The local newspaper has a “sound off” section in which people can submit their complaints about anything -- in 50 words or less. Some are very funny. Some make you wonder just how we have managed to survive as a nation as long as we have. The one that caught my eye this morning was the woman who wrote to complain how annoyed she was that her cat would only eat canned tuna.
Dr. Benjamin Spock, the baby doctor who wrote the book on raising kids that became the bible for many parents in the 1950s and 1960s, including my wife and me, wrote that no baby ever starved to death from not eating. Children often turn up their noses at food they have decided they do not like, even before tasting it, but a hungry child will eventually eat what is before him. Cats will do the same I suspect. A cat may prefer tuna but will eventually eat what is in the food dish if it if that is all that is available.
Cats, like kids, try to train the adults who care for them. This woman has been well trained by her cat.
Many of us have been well trained by our political leaders, by the political pundits and by the news media to accept partisanship bickering as the political norm. We accept what they put before us.
We need to start rejecting some of the nonsense we are asked to swallow. Unfortunately, we have become so “conditioned” that like Pavlov’s dogs we start salivating whenever we hear our favorite pundit punishing the president. We applaud any comment by a political leader that trashes an opposition party proposal. The so-called Party of No is popular because some of us are so happy to see our political opponent be slapped down that we do not bother to ask what the alternative is. Moreover, both political parties earn that title as the Party of No; it is whichever party is not in power at the time.
We have become so conditioned to this state of affairs that our political leaders no longer even seem to be trying. They know that a significant number of their constituents will respond favorably so long as they come out against whatever the party in power proposes. We cheer, we salivate, and we ask nothing more than that “our” politician trash the opponent’s idea.
We shun compromise, negotiations, and honest debate. What we want is a decisive victory. Sack the quarterback. That we understand. We don’t have time for complicated negotiations that actually take into account what is good for the country or the economy. We favor sound bites and legislative posturing. We applaud news reports that make the “other guy” look bad and “our guy” look good, totally ignoring whether there was any constructive result.
We actually look to a plethora of print, television and radio pundits for our information about what is happening in Washington or the state capitol rather than the political leaders we sent there. Doesn’t that tell you that something wrong?
We accept political ads – negative and/or misrepresented – in lieu of political debate. Why not insist that our political candidates tour the district, state or country actually debating each other rather than going around making canned speeches that play to the crowd. Why? Because we have been conditioned to accept that nonsense as sufficient food for our voting decisions.
We have failed to train our leaders to feed us facts, truth or measurable accomplishment. Instead, we accept the crap they feed us as if it were tuna. Can’t we learn to be as smart as a cat?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
READING THE NEWSPAPER
Reading the news can be either depressing or funny – depending on your frame of mind. I choose to look for the entertaining rather than the despair. I know that makes me neither a good Republican nor Democrat, since either label requires me to find something discouraging about the actions or accusations by members of the other party. I suppose it also labels me as a poor citizen since I do not get upset over the reports of crime, accidents, unemployment, impending weather disasters, or same-sex marriages.
Don’t get me wrong. All such reports, along with the latest casualty report from Afghanistan, failing crops in some part of the country, homeless families at this time of year, lost wages due to layoffs, and other sorrowful events that affect the lives of people concern me. I recognize, however, that wars and rumors of wars have always been with us, that the poor will always be with us, that powerful politicians are corrupt, and that I cannot do much about any of these.
So I read the newspaper with the keen knowledge that only the bad news is reported and that it is up to me to find the good, if not humorous, news by reading between the lines.
One of the first things I noticed when I picked up the front page of the Orlando Sentinel this morning was a front-page story with the headline “Want to be a cop? Clean up your Web profile.” The article points out that, “as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube become more pervasive in daily life – personal or private – law enforcement recruiters are digging through applicants’ social networking sites for signs of behavior unbecoming an officer.” Think about that. What you write in your social networking site can and will be held against you when you make application to become a law enforcement officer. Now that is a twist on the Miranda rights wouldn’t you agree? I found it funny.
The clue for 18 across in this morning’s crossword puzzle was Political Corruption, a five-letter word. I knew the answer, Graft, but my first thought made me smile as I considered the possibility that the phrase “political corruption” was redundant. (Cynics have much more fun than the straight-laced, dogmatic.)
