Last week, in a fleeting moment of optimism, we bought a pet. A pretty low maintenance pet, this one, for it's a single little fish, a beta, with pretty blue fins flashing in the small bowl that now sits on our living room coffee table. As with all pets, though, there are always problems, and with this one there are two specific isues which we haven't yet resolved.

One is its name. Every creature, we believe, has to have a name, but so many of them are gender-related and we don't have a clue as to whether it's a he or a she. A couple of gender neutral names have surfaced, but none stuck, so our Name the Fish contest is now open. The contest closes October 15th (that's long enough for the poor fish to continue nameless), and the prize is a color photo of what's-it's-name.

The other issue is more basic. (By the way, don't you love it that we all have "issues"?) Anyway, is the fish a pet or a room decoration? Or both? It occupies a small glass bowl which has previously contained a garden terrarium and later a beach scene with sand and shells. It has a prominent place in the decor of our living room.

But we've also gotten rather attached to our little fish, feeding it and cleaning the bowl appropriately. Unsure about the longevity of these creatures, I'm already anticipating some level of grief when it goes to fish heaven.

I think we're leaning more and more toward recognizing it as a real pet, and naming it will seal the deal, thereby resolving both of these problems. To tell the truth, though, as much as we are enjoying the pet it's even more fun to visit grandchilden and enjoy the grandpets.

Son Jeff and I, being serious fans of the Carolina Panthers football team and having dressed ourselves in the appropriate Panthers shirt and cap, made the long (four hour) trip to Charlotte yesterday for their opening game. Actually, "game" is a misnomer: it was a non-game, for our team lost in an embarrassing fashion. For the painful details, look under "debacle" in today's sports pages.

Far more interesting, and certainly more enjoyable, was the tail-gating experience before the game. Every Sunday afternoon, hundreds, perhaps thousands, gather in the parking lots surrounding the stadium to set up elaborate awnings, professional grade cookers and grills, large screen satellite TV sets, lawn chairs and lounges of every description, and boom boxes set to the max. We got there at 10:00 (that's three hours before the game) and were one of the last to park near our group, the Panther Huddle.

A local rib and barbecue eatery volunteered to cater for our group, and many added to the menu of food and drink. (For those from away, in these parts "barbecue" is a noun, not a verb.) Several that I talked to didn't even have tickets to the game, but they made sure they were there for the tail-gating. Although no one used the word, it was a gala event! But there was a particular dimension that I wanted to zero in on.

Yesterday's opponent, the Atlanta Falcons, is probably our biggest rival. Nah, it IS our biggest rival, for they've dominated us since the Panthers entered the National Football League, until last year, when we won both of the Falcon games. So everyone on both sides of the field and tail-gate was pretty hyped for the game, and I would have expected the rivalry to be intense to the point of being personal. Not so.

Wearing my Panthers shirt, I wandered through some of the Falcons parties, exchanging greetings and jibes, while a noisy contingent of red and black clad Falcon fans came to our party, waving flags and greetings, and there was a genuine feeling of camaraderie: we were all football fans. Sure, we cheered for our team and jeered at the other, but bottom line we shared a common bond.

I suppose many occasional fans might snicker at this melodrama, and some of the tail-gaters might pretend it isn't so, but that's what I saw. I will, at least in print, resist the temptation to allegorize.

It's a gray morning, drizzling rain, and a helluva way to mark my 73rd birthday. The sky should be blue with drifting puffs of cloud, temps in the mid-70s, with a nice breeze blowing away the humidity. Instead I get this stuff. Yuk.

On the other hand, a gray day is better than no day at all, I suppose, for most people my age are dead, and while this blog demonstrates that I apparently have too much time on my hands (according to my much-younger brother) it's better than having no time at all. So, weather and time be damned, I'll celebrate 73 years.

I've always tried to be appropriately modest about my birthdays, giving an "aw, shucks, you shouldn't have" response to gifts and cards, but that's a sham. I don't know what I'd do if no one wished me a Happy Birthday. That might be one of the definitions of loneliness, to have no one light a birthday candle for you. That would be a gray day, for sure.

Every year I make this same resolution, but I'll try even harder this year: to remember the birthdays of friends and family, and offer them a Happy Birthday greeting. And a happy birthday to me, too.

I'm told there are over 70 million blogs floating around on the Internet. Now there are 70 million and one. Inspired by niece Rebecca's postings (which you might want to check out at www.americanadianlife.blogspot.com/), this is the first of what I hope will be occasional notes of whatever interests me, sent to any friends and family who might be at all interested in these ramblings. Vague enough for you?

I suppose that this whole enterprise is, in a way, a narcissistic exerecise. I'll own that, but any attempt to communicate treads on the same thin ice, and I'm willing to go there. I've never been very good at risking in this whole communication business, anyway, somewhere between "shy" and "arrogant" (INFJ for Myers-Briggs devotees), so what the heck, why not try a blog?"

Just like the sermons I've hammered out over the years, these postings will be written most of all to myself, and I invite you to eavesdrop and even respond. Some of them will be long, some short; some of them will be news of our life here in Wilmington, some of them comments on the world beyond here; some of them will be interesting, some boring. Let's see what happens.