MUSIC APPRECIATION
It’s true. I am completely out of touch with what is going on in the world of popular music. Today as I logged out of MySpace I noticed a list of top music searches. There were ten names on the list and I only recognized one. The one I recognized was Miley Cyrus, and the only reason I knew her is that I have a great niece who is about 5 years old and this performer is one of her favorites. Plus I believe she’s the daughter of that old country singer actor guy, Billy Ray Cyrus. My niece’s other favorite is Hannah Montana, which is name I see often in the Wal-Mart.
The other names on that list – Lil Wayne, Akon, T.I., Katy Perry, Plies, Chris Brown, T. Pain, Shwayze, and Rihanna – are all a mystery. To remedy this cultural deficit I am going to listen to Top 40 radio for the next three days. I’m going to take notes and I’m going to try and understand the appeal of the things I’ll hear. So now you’re warned and if you don’t hear from me after that time send a search party into that vast wasteland known as Popculturedom.
ART APPRECIATION
The other day I finished reading a book about a guy who made a career out of selling real and fake Salvador Dali paintings, drawings and so forth. It was called “Dali and I” and it was quite interesting especially the parts about when the guy went to some nasty Spanish jail when he was convicted of fraud. But the book raises a lot of questions about Art and what it is and how it is marketed. Not that I buy Art. My wife and I have bought a few things over the years by local artists. They are all scenes from nature, recognizable and, to us, nice to look at. In some circles they might not even be considered Art. So abstract art, surreal art and other types of similar stuff doesn’t really connect with me. Some things may be interesting to look at but to my mind, which again must have another sort of cultural deficit, it isn’t really Art. Occasionally I’ll find myself in a museum or art gallery and after I check to see if there are any pictures of naked ladies, I’ll look over the other stuff. Never once did I stand in front of some huge canvas full of colorful lines and squiggles by some guy named Pollack or Klee and gaze in wonder or amazement. At least I have no wonder, other than wondering how this crap could be called Art and no amazement other than the amazement that they’re asking several hundred thousand dollars for it. So I guess my affection for pictures by some of the Wyeths, Winslow Homer and yes I’ll even throw in Norman Rockwell, makes me kind of a boring and pedestrian guy when it comes to Art appreciation. Unlike my lack of knowledge of the current pop music genre, I’m not going to try and rectify my failings in the appreciation of Modern Art. The folks that make it and appreciate it will get along just fine without me, I’m sure.
LITERATURE
Now literature I know something about. That’s because I read. I read lots and lots of stuff. I read novels, histories, topical non-fiction, essays, poetry, newspapers and magazines. Even blogs on the internet are fuel for the factory that is my mind. (How’s that for a pretentious little line?) The library is a regular stop on my weekly chore list.
Even when I was a wee child I loved the library and all the books it held. When I was in high school I frequently had my nose in some novel when I should have been absorbing the intricacies of Algebra or Geometry. Now that I’m an old retired guy I read anywhere from three to five books a week. Sometimes I’ll read a particular type of book for a week or two and then switch. Sometimes I’ll take a scattershot approach and read a bunch of wildly different things. But, to me, there are few things more satisfying than finding a good book and losing myself in its words and ideas. The problem I’m running into as I age is the retention of the titles and authors in my memory. So if you ask me what I read last week I can tell you what the books were about but I won’t remember the name of the book or the author. That’s embarrassing. When I go to the library I sometimes have to read a line or two of the first page to see if I’ve already read something. So far I haven’t got something all the way home only to find that I’ve read it. But that day will probably come. Anyhow, if you need any expert advice on books and literature just ask away. And I’ll tell you in an intelligent way to read that book, you know, the one about this or that, by that guy, or woman, and the title is something that starts with “The”.
MUSIC APPRECIATION REVISTED
Okay I’ve listened to that damn Top Forty station for almost an hour now and I can’t take it any more. Those girl singers with their breathy voices and stupid vocal embellishments are making my ears hurt. And those dopey songs sung by post adolescent guys named Justin and Josh are just as bad. Between those boys and girls and some of the un-melodic and un-intelligible bands on that station I’ve had it. The world of pop music will have to join the world of Modern Art and get along without me. Right now I have to listen to a good Bluegrass CD as an antidote to all that other junk.
Have a fine day.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
DENTAL HEALTH FOR THE YOUNG AND NOT SO YOUNG
DENTAL HEALTH FOR YOUNG AND OLD November 15, 2008
I have false teeth. I know, I know you’re probably wondering how such a fine specimen of American manhood could possibly have been so unfortunate in the dental health area.
It’s a long and gory story with roots in the middle ages, also known as the Fifties.
When I was a very young child dental hygiene was not number one on the “to do” list in families of moderate means and multiple children. We were introduced to the toothbrush, a relatively new invention at that time, but since five kids had to share one brush some of us more sensitive types decided to forgo its use. Besides, my only sister was always hogging the thing anyway. Before my dear mother has a fit about that previous lie, I’ll “fess” up and tell the truth. We actually had two brushes, one for my sister and one for the boys.
We were all born and shortly after, developed the initial offering of baby teeth. Nowadays parents take their kids to dentists to have those baby teeth cleaned and x-rayed and so forth. In our youth those teeth rarely had an encounter with a tooth brush and a dentist was seen only if a baby had unusual fangs or multiple rows of tiny saw like growths. Normal baby teeth fell out. Why waste money on them? So I was like all those other supposedly normal children.
When I entered grade school there was no requirement for a physical or dental exam. If you could walk, approximate talking and use a bathroom you could get into school. My first school was a Catholic school and the nuns’ obsession with keeping the body covered up would have discouraged physical exams anyway. When our family moved and I switched to a public school we finally got some attention, medically speaking. We had to have physical exams, hearing tests and eye tests. And the school nurse would also annually check the kids to see if they had big problems with their teeth or other deformities. It was shortly after I entered third grade in the public school that it was determined that I was pretty nearly blind and fitted with some really attractive thick glasses with extra heavy tortoise shell frames. In those days I think the frames were actually made from real turtle shells, not plastic. Well maybe not.
I think it was in fourth or fifth grade when I first went to a dentist. I had a toothache and while I was there getting the cavity drilled out and a filling put in I had my first professional cleaning. It was there that my road to dental ruination took a critical turn. The dentist, whose name I’d better not reveal because some of his descendants might have a litigious nature, was a horrible man. His initials were B.M. and I always thought of him in a way that fit the usual meaning of that particular acronym. That dentist didn’t know the meaning of pain killers, patient comfort or a nice chair side manner. He was an ogre in a white coat. There’s an old movie called “Little Shop of Horrors” that has an evil dentist played by Steve Martin (how about that last name). I can’t watch that movie because the dentist character reminds me too much of my traumatic youthful experiences.
After that first visit to the dentist I knew I wouldn’t go again so I quickly learned the way to self medicate if I had any problems showing up after that.
Things went along pretty well for a few years. I made the occasional pass over the choppers with some Pepsodent and a toothbrush, while humming the catchy jingle.
Then I reached my last year in high school. It seemed that I was in real trouble in the area of dental health and could no longer avoid seeing a professional. I had cavities. I had some periodontal problems. And I had a girlfriend who didn’t like all that. So I talked to my mother and she made the necessary appointment. Unfortunately the appointment was with the now older and even more evil, Dr. B.M. At the first appointment the dentist gave me an extensive lecture, hurting my pride and adolescent ego. Then he got into a session of serious physical torture. After that first hour I was scheduled for four more appointments and given some medicine to apply to my gums. I can still remember the horrible taste of the oil he prescribed. It was like an extremely high concentration of the flavor of banana combined with fish. It was a flavor that should never touch any person’s tongue. But I used the stuff and I went to the next appointments with a fatalistic attitude. After all, as I said, I had a girlfriend. So I was in pretty good shape dentally when I graduated from high school.
Then came the four years of military service which I had signed up for which began the day after graduation. The first three years I had no trouble with teeth. But in the fourth year I started feeling pain at the back of my mouth on both sides of my lower jaw. It got really bad and was affecting my work so my boss ordered me to go to the clinic. Once again the road to good dental health took a detour. When I entered the clinic I was x-rayed and examined and it was determined that I had two impacted wisdom teeth. I said okay, give me some pain medicine and we’ll deal with the problem some day in the indefinite future. But the dentist, a large red faced guy that I can picture to this day, said no we’re going take care of that problem and a couple of small cavities right now. The state of the military dental service was pretty advanced in that they knew about pain killers. Unfortunately they were not too gentle in the application of the needles. And they didn’t wait too long for the effects to kick in. So this decidedly overweight dentist started his work. It involved cutting and twisting and pulling but I’ll spare you the morbid details. Let’s just say the highlight of the experience was when he was kneeling on my chest with sweat dripping from his face, swearing that he would get that damn wisdom tooth out even if it killed me. And it almost did. I bled for a few days and then the gaping wounds finally healed, although my psyche never did. I had one more experience with military dentists just before I got out of the service. But they had already done their worst and therefore no further trauma could be added and now that I was free of the military I would never have to see a dentist again. Or so I thought.
Years went by. I tried to maintain a good program of oral hygiene. But aging has a way of negating some of the programs we take on to take care of ourselves. When I was in my thirties I again had some problems. Only this time I found a modern, kind caring dentist. He promised to take slow and easy steps, use lots of wonderful drugs and to make me love dentistry as if it were fine art. And he did a pretty good job. Those problems were solved and then we needed to move because of a job change. Plus our financial circumstances changed quite a bit and dental care again got put on the back burner. We did take good care of our two daughters’ teeth and also impressed upon them the importance of continuing that care as they grew up and moved away. Consequently they have good teeth and no fear of dentists. But as I got older I had a recurrence of the psychological aversion to those guys with their sharp and shiny instruments and the destructive power they can wield. I know now that I was suffering from Agliophobia, Aichmophobia, Odontophobia and Dentophobia. All those phobias were wrapped up in a commitment to avoid dentists.
