean less rain than usual. It's hard to tell, but we know one thing: SUPER EL NIÑO IS COMING.

I'm not here to make fun of scientists (they don't need anyone to make fun of them. Scientists already wear pocket protectors and safety goggles, even when writing an incredibly complex math equation on an old-school green chalkboard, if the cartoons are any indication). Scientists are important. They find cures for diseases and explain how the universe works.

And climatologists – academics who study the weather, as well as those on TV who remind us, "don't forget your umbrella! There might be a few sprinkles during the morning commute!" – have made dramatic improvements in our understanding of and preparation for hurricanes, floods, blizzards, heat waves and tornadoes.

But while doing that, they apparently gather every few years to invent new phrases to describe routine events.

To be clear, El Niño isn't a "routine event," although it's possible that "Super El Niño" is a fake phrase.

If so, it would join myriad wonky weather phrases invented in the past 20 years. For instance, I mentioned to Mrs. Brad during the October heat wave that people were probably wondering when the heat dome would break. She looked at me like I was making up words. She'd never heard "heat dome."

How is that possible? Every time there's a heat wave, journalists and climatologists talk about a heat dome, which apparently means the same thing as a "heat wave," but refers to . . . I don't know, maybe a hot football stadium? Is the Heat Dome the name of the NFL stadium in Phoenix? I definitely hear or read that phrase every time there's a heat wave.

Heat dome isn't alone. Remember when we used to have rainy days? Now we have "atmospheric rivers," which sounds more dramatic. And means the same thing.

More broadly, every time there's a windstorm, rainstorm or heat wave, it's called a "weather event," which means the same thing as "weather." (In this case, "event" is similar to "process," which former Daily Republic ace reporter Ryan McCarthy held in disdain. Ryan insisted "process" was rarely if ever needed. It wasn't "interview process," it was "interviews." It wasn't "budgetary process," it was "budgeting.")

"Weather events" are just weather. And the thing about weather is that it changes. While I appreciate that those who use science to predict the weather have gotten better at warning us of potential dangers (heck, for the coming Super El Niño, I'll probably . . . uh . . . buy an umbrella), the constant invention of more dramatic words to describe things for which there are already descriptors is amusing.

Maybe we should just lean into it. Why stop with "weather event" and "atmospheric river" and "heat dome?" For years, I advocated calling those warm easterly winds we get in the autumn (which are called "Santa Ana winds" in Southern California) "Rio Vista winds." Alas, no one followed my lead.

But as we prepare for the Super El Niño, maybe we should add some other weather phrases. Here are my suggestions and how they would be used:

Windy: "As the high pressure recedes, expect a Zypher wall, with winds up to 30 mph in Fairfield-Suisun."

Sunny: "Look for a significant solar event, with our closest dwarf star shining in all its glory."

Morning frost: "We expect plenty of  ground crystallization in the early morning hours, which should give way as we get another solar event."

High humidity: "Expect a sticky wicket Tuesday, as a weather system moves through with remnants of an atmospheric river in the Pacific."

Low humidity: "We face aridity syndrome this weekend, with the possibility of a Super Dry event."

Like it or not, the Super El Niño weather event is coming and atmospheric rivers are possible this winter. Or maybe not. Or perhaps we'll get enough rain to know it's winter, but not enough to determine whether the Super El Niño played a role.

Just wait until next year, though. We may have a La Niña, which means . . . well, it will certainly cause a weather event and likely some new phrases.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

If you're slightly speeding, you're normal(ish)

Congratulations, you're normal.

When you drive 75 mph on Interstate 80 in one of the two "slow" lanes, you're regular.

When you go 65 mph on Highway 12 to Napa or to Rio Vista, you're typical.

Speeding (in certain situations) is normal!

According to a survey from the AAA Foundation for Traffic Safety (AAAFTS, since apparently every organization needs an acronym), most drivers agree that posted speed limits are appropriate, but they also consider anything within 10 mph of that limit to be OK. (Didn't you think that was the rule, that you wouldn't get a ticket unless you were doing more than 10 mph over the speed limit? I did until about the third time I got a ticket for 10 mph over the limit.)

Furthermore, about half of drivers surveyed think keeping pace with traffic is safer than obeying the posted speed limit. Those people probably yell at someone for driving 60 mph on I-80 as we swerve to get around them. (Did I say "we" in the second half of the sentence? Oops!)

An article about the speeding survey appeared in the Insurance Journal (I have a group subscription to Ladies Home Journal, the Wall Street Journal, Insurance Journal and the official magazine of the Federal Association of Plumbers, the Urinal Journal. Hahahaha. Hilarious!)

The Insurance Journal, of course, was concerned about the fact that most of us consider a 65 mph speed zone to really mean "about 75 mph." And that we want to move with the flow of traffic, rather than slow everyone down.

Insurance people don't like normal people.

However, there was some good news for those concerned about speed: Most drivers are fine with more police presence in areas with a history of speed-related crashes, including the often-maligned traffic cameras. They also like those in-vehicle warnings that alert drivers when they exceed the speed limit.

But staying with the flow of traffic or going up to 10 mph over the limit is OK.

Personally, I wish I had this data when I was in my 20s and 30s, an era in which I received 10 speeding tickets. Yes, 10.

I wasn't a speed demon. Really. I was mostly inattentive in a way that led to me not realizing police were watching me go 35 mph in a 25 mph zone or 65 mph in a 55 mph zone.

Nine of my 10 tickets were for going 10 mph over the speed limit (the exception: I got caught going 40 mph on the 25-mph "Armijo curve" of Texas Street). I was once ticketed while driving on Interstate 40 from by a California Highway Patrol officer who told me he'd been following me for 10 miles and wouldn't have stopped me if I slowed down. I told him I never saw him (likely because I was listening to music or talking with Mrs. Brad, who wasn't amused).

Had this survey been around back in the day, I would have used it in one of the several times I challenged my tickets. "Your Honor, I am just like most people. Everyone goes 65 mph in 55 mph zones, according to a survey. I ask for dismissal."

Alas, that opportunity never came. I lost every appeal (including one where I was ticketed after a plane indicated to an officer on the ground in Mendocino County that I was speeding. What I actually was doing was trying to get around a fully packed VW bus that was consistently crossing the line between the two southbound lanes, making it unsafe for me to slowly pass. Unfortunately, I made my appeal by letter and was turned down.).

I'm not saying speeding is right. It's dangerous and you shouldn't do it. However, the evidence suggests that most of us think it's OK if we're not racing past everyone.

Also, sometimes, the police aren't monsters. They sometimes let you go despite an infraction.

It rarely happened to me, but the last time I was pulled over – about 15 years ago in Suisun City – it did. I  pulled from Marina Boulevard onto Highway 12, heading to work, when there were suddenly flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

The officer came to the window, asked for my license and registration and then asked what they always ask: "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

I was ready this time. "Yeah, I was on my phone. Sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, you were on your phone? I didn't know that. I pulled you over because you rolled through the stoplight."

Oops.

Amazingly, he let me go with a warning. Perhaps he'd talked to friends who told them about all the times they wrote me up for going 10 mph over the limit Or maybe he knew the results of this survey 15 years early.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

How we survived Hawai'i's Labor Day Storm of 2026

Hawai'i is supposed to be a paradise. It's not supposed to be more blustery than the windiest day in Fairfield and Suisun City.

Well, there we were, Mrs. Brad and I on a trip to Oahu in early September. That's when Hurricane Lowell skated across the Pacific Ocean, narrowly missing Kaua'i, but causing extensive damage to that island.

We weren't on Kaua'i, but we were close enough that we experienced what was then classified as Tropical Storm Lowell – a wild weather event with huge winds over Labor Day night. Spoiler alert: It wasn't paradise.

First, a disclaimer: We aren't victims. We were in Hawai'i, after all – not everyone can do that. Also, we didn't get hurt and have no financial responsibility to repair damage caused by the winds. We were just two Californians who wondered how long the power would be out and whether the windows of our Airbnb home would withstand the winds.

Having lived in Suisun City for three decades, I'm familiar with wind. I'm also familiar with windstorms, which seem worse in Solano County than most places. I have laid in bed many nights, wondering whether my fence would be standing in the morning. We had fences blown down. We had our basketball standard crash forward.

My most compelling major storm memory is of hurricane-force winds in December 1988, a massive storm that roared and shook windows. During the height of the storm, several storefront windows in downtown Fairfield blew out, as did windows at the Solano Mall. The Solano Drive-In's screen was destroyed (and never replaced, unless you consider the Raleys that stands on that site on North Texas Street a "replacement").

Most important to the then-sports editor, the games at the Ed Hopkins Classic basketball tournament at Armijo High were postponed. Trees fell across the roads. A shed near my house in Suisun City was blown into a tree.

It was a whopper of a storm.

Perhaps the Oahu Labor Day Storm of 2026 (as I call it) wasn't that bad, but it felt like it.

