Casual clothing rules at workplaces, just like the DR in the 1990s

How do you dress for work? If you wear "business casual" or "casual street clothes," you're in the majority, according to a Gallup poll conducted in August.

According to Gallup, 41% of respondents said they wear "business casual" clothing, which the survey-takers described as clothing such as blouses, dress pants, dressy jeans or skirts for women. Gallup described "casual street clothes" for women as things like casual jeans, T-shirts or leggings.

I'm a guy and I presume business casual means slacks and a collared shirt. Casual street clothes to me would be . . . I don't know. Maybe casual jeans, T-shirts or leggings? I've never heard clothes described as "casual street clothes" and that's despite occasionally being in the room  while Mrs. Brad watches "Project Runway," where designers dress their models in papier-mâché dunce caps and sleeves that connect their arms to their shoes.

Back to work clothes: The biggest shift since 2019 (according to Gallup) is a dramatic drop in the percentage of respondents who wear business professional, which is "suit or equivalent" for both men and women. Was there some landmark event that happened between 2019 and 2023 to explain the cause? I mean other than the Dodgers winning a fluke World Series after a 2020 baseball season that was cut short.

The main point of the Gallup survey is that most workplaces – Gallup included "uniforms" as a possible answer, so this survey appears to cover restaurants, offices, the military, schools, professional sports, etc. – embrace casual dress.

What a difference from my childhood. My dad was an accountant and he wore a suit to work. Slacks, jacket, tie. He wore shiny shoes. He had one of those Dick Tracy-type raincoats for bad weather (and I grew up in Eureka, so he took that raincoat to work about 200 days a year).

My friends' dads had a variety of jobs, but almost all of them wore suits or uniforms. They worked at the mills or were plumbers or worked in a nursery. They all wore suits or uniforms. My friends' moms who worked all wore dresses (or pantsuits if they were "liberated").

There was no "business casual" in the 1970s as far as I knew. Of course, as far as I knew, nobody's dad was cheating on their mom. As far as I knew, drunk driving was funny and smoking wasn't too bad. It was the 1970s, man.

My current workplace is business casual. I generally wear jeans and a collared shirt, although T-shirts are OK. When I started there in 2014, slacks were required, so times have changed.

Most of my career at the Daily Republic was as a sports editor, so my staff and I all wore a uniform. Well, kind of. We generally dressed in shorts and either a T-shirt or a jersey. And basketball shoes.

It was fantastic, but at one point, management decided we should dress "professionally," That meant someone would cover a softball game or track meet in a 100-degree heat and have to wear pants and a collared shirt, which made them the only person in attendance dressed that way.

Finally, management relented and let us resume dressing like slobby college kids.

Turns out that Daily Republic management in the 1990s was just ahead of its time. Relenting to allow casual dress (if jorts, a second-hand New York Giants football jersey and Nikes is "casual") simply put them 30 years ahead of their time.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

How my enthusiastic idea nearly led to a massive forest fire

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea.

In retrospect, another adult should have seen the problem coming.

In retrospect, I was 19, so I wouldn't have listened to them.

I was nearly responsible for starting a fire that could have burned thousands of acres of Northern California forest. Thousands of acres! And it would have been hard to mount a defense for my negligence: My only legal defense would have been enthusiasm.

I was 19, but my lack of judgment could create chaos. Not a terribly lofty position, but one where they turned me loose.

I was the activities director at a church summer camp – responsible for planning all activities, games and entertainment for a full week for about 100 junior high and high school students deep in the woods, where they stayed eight-to-a-cabin in rustic lean-tos.

I'd been a camper there – it was where I'd become a Christian a few years earlier – and was a camp counselor the year before. This time, I was "promoted" to activities director, mostly because of my enthusiasm and energy. Mrs. Brad – my girlfriend at that time, so not yet Mrs. Brad – was a counselor.

It was a fun job if you like running around and having a bullhorn (I liked both). It was 16 hours a day of mustering enthusiasm, organizing camp games (dodgeball, water balloon volleyball, tug-of-war, kickball) and being the emcee for the evening entertainment.

The week went pretty well (except when Mrs. Brad got irritated when I decided to be the "chair umpire" for volleyball and stacked several milk crates on top of each other to put me about 10 feet in the air, showing off).

Until the "Camp Olympics."

I was a sports fan. I'd participated in Camp Olympics as a camper and counselor. I wanted this event to be a memorable spectacle for the kids. I wanted it to be like the real Olympics.