Again, time passed. Now I was in my mid-fifties and things were failing fast in the oral health area. It got so bad I thought I would have to move to West Virginia or St. Regis Falls just so I would fit in. But my wife convinced me that I should go to this dentist up in Pennsylvania who could take care of all the problems in one visit. She lied of course. We went up to this guy’s clinic which was in a rather seedy area of the city of Chester. It was a big place with lots of little offices and lots of dentists and technicians hustling about doing their jobs. The place definitely depended on volume and their output was phenomenal. So after a cursory exam and some x-rays the main dentist came in and gave me the verdict. Due to fifty-some years of aging combined with neglect and dubious early life treatment I needed to have all my remaining teeth removed. Because my jaw bones weren’t in the best of shape implants were not a possibility. It was dentures for me. So we set up a schedule. At the first appointment (the real first appointment was actually the consultation) the top teeth would go. At the second appointment the bottom ones would meet the graveyard of lost teeth. The extractions would be followed by six weeks of healing. Then it would be time for impressions, fitting and installation. Fortunately ample drugs were part of the regimen. As a matter of fact, even though the whole procedure was gross and disgusting, I really didn’t give a hoot because the drugs were that good.
So now every morning I take my teeth out of their little overnight spa treatment. Then I prepare to stick them in with my favorite adhesive, Poligrip. And usually at least once more during the day I need to clean everything up and reset those miracles of plastic and artistry. Then at night I go through an extensive cleaning of the appliances (we call them that in the dentistry trade books) and the inside of the mouth. I use more mouthwash in a month now than I did in the first thirty years of my life. Then I put the falsies into their little Polident bath and say goodnight. It is an extensive and laborious process that could have been avoided if I hadn’t been subjected to the horrifying trauma of bad dentistry throughout my early life. But I do get along with these substitute bicuspids and molars. I have no trouble gaining weight on all the foods I have a hard time avoiding. Sometimes I need to cut things into pieces but not often. Beef jerky gives me trouble as does the occasional apple. So life is good.
But let me tell you young people and not so young people something important. Do your oral hygiene stuff, and do it well. As much fun as it is giving my grandchildren a thrill when I pop out my dentures, it’s not worth the trouble that got me here.
Have a fine day.
I have false teeth. I know, I know you’re probably wondering how such a fine specimen of American manhood could possibly have been so unfortunate in the dental health area.
It’s a long and gory story with roots in the middle ages, also known as the Fifties.
When I was a very young child dental hygiene was not number one on the “to do” list in families of moderate means and multiple children. We were introduced to the toothbrush, a relatively new invention at that time, but since five kids had to share one brush some of us more sensitive types decided to forgo its use. Besides, my only sister was always hogging the thing anyway. Before my dear mother has a fit about that previous lie, I’ll “fess” up and tell the truth. We actually had two brushes, one for my sister and one for the boys.
We were all born and shortly after, developed the initial offering of baby teeth. Nowadays parents take their kids to dentists to have those baby teeth cleaned and x-rayed and so forth. In our youth those teeth rarely had an encounter with a tooth brush and a dentist was seen only if a baby had unusual fangs or multiple rows of tiny saw like growths. Normal baby teeth fell out. Why waste money on them? So I was like all those other supposedly normal children.
When I entered grade school there was no requirement for a physical or dental exam. If you could walk, approximate talking and use a bathroom you could get into school. My first school was a Catholic school and the nuns’ obsession with keeping the body covered up would have discouraged physical exams anyway. When our family moved and I switched to a public school we finally got some attention, medically speaking. We had to have physical exams, hearing tests and eye tests. And the school nurse would also annually check the kids to see if they had big problems with their teeth or other deformities. It was shortly after I entered third grade in the public school that it was determined that I was pretty nearly blind and fitted with some really attractive thick glasses with extra heavy tortoise shell frames. In those days I think the frames were actually made from real turtle shells, not plastic. Well maybe not.
I think it was in fourth or fifth grade when I first went to a dentist. I had a toothache and while I was there getting the cavity drilled out and a filling put in I had my first professional cleaning. It was there that my road to dental ruination took a critical turn. The dentist, whose name I’d better not reveal because some of his descendants might have a litigious nature, was a horrible man. His initials were B.M. and I always thought of him in a way that fit the usual meaning of that particular acronym. That dentist didn’t know the meaning of pain killers, patient comfort or a nice chair side manner. He was an ogre in a white coat. There’s an old movie called “Little Shop of Horrors” that has an evil dentist played by Steve Martin (how about that last name). I can’t watch that movie because the dentist character reminds me too much of my traumatic youthful experiences.
After that first visit to the dentist I knew I wouldn’t go again so I quickly learned the way to self medicate if I had any problems showing up after that.
Things went along pretty well for a few years. I made the occasional pass over the choppers with some Pepsodent and a toothbrush, while humming the catchy jingle.
Then I reached my last year in high school. It seemed that I was in real trouble in the area of dental health and could no longer avoid seeing a professional. I had cavities. I had some periodontal problems. And I had a girlfriend who didn’t like all that. So I talked to my mother and she made the necessary appointment. Unfortunately the appointment was with the now older and even more evil, Dr. B.M. At the first appointment the dentist gave me an extensive lecture, hurting my pride and adolescent ego. Then he got into a session of serious physical torture. After that first hour I was scheduled for four more appointments and given some medicine to apply to my gums. I can still remember the horrible taste of the oil he prescribed. It was like an extremely high concentration of the flavor of banana combined with fish. It was a flavor that should never touch any person’s tongue. But I used the stuff and I went to the next appointments with a fatalistic attitude. After all, as I said, I had a girlfriend. So I was in pretty good shape dentally when I graduated from high school.
Then came the four years of military service which I had signed up for which began the day after graduation. The first three years I had no trouble with teeth. But in the fourth year I started feeling pain at the back of my mouth on both sides of my lower jaw. It got really bad and was affecting my work so my boss ordered me to go to the clinic. Once again the road to good dental health took a detour. When I entered the clinic I was x-rayed and examined and it was determined that I had two impacted wisdom teeth. I said okay, give me some pain medicine and we’ll deal with the problem some day in the indefinite future. But the dentist, a large red faced guy that I can picture to this day, said no we’re going take care of that problem and a couple of small cavities right now. The state of the military dental service was pretty advanced in that they knew about pain killers. Unfortunately they were not too gentle in the application of the needles. And they didn’t wait too long for the effects to kick in. So this decidedly overweight dentist started his work. It involved cutting and twisting and pulling but I’ll spare you the morbid details. Let’s just say the highlight of the experience was when he was kneeling on my chest with sweat dripping from his face, swearing that he would get that damn wisdom tooth out even if it killed me. And it almost did. I bled for a few days and then the gaping wounds finally healed, although my psyche never did. I had one more experience with military dentists just before I got out of the service. But they had already done their worst and therefore no further trauma could be added and now that I was free of the military I would never have to see a dentist again. Or so I thought.
Years went by. I tried to maintain a good program of oral hygiene. But aging has a way of negating some of the programs we take on to take care of ourselves. When I was in my thirties I again had some problems. Only this time I found a modern, kind caring dentist. He promised to take slow and easy steps, use lots of wonderful drugs and to make me love dentistry as if it were fine art. And he did a pretty good job. Those problems were solved and then we needed to move because of a job change. Plus our financial circumstances changed quite a bit and dental care again got put on the back burner. We did take good care of our two daughters’ teeth and also impressed upon them the importance of continuing that care as they grew up and moved away. Consequently they have good teeth and no fear of dentists. But as I got older I had a recurrence of the psychological aversion to those guys with their sharp and shiny instruments and the destructive power they can wield. I know now that I was suffering from Agliophobia, Aichmophobia, Odontophobia and Dentophobia. All those phobias were wrapped up in a commitment to avoid dentists.
Again, time passed. Now I was in my mid-fifties and things were failing fast in the oral health area. It got so bad I thought I would have to move to West Virginia or St. Regis Falls just so I would fit in. But my wife convinced me that I should go to this dentist up in Pennsylvania who could take care of all the problems in one visit. She lied of course. We went up to this guy’s clinic which was in a rather seedy area of the city of Chester. It was a big place with lots of little offices and lots of dentists and technicians hustling about doing their jobs. The place definitely depended on volume and their output was phenomenal. So after a cursory exam and some x-rays the main dentist came in and gave me the verdict. Due to fifty-some years of aging combined with neglect and dubious early life treatment I needed to have all my remaining teeth removed. Because my jaw bones weren’t in the best of shape implants were not a possibility. It was dentures for me. So we set up a schedule. At the first appointment (the real first appointment was actually the consultation) the top teeth would go. At the second appointment the bottom ones would meet the graveyard of lost teeth. The extractions would be followed by six weeks of healing. Then it would be time for impressions, fitting and installation. Fortunately ample drugs were part of the regimen. As a matter of fact, even though the whole procedure was gross and disgusting, I really didn’t give a hoot because the drugs were that good.
So now every morning I take my teeth out of their little overnight spa treatment. Then I prepare to stick them in with my favorite adhesive, Poligrip. And usually at least once more during the day I need to clean everything up and reset those miracles of plastic and artistry. Then at night I go through an extensive cleaning of the appliances (we call them that in the dentistry trade books) and the inside of the mouth. I use more mouthwash in a month now than I did in the first thirty years of my life. Then I put the falsies into their little Polident bath and say goodnight. It is an extensive and laborious process that could have been avoided if I hadn’t been subjected to the horrifying trauma of bad dentistry throughout my early life. But I do get along with these substitute bicuspids and molars. I have no trouble gaining weight on all the foods I have a hard time avoiding. Sometimes I need to cut things into pieces but not often. Beef jerky gives me trouble as does the occasional apple. So life is good.
But let me tell you young people and not so young people something important. Do your oral hygiene stuff, and do it well. As much fun as it is giving my grandchildren a thrill when I pop out my dentures, it’s not worth the trouble that got me here.
Have a fine day.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
EDUCATION: A REALLY DUMB SYSTEM
My oldest daughter used to be a high school biology teacher. Now she stays at home taking care of our two year old grandchild while the seven year old is off at school. She is extremely involved in the activities of her son’s school, helping out in many ways and staying on top of what’s happening in his class. She’s even a member of the Parent Advisory board which is set up to help the school staff.
My seven year old grandson is a bright little guy. He was skipped from first to third grade this year and is handling that jump very well. He reads at about an eighth grade level, does math about fifth grade level and is quite knowledgeable about science and many other subjects. Fifteen or twenty years ago he would have been recognized as a “gifted” child and some avenues for more challenging and interesting educational experiences would have been opened for him. It’s true that he has been jumped a grade. It’s also true that he has been given some extra opportunities in a program called ACT (the meaning of which I have forgotten). In that program he uses a computer to delve into some higher level reading and such. But in today’s educational system there are no gifted children.
Today, in these times of political correctness, all children are special. Now that sounds nice and to a large degree is true. But in the drive to create an homogenized student population, with no failures and with all students receiving exactly the same level of attention, gifted kids are not being allowed to really develop their higher capacities for learning. At the risk of sounding like an old traditionalist I will say that even as short a time ago as when my kids were in school, there were “Gifted and Talented” programs that gave those who were identified as slightly beyond the norm, opportunities for quicker and more in depth educational growth. These programs still exist in a highly modified way. But the school bureaucracies are very reluctant to put a kid into the program. In fact the programs are not even labeled “Gifted and Talented” for fear that the less able children might in some way be damaged because they aren’t in the program. Or, even worse, the kids in the program may in some way be damaged by the higher expectations placed upon them or the possibility of growing inflated egos.
Over the past ten years or so the educational system has taken many really dumb steps towards “dumbing” down the schools. Some of these steps have even moved into the world of children’s sports. Kids that play sports are given trophies for playing, not for winning. Schools give awards for showing up and participating, not for doing outstanding work and succeeding. In the world of education, unlike the real world, there are no winners and losers. I’ve read some of the articles and books written by the educational “experts” that make an attempt to justify and encourage this trend. They are, in my un-educated opinion, a bunch of hogwash. Stifling a naturally competitive child instead of channeling his or her competitiveness in a healthy way is just plain dumb. Making a classroom full of kids a bunch of lower level drones is also just plain dumb.
Pushing severely handicapped (sorry, challenged) kids into a regular classroom environment and supplying special tutors to help them keep up while slowing down the rest of the class is, you guessed it, dumb. Not having recognized and viable “Gifted and Talented” programs is equally dumb.
But the world of education is not like the rest of the world. In spite of a great deal of noise in recent years about accountability and effectiveness in the educational system little progress has been made. Almost all school districts are top loaded with administrators who have little to do other than devise and direct foolish programs that hamper and in many cases destroy any real education. The Federal and State governments have huge departments created to design curriculum, regulate diversity, set so called standards, and implement testing programs which have the effect of doing nothing more than creating a massive paperwork glut. The teachers unions are still a powerful force in keeping incompetent and ineffective persons in their jobs. And while teachers salaries have been traditionally lower than those of other fields they are nowadays much improved and accompanied by some very fine benefit packages including a great deal of time off. So the problems aren’t due to a lack of funding. Money has been poured into education in chunks of billions of dollars. I respect teachers, especially those who do a really good job in spite of the bureaucratic ropes that are tied around their creative teaching efforts. They have a tough job made even tougher by policy makers who have no concept of what happens, or worse, what should happen in a classroom. These good teachers, if they can persevere and not burn out, deserve a great deal of credit and a comfortable retirement. They aren’t really to blame for the dumb things that happen in the schools. But dumb things keep on happening. And they are happening due to the efforts of some of our, supposedly, smartest citizens.
As usual I’m a whiz when it comes to seeing a problem and complaining about it. A solution, however, is not in my bag of tricks. I guess the best we can do is vote for legislators and school board members who have a little common sense. I’m pretty sure we missed some opportunities on that score in the recent election. Time will tell. Meanwhile if you’ve got kids in school do what my daughter and her husband try to do. Get involved and question policies that don’t make sense. When dumb ideas and programs are pushed into the school, organize parents and push back with common sense and clear thinking. It’s a tough job and bound to get tougher. I’m glad my two kids are done with school because I don’t know if I’d be up to the task. But I think they are and their kids will be fortunate because of it.
Have a fine day.
My seven year old grandson is a bright little guy. He was skipped from first to third grade this year and is handling that jump very well. He reads at about an eighth grade level, does math about fifth grade level and is quite knowledgeable about science and many other subjects. Fifteen or twenty years ago he would have been recognized as a “gifted” child and some avenues for more challenging and interesting educational experiences would have been opened for him. It’s true that he has been jumped a grade. It’s also true that he has been given some extra opportunities in a program called ACT (the meaning of which I have forgotten). In that program he uses a computer to delve into some higher level reading and such. But in today’s educational system there are no gifted children.
Today, in these times of political correctness, all children are special. Now that sounds nice and to a large degree is true. But in the drive to create an homogenized student population, with no failures and with all students receiving exactly the same level of attention, gifted kids are not being allowed to really develop their higher capacities for learning. At the risk of sounding like an old traditionalist I will say that even as short a time ago as when my kids were in school, there were “Gifted and Talented” programs that gave those who were identified as slightly beyond the norm, opportunities for quicker and more in depth educational growth. These programs still exist in a highly modified way. But the school bureaucracies are very reluctant to put a kid into the program. In fact the programs are not even labeled “Gifted and Talented” for fear that the less able children might in some way be damaged because they aren’t in the program. Or, even worse, the kids in the program may in some way be damaged by the higher expectations placed upon them or the possibility of growing inflated egos.
Over the past ten years or so the educational system has taken many really dumb steps towards “dumbing” down the schools. Some of these steps have even moved into the world of children’s sports. Kids that play sports are given trophies for playing, not for winning. Schools give awards for showing up and participating, not for doing outstanding work and succeeding. In the world of education, unlike the real world, there are no winners and losers. I’ve read some of the articles and books written by the educational “experts” that make an attempt to justify and encourage this trend. They are, in my un-educated opinion, a bunch of hogwash. Stifling a naturally competitive child instead of channeling his or her competitiveness in a healthy way is just plain dumb. Making a classroom full of kids a bunch of lower level drones is also just plain dumb.
Pushing severely handicapped (sorry, challenged) kids into a regular classroom environment and supplying special tutors to help them keep up while slowing down the rest of the class is, you guessed it, dumb. Not having recognized and viable “Gifted and Talented” programs is equally dumb.
But the world of education is not like the rest of the world. In spite of a great deal of noise in recent years about accountability and effectiveness in the educational system little progress has been made. Almost all school districts are top loaded with administrators who have little to do other than devise and direct foolish programs that hamper and in many cases destroy any real education. The Federal and State governments have huge departments created to design curriculum, regulate diversity, set so called standards, and implement testing programs which have the effect of doing nothing more than creating a massive paperwork glut. The teachers unions are still a powerful force in keeping incompetent and ineffective persons in their jobs. And while teachers salaries have been traditionally lower than those of other fields they are nowadays much improved and accompanied by some very fine benefit packages including a great deal of time off. So the problems aren’t due to a lack of funding. Money has been poured into education in chunks of billions of dollars. I respect teachers, especially those who do a really good job in spite of the bureaucratic ropes that are tied around their creative teaching efforts. They have a tough job made even tougher by policy makers who have no concept of what happens, or worse, what should happen in a classroom. These good teachers, if they can persevere and not burn out, deserve a great deal of credit and a comfortable retirement. They aren’t really to blame for the dumb things that happen in the schools. But dumb things keep on happening. And they are happening due to the efforts of some of our, supposedly, smartest citizens.
As usual I’m a whiz when it comes to seeing a problem and complaining about it. A solution, however, is not in my bag of tricks. I guess the best we can do is vote for legislators and school board members who have a little common sense. I’m pretty sure we missed some opportunities on that score in the recent election. Time will tell. Meanwhile if you’ve got kids in school do what my daughter and her husband try to do. Get involved and question policies that don’t make sense. When dumb ideas and programs are pushed into the school, organize parents and push back with common sense and clear thinking. It’s a tough job and bound to get tougher. I’m glad my two kids are done with school because I don’t know if I’d be up to the task. But I think they are and their kids will be fortunate because of it.
Have a fine day.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
ECONOMIC ANALYSIS FROM THE LOWER MIDDLE CLASS
I was reading an article about poverty in America and was startled to discover that my wife and I were precariously close to the bottom end of the lower middle class. In other words we were just one or two percentage points above poor. So from that humble position I decided I should do an analysis of the state of the economy. Please note that this analysis will be based on nothing more than personal observations, unsubstantiated data and non-objective opinion. I know the election season is over but I decided to borrow the methodology of politicians anyway. And all of my opinions and observations will be couched in the language of political correctness so that no one is ever offended by statements that might be true.
First of all I need to justify my claim to the lower middle, almost poor class. Since I retired a year and a half ago we have had only the income from my wife’s job. So I am a senior citizen earning less than a dollar a year. My wife’s income is modest and barely covers our basic cost of living. Do you feel sorry for us yet? How about if I tell you that we have been unable to take a European vacation or visit a health spa? Well that’s true and we also haven’t been able to go to Disney World. In order to pay for our cell phones we had to cancel our cable service. We pretty much stay home and read library books by candle light to keep the electric bill down. So there you have it, near poverty personified.
Now I’ll look at the economic picture from this lowly perspective. The way I see it there are three big parts to the American economy. There is the economy of everyday people which involves people working and earning money, buying things they need and don’t need and trying to improve their position financially. This part of the economy is struggling and maybe doing a little adjusting to cover higher prices and lower or stagnant incomes. It isn’t in deep trouble except for the folks who got into stupid house buying deals without thinking about the possible consequences. So stupidity is contributing to economic hardship. There’s nothing much new about that. The second part of the economy is that big paper one we label as Wall Street. It’s true that a lot of the money that is the underpinning for what happens on Wall Street comes from the people who are in the first part of the economy. But they won’t really be affected by what happens until some day in the future when they need to stop work. The Wall Street economy is extremely cyclical and driven by real business, rumor and innuendo and government reports and pressures. Basically we can’t be bothered with Wall Street until the government raises our taxes to cover the cost of screw-ups and cover-your-ass moves that politicians and political bribers make. That day will come, sooner than you think, but we in the first part of the economy will adjust and figure out how to get by.
