Martin Harband promised "the shortest introduction of the year" and delivered: "Ladies and gentlemen, Steven Solomon of Rotary International."

It was not short, but for his part Solomon kept to the time allotment. In that interval he provided a word-intensive, world-girdling, fame-flaming, laud-lavishing, I-fulling paean to Rotary International from a highly personal perspective.

Jane Goodall, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela, Kofi Anan and the leaders of KwaZulu-Natal all are in his orbit, a celestial conjunction for which he credited Rotary.

His own meteoric success has been propelled by Rotary from his first association as a Rotary-sponsored Boy Scout to his selection as a Rotary International Scholar in 2001 to his ultimate impact with the Foundation.

His trajectory informed his adage: "When you give you will be changing people's lives."

As in Peter Webb's news item about Arizona's Meteor Crater, it would be difficult to tease out which of Solomon's attributes — his path or his effect — was seminal, but both may be visible from space.

"I've taken a lot," he said, "and it's time to give back."

The conjunction of Solomon and Rotary can never be eclipsed, probably because the scintillating and incendiary origination of his enthusiasm would overwhelm the chances of any transiting obstacle to dim the coronal effect of his achievements.

Truly a star in the making.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"…not to decide is to decide." We all appreciate a decisive disquisition, in this case abbreviated.

 

 

 

 

 

Displaying the aplomb of an MC at a senior center rave, the good doctor computed the interval to find that Past-president Tony Villanueva (not having a podium relieves past-presidents from earning witty and quite hilarious nicknames) has been out of office 17 days, or "one-point-seven times longer than (White House communications director Anthony 'Mooch') Scaramucci did in office." Trumpster, the President of the ol' US of A (is West Virginia still part of the union?) complained during the campaign about how much golf President Barack Obama played, but so far Trump in seven months has outplayed Obama's eight years of golf. But Trump's not complaining. He owns the resort.

Bill and Hillary were on a road trip and stopped at an Arkansas gas station where Hillary spied an old boyfriend, owner of the establishment. "If you'd stayed with him," Bill said, "you'd be the wife of a gas station owner." "Honey," she retorted, "if I'd stayed with him he'd be President of the United States."

What a dream life that would have been: Getting gas at a service rather than a television station.

And here's where we see President Chris start to feel the heft of the new job: "Your jokes are the same quality as mine," he said to Peter, "but they let you go on longer." True to his admonition to the saintly and much-mourned-over Villanueva — "Yours was a democracy; mine is a dictatorship" — PC called for no vote.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two past district governors, the husband-and-wife tandem of Riki and Bob Intner, were present, presumably to bookend speaker Steven Solomon, the presence of all three of them showering the the gathering in starlight.

Also attending was (insert the traditional disclaimer about misspellings of visitors' names here) Mitori Griffith of Half Moon Bay.

 

Bess Kane, Seraphim Carson and Frank Selinsky, a transfer from the Chico club.

Frank received an extra-special welcome to the club, being forced to join the President's Club (which makes it PC's PC) for knowing a fancy chef and dining at Brannan's. Sam Brannan and P-Chris have nothing in common save for the fact that Sam was California's first millionaire and Chris is the state's last. Of course, a million bucks will only get you a Lamborghini these days.

 

 

 

 

Kudos to Anne for earning her fourth Paul Harris fellowship. Congratulations, Anne. Did all your President's Clubs get you over the top?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back by Anne's demand, the Battle of the Sexes is a question-and-answer contest between two teams, the Fabulous Fems versus the Misunderstood Men. Rules are arcane, complex, difficult to understand and prone to getting the vapors in the afternoon. In other words, the women have the advantage. The game is similar to last year's, except for the fact that Anne succeeded in silencing the audience by threatening "great vengeance and furious anger" for anyone caught Googling answers or coaching his or her preferred sex from the anonymity of the crowd.

Not surprisingly, because the female side cheated like mammyjammers, the ladies won 5 to 1 1/2.

But here's the little surprise we promised you, Anne. The answer to the question "What are a sinker and a slider?" is…they're both fishing tackle!

And here's the proof:

        

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So adding penalties for an incorrect answer, for an incorrect moderator's question and answer, for delayed clarification via Spinnings and general pain and suffering of the poor (in the sense of pathetic) male sex, we figure the men won, 89 to 4.

You may appeal it to trial by applause.

 

 

 

 

 

Cal-Stanford football is always exciting for anyone who knows a band instrument, but it's doubly exciting for football fans, trebly exciting for Old Blues or whatever the people who worship trees call themselves. Crimson Shrubs? Rootless Garden Plantings?

Join Brian Sullivan and the tailgate party for a day at the Big Game, this year at Stanford Stadium Nov. 18. Sign up by clicking the link on the club website or clicking HERE.

 

 

 

Thank you, Peter Webb