Mrs. Brad and I knew problems were looming, as residents warned us to store water and have food available in case of a power outage or water shutoff. The latter never happened, but the power went out at about 8:30 p.m. Monday night.

During a major power outage, you realize how much you depend on electricity. It was dark at 8:30 p.m., but we weren't ready for bed. So we stayed up and watched. The winds were slamming our window and getting worse as the night went along. A neighbor's carport roof was screeching as the winds tried to pull it off. Every 20 minutes or so, there would be a loud slam as a large branch (or tree) fell.

Enduring a storm at your own house makes you worry about damage that you have to repair. Enduring a storm at an unfamiliar house makes you worry that a huge branch could come crashing through a window at any time because you didn't pay enough attention to identify nearby trees

Also: A night with a wind storm is a long, long night. On the night of the Labor Day Storm of 2026, neither of us slept well. The following morning, as the winds died down, we groggily walked around the neighborhood and saw the damage. Mostly, it was huge branches that fell, so not bad.

But the power remained out. I worried about the ability to charge my smartphone, which controls my insulin pump (the plan: Use backup batteries to charge it. Use my laptop to charge it. Drive to somewhere with power to charge it.). Fortunately, power came back on about noon, ending the anxiety.

The following days were excessively humid, due to the storm's remnants. But (in Hawai'i, at a rental house, swimming every day in the Pacific ocean while on a vacation), we survived.

Folks in Kaua'i and its tiny neighboring island of Ni'hau weren't so lucky. The saw extensive damage and days without power. Tourists were advised to avoid Kaua'i for the foreseeable future, undoubtedly damaging the island's economy.

Back on Oahu, we endured humidity, had to move some branches and then resumed going to the beach.

What a nightmare!

The Labor Day Storm of 2026 was frightening, but it didn't ruin our vacation.

Now, I guess, I feel like a jerk for overreacting.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Solving an important issue: What is the correct distance to wave at someone?

As they told you in elementary school, it's nice to be important, but it's important to be nice.

That's true. Within reason. In a way that doesn't make it awkward.

In my neighborhood, a lot of people walk, which means I routinely cross paths with familiar faces and say hello. Not to talk, generally. Just to acknowledge that someone familiar is walking the other way.

Therein lies the problem – one familiar to anyone who sees someone they (kind of) know on a street or in the grocery store or anywhere while walking: How far away should you be from someone when you acknowledge them?

If you think the answer is simple (maybe "as soon as you see them!"), you're either lucky or unaware of the awkwardness that happens if you greet someone too soon.

The scene: You're walking down the street and see someone you casually know about a block away. If you wave immediately, then you're left with a good 30 seconds or more of walking toward each other after the wave, a time that becomes increasingly uncomfortable for both of you. (Should you wave again? Do you need to talk? What if you're in a hurry? What if you don't want to talk?).

The flip side is when you decide to wait until you're right next to each other. That means pretending you didn't see the person as you get closer, closer, closer, closer . . . and then you wave. Did they think you were pretending not to see them? Did you startle them by greeting them at the last minute? Do they even know who you are (in which case, you come across like an overenthusiastic goober who waves at everyone)?

Switch the same situation to a workplace or the grocery store. You're in Aisle 5 and at the other end of the aisle you see a neighbor you don't know well or the parent of one of your kids' friends or someone you know vaguely from work. You have to acknowledge them or you look like a jerk. But if you wave from one end of the aisle, they might not see you. Or worse, what if they see you and then you gradually, slowly move toward each other? Now, do you need to talk, since you waved so eagerly?

Alternatively, if you wait, it seems like you're jumping up to startle them: "Hey! It's me! Brad! Your neighbor!" Then they feel assaulted.

Am I overthinking this? If not, is there a solution? And what is it?

First of all, ignoring others is not the solution. Don't be the person who knows me, sees me and ignores me. Then I think that you think you're too cool for me.

However, being overly aggressive isn't the solution either. There's no requirement that you greet everyone who you think you might know. "Hey, it's me. I saw you at the intersection the other day in your car while I was in my car!" is not sane.

But for the people you know enough that you should greet them? The answer, like most of life, is a math problem. (Example to prove that point: What is the best dessert? Well, would you look at that! It's pi!)

The solution: First of all, the correct time between when you wave and when you pass someone is three to five seconds. Longer than that is awkward, shorter is likely to startle the other person.

If you and the other person both walk at a normal speed (2 mph to 4 mph) and you're coming down a regular city block, my calculations (using an AI tool) is that you should wave when you're about 35 feet apart for there to be a four-second gap.