That is unless we happen to be a part of that first part of the economy that has come to depend on the care and nurturing provided by the third part of the American economy, the government in all its forms and permutations. The people who depend on the government too much will probably not make it because the government is the part of the economy that is really in trouble. The government takes in money and spends more than it takes in. This happens in pretty much all American governmental bodies from local to national. Common sense should dictate that eventually spending what isn’t there will lead to collapse. Unfortunately politicians don’t seem to grasp that little bit of logic. Politicians feel that if things get too bad then they, acting as the government, can expand the money supply and make things go on. But it’s all paper. Sooner or later the paper becomes valueless. We’re pretty close to that right now.
If the whole governmental economy falls apart then a lot of folks will not survive, literally. Those of us who don’t depend on the government will have to be wary and may actually have to physically defend our lives and property. And we will because we have the strength of character and sense of responsibility that will be needed in those times. And if we’re believers in Constitutional rights we have a few guns stashed somewhere. There is the conspiracy minded viewpoint lurking in the back of some minds that the government and its dependents will organize to take the resources of non-dependent people. In other words there would be an economically driven civil war. But only a few nut cases could possibly believe that, right?
So what’s the point here, other than a cynical, sarcastic and simplistic look at economics? I see people who are poor all around. They don’t appear to be starving although they may not be getting proper nutrition. Those folks are possibly making poor choices out of ignorance or apathy. Plenty of those poor folks smoke, drink and use drugs. The hidden few that may actually be living in hunger are probably the victims of the drug using community, and they deserve our help and compassion. Huge efforts are made towards educating and aiding the poor in our country. Billions of dollars are thrown at the problems every year and there is little progress in evidence. Some poor folks just can’t seem to grasp the fact that there is life beyond the government handout. I just saw an article that gave the cities where the most job opportunities existed and the job categories where work is available. It seems that New York City, San Francisco, Oakland, Los Angeles and Atlanta have lots of jobs available especially in the service and retail sectors. It’s interesting that those cities also have extremely high public assistance and unemployment rolls. Oh well, I’m sure by now you get my point. You probably got my point before I did. And my point is probably moot in light of the recent election. Change is in the air. Poor folks will get jobs. The rich will handle the tax bill. Government will rein in those greedy corporate capitalists. Energy will come from just about every alternative source imaginable. There will be war no more. And we’ll all just get along together fine. Believe it and it will be so.
Have a fine day.
First of all I need to justify my claim to the lower middle, almost poor class. Since I retired a year and a half ago we have had only the income from my wife’s job. So I am a senior citizen earning less than a dollar a year. My wife’s income is modest and barely covers our basic cost of living. Do you feel sorry for us yet? How about if I tell you that we have been unable to take a European vacation or visit a health spa? Well that’s true and we also haven’t been able to go to Disney World. In order to pay for our cell phones we had to cancel our cable service. We pretty much stay home and read library books by candle light to keep the electric bill down. So there you have it, near poverty personified.
Now I’ll look at the economic picture from this lowly perspective. The way I see it there are three big parts to the American economy. There is the economy of everyday people which involves people working and earning money, buying things they need and don’t need and trying to improve their position financially. This part of the economy is struggling and maybe doing a little adjusting to cover higher prices and lower or stagnant incomes. It isn’t in deep trouble except for the folks who got into stupid house buying deals without thinking about the possible consequences. So stupidity is contributing to economic hardship. There’s nothing much new about that. The second part of the economy is that big paper one we label as Wall Street. It’s true that a lot of the money that is the underpinning for what happens on Wall Street comes from the people who are in the first part of the economy. But they won’t really be affected by what happens until some day in the future when they need to stop work. The Wall Street economy is extremely cyclical and driven by real business, rumor and innuendo and government reports and pressures. Basically we can’t be bothered with Wall Street until the government raises our taxes to cover the cost of screw-ups and cover-your-ass moves that politicians and political bribers make. That day will come, sooner than you think, but we in the first part of the economy will adjust and figure out how to get by.
That is unless we happen to be a part of that first part of the economy that has come to depend on the care and nurturing provided by the third part of the American economy, the government in all its forms and permutations. The people who depend on the government too much will probably not make it because the government is the part of the economy that is really in trouble. The government takes in money and spends more than it takes in. This happens in pretty much all American governmental bodies from local to national. Common sense should dictate that eventually spending what isn’t there will lead to collapse. Unfortunately politicians don’t seem to grasp that little bit of logic. Politicians feel that if things get too bad then they, acting as the government, can expand the money supply and make things go on. But it’s all paper. Sooner or later the paper becomes valueless. We’re pretty close to that right now.
If the whole governmental economy falls apart then a lot of folks will not survive, literally. Those of us who don’t depend on the government will have to be wary and may actually have to physically defend our lives and property. And we will because we have the strength of character and sense of responsibility that will be needed in those times. And if we’re believers in Constitutional rights we have a few guns stashed somewhere. There is the conspiracy minded viewpoint lurking in the back of some minds that the government and its dependents will organize to take the resources of non-dependent people. In other words there would be an economically driven civil war. But only a few nut cases could possibly believe that, right?
So what’s the point here, other than a cynical, sarcastic and simplistic look at economics? I see people who are poor all around. They don’t appear to be starving although they may not be getting proper nutrition. Those folks are possibly making poor choices out of ignorance or apathy. Plenty of those poor folks smoke, drink and use drugs. The hidden few that may actually be living in hunger are probably the victims of the drug using community, and they deserve our help and compassion. Huge efforts are made towards educating and aiding the poor in our country. Billions of dollars are thrown at the problems every year and there is little progress in evidence. Some poor folks just can’t seem to grasp the fact that there is life beyond the government handout. I just saw an article that gave the cities where the most job opportunities existed and the job categories where work is available. It seems that New York City, San Francisco, Oakland, Los Angeles and Atlanta have lots of jobs available especially in the service and retail sectors. It’s interesting that those cities also have extremely high public assistance and unemployment rolls. Oh well, I’m sure by now you get my point. You probably got my point before I did. And my point is probably moot in light of the recent election. Change is in the air. Poor folks will get jobs. The rich will handle the tax bill. Government will rein in those greedy corporate capitalists. Energy will come from just about every alternative source imaginable. There will be war no more. And we’ll all just get along together fine. Believe it and it will be so.
Have a fine day.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
SPIRITS OF THE LOST: A SHORT STORY
I was walking in the park one day; I think it was the sixth of May. As I moved along the path I saw an old guy sitting at the river’s edge in a beat up folding chair. He had a fish pole in one hand and a brown paper bag wrapped around a bottle in the other. His long gray hair was held down against a strong breeze by a ball cap that said Parkside RV’s on the front.
When I got up close to him I asked how they were biting and he said they weren’t but it didn’t matter. He offered me a drink from his bottle but I have a policy of not drinking anything I can’t identify. Besides I had just picked up a cup of coffee at the donut place around the corner. I sat down on a bench about five feet from his chair and watched him fish and drink in a deliberate but unrushed way.
He said that he had seen me walking in this park before. I said yes, I do it pretty often to try and get a little exercise for my old body. He laughed and told me that I don’t know nearly as much about being old as he did. I figured he was in his mid seventies and said so. He said he would be eighty one in a couple of months. And that started him on a monologue that I’ll try to recall and repeat in his own words. He said:
I’ve had a pretty comfortable life here in this skin. My growing up years were solid and my family was strong and good. But as I got into those late teenage times I wanted to be wilder and free. So I left that good home and hit the road eventually finding myself in Chicago. That town was booming because the War was winding down but industry and commerce weren’t. I got a job in factory putting little springs behind the buttons on car radios. Car radios were just starting to be added to the majority of models coming off the lines so we were busy. But at work I got involved with a couple of characters who wanted to make bigger money fast. In a bar on the East side we sat and planned how to take the payroll cash away from our employer. In those days cash in a little brown envelope was what we were handed on payday. Our plan was set for the next day and I went to sleep sedated by the beer I had during the meeting. It was during the night that I saw the form of a young man standing at the end of the bed in my little rented room. He was there, but not there. He was real but somehow unreal. When he spoke I was hearing a voice but it seemed somehow to already be in my head. And all he said was “Don’t do it. You’re getting close to being lost. You don’t want to be lost. Don’t do it, move on.” Then it was morning. I didn’t do that hold up on that day or any other. I packed my stuff and left town with my few possessions and my little packet of savings. And I didn’t look back.
It was a three day trip here to this city. I hitchhiked and walked, looked at the countryside and enjoyed the freedom I almost lost by heading down that darker path. When I got here I phoned home and talked to my Dad and Mom and told them I was going to try something new. Then I found a job at an auto factory. With my spring installing experience it was easy. But now I was installing big springs on the rear wheels of a couple hundred cars a day. It wasn’t long before I had a decent place to live and some good friends. Then I met a girl and she was the love of my life and we got married. We had some kids and I was doing pretty well taking care of my little family, working hard and moving up on the line. After about twelve years life was pretty easy and really predictable. But I had an office above the factory floor and the girls in the office made the days more interesting. Sometimes after our shift we would stop at the little tavern near the factory gate and have a couple of drinks. One of the girls seemed to think I was really interesting and funny. She laughed. She didn’t complain about the house or the bills or the kids. There was no pressure from her to be anything more than a nice guy with a good sense of humor. She asked if I’d like to spend a weekend at her place on the shore. And I told her I’d think about it, but it sounded like a real good idea. When I got home that night sleep didn’t come too easily but it came. And some time during that night I saw the form of a man at the end of the bed. He was there, but not there. He was real but somehow unreal. I thought I asked my wife if she saw him but she didn’t stir. When I heard the voice inside my head it seemed to be coming from the visitor but again my wife didn’t stir. All he said was “Don’t do it. You’ll be lost. You don’t want to be lost. Don’t do it.” The next day at work I pulled some strings and got moved to another shift. I saw that girl once in a while but I didn’t go to the shore, or talk with her anywhere alone again. I turned back to what is important and life got more interesting and fun again.