I got many chuckles out of the article titled “Rats replacing Fido as land mine detectors.” It seems that researchers in Bogota, Columbia have trained rats to detect mines buried up to three feet. “The rats are conditioned to search and burrow for explosives in exchange for the reward of sugar,” the article reported. Further, “Unlike dogs,” the author informs, “rats are light enough to keep from detonating explosives. And researchers have found that the rodents are more adept than dogs at sensing explosives when the materials have been masked with coffee grounds, feces, fish, mercury and other substances.” In other words, they are good at digging through filth, like some Fox News pundits I know.
Luisa Fernanda Mendez, a civilian behavioral veterinarian in charge of the rat project said that like dogs, rats can be trained to obey commands such as “search,” “stop,” and “let’s go.” That’s when I started laughing. Why stop there, I thought. Let’s teach them to “sit,” “roll over,” “play dead,” and “shake” then we will have the ultimate miniature pet. Forget the miniature poodle, or the Chihuahua, let’s all get a house rat for companionship. I bet they can even be trained to set up and beg, “go fetch,” and chase and catch a miniature Frisbee.
Can’t you just imagine little children walking their pet rat, with a little pink, studded collar for the girl rats and a blue spiked one for the boy rats. They can knit little sweaters for them to wear in cold weather. I wonder if a pet rat would find irony in a tiny, squeaky toy cat to play with.
The endangered manatees are having a difficult time in Florida right now because of the cold weather. (Manatees cannot survive in sustained water temperatures below 60 degrees.) A Florida Power and Light plant near Cape Canaveral used to discharge warm water from its power generation plant into a canal that the manatees used for refuge during cold weather. That plant is gone, destroyed, reduced to rubble. It will be replaced with a cleaner generation facility in about four years. In the meantime, the company has installed $4.7 million worth of heating equipment at the canal to keep the water warm for the manatees. That will warm the animals hearts, no doubt, and make others wonder if that money couldn’t have been better spent to warm a few of the homeless people in the area.
The cynic in me thought: I’m not sure we can replace the manatees once they are gone, but I’m pretty sure we will never run out of homeless people. Is that being cruel or just realistic?
The last chortle goes to a quote the paper attributed to Conan O’Brien. “Time Warner Cable is testing a premium service that sets a specific time for the installer to arrive. The two times are winter and spring.”
Keep smiling.
Don’t get me wrong. All such reports, along with the latest casualty report from Afghanistan, failing crops in some part of the country, homeless families at this time of year, lost wages due to layoffs, and other sorrowful events that affect the lives of people concern me. I recognize, however, that wars and rumors of wars have always been with us, that the poor will always be with us, that powerful politicians are corrupt, and that I cannot do much about any of these.
So I read the newspaper with the keen knowledge that only the bad news is reported and that it is up to me to find the good, if not humorous, news by reading between the lines.
One of the first things I noticed when I picked up the front page of the Orlando Sentinel this morning was a front-page story with the headline “Want to be a cop? Clean up your Web profile.” The article points out that, “as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube become more pervasive in daily life – personal or private – law enforcement recruiters are digging through applicants’ social networking sites for signs of behavior unbecoming an officer.” Think about that. What you write in your social networking site can and will be held against you when you make application to become a law enforcement officer. Now that is a twist on the Miranda rights wouldn’t you agree? I found it funny.
The clue for 18 across in this morning’s crossword puzzle was Political Corruption, a five-letter word. I knew the answer, Graft, but my first thought made me smile as I considered the possibility that the phrase “political corruption” was redundant. (Cynics have much more fun than the straight-laced, dogmatic.)
I got many chuckles out of the article titled “Rats replacing Fido as land mine detectors.” It seems that researchers in Bogota, Columbia have trained rats to detect mines buried up to three feet. “The rats are conditioned to search and burrow for explosives in exchange for the reward of sugar,” the article reported. Further, “Unlike dogs,” the author informs, “rats are light enough to keep from detonating explosives. And researchers have found that the rodents are more adept than dogs at sensing explosives when the materials have been masked with coffee grounds, feces, fish, mercury and other substances.” In other words, they are good at digging through filth, like some Fox News pundits I know.
Luisa Fernanda Mendez, a civilian behavioral veterinarian in charge of the rat project said that like dogs, rats can be trained to obey commands such as “search,” “stop,” and “let’s go.” That’s when I started laughing. Why stop there, I thought. Let’s teach them to “sit,” “roll over,” “play dead,” and “shake” then we will have the ultimate miniