On The Fly

In this episode: The "Doctor" Who Never Was — A Return to the World of Seuss. Let’s take a trip back to March 2, 2022.  I was four years younger, significantly more naïve, and I made the mistake of asking an innocent question that—somehow—still echoes through the halls of pediatric offices everywhere:  Where exactly did the name Dr. Seuss come from? Because if we pause for even a moment, the whole thing is absurd. At some point, we collectively decided to accept moral guidance, life advice, and the occasional existential gut‑punch from a man whose résumé included oversized footwear, gravity‑defying cats, and an aggressive campaign to convince us that green ham was not only edible, but desirable. No white coat. No stethoscope. No medical board.  Just rhymes.  This wasn’t really a question about a title. It was a question about authority—and how easily we accept it when it comes wrapped in whimsy and ends with a couplet. Theodor Seuss Geisel was born in Springfield, M...

In this episode, why "Cool" is the Enemy of Growth Last night, Lori and I joined our friends (team #1) in a professional kitchen at Sur La Table in Carlsbad, CA., for a "Date Night in Southern Italy." On the menu: Steak Tagliata, Sautéed Shrimp with Fried Capers, and handmade Garganelli. The experience was amazing, delectable food and an exceptional highlight: the Amalfi Lemon Gelato, complemented by the barrage of questions. When I’m with someone like Chef Gaetano, who’s incredibly patient, I tend to ask a lot of questions quickly. “Why use a fork to whisk the eggs and not a whisker?” “What exactly is the chemical transformation of a fried caper?” “If I roll this Garganelli a half-inch wider, does the sauce-to-pasta ratio collapse?” I could see the look on a few other students' faces: Is this guy for real? Just eat the shrimp, Patrick. But here’s the wisdom I’ve gathered after nearly six decades of being the annoying guy in the front row: The quality of your l...

⛳️  In this episode, why your Ego is costing you 5 strokes a round. I spent last weekend watching the Pebble Beach Pro-Am from the comfort of my La-Z-Boy recliner. It’s a beautiful spectacle. The cliffs, the ocean, the guys whose swing speeds sound like a fighter jet breaking the sound barrier. And during every commercial break, a very serious voiceover tells me that to play like a pro, I need to buy the ball the pros play. They make a compelling argument. They show slick slow-motion footage of a golf ball compressing against a clubface like a stress ball in a vise grip, then exploding down the fairway. Here is the uncomfortable truth that gravity whispered in my ear somewhere around my 65th birthday: I’m not Rory McIlroy. And if you are reading this, statistically speaking, neither are you. The Physics of the  Squish When a pro hits a “Tour-level” ball, they swing upwards of 115+ mph (Rory 123 mph). They possess the violence necessary to squish that incredibly hard little sph...

This episode is  for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

In this episode, A simple lesson about patience, modern life, and why slowing down still matters. We live in a world that loves to go fast. We want packages delivered today, homework finished instantly, and dinner ready in three minutes or less. Speed has become a feature, a selling point, almost a moral virtue. Last night at Nick’s on State in Carlsbad, a baked potato reminded me that speed isn’t always the point. Nick’s was lively—the good kind of lively. Grandpas telling long stories. Kids doodling on napkins. Conversations overlap in that comfortable way that says no one is in a rush to be anywhere else. Instead of the tall stools at the bar, we were led to a cozy table right in the middle of it all. The menu had plenty of tempting options: shiny fish, towering sandwiches, dishes clearly designed to impress. I ordered a baked potato. When the waitress asked what I wanted on top, I said, “Everything.” There’s something deeply satisfying about taking a humble vegetable that grew in t...

In this episode,  Chasing 70: A Respectful Negotiation with Gravity They say golf is a game of misses. If that’s true, my first round of the year at Rancho Carlsbad was a masterclass in missing efficiently . After a four-month hiatus—during which my golf clubs quietly evolved into a self-sustaining garage ecosystem—Lori and I returned to our local par-three proving ground. Rancho Carlsbad is a par-54, just 1,983 yards long. That sounds forgiving until it exposes every weakness you’ve been politely ignoring during the off-season. I finished with a 78. In most contexts, 78 is respectable. On a par-54, it means I spent a fair amount of time “getting my steps in.” But here’s the real motivation: I turn 70 this August. As a core principle of my Great Un-Working Lifestyle, I’m putting it in writing: I want to shoot my age by my birthday. The Bald-Headed Man Course Around here, we have a nickname for Rancho Carlsbad. We call it the Bald-Headed Man Course. First, because there are no woods...