The kids grew up and moved out. We did pretty well and we retired and enjoyed that new part of our life. Grandkids and travel, sharing and exploring were the things that occupied us. Then my wife got sick. It was bad and it was fast and it was like I was erased. When all the rituals were done I sat home in the dark with a pistol on the table next to me and some strong drink in my hand. It wasn’t going to get better, I knew, and I didn’t want to stay any longer. And I as sat there somewhere between sleep and reality I saw an old man in front of me. He was there, but somehow not there. He was real but somehow unreal. And his old man voice only said “Don’t do it. You’ll be lost. She’s not lost and you don’t want to get lost. So don’t do it.” In the sunlight of the morning I woke up in that chair and I was alone. Still alone. So I called one of my kids and we talked. And later that day I took one of my grandkids to this park to fish.
So that’s the way it’s been for a few years now. I’m still feeling pretty good about being in this skin but it won’t last a whole lot longer. But thanks to those nights and those spirits of the lost, I didn’t get lost. And that was good.
The old guy didn’t say much more, but he again offered me a drink from his bottle. It turned out to be cola, flat and warm. I asked him why he kept a bottle of Coke wrapped up in a paper bag like it was some kind of booze. He said this was the bag it came in and the trash cans were all full. He said he didn’t want to be a damn litterbug, now did he.
Have a fine day.
When I got up close to him I asked how they were biting and he said they weren’t but it didn’t matter. He offered me a drink from his bottle but I have a policy of not drinking anything I can’t identify. Besides I had just picked up a cup of coffee at the donut place around the corner. I sat down on a bench about five feet from his chair and watched him fish and drink in a deliberate but unrushed way.
He said that he had seen me walking in this park before. I said yes, I do it pretty often to try and get a little exercise for my old body. He laughed and told me that I don’t know nearly as much about being old as he did. I figured he was in his mid seventies and said so. He said he would be eighty one in a couple of months. And that started him on a monologue that I’ll try to recall and repeat in his own words. He said:
I’ve had a pretty comfortable life here in this skin. My growing up years were solid and my family was strong and good. But as I got into those late teenage times I wanted to be wilder and free. So I left that good home and hit the road eventually finding myself in Chicago. That town was booming because the War was winding down but industry and commerce weren’t. I got a job in factory putting little springs behind the buttons on car radios. Car radios were just starting to be added to the majority of models coming off the lines so we were busy. But at work I got involved with a couple of characters who wanted to make bigger money fast. In a bar on the East side we sat and planned how to take the payroll cash away from our employer. In those days cash in a little brown envelope was what we were handed on payday. Our plan was set for the next day and I went to sleep sedated by the beer I had during the meeting. It was during the night that I saw the form of a young man standing at the end of the bed in my little rented room. He was there, but not there. He was real but somehow unreal. When he spoke I was hearing a voice but it seemed somehow to already be in my head. And all he said was “Don’t do it. You’re getting close to being lost. You don’t want to be lost. Don’t do it, move on.” Then it was morning. I didn’t do that hold up on that day or any other. I packed my stuff and left town with my few possessions and my little packet of savings. And I didn’t look back.
It was a three day trip here to this city. I hitchhiked and walked, looked at the countryside and enjoyed the freedom I almost lost by heading down that darker path. When I got here I phoned home and talked to my Dad and Mom and told them I was going to try something new. Then I found a job at an auto factory. With my spring installing experience it was easy. But now I was installing big springs on the rear wheels of a couple hundred cars a day. It wasn’t long before I had a decent place to live and some good friends. Then I met a girl and she was the love of my life and we got married. We had some kids and I was doing pretty well taking care of my little family, working hard and moving up on the line. After about twelve years life was pretty easy and really predictable. But I had an office above the factory floor and the girls in the office made the days more interesting. Sometimes after our shift we would stop at the little tavern near the factory gate and have a couple of drinks. One of the girls seemed to think I was really interesting and funny. She laughed. She didn’t complain about the house or the bills or the kids. There was no pressure from her to be anything more than a nice guy with a good sense of humor. She asked if I’d like to spend a weekend at her place on the shore. And I told her I’d think about it, but it sounded like a real good idea. When I got home that night sleep didn’t come too easily but it came. And some time during that night I saw the form of a man at the end of the bed. He was there, but not there. He was real but somehow unreal. I thought I asked my wife if she saw him but she didn’t stir. When I heard the voice inside my head it seemed to be coming from the visitor but again my wife didn’t stir. All he said was “Don’t do it. You’ll be lost. You don’t want to be lost. Don’t do it.” The next day at work I pulled some strings and got moved to another shift. I saw that girl once in a while but I didn’t go to the shore, or talk with her anywhere alone again. I turned back to what is important and life got more interesting and fun again.
The kids grew up and moved out. We did pretty well and we retired and enjoyed that new part of our life. Grandkids and travel, sharing and exploring were the things that occupied us. Then my wife got sick. It was bad and it was fast and it was like I was erased. When all the rituals were done I sat home in the dark with a pistol on the table next to me and some strong drink in my hand. It wasn’t going to get better, I knew, and I didn’t want to stay any longer. And I as sat there somewhere between sleep and reality I saw an old man in front of me. He was there, but somehow not there. He was real but somehow unreal. And his old man voice only said “Don’t do it. You’ll be lost. She’s not lost and you don’t want to get lost. So don’t do it.” In the sunlight of the morning I woke up in that chair and I was alone. Still alone. So I called one of my kids and we talked. And later that day I took one of my grandkids to this park to fish.
So that’s the way it’s been for a few years now. I’m still feeling pretty good about being in this skin but it won’t last a whole lot longer. But thanks to those nights and those spirits of the lost, I didn’t get lost. And that was good.
The old guy didn’t say much more, but he again offered me a drink from his bottle. It turned out to be cola, flat and warm. I asked him why he kept a bottle of Coke wrapped up in a paper bag like it was some kind of booze. He said this was the bag it came in and the trash cans were all full. He said he didn’t want to be a damn litterbug, now did he.
Have a fine day.
SHOPPING: NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH
My wife had a day off on Friday and we went shopping. I believe that I have mentioned my outright hatred for this process in past writings. It hasn’t gotten any better with age.
Something about the active pursuit of bargains on meaningless material objects offends my post hippie sensibilities. Or maybe it’s something else.
But for some reason, in an effort to be a good and supportive spouse, I went along with the program yesterday. We started locally at the old K-Mart store where she had seen some advertised specials. No luck there. The bargains were out of stock. It wasn’t too bad in that store though. It was fairly early in the day and we could roam around the aisles without being maimed by shopping carts being shoved along by overweight grannies on an assassination mission. But we needed to move on.
Let me explain something before I go on to the next store. Holiday shopping before Thanksgiving is somehow un-natural. Last year I did almost all my Christmas shopping from the comfort of the chair I’m sitting in right now. December 18th was soon enough for whatever was ordered to arrive by the big day. So my dear wife’s idea of spacing out the shopping so that the financial burden is lighter and bargains can be found, while practical, is anathema to me. In spite of my protests about losing the spirit of Christmas and losing the spontaneity of heartfelt giving we were out there shopping three weeks before a single turkey was consumed.
Our next stop was a big old national chain type toy store. The parking lot was fairly crowded and the inside of the store matched that. Again we were on a quest for a couple of bargain items advertised in the newspaper. Again we were disappointed to find that we were too late in one case and too early in another. The new Democrat administration should enact some consumer protection laws about advertising crap that isn’t in stock. While waiting for the official word from the customer service people that our items were not in stock I looked around at the folks shopping in the store. Most of the customers were women, some with small children in tow. Most had carts full of overpriced toys which were carrying advertising for other toys, movies or TV shows. The trend of using one product to sell two or three others is an amazing phenomenon. And then the other trend of selling toys that require collecting a series of characters or equipment to complete a set is also a disturbing marketing ploy. My older grandson has been hooked into this in a big way with Star Wars products, Lego Bionicle toys, Transformers and some newer Indiana Jones items also from Lego. Even the little kids are trapped into this mentality with Thomas the train engine stuff. We left this store without feeding either of the grandkids’ habits.
We (she) decided to drive the forty miles south to the beach area outlet centers. We had a quick lunch and then proceeded to drive in moderate to heavy traffic down the highway. Again the thought occurred to me that there were an awful lot of early shoppers, and that in spite of a terrible economy they were buying a lot of stuff. Just the day before I had heard news reports of a sharp downturn in consumer purchasing and a projection for the worst Holiday season in years. Some of these reporter types really need to come to Delaware and check us out. Maybe it’s because we have no sales tax but it’s obvious that most of our stores are not ready to close their doors yet.
We got to the first group of outlet stores and drove around for a few minutes before we found a parking place. As we went up and down the aisles I noticed license plates from Maryland, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, Virginia and of course Delaware. The wide range of out of state shoppers would indicate that the sales tax thing is coming into play. Or shopping is just an activity that beach going tourists enjoy. But it is November so shopping is probably on their minds more than sunning themselves on the beach.
We went into a store that calls itself a “décor enhancement center”. I walked all over the jammed up pseudo-aisles of that place and couldn’t find one thing that would enhance my décor. Other folks obviously disagree with me because they were buying the knick-knacks, “art” and decorative items like starving people swarming onto the back of the UN rice delivery truck. (Note the obviously ironic comparison) After leaving that place we moved on to an L.L. Bean outlet store. Now this was more in tune with my tastes. But after browsing around looking for some fishing equipment or camp gear I found very little merchandise in that vein. The place was full of clothes and shoes. It was also full of vaguely disoriented men tagging along after women who were bargain grabbing with a vengeance. Apparently I was one of those guys. We all had hoped for something interesting and were instead stuck in a yuppie clothing store answering the usual questions with non-committal head nods and “uh-huhs”. The only guys enjoying that store were the two gay couples trying on shoes. But my wife was thrilled to find some shirts for our grandsons that were on sale for 95 cents. Yes that’s a correct figure. And they aren’t too bad either. They did come out of China and they must have been a poor seller, but they weren’t ugly and they were made pretty well. So now my wife was buoyed up by getting a fantastic bargain and was fully in the hunt again.
We next went into a place called the Kitchen Collection store. I like these kinds of stores. Even if I don’t need anything I can look around at all the great inventions designed to ease the labors of us poor overworked Americans. The imagination used in the creation of some of these gadgets, or in the refinement of old standard kitchen tools and utensils, is a wondrous thing. I saw twenty different kinds of blenders, dozens of electric mixers, toaster ovens, convection ovens, microwave ovens and hundreds of accessories for all of them. If you need a tool to make sculptures out of garlic cloves they have it. If you need a computer program to put near the family room bar so you too can mix an exotic drink from some South Pacific bar, you can find it in this store. It was possible to spot the guys who were really getting tired of shopping because they kind of hung around the area where the sharp and interesting knives were displayed, furtively glancing first at the knives then at their wives. My wife dragged me out of there before I reached that stage.