What kicks off the real Olympics? The Olympic torch, of course. People carry the torch for miles and miles and miles, ultimately lighting a cauldron at the site of the real Olympics.

We could do that! (You're an adult. You recognize this is a bad idea)

I enlisted one of the kids – a high school cross-country runner – as the "torch bearer." He'd run into camp with the torch while I was explaining the games to the rest of the campers. (You're an adult. You see the problem.)

A torch? Simple: We'd find a stick, soak some old rags in gasoline, wrap them around the stick and light them. It would be a perfect torch! He could run through the dried forest with it. (You're an adult. Where were you when I was 19 and proposing this idea?)

The inevitable happened. As the kid ran, pieces of burning cloth fell into the bushes, starting small brush fires. Then more. He didn't know he was igniting a series of fires, so he kept running.

Fortunately, several of my friends – working as dishwashers/security guards/lifeguards/gofers – saw what was happening. They raced to fill buckets with water (we didn't have much. There was just a tower with several hundred gallons of water), then ran to douse the flames. They used blankets to snuff other flames. Brushfires kept starting.

I saw what was happening and did what came naturally: I panicked and prayed for intervention.

Somehow, the fire was put out. (I attribute it to divine intervention. And fast-thinking friends.)

The Olympics went on. Kids sprinted across rocky fields holding eggs on spoons, raced piggy-back into the swimming hole, downed gross food and played ping-pong and disc golf. One team, presumably, won.

At the end of the day, the only people who realized how close I came to starting a huge fire in the Northern California forests were my dishwasher friends, me and a few adults (who should have warned me).

The lesson? Enthusiasm is great, but it needs wisdom. Also, never underestimate the power of divine intervention.

And your friends.

Also, a 10-foot-high milk crate tower is awesome.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

My modest proposal for a new Solano County town

Yes, the rumors are true: I'm been planning a new city in Solano County.

No, it's not that one. I'm talking about Bradville.

Of course, you've heard all about the proposed Camelot to be built by tech billionaires who bought up thousands and thousands of acres between Fairfield and Rio Vista. The idea is to build a "European-style city" (one that gets steamrolled every 50 to 100 years by a massive war?) on what is now agricultural land.

There's been plenty of noise about that, much of it from local residents and officials who say they won't let it happen.

That's not my city.

Bradville is more modest. I can't afford to buy any land, so I'm hoping the county will just give me the land. Maybe as an alternative to the proposed uber-town, allowing Solano leadership to say, "We've already started a new city. It's called Bradville. Why do we need another one?"

Bradville is the town. The time is now.

Frankly, I'm not an urban planner. I'm not even an urbane planner (Webster's definition of urbane: notably polite or polished in manner). But I've got a great idea: A town that's a mixture of Andy Griffith's Mayberry and a postcard (one that creates a false memory of how things used to be).

So here's the plan: All I need is maybe 100 acres, maybe less. Enough room to build Bradville with maybe 10 houses and a coffee shop/gas station/post office/city hall where residents will hang out and chat. Where all the residents of Bradville will feel at home. Kind of like "Cheers."

OK. So it's a combination of "The Andy Griffith Show" and "Cheers."

We won't need schools: Our students can commute to the nearest town for their education. We can even get by without law enforcement, having the Solano County Sheriff's Office on patrol.

We would, however, have some special laws. And as the King of Bradville (in case I forgot to mention it, that's part of the plan), I would enforce them with a strong hand.

For instance, there would be no backing into parking spots. I don't care that you have a big truck or that it makes you nervous to back into a parking spot. Just pull into the spot. Violate that and lose your car.

Also, folks in Bradville would not be allowed to use the phrase "what-not." Sure, we're friendly and folksy, but not rubes (my apologies if you use the phrase, you rube.).

Oh, and no Raiders fans, either. Sorry. You scare us. We'll allow Tony Wade to write about our history, though (as long as he does all interviews by phone and stays out of Bradville).

In Bradville, we'll have regular suburban houses and streets, because we're not pretentious. The gas station (part of the mixed-use building that includes the coffee shop, post office and city hall) will give away bobbleheads and antenna balls, like in the old days. The person working the front desk at the city hall/post office (they may be combined) will always be friendly and know your name.

Here's the best part: There's no big risk. Bradville will be like Birds Landing or Collinsville – two towns that are in the targeted area – but it will be incorporated. A real town. With a king.

