Re-Gain

The aftermath of our recent war exemplifies our federal waste. The United States government continues to spend far more than it takes in. Federal debt is projected to reach $53 trillion by 2036 without major policy changes.  Most Americans sense the danger: more than 75% believe Washington spends too much, and in 2025 Senator Rand Paul identified $1.6 trillion in documented waste. The waste industry—often dismissed or overlooked—offers one of the clearest models for redesigning an inefficient government. After decades working on used‑oil recycling and evaluating landfill financial assurance, one lesson stands out: design determines outcomes. Waste‑management companies are widely considered recession‑resistant because their essential, non‑discretionary services generate steady cash flow even in downturns.  The government could learn from that discipline.The familiar “third R”—reduce—remains essential. But without rigorous full‑cost accounting, we cannot manage natur...

Tennis has never been just a sport to me—it’s a mindful dance in motion, a dance with the here and now. This magical intention I call PRO Zen Play, where the racket becomes a tuning fork for attention and consistent tennis. Playing in the blazing summer heat is its own bootcamp for presence. Tennis is full of shifting mental weather systems—gusts of doubt, flashes of confidence, storms of frustration. Each one is an invitation to return to the now. My secret formula? Intention + Attention.  The more I lean into effortlessness, the more the game shifts from struggle to flow. At the heart of it is my simple acronym:  PRO—Pause, Relax, Open.  -Pause between points to slow the mind, respond rather than react, and sharpen concentration. -Relax to melt tension and let errors dissolve. -Open to expand perception, embrace unpredictability, and meet the moment as it is.  My path into tennis began with a question to the legendary Pauline Betz Addie—a world champion...

Reader Commentary | nvdaily.com https://share.google/ID7SjLRoYHy6gvtXQ I grew up lucky. Adults took the time to guide me, teach me, and nudge me forward. I learned tennis because older people invested their patience and skill in me, and that attention shaped the course of my life. In the late 1970s, while I was teaching tennis, I began volunteering—what I called happy returns.  Giving back has given me a purposeful life.Over the years—from major schools to my early days at Bryce Resort in 1980—I’ve taught children and adults, freely giving thousands of hours of instruction. My reward comes when former students return years later to thank me.  Building community is priceless. Our greatest national treasure is the attention we give our children.Recently, I volunteered at Robinson Elementary School in Woodstock. Watching a first‑grade teacher command a room full of six‑year‑olds—balancing discipline, curiosity, and joy—reminded me how demanding and noble this work is....

“I would never join a club that would have me as a member.” — Groucho Marx As a young tennis player winning tournaments, I learned an old truth: to be the best in the country, you had to play in the city. But the city’s country clubs weren’t just athletic centers—they were gatekeepers.Competing at places like Chevy Chase Club exposed me early to a world where privilege dictated access.  Tennis became my first education in the divide between wealth and labor. My father, a Capitol Hill staffer who helped write Medicaid and Medicare, co-founded the Capitol Hill Tennis Team, which I joined as a boy. The little time I spent with him was on the court. Even then, I sensed the tension between public service and private privilege—between the ideals he worked on and the exclusivity surrounding the sport we shared. As a tennis professional, I moved between two Americas. I taught at Edgemoor Club, Bryce Resort, Chevy Chase Club, Palm Beach Polo, and elite schools such as Holton-Arm...

Growing up in the D.C. area, I used to go camping a hundred miles west of the city. I never imagined I would one day spend half my life there. Yet here I am, settled in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, where I fell in love with the landscape, the simplicity, and the sense of community that holds this place together. When I first arrived, people were scraping by. Many were eating beans and rice, earning less than five dollars an hour, and struggling just to break even. Life was modest, but neighbors looked out for one another. Thirty‑four years ago, I bought my land for $8,000 -- 4.3 acres, a quarter‑acre of it a dry run, the rest rocks and shale. Today, the county says that the same land is worth $90,000, and they’ve assessed my house at roughly $70,000, well above what major real‑estate sites estimate. Meanwhile, my electric bill has climbed steadily, rising about twelve percent on average, mirroring increases in gas and other household costs. Stagflation feels closer t...

  Dr. Seuss’s favorite book was The Lorax. When the story opens, the land has fallen silent. A child wanders through a gray and barren world. The Lorax steps forward and declares, “I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.” This is no children’s tale. It is a parable for now. Few Americans today remember Roosevelt’s “Tree Army”—the Civilian Conservation Corps, born in the hunger years of 1933 and ended in the shadow of 1942. In less than a decade, three million young men planted more than three billion trees, restored wounded lands, and built the parks and pathways that still cradle our footsteps. They carved Skyline Drive along the Blue Ridge spine, raised bridges, shaped trails, and left behind a geography of hope. For more than a century, nations have understood that tending the land also tends the human spirit. Sustainability, discipline, resilience, cooperation—these are the virtues the earth teaches to those willing to work with their hands in the soil...