How do you figure 35 feet? Well, a normal human is between 5 feet and 6 feet (yeah, I said it. People who are taller than 6 feet are abnormal!), so 35 feet is about the length of six people, end to end. When a person is that far away, wave.

Grocery stores are a different matter. We walk slower and often stop. Based on the normal length of a grocery store aisle, it's appropriate to acknowledge the person coming the other way when you're slightly less than a half-aisle apart. That can be four seconds if you don't stop and spend five minutes trying to find the right kind of soup. (Correct answer: Minestrone. Because it kind of has "minus" in it. Again: Math!)

If you really want to get specific, I'd suggest this: Next time you're walking, clock someone coming the other direction. Guess when you're four seconds (the sweet spot) apart and then count. Then make adjustments for your speed. Problem solved.

Next time you wave at someone,  you'll thank me. And if you see me walking, you can tell me that. At the appropriate time, of course.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The unofficial rules for jumping on another team's bandwagon

We're entering the greatest part of the annual sports schedule. The NFL and college football seasons are under way. The baseball playoffs are almost here. Next month, the NBA and NHL start their seasons.

It's a great time to be a fan, but it's also a great time to decide what to do if your team isn't good.

As noted Raiders fan Scar sang in "The Lion King:" "Be prepared!"

If you're a baseball team whose team won't make the playoffs, do it now. If you're a Las Vegas Raiders fan, know that it's coming soon. If you're a Golden State Warriors, Sacramento Kings or San Jose Sharks fan, it's never too early to think about what team should you pick in several months when the playoffs finally arrive.

It's confusing, right? Can you jump on the bandwagon of the San Antonio Spurs, who will be good for a while? Can you be a fan of the Milwaukee Brewers or the Colorado Avalanche or the Dallas Cowboys?

Well, I'm here to help with a series of rules. When you consider a team, answer these questions. If the team you picked passes a series of tests, you can choose them.

There are eight steps to the Stanhope Sports Fan Bandwagon Rules©. When it's time to pick a team to follow (hey Giants and A's fans: It's time now!), follow this path by asking the following questions.

1. Is the team from Los Angeles? If yes, stop now. You cannot be a fan of this team. Not the Rams, not the Lakers, not the Dodgers, not even the Kings, Stars or Clippers. No Los Angeles teams. If the team is not from Los Angeles, they're still alive, but otherwise, start over.

2. Is the team the Dallas Cowboys? No. You can't be a fan. Pick another team (not from Los Angeles) and start over.

3. Is this team a rival of my favorite team or a local team? If yes, you cannot be a fan. If you're a Raiders fan, you can't jump on the Chiefs or Broncos bandwagons. If you're a Giants fan, see question No. 1. If you're a 49ers fan, see questions No. 1, No. 2 and exclude the Seattle Seahawks. If you're a Warriors fan . . . uh, the NBA doesn't have many bitter rivals over the years, so you're probably OK if your bandwagon team fits the other qualifications.

4. Is this team the Raiders? If yes, God bless you. That's not a bandwagon; that's a dump truck. Please seek counseling.

5. Is this team a long-time powerhouse in the sport or does it already have a national following? If you want to jump on the bandwagon of the Yankees or Celtics or Cowboys or Steelers, the answer is no, you cannot be a fan of this team. Start again. Those teams already have plenty of front-running, glory-hogging fans (no offense). Pick another team.

6. Has this team broken your team's heart at some time in the past? You cannot become a fan of a team that ripped out your heart at any time. If you're a Giants fan, for instance, this rules out the Anaheim Angels, who beat them in the 2002 World Series. It also rules out the Colorado Rockies, who couldn't beat the Atlanta Braves in 13 tries in 1993, allowing the Braves to edge the Giants by one stinking game! If you're a Raiders fan, it rules out the New England Patriots (Tuck Rule Game) and Pittsburgh Steelers (Immaculate Reception Game). If your bandwagon team broke your real team's heart, start over.

7. Does this team have a shameful past that it hasn't addressed properly? Consider the Houston Astros with their cheating scandal; the New England Patriots having Tom Brady all that time; the Indianapolis Colts moving from Baltimore in the middle of the night. You cannot be a fan of those teams, so pick another one and start over.

8. Is this team from your geographic area? A surprise twist! This is the reverse of the others, because if the answer is yes, you can absolutely become their fan. I'd even waive the first and second rules for residents of Southern California and the greater Dallas metro area. In fact, the best bandwagon to join is the "local" team that is doing well.