Does the other proposed new city concern you? Are you baffled as to why someone would build another town? Do you think they might not realize how hard it will be to plant "a million" trees? Do they not know that all trees will lean at a 45-degree angle to the east due to the wind?

Those problems won't exist in Bradville, which will feel like the towns in those cheesy Hallmark movies. And the "Andy Griffith Show." And "Cheers."

Reach Brad Stanhope, king of the proposed town of Bradville, at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Research shows that tattoos are common among most groups

When I was a kid, the only people with tattoos were World War II vets, ex-cons and circus performers.

In 2023, having a tattoo means you're probably a woman, aged 18 to 49.

The first part isn't documented, although it was my perception as a kid. The second isn't specifically true, either, but it's statistically likely. According to a survey by the Pew Research Center, 56% of American women aged 18 to 29 have at least one tattoo. Fifty-six percent! And 53% of women 30 to 49 have one or more tattoos.

If you're a woman in that age group (again 18 to 49) without a tattoo, you're in the minority. Not a tiny minority, but you're outnumbered.

In case you're interested, among the major population groups, those least likely to have tattoos are people who are 65 or older and Asians. By the way, don't come at me if you're Asian and have a tattoo or if you're over 65 and have a tattoo. I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm just citing stats. (And I'm probably afraid of you because my childhood perception that ex-cons have tattoos remains in my brain.)

The Pew survey says that 32% of Americans have a tattoo and 22% have more than one. A higher percentage of women have tattoos than men, 38% to 27%.

This isn't small change: The tattoo market in America is expected to bring in more than $2 billion in 2023 and grow to nearly $4 billion by 2030. That's about $6 per person in 2023–which is significant since many people (even those who have tattoos) won't get one in 2023. There is, if you're unaware, no subscription fee to keep your tattoo. You pay once and you get it for life, kind of like that email list that won't remove you.

The Pew survey broke it down even more. The more education you have, the less likely you are to have a tattoo. The more money you make, the less likely you are to have a tattoo. But the differences aren't that great: 21% of upper-income Americans and 21% of Americans with graduate degrees have tattoos. Presumably, something that says "Masters Degree" or "$$$$$." Or "Ma$ter$ Degree")

I don't have a tattoo and neither does Mrs. Brad. However, we're now within shouting distance of the 65-plus category. However, both of our sons have multiple tattoos. One has "sleeves" on both arms.

So tats are everywhere. Your boss might have a tattoo. The neighbor who watches your house when you're gone may have one. The person who does your taxes and the crossing guard at your kid's school may have tattoos.

The fact that one-third of us have tattoos answers the question that was asked a generation ago: Will those people who get tattoos regret their decisions when they get old?

The answer is no. They'll be normal. Many of their peers in their senior community will have tattoos.

There will eventually be a generation of older people with tattoos of flowers or dragons or of a "Harry Potter" character. It will be attributed to growing up in the 1990s and 2000s.

Of course, those with the "Ma$ter$ Degree" tattoo will talk about how their tattoo was key to them getting rich. If I'm still around, I'll suspect they had a summer job with the circus.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Microsoft changes font, exposing my out-of-touch changes

I spend a fair amount of time shaking my head at writers who are out of touch.

But it turns out that I'm the old-timer.

The back story: In July, Microsoft announced that it was changing its default font typeface for its suite of products used by millions of people. The font (type style) used in Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Outlook and other apps will change from Calibri to a font family called Aptos, which is a little bit east of Santa Cruz. Get it? But enough font jokes.

Aptos apparently used to be called Bierstadt, which I thought was a small microbrewery in the Gateway area of Fairfield. Apparently not. But enough font jokes.

I know you're thinking this isn't important. The change will be seamless and unimportant to most readers. If the typeface in Word documents or in your Outlook email changes to something that insiders say will look better in high-resolution, high-density monitors, so what? In a day or two, you'll get used to it and soon you'll forget how Calibri looked.

But I'm not normal.

My lack of normalcy became more unhinged when this news broke because it clarified something that should have been obvious: Calibri is Word's default font!

There's a reason why 90% of the things I edit in my job – written by others – are in Calibri. It's not because people are old-fashioned or stubborn. It's because Calibri is Microsoft's default font. It's how Word sets your type. It's how the emails arrive. It's the default for PowerPoint slides and Excel documents.

All this time, I thought people were out of touch. Instead, I was obtuse.

As an editor (I don't work at the newspaper, but my job title is editor), I'm stubborn. I want things to look right. So it's common for me to get a document written in Calibri, define it all and change the font to Times New Roman, my preference. 