So we went on to several more stores. She made a few purchases. I watched people.
The shoppers were pretty representative of the general population, maybe skewed a bit towards the more affluent folks. But there was racial diversity and religious diversity, if Muslim type headwear and yarmulkes are valid evidence. And the majority of these folks were buyers. In my wanderings I overheard many conversations. Some of the talk went beyond the usual discussions of prices and quality of the merchandise. There were conversations of a personal nature about who was sleeping with whom, how the kids were doing and how the latest liposuction went. I also heard a couple of conversations about the recent election and most of the people involved in those discussions were pleased with the outcome. I wonder if they will be so pleased when the next Christmas season, or the one after that, comes around and their disposable income has diminished significantly due to higher taxes. We’ll see, I guess.
After visiting two of these outlet centers and going into about fourteen stores I’d reached my limit for shopping and my wife, being both observant and kind, called it quits. So we dined at a Mexican restaurant nearby and I ate a meal guaranteed to make the ride home more aromatic. After all she’s the one who wanted to drive an hour to do some shopping, so she had to suffer the consequences, at least a little bit.
Have a fine day.
Something about the active pursuit of bargains on meaningless material objects offends my post hippie sensibilities. Or maybe it’s something else.
But for some reason, in an effort to be a good and supportive spouse, I went along with the program yesterday. We started locally at the old K-Mart store where she had seen some advertised specials. No luck there. The bargains were out of stock. It wasn’t too bad in that store though. It was fairly early in the day and we could roam around the aisles without being maimed by shopping carts being shoved along by overweight grannies on an assassination mission. But we needed to move on.
Let me explain something before I go on to the next store. Holiday shopping before Thanksgiving is somehow un-natural. Last year I did almost all my Christmas shopping from the comfort of the chair I’m sitting in right now. December 18th was soon enough for whatever was ordered to arrive by the big day. So my dear wife’s idea of spacing out the shopping so that the financial burden is lighter and bargains can be found, while practical, is anathema to me. In spite of my protests about losing the spirit of Christmas and losing the spontaneity of heartfelt giving we were out there shopping three weeks before a single turkey was consumed.
Our next stop was a big old national chain type toy store. The parking lot was fairly crowded and the inside of the store matched that. Again we were on a quest for a couple of bargain items advertised in the newspaper. Again we were disappointed to find that we were too late in one case and too early in another. The new Democrat administration should enact some consumer protection laws about advertising crap that isn’t in stock. While waiting for the official word from the customer service people that our items were not in stock I looked around at the folks shopping in the store. Most of the customers were women, some with small children in tow. Most had carts full of overpriced toys which were carrying advertising for other toys, movies or TV shows. The trend of using one product to sell two or three others is an amazing phenomenon. And then the other trend of selling toys that require collecting a series of characters or equipment to complete a set is also a disturbing marketing ploy. My older grandson has been hooked into this in a big way with Star Wars products, Lego Bionicle toys, Transformers and some newer Indiana Jones items also from Lego. Even the little kids are trapped into this mentality with Thomas the train engine stuff. We left this store without feeding either of the grandkids’ habits.
We (she) decided to drive the forty miles south to the beach area outlet centers. We had a quick lunch and then proceeded to drive in moderate to heavy traffic down the highway. Again the thought occurred to me that there were an awful lot of early shoppers, and that in spite of a terrible economy they were buying a lot of stuff. Just the day before I had heard news reports of a sharp downturn in consumer purchasing and a projection for the worst Holiday season in years. Some of these reporter types really need to come to Delaware and check us out. Maybe it’s because we have no sales tax but it’s obvious that most of our stores are not ready to close their doors yet.
We got to the first group of outlet stores and drove around for a few minutes before we found a parking place. As we went up and down the aisles I noticed license plates from Maryland, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, Virginia and of course Delaware. The wide range of out of state shoppers would indicate that the sales tax thing is coming into play. Or shopping is just an activity that beach going tourists enjoy. But it is November so shopping is probably on their minds more than sunning themselves on the beach.
We went into a store that calls itself a “décor enhancement center”. I walked all over the jammed up pseudo-aisles of that place and couldn’t find one thing that would enhance my décor. Other folks obviously disagree with me because they were buying the knick-knacks, “art” and decorative items like starving people swarming onto the back of the UN rice delivery truck. (Note the obviously ironic comparison) After leaving that place we moved on to an L.L. Bean outlet store. Now this was more in tune with my tastes. But after browsing around looking for some fishing equipment or camp gear I found very little merchandise in that vein. The place was full of clothes and shoes. It was also full of vaguely disoriented men tagging along after women who were bargain grabbing with a vengeance. Apparently I was one of those guys. We all had hoped for something interesting and were instead stuck in a yuppie clothing store answering the usual questions with non-committal head nods and “uh-huhs”. The only guys enjoying that store were the two gay couples trying on shoes. But my wife was thrilled to find some shirts for our grandsons that were on sale for 95 cents. Yes that’s a correct figure. And they aren’t too bad either. They did come out of China and they must have been a poor seller, but they weren’t ugly and they were made pretty well. So now my wife was buoyed up by getting a fantastic bargain and was fully in the hunt again.
We next went into a place called the Kitchen Collection store. I like these kinds of stores. Even if I don’t need anything I can look around at all the great inventions designed to ease the labors of us poor overworked Americans. The imagination used in the creation of some of these gadgets, or in the refinement of old standard kitchen tools and utensils, is a wondrous thing. I saw twenty different kinds of blenders, dozens of electric mixers, toaster ovens, convection ovens, microwave ovens and hundreds of accessories for all of them. If you need a tool to make sculptures out of garlic cloves they have it. If you need a computer program to put near the family room bar so you too can mix an exotic drink from some South Pacific bar, you can find it in this store. It was possible to spot the guys who were really getting tired of shopping because they kind of hung around the area where the sharp and interesting knives were displayed, furtively glancing first at the knives then at their wives. My wife dragged me out of there before I reached that stage.
So we went on to several more stores. She made a few purchases. I watched people.
The shoppers were pretty representative of the general population, maybe skewed a bit towards the more affluent folks. But there was racial diversity and religious diversity, if Muslim type headwear and yarmulkes are valid evidence. And the majority of these folks were buyers. In my wanderings I overheard many conversations. Some of the talk went beyond the usual discussions of prices and quality of the merchandise. There were conversations of a personal nature about who was sleeping with whom, how the kids were doing and how the latest liposuction went. I also heard a couple of conversations about the recent election and most of the people involved in those discussions were pleased with the outcome. I wonder if they will be so pleased when the next Christmas season, or the one after that, comes around and their disposable income has diminished significantly due to higher taxes. We’ll see, I guess.
After visiting two of these outlet centers and going into about fourteen stores I’d reached my limit for shopping and my wife, being both observant and kind, called it quits. So we dined at a Mexican restaurant nearby and I ate a meal guaranteed to make the ride home more aromatic. After all she’s the one who wanted to drive an hour to do some shopping, so she had to suffer the consequences, at least a little bit.
Have a fine day.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
ELECTION SELECTIONS
The people have spoken and the traditions of the American electoral process have been followed again. It may be true that undue influences affected the outcome of the various races for office but, again, the people have spoken.
I haven’t looked at the numbers of the popular vote in the presidential contest, but I have a feeling that at least 40% of the voters didn’t vote for the winner. In my estimation that is a sizeable minority. And it is possible that the minority could be an extremely vocal and powerful force when the time comes for votes in the House and Senate. We still have a representative form of government, and those representatives can be influenced. If power of the new office holders seems to be running amok we need to remember there will be another election in two years and again in four years. As Mr. Obama has said “Things will change.”
In our local and state elections the results were much the same. Democrats ruled the day in Delaware except for our “moderate” Republican congressman who won his ninth term. He’s a wishy-washy sort, more Democrat than some Democrats. Some long term incumbent Republicans lost their races because they made spurious and untrue accusations against their opponents. In other words they stooped to the level of dirty politicking often shown by the other party. They may have lost anyway, but in their losses this time they dishonored themselves and their party.
So now what? The new administrations will take office in a couple of months and be hit with the realities of the enormous responsibilities and problems faced everyday by the folks currently in office. They will need to learn that if the policies they put in place are ineffectual then they can only blame their predecessors for a short time. It might work for a year or two but after that the people will want to see more than smoke and mirrors. Then a midterm election comes along.
A lot of damage to our Country can be done in the next few years. A lot of damage was done in the middle years of the F.D.R. administration. America recovered. Huge damage was done during the War Between the States. America recovered. Damage of another sort was done during the Clinton years. America’s recovery from that had been going along fairly well but may now be delayed somewhat. That remains to be seen. The point is this. The system we have works. It may not always work the way we like it but it will work. If too many changes are attempted in the set up of the system there are remedies available to reinforce the original intent and practices of the system.
So we need to be vigilant. We need to be vocal. We can’t be a silent minority. Use the system. Use it locally, on a state level and nationally. The people may have misspoken this time but in our Country we get to speak again.
Congratulations Democrats and have a fine day.
I haven’t looked at the numbers of the popular vote in the presidential contest, but I have a feeling that at least 40% of the voters didn’t vote for the winner. In my estimation that is a sizeable minority. And it is possible that the minority could be an extremely vocal and powerful force when the time comes for votes in the House and Senate. We still have a representative form of government, and those representatives can be influenced. If power of the new office holders seems to be running amok we need to remember there will be another election in two years and again in four years. As Mr. Obama has said “Things will change.”
In our local and state elections the results were much the same. Democrats ruled the day in Delaware except for our “moderate” Republican congressman who won his ninth term. He’s a wishy-washy sort, more Democrat than some Democrats. Some long term incumbent Republicans lost their races because they made spurious and untrue accusations against their opponents. In other words they stooped to the level of dirty politicking often shown by the other party. They may have lost anyway, but in their losses this time they dishonored themselves and their party.
