The Smartest Man In The World

Ten years ago, after I had moved to Tampa, I used to spend a fair amount of time on my back patio. Sometimes by myself, sometimes with others (usually my friend Doug, who used a large amount of drinking to ignore the fact that he worked as a night shift custodian at McDonald's and hadn't had a date in five years), I would have some beers while sitting on my plastic white patio furniture, soaking up sun and looking out on the pond. The pond was inhabited by at least a dozen turtles, and these turtles had sunning rituals of their own. Most would take up a spot on the eastern edge of the pond, catching the afternoon sun, but there were always a couple who used to sleep in the middle of the pond, on top of a dormant fountain dropped in there. Dormant at least until 4:00 pm, when suddenly the turtles would dive off of the fountain, and seconds later streams of water began shooting six feet into the air through brightly colored lights. At this point I would cheer, as would any guests I had over, and I would think Man, I'm the Smartest Man in the World.

Life is humbling of course, and I eventually realized that owning a patio set on a beautiful day doesn't make me a genius, or even especially intelligent, never mind The Smartest Man in the World (Oh, and I'm not meaning to be sexist. I know it should be Smartest Person. But I wasn't thinking that at the time, so it's not historically accurate. Maybe I just knew I wasn't smarter than ALL of the women. All of the men was much more realistic). But even though I've accomplished many wonderful things since those days by the pond, and thought that I was pretty smart, or very lucky, the Smartest Man in the World sensation has escaped me.

Escaped me, that is, until yesterday. For on yesterday, I achieved two hugely important life events:

In the morning, I signed a contract for a new job. It is a half-hour away from my new house, purchased yesterday afternoon. In Florida.

IN FLORIDA!


So, it's a good day. A new beginning, and with that new beginning, a new title, Eisenberg's World, about Baseball, and Everything. There will be no change in content, but I think the new title buys me a little more freedom, which might get me writing more, which was the whole goal in the first place.

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