Times New Roman!

That's my Word document default, a change I make whenever I get a new laptop. It's the font in which the Daily Republic was printed for much of my career (the current font is Dutch 811, which is slightly better than Dutch 810, presumably. But enough font jokes.).

Times New Roman just looks right!

As I read the announcement of Microsoft's change, my eyes bugged out. It was even worse.

"Calibri replaced Times New Roman as the suite's default font in Office 2007."

What? Two thousand-seven? Times New Roman was booted by Microsoft 16 years ago?

All the time I thought I was changing fonts to save colleagues from being old-fashioned, I was making it more old-fashioned!  I was removing their old tube TVs and replacing them with stand-up radios. I was taking them off the train and putting them in a stagecoach.

I've seen the light. I've been educated. My tomfoolery has been exposed.

Times New Roman is old-fashioned. Calibri may look elementary to me, but it's newer than Times New Roman. And Aptos is the new standard.

So the next time I get a document in Calibri or Aptos, I'll realize it's modern.

And then I'll change it to Times New Roman, because that still looks better.

I'm not old-fashioned. I'm classic.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Ranking the most forgettable teams in major American sports

It's difficult to be a completely forgettable major professional sports franchise.

There are 92 teams among the three major American sports leagues – the NFL, NBA and major league baseball (sorry, WNBA,  NHL and MLS. Major leagues.). Teams spend millions of dollars to make sure we're aware of them, including gear that acts as free advertising. The leagues broadcast games every week.

Everyone knows the Dallas Cowboys. New York Yankees. Los Angeles Lakers, yet there are teams that we forget exist.

These teams generally don't win. They're often from overlooked parts of the nation (no New York or Chicago teams here). They tend to not have big stars (although there are exceptions). The main thing they have in common? When we hear their team name, we say, "Oh yeah, I forgot about them!"

With bonus points for NFL teams (since that's the biggest sport by far, so it's harder to be forgotten), here are the 10 most forgettable major sports teams, in reverse order.

10. Carolina Panthers. Even when they played in the Super Bowl (twice!) I forgot them. Maybe it's because Carolina isn't a town? Maybe it's because they didn't exist when I was a kid?

9. Orlando Magic. The NBA likes to put teams in a small market and hopes it works (Sacramento, Salt Lake City, Charlotte). I guess it does sometimes. Not in this case, though.

8. Atlanta Hawks. They should be memorable since Atlanta is the capital of the South. The Hawks have had exciting players (Dominique Wilkins! Trae Young! Other guys!), but ask me to name NBA teams and I forget they exist.

7. Tennessee Titans. As the Houston Oilers, they were unforgettable. They moved northeast and we forgot them, despite them being good virtually every year. Maybe NFL teams named after states are forgettable?

6. Indiana Pacers. Four former ABA teams joined the NBA in the 1976 merger, so we're nearly five decades into always forgetting the Pacers exist. 

5. Colorado Rockies. Another forgettable team named after a state. They're also forgettable because the Rockies have been largely irrelevant for most of their 30-year history. 

4. Washington Wizards. Arguably professional sports' most blah team over the long haul, which is saying something. They're never good, they're never horrible, they're never memorable. Can you even picture their uniforms? Can you name three players from the past decade?

3. Los Angeles Angels. How can a team that claims to play in Los Angeles (it plays in Anaheim), has arguably the greatest player in the history of baseball (Shohei Ohtani) and had the best player before him (Mike Trout) be so forgettable? I don't know. What team were we talking about again?

2. Charlotte Hornets. Charlotte had an NBA team, lost it to New Orleans and got another team. The NBA figured basketball was big in North Carolina, but who knows? Who even can tell? Who is this again?

1. Jacksonville Jaguars. They could be a playoff team, but as soon as I finish writing this paragraph, I'll forget the Jags exist. Jacksonville is America's 11th largest city by population, yet I know nothing of it. Oh, it has an NFL team? I'd already forgotten.

That's it. The 10 most . . . wait. What about the New Orleans Pelicans of the NBA?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Whether it's gridders or cagers, ink me up for old-time headlines

When I landed my first sports writer job at age 21, I was thrilled.

Not to get my name in the paper. Not to go to games for free. Not to tell people's stories.

I was thrilled about the chance to write headlines. More specifically, to write headline words.

"Nix" for cancel. "Tilt" for game. "Ink" for sign. "Bucs" for the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Newspapers were a sandbox. This was going to be great! The kid who loved newspapers now got to mimic what he'd read growing up.