So now what? The new administrations will take office in a couple of months and be hit with the realities of the enormous responsibilities and problems faced everyday by the folks currently in office. They will need to learn that if the policies they put in place are ineffectual then they can only blame their predecessors for a short time. It might work for a year or two but after that the people will want to see more than smoke and mirrors. Then a midterm election comes along.
A lot of damage to our Country can be done in the next few years. A lot of damage was done in the middle years of the F.D.R. administration. America recovered. Huge damage was done during the War Between the States. America recovered. Damage of another sort was done during the Clinton years. America’s recovery from that had been going along fairly well but may now be delayed somewhat. That remains to be seen. The point is this. The system we have works. It may not always work the way we like it but it will work. If too many changes are attempted in the set up of the system there are remedies available to reinforce the original intent and practices of the system.
So we need to be vigilant. We need to be vocal. We can’t be a silent minority. Use the system. Use it locally, on a state level and nationally. The people may have misspoken this time but in our Country we get to speak again.
Congratulations Democrats and have a fine day.
Monday, November 3, 2008
RELIGIOUS OBSERVATIONS
Before I start this little observational article I need to emphasize that I am in no way disparaging anyone’s genuinely sincere religious beliefs. As a matter of fact I feel that a person who holds and practices most any faith is the glue that binds our society together. As long as that faith does not preach death to us infidels it’s okay by me. So if I say anything offensive about your particular religion please forgive me. Maybe it’s a matter of my lack of understanding or some other flaw in my character and you can write my remarks off to that.
Today I took my walk through historic old Dover. When I do that, I park my truck at a local park and walk down into town and do little errands like going to the post office and to the bank on my two plus mile loop. It makes the walk seem less like exercise which makes sense to me because I truly do hate to exercise. As I was nearing the completion of my journey a gentleman of about my age approached me carrying a tire iron. That put me on my toes because in today’s world violent surprises can pop up just about anywhere. Since I had just walked a little over two miles I knew I wasn’t going to be able to run far without falling over dead so I decided to say “hi” to the guy and see what developed.
It turned out that he had a flat tire and the lug wrench he was carrying did not fit the lug nuts on his wheel. This was in spite of the fact that it came with the vehicle from the factory. Maybe that’s why Plymouths, which he was driving, are no longer being made. So I went to my truck and got my lug wrench out and went to his car to see if I could help him. As I was down next to his tire he began to tell me that he spends a couple hours at the park every day talking to folks about the Bible, if they’ll listen. Since I have a policy of not pissing people off when they want to talk about their religion, I made some non-committal noises and tried to change the subject to the problem at hand, namely the fact that my lug wrench wasn’t fitting the nuts either. So I stood up and asked him if he had a cell phone and could call a relative or friend to help him out. He didn’t have a cell phone, which put him a notch higher on my estimation of him as a good guy, so I offered to let him use mine. He called his brother’s phone number but got no answer. Then he stood there thinking about whom else to call and I asked him if he had towing service on his insurance. He slapped his forehead and said of course he did, so he dug a little folder out of the mess of Bibles and religious tracts strewn around the inside of his car. So we dialed up his Geico service number and he began explaining his problem. I have to give the man credit for fervent belief because he even tried to give his little sales talk to the girl on the phone. And when he was on hold he continued his presentation to me. Then at the end of his call with the service agent lady, he complimented her and asked to speak to her supervisor. When the supervisor came on he lavishly praised the service agent and then tried to engage the supervisor in a dialogue about his religious beliefs. The guy was amazing.
He was so amazing that I actually let him go on for a while about what he believed and what his religious organization was teaching. I’ll summarize his presentation as briefly as I can. God (Jehovah) reveals in the Bible that Satan is in charge of the world. Satan has control of everything including all the traditional religions, money and finance, government and societies. But the Bible is the guide that tells people how to find the narrow path away from the world. Math is involved which is why the belief in the Trinitarian nature of God is wrong. That part was a little murky. Also there were some other numbers involving 144,000, 12 and others I don’t recall. Bible study is only the beginning and it’s important that I find a Jehovah’s Witness congregation and I should do it quickly, because time is running out. This gentleman was absolutely sincere in his conviction. I told him I respected his attitude and I wished him well in his mission to spread the truth as he saw it. So I managed to get into my truck and leave the park and as I did I saw the tow truck coming to my new friend’s aid.
Now most of you folks know me and you know that I’m not very religious in the conventional sense of the word. I know there are a lot of you out there praying every day that I see the light and come to some church or other. It’s a good thing and I hate being a disappointment to you all so constantly and consistently. I could be a smart ass and say that with all you folks with conflicting views praying that I go your way, the Big Guy Upstairs is confused and can’t decide which way to influence my thinking, but I won’t.
No, I’ll just go on this path of my own and watch and learn from the true believers that I encounter along the way. Of course I’ll keep in mind something that an American philosopher named Eric Hoffer wrote some years ago”Spiritual stagnation ensues when man’s environment becomes unpredictable or when his inner life is made wholly predictable.”
Have a fine day.
Today I took my walk through historic old Dover. When I do that, I park my truck at a local park and walk down into town and do little errands like going to the post office and to the bank on my two plus mile loop. It makes the walk seem less like exercise which makes sense to me because I truly do hate to exercise. As I was nearing the completion of my journey a gentleman of about my age approached me carrying a tire iron. That put me on my toes because in today’s world violent surprises can pop up just about anywhere. Since I had just walked a little over two miles I knew I wasn’t going to be able to run far without falling over dead so I decided to say “hi” to the guy and see what developed.
It turned out that he had a flat tire and the lug wrench he was carrying did not fit the lug nuts on his wheel. This was in spite of the fact that it came with the vehicle from the factory. Maybe that’s why Plymouths, which he was driving, are no longer being made. So I went to my truck and got my lug wrench out and went to his car to see if I could help him. As I was down next to his tire he began to tell me that he spends a couple hours at the park every day talking to folks about the Bible, if they’ll listen. Since I have a policy of not pissing people off when they want to talk about their religion, I made some non-committal noises and tried to change the subject to the problem at hand, namely the fact that my lug wrench wasn’t fitting the nuts either. So I stood up and asked him if he had a cell phone and could call a relative or friend to help him out. He didn’t have a cell phone, which put him a notch higher on my estimation of him as a good guy, so I offered to let him use mine. He called his brother’s phone number but got no answer. Then he stood there thinking about whom else to call and I asked him if he had towing service on his insurance. He slapped his forehead and said of course he did, so he dug a little folder out of the mess of Bibles and religious tracts strewn around the inside of his car. So we dialed up his Geico service number and he began explaining his problem. I have to give the man credit for fervent belief because he even tried to give his little sales talk to the girl on the phone. And when he was on hold he continued his presentation to me. Then at the end of his call with the service agent lady, he complimented her and asked to speak to her supervisor. When the supervisor came on he lavishly praised the service agent and then tried to engage the supervisor in a dialogue about his religious beliefs. The guy was amazing.
He was so amazing that I actually let him go on for a while about what he believed and what his religious organization was teaching. I’ll summarize his presentation as briefly as I can. God (Jehovah) reveals in the Bible that Satan is in charge of the world. Satan has control of everything including all the traditional religions, money and finance, government and societies. But the Bible is the guide that tells people how to find the narrow path away from the world. Math is involved which is why the belief in the Trinitarian nature of God is wrong. That part was a little murky. Also there were some other numbers involving 144,000, 12 and others I don’t recall. Bible study is only the beginning and it’s important that I find a Jehovah’s Witness congregation and I should do it quickly, because time is running out. This gentleman was absolutely sincere in his conviction. I told him I respected his attitude and I wished him well in his mission to spread the truth as he saw it. So I managed to get into my truck and leave the park and as I did I saw the tow truck coming to my new friend’s aid.
Now most of you folks know me and you know that I’m not very religious in the conventional sense of the word. I know there are a lot of you out there praying every day that I see the light and come to some church or other. It’s a good thing and I hate being a disappointment to you all so constantly and consistently. I could be a smart ass and say that with all you folks with conflicting views praying that I go your way, the Big Guy Upstairs is confused and can’t decide which way to influence my thinking, but I won’t.
No, I’ll just go on this path of my own and watch and learn from the true believers that I encounter along the way. Of course I’ll keep in mind something that an American philosopher named Eric Hoffer wrote some years ago”Spiritual stagnation ensues when man’s environment becomes unpredictable or when his inner life is made wholly predictable.”
Have a fine day.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Scattered Thoughts from a Scatterbrain
BEING SCATTERBRAINED AS AN ART FORM November 2, 2008
Last night while having dinner, one of our dinner companions said that a person that she had shared meals with recently made “sex sounds” while eating. I wondered if that same person, or others, might make eating sounds while having sex.
I probably should have labeled this article as having adult content.
The economy is going down the tubes. That’s all that we’ve been seeing and hearing lately. If that is a fact then somebody should tell all those folks out there spending money to knock it off. Maybe people in your area haven’t started their Christmas shopping but around here the bargain hunters are loose and purchasing is prolific. And I’ve seen plenty of cash transactions in addition to credit card buying. Maybe Wall Street isn’t the only segment of the economy in existence. Or perhaps we just live in a more fortunate area than the places the news media is covering.
Fish have a highly developed sense of smell, according to people who study that stuff. I wonder if old and stinky fish become repulsive to their neighbors after a while. Further study may be required.
I tried to start up posting my blogs on the Google blogging site. Unfortunately technology reared its ugly head, raised its hammer and smacked me down. Apparently having a super slow dial-up connection is a disadvantage at times; namely every time I use this dang computer. If I wasn’t such a cheap old curmudgeon I would get on some kind of faster service. But I’d rather complain, I guess.
This isn’t really about politics but about some folks’ attitude towards the subject. Lately I’ve encountered several people who are really angry about the whole political process. They may still vote in the election but they absolutely refuse to discuss anything about candidates or issues. If I make an attempt to bring up the subject I’m told, in no uncertain terms, to shut up or talk about something else. Being the curious guy I am I’ve tried to figure out where this attitude comes from. It seems to be equally divided between the major parties. It seems to be most prevalent in women. And it is not more apparent in any particular socio-economic group. A great deal of the anger seems to be caused by the huge amount of constant advertising, and the money spent on it. Also the mean-spirited mudslinging is a particular irritant to women who (sexist generalization coming) have a kinder nature than men, at least publicly. Well in a few days the anger will dissipate. Or at least change to the election losers and whoever supported them.