So maybe the approach is to consider No. 8 first and pick a local team. If not, you're free to pick a team that isn't from Los Angeles, isn't the Cowboys, isn't a rival of your favorite team, isn't a longtime powerhouse, hasn't broken your team's heart and doesn't have a shameful past.

Good luck. There aren't many out there, but feel free to jump on a bandwagon. Last year, my Seattle Mariners almost made it to the World Series and my New York Knicks won the NBA championship.

It's fun to be on the bandwagon if you follow the rules.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Nostalgia for past includes missing record players and more

They just don't make nostalgia like they used to.

Remember when old people talked about listening to "The Lone Ranger" on the radio? Or recalling when they paid 10 cents to go to the movies on Saturdays? How about when they romanticized played kick the can or stickball?

Ah, the good old days.

They're still here. If you talk to enough older people, you'll hear about playing outside until the street lights came on (not possible where I lived, since there were no streetlights. As far as I can tell, my fellow neighborhood kids are still out there playing, now in their 60s). You'll hear about black-and-white TVs and three TV networks. You'll hear about cars with manual transmissions and people smoking in movie theaters.

Those were the days, my friend.

But listen to people who aren't quite old (a generation younger than me) and you'll likely hear laments about bygone technologies, some of which they're fighting to bring back. Nostalgia now is for how the world operated around 1980 or 1990.

Example No. 1: People miss record players or stereo systems that play vinyl records (spelling challenge for me: I know there's a "y" in vinyl, but often try to put it after the "v." It might be vynil? Vynyl?). According to a recent survey by the YouGov folks, 42% of Americans miss vinyl records and want to use them again and another 27% miss them, but don't necessarily want to do them again. That's 69% of respondents!

Vinyl records are missed. However, they're still available for sale – not just at garage sales and used record stores (arguably the greatest stores of the 1980s). Many artists release new records on vinyl, too – hoping to catch the part of the market that thinks they sound better that way (do they? I have no idea. What I do know is that you can't leave a vinyl record in your car on a hot day without it warping. That's a lesson I learned after ruining three or four albums that cost $7.99 or $9.99 each).

Technology moves very fast: We went from vinyl records to cassettes to CDs to streaming back to vinyl in about 30 years. Other technologies (smartphones, cars) advance even faster. Nostalgia now comes quicker than it did for the kick-the-can generation (who would also tell you about carhops and ration books and World War II).

Life in the 21st century, as Ferris Bueller said 40 years ago (!), moves pretty fast.

Want more insight? YouGov's survey asked what we miss and what we don't. For simplicity sake, I'll combine the figures of the "I miss it and want to use it again" and "I miss it but don't want to use it again" into a catchall category I cleverly call . . . "I miss it."

Using that metric, 59% of us miss CD players (still available at second-hand stores!), 58% of us miss digital cameras, 57% of us miss DVD players and 57% of us miss film cameras.

They all seem great if you don't remember CD and DVD players skipping or when half of your photos were out of focus (in film cameras) or the extra work (carrying around a digital camera).

Some other technologies are missed by more than half of us. At least 50% of the population misses iPods/portable mp3 players (53%), handheld video game consoles (51%) and cassette tape players (51%).

The point isn't that all technology used to be better. It wasn't. Technology almost always advances because we find something better. That's true even if years or decades later, we consider the original better than the replacement.

However, there are some technologies that people are happy to leave behind. It's unsurprising that dial-up internet service, floppy disks and pagers are technologies we're most happy to be rid of, with 81% of us glad to be done with dial-up, 68% of us happy to not have to insert floppy disks or and the same number happy to see a number on a pager, have to find a pay phone and call the person to whom we're selling drugs (I'm guessing here. The only time we used a pager was to know when our first son's birthmother went into labor.).

At least half the population is also happy to be done with fax machines, rotary-dial telephones, non-smartphone cellphones and payphones – a category I call "dumbphones." We love the advance of the smartphone, which is also arguably an improvement over vinyl albums and record players for music. Modern smartphones also address the lack of CD players, DVD players, handheld video game consoles, cassette players, digital cameras and nearly everything else on this list.

I get the nostalgia. Record albums (and used record stores!) felt more real than a streaming device. Digital cameras felt like they gave us more control over our photos.

But when it comes down to it, I'll take my smartphone. To the others? As John Waite sang on a vinyl record that I had and ultimately used a special device to transform into an mp3 for my iPod, "I ain't missing you at all."

Then I left the record in my car and it got warped.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.