I loved headline words from a young age, reading news headlines about the "prexy" (president) and "the GOP" (Republican Party). I cherished headlines like "Tribe Thump Chisox" (Cleveland Indians beat Chicago White Sox). 

Imagine my excitement when I got to write headlines for the Eureka Times-Standard sports section.  It was an afternoon paper on weekdays, so I'd roll in before 6 a.m. a few days a week and lay out the sports section before heading to my college classes. What better way to start off a day than writing a headline that said "Bosox, Friars swap hurlers" (Boston Red Sox, San Diego Padres trade pitchers)?

And it wasn't just headlines.

I also could use sports phrases that had been a part of my newspaper experienc. I could call the track team "thinclads." I could write "harriers" while discussing the cross-country team. The football team was "gridders," the basketball team was "cagers" and the wrestling team was the "grapplers."

Of course, there was even more. A student of how metropolitan newspapers reported, the 1984 version of Brad sought ways to breathlessly write breaking news. I particularly enjoyed using the BIG STORY writing style: "Joe Blow will not return in 1985 as the Arcata High junior varsity wrestling coach, the Times-Standard learned late Tuesday." It was breathless! It was a scoop!

Of course, "the Times-Standard learned" about it when Coach Blow called in the results of his team's match and casually mentioned that he was not going to coach the following year.

But the "Times-Standard learned!" "late Tuesday!" It was fun!

Even as I became a veteran (I was a sports writer for two years in Eureka and 18 years in Fairfield before moving to the news side), I loved headline cliches and breathless reporting. As sports editor, I discouraged my staff from using them, but I enjoyed seeing them in a small-town newspaper (or even occasionally a bigger newspaper) while traveling.

We live in a world that's politically splintered. The polar ice caps are melting. We're vulnerable to pandemics. We don't know how to control artificial intelligence. The Dodgers are in contention every year. Gas prices aren't coming down. It's bad news after bad news after bad news.

If newspapers used the old-timey headline words, perhaps the world would seem like a better place.

Wouldn't you like to see headlines about a "gridiron clash" or the "prexy nixing" some legislation or a big free agent "inking a pact" with the Giants?

Well, the Daily Republic learned late Saturday that I would, too.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

What's the Michael Jordan of junk drawer items? Counting them down

You have a junk drawer and so did your parents. Your grandparents did, too (although it probably included World War II ration coupons, a mercury thermometer and castor oil).

The junk drawer is the place where you put items that you rarely use, but you might someday need. Scissors. Maybe a tape measure. Maybe an old stapler. Thumb tacks. The junk drawer is filled with things we rarely need, but when we need them, we need them.

Yours may be in the kitchen. It may be somewhere else. It may serve another purpose, too – perhaps a holding cell for bills or other mail.

The big question: What's the most critical item in your junk drawer? What is the Abraham Lincoln or Michael Jordan or Meryl Streep of junk drawer items?

Good thing you asked, because I have answers.

Like when I ranked kitchen appliances, pizzas, fictional holiday characters, fruits, office supplies and much more, I'm here to set the power rankings for junk drawer items. Counting down the top 10.

10. Paper clips. Best to have a variety. Big ones. Little ones. Maybe one of those oversized clips that can really pinch your fingers.

9. Flashlight. We have one on our mobile phones, but we still keep a flashlight in the junk drawer. Because  . . . maybe our phone won't work someday? Who knows, but we keep flashlights.

8. Rubber bands. Rarely needed, but crucial. The recommended practice is to have at least four or five scattered in the drawer.

7. Post-it notes/scratch paper. At some point, you need to write a note. Even for yourself. How else do you remind yourself to not forget something? Putting a note in your phone isn't as effective as a Post-it note on the front door.

6. Pens/pencils. When it's time for that note, you need a working pen or pencil. You actually need several, because most pens in your junk drawer have gone dry.

5. Scissors. Maybe these are too important for the junk drawer, but that's where most of us keep them. If you need scissors, what else are you going to use, a knife? Not unless you're Davy Crockett (although box cutters fit this category).

4. Tools, fasteners. A small screwdriver. A hex key or two. Some screws. A nail or two. This is the JV team for your toolbox, filled with things that don't quite make it to the big leagues.

3. Matches/lighters. Needed for birthday cakes candles, regular candles or to start a barbecue. Because it takes too long to start a fire another way.