Re-tried the Google blogspot set up and with the help of my youngest daughter had success. So now my little literary dribbling will have even wider circulation. That doesn’t mean people will read them but they’ll be out there.
One of my cousins recently went, with his wife, to the North Carolina state fair. They had a good time viewing exhibits and sampling the food offerings. He mentioned in his blog that there was a new addition to the ridiculously high calorie, high cholesterol foods for sale. It was deep fried pecan pie. They take a slice of pecan pie, dip it in a batter and drop it in the fryer. So now in addition to deep fried Oreos, Coca-cola, corn dogs and such, a whole new area of products can be exploited. How about deep fried lemon meringue pie? Or maybe deep fried Tootsie Roll Pops? Call the venture capitalists! I see an opportunity.
That’s it for this Sunday afternoon. Go and do something nice for somebody.
Have a fine day.
Last night while having dinner, one of our dinner companions said that a person that she had shared meals with recently made “sex sounds” while eating. I wondered if that same person, or others, might make eating sounds while having sex.
I probably should have labeled this article as having adult content.
The economy is going down the tubes. That’s all that we’ve been seeing and hearing lately. If that is a fact then somebody should tell all those folks out there spending money to knock it off. Maybe people in your area haven’t started their Christmas shopping but around here the bargain hunters are loose and purchasing is prolific. And I’ve seen plenty of cash transactions in addition to credit card buying. Maybe Wall Street isn’t the only segment of the economy in existence. Or perhaps we just live in a more fortunate area than the places the news media is covering.
Fish have a highly developed sense of smell, according to people who study that stuff. I wonder if old and stinky fish become repulsive to their neighbors after a while. Further study may be required.
I tried to start up posting my blogs on the Google blogging site. Unfortunately technology reared its ugly head, raised its hammer and smacked me down. Apparently having a super slow dial-up connection is a disadvantage at times; namely every time I use this dang computer. If I wasn’t such a cheap old curmudgeon I would get on some kind of faster service. But I’d rather complain, I guess.
This isn’t really about politics but about some folks’ attitude towards the subject. Lately I’ve encountered several people who are really angry about the whole political process. They may still vote in the election but they absolutely refuse to discuss anything about candidates or issues. If I make an attempt to bring up the subject I’m told, in no uncertain terms, to shut up or talk about something else. Being the curious guy I am I’ve tried to figure out where this attitude comes from. It seems to be equally divided between the major parties. It seems to be most prevalent in women. And it is not more apparent in any particular socio-economic group. A great deal of the anger seems to be caused by the huge amount of constant advertising, and the money spent on it. Also the mean-spirited mudslinging is a particular irritant to women who (sexist generalization coming) have a kinder nature than men, at least publicly. Well in a few days the anger will dissipate. Or at least change to the election losers and whoever supported them.
Re-tried the Google blogspot set up and with the help of my youngest daughter had success. So now my little literary dribbling will have even wider circulation. That doesn’t mean people will read them but they’ll be out there.
One of my cousins recently went, with his wife, to the North Carolina state fair. They had a good time viewing exhibits and sampling the food offerings. He mentioned in his blog that there was a new addition to the ridiculously high calorie, high cholesterol foods for sale. It was deep fried pecan pie. They take a slice of pecan pie, dip it in a batter and drop it in the fryer. So now in addition to deep fried Oreos, Coca-cola, corn dogs and such, a whole new area of products can be exploited. How about deep fried lemon meringue pie? Or maybe deep fried Tootsie Roll Pops? Call the venture capitalists! I see an opportunity.
That’s it for this Sunday afternoon. Go and do something nice for somebody.
Have a fine day.
EARTH DAY 2008
Most every day I try to walk a couple of miles in an effort to keep my youthful figure and stay alive a couple more years. But today I saw an event that might make me think twice about walking in nature and force me to walk with the other codgers in the confines of a shopping center. Here’s what happened.
I arrived at one of my favorite walking spots about a mile from home. It’s a very nice trail, about 2 ½ miles long in a county park. The trail runs along a creek in a woodsy, brushy kind of wetland area. There are nice boardwalks over the more swampy spots and the trail is pretty well groomed although there are quite a lot of overhanging trees and bushes just above head high. Birds of all sorts fly all around you, geese and ducks inhabit the creek and occasionally you will see larger birds of prey circling overhead. Other wildlife is present in the form of rabbits and squirrels. And if you look carefully you will see signs of raccoons and deer. All in all an idyllic and well used public benefit.
This morning the park wasn’t too crowded. A few young mothers were pushing their kids along in $500.00 strollers at a very fast pace. There were some dog walkers armed with their little scoopers and plastic bags full of last night’s Alpo. And there were a couple of the athletic types racing around in ways that are truly unnatural. One fellow in particular caught my eye as he set out ahead of me. He seemed to be a very fit fifty-ish guy dressed in expensive exercise clothes including those extremely high dollar walking shoes. His hair was a brownish gray, kind of wiry mop tied up in an unusual upturned pony tail. He had the stride of the fast walker, arms pumping and calf muscles stretching as his bottle of Aquafina bumped on the belt around his waist. In no time at all he was out of sight around the bend as I poked along at my usual leisurely pace. I was going along enjoying the beautiful day, admiring the birds and noticing unusual amounts of squirrel activity in the trees and on the ground. The Rites of Spring, I thought to myself. Or maybe I said it out loud. Anyway, as I approached a particularly woody spot with lots of low hanging branches and brush I heard a high pitched shrieking and hollering. Lacking good sense I rushed towards the commotion. A few hundred feet ahead I could see the fast walking guy leaping around yelling and frantically clawing at his head. Deciding that caution would be wise I slowed down a bit. He could be in the midst of a swarm of Killer Bees or something. But as I cautiously approached I couldn’t see any bee swarm. What I did see was far more frightening and something I’ll never forget. Attached to the back of the guy’s wiry upturned brownish gray ponytail was a large brownish gray squirrel. And this squirrel wasn’t attacking that pony tail; he was attempting to mate with it! It was horrible. Grabbing the only weapon I could come up with, the large pocket comb I carry to smooth out my own flowing locks, I ran up and waved it at the squirrel (which by now was wondering why this particular mate was so recalcitrant) forcing the animal to dislodge itself and leap off into the nearest tree. Then I attempted to calm the poor fellow down. I assured him there were no bleeding wounds in spite of the wetness on the back of his head. And knowing that squirrels are somewhat sadistic in their mating I told the squirrel rape victim that he was lucky their relationship was so short.
So I gave the man my comb so he could flatten down the hair that had been tied up in that squirrelly looking style, which should prevent further incidents. He fast walked his way back to the more open areas of the park and I presume home to his shampoo and shower. I finished my walk, pondering the wonders of nature and the true lesson of Earth Day. If you go walking in the woods don’t look like a squirrel's butt.
Most every day I try to walk a couple of miles in an effort to keep my youthful figure and stay alive a couple more years. But today I saw an event that might make me think twice about walking in nature and force me to walk with the other codgers in the confines of a shopping center. Here’s what happened.
I arrived at one of my favorite walking spots about a mile from home. It’s a very nice trail, about 2 ½ miles long in a county park. The trail runs along a creek in a woodsy, brushy kind of wetland area. There are nice boardwalks over the more swampy spots and the trail is pretty well groomed although there are quite a lot of overhanging trees and bushes just above head high. Birds of all sorts fly all around you, geese and ducks inhabit the creek and occasionally you will see larger birds of prey circling overhead. Other wildlife is present in the form of rabbits and squirrels. And if you look carefully you will see signs of raccoons and deer. All in all an idyllic and well used public benefit.
This morning the park wasn’t too crowded. A few young mothers were pushing their kids along in $500.00 strollers at a very fast pace. There were some dog walkers armed with their little scoopers and plastic bags full of last night’s Alpo. And there were a couple of the athletic types racing around in ways that are truly unnatural. One fellow in particular caught my eye as he set out ahead of me. He seemed to be a very fit fifty-ish guy dressed in expensive exercise clothes including those extremely high dollar walking shoes. His hair was a brownish gray, kind of wiry mop tied up in an unusual upturned pony tail. He had the stride of the fast walker, arms pumping and calf muscles stretching as his bottle of Aquafina bumped on the belt around his waist. In no time at all he was out of sight around the bend as I poked along at my usual leisurely pace. I was going along enjoying the beautiful day, admiring the birds and noticing unusual amounts of squirrel activity in the trees and on the ground. The Rites of Spring, I thought to myself. Or maybe I said it out loud. Anyway, as I approached a particularly woody spot with lots of low hanging branches and brush I heard a high pitched shrieking and hollering. Lacking good sense I rushed towards the commotion. A few hundred feet ahead I could see the fast walking guy leaping around yelling and frantically clawing at his head. Deciding that caution would be wise I slowed down a bit. He could be in the midst of a swarm of Killer Bees or something. But as I cautiously approached I couldn’t see any bee swarm. What I did see was far more frightening and something I’ll never forget. Attached to the back of the guy’s wiry upturned brownish gray ponytail was a large brownish gray squirrel. And this squirrel wasn’t attacking that pony tail; he was attempting to mate with it! It was horrible. Grabbing the only weapon I could come up with, the large pocket comb I carry to smooth out my own flowing locks, I ran up and waved it at the squirrel (which by now was wondering why this particular mate was so recalcitrant) forcing the animal to dislodge itself and leap off into the nearest tree. Then I attempted to calm the poor fellow down. I assured him there were no bleeding wounds in spite of the wetness on the back of his head. And knowing that squirrels are somewhat sadistic in their mating I told the squirrel rape victim that he was lucky their relationship was so short.
So I gave the man my comb so he could flatten down the hair that had been tied up in that squirrelly looking style, which should prevent further incidents. He fast walked his way back to the more open areas of the park and I presume home to his shampoo and shower. I finished my walk, pondering the wonders of nature and the true lesson of Earth Day. If you go walking in the woods don’t look like a squirrel's butt.
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