Saturday, September 27, 2025 – Day 410

Saturday, September 27, 2025

Good morning, everyone.

Yesterday was all about coordinating the Andy’s Army shirt distribution—phone calls, text messages, picking up mailing supplies, and making sure every order lined up with the t-shirts that were printed. If all goes according to plan, most of you should have your shirts in hand this week. While Cindy managed all the logistics, I sat back and watched Team USA get spanked on Day One of the Ryder Cup. Let’s see where things go this morning—it’s not over…yet.

Reflecting on a childhood memory that was stirred up the other day. As kids, many of us were put to work at Ratajacks, the family liquor store in North Chicago. This was back in the late ’60s and ’70s, when the Snarski grandkids (boys only) were “asked”—or more accurately, told—to join the business along side other cousins.

Since we lived in Waukegan, it was a 20-minute ride to the store, and if you had a weekend shift, you stayed overnight at my grandparents’ place. Their home was literally attached to the store—you could walk straight from the home business office into the store. How convenient.

The hours were brutal: 6:00 a.m. to midnight. Two shifts, but if you worked the late one, you also had to open the next morning. Complaining didn’t matter—you just did it. We’d sleep upstairs in a small pass-through room with two twin beds that led into Grandpa Nick’s room. If there were three of us, one unlucky kid drew the couch in the living room, which meant waking up at 3:00 a.m. when Aunt Kathryn started balancing the books on her giant, clacking calculator. So much for sleep.

And then there was Grandpa Nick’s nighttime routine. No bathroom on the second floor, so he kept a small plastic bucket by the bed. You could always hear the stream hitting the bucket—it was loud, and it woke us up every time. I still wonder if he even turned on a light to check his aim. My guess? Probably not.

Lately, I’ve thought about Grandpa more than once. These past couple of weeks, when I first stand up in the morning, my bladder muscles just can’t hold back the urgency. It becomes a panicked march to the bathroom. Sometimes I make it, sometimes there’s a dribble, and other times a full-on underwear change is required.

So in my own way, I’ve become my grandfather. But instead of a bucket, I’ve opted for a urinal bottle—much safer for my aim, and no lights required. It spares me the stress of wondering if I’ll make it in time, and unlike Grandpa’s system, no one has to carry a bucket downstairs in the morning…our bathroom is right around the corner.

So…challenges keep presenting themselves and the solutions have been easy. I worry about the issues that are coming down the road will be much more difficult to resolve. I’ll face them when they come.

Have a great Saturday—and good luck to Team USA in the Ryder Cup.

Love you guys! ❤️

Today’s photo is what I’ve asked Alex to come setup today…a Christmas light tree. It is not an easy ask.