2. Scotch tape. There's no replacement for this. If you run out of scotch tape, what are you going to do? Use duct tape to wrap a package? Glue it? Come on, man.

1. Batteries. The kings of the junk drawer because when we need them, it's urgent. For remote controls. Fire and/or smoke alarms. Or insulin pumps. And good luck getting that flashlight in the drawer to work without some batteries.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Your dinner time shows whether you are a true American

You probably eat dinner around the same time each night and there's probably a reason for it.

It might start during the first commercial break of the 5:30 p.m. episode of "Shark Tank." It might be 30 minutes after you arrive home from work. It might be 12 hours after you got out of bed to start your day. It might be when the microwave finally finishes cooking those Hot Pockets you put in a 6 p.m.

It's probably not that exact, but most of us have a general dinner time. Now have data that determines whether we are normal or some sort of freak who should close our curtains so we don't scare the neighbors with our peculiar dinner time. 

A guy named Nathan Yau has a fascinating blog called FlowingData, where he charts various statistics in interesting ways (home run distance in different ballparks, what Americans drink, how smoke from Canadian wildfires travels across the U.S.). Recently, he used data from the American Time Use Survey (who knew there was such a thing?) to track when we eat dinner.

Broadly, data showed that most American households eat dinner between 5:07 p.m. and 8:19 p.m. Oh, sure, that's pretty general. But want specifics?

According to Yau, the peak time – the period at which the highest number of households are eating dinner – is 6:19 p.m.

That's right. If you're eating dinner at 6:19 p.m., you're a normal American. And by "normal American," I mean a Californian since that's the peak time in the Golden State. We're the only state whose peak time coincides with the national peak, again proving that we're the most American of Americans, something made clear by the fact that we have Hollywood and Disneyland and Bakersfield.

Californians are normal, eating at a reasonable time (presuming dinner time is around 20 minutes, that means our start time is from 5:59 to 6:19 p.m.). Other states are pretty close to the median: Of the 50 states, 41 hit peak dinner time within 20 minutes of the golden (state) time of 6:19 p.m. The other nine, plus the District of Columbia? Early and late-eating freaks – but I think I know why, although I'm too lazy to do the research.

First, the two states that are really early. 

In Pennsylvania, peak dinner time is 5:37 p.m., which is presumably attributable to the large Amish population not using electricity and having to feed their oxen at 6 p.m. (those are guesses. I don't know how many Amish actually live in Pennsylvania, I'm not sure whether they own oxen nor whether they use electricity).

The other early state is Maine, where people have peak dinner time at 5:40 p.m. That's attributable to the sun going down at 12:30 p.m. every day from Halloween until April 1 (that may not be accurate either).

People in four states, plus the District of Columbia, eat at 7 p.m. or later. Again, there are reasons that they're such freaks.

The latest-eating residents are those in D.C. because they all work for the federal government and presumably have to meet lobbyists for dinner. Lobbyists are allegedly late eaters.

The four states where peak dinner time is 7 p.m. or later are Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi and Texas – states that are connected.

You may not find this in "history" books, but I've heard that when the South surrendered after the Civil War, they agreed to wait until Northerners were done eating dinner before they started.

It seems weird now, but in 1865, it made sense. Trust me: I eat dinner at 6:19 p.m. every night. All Americans who eat at dramatically different times have excuses, albeit strange ones.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The semi-definitive list of the columns of lists I've written

Over the years, I've ranked many things. Many dumb things.

So many things, that it makes sense to keep them in one place, so if you, dear reader, ever have a question about (for instance) how to rank household furniture, you can look here.

A non-exhaustive list of my power rankings over the years:

Bay Area sports owners

Current commercial jingles

Bay Area sports figures (2025)

Most disappointing foods

Best months

Types of tape

Christmas traditions

Best leftover foods

Fingers

Most forgettable teams in major sports

Junk drawer items

Types of pizzas

Fictional holiday figures

Thanksgiving foods

Current Bay Area sports figures (2022)

Pieces of household furniture

Bay Area sports dynasties

Fruits

Office supplies

Bay Area sports figures (2020)

Kitchen appliances

Bay Area sports decades

Christmas songs

Days of the week

Minor U.S. holidays

Most hated Bay Area athletes

Solano County's seasons

Punctuation marks

Decades since 1960s

Generations

Modern inventions

Holidays

Best Bay Area sports figures (2014)

Biggest Bay Area sports star (2013)

Months

Greatest Warriors (2012)

Best Bay Area sports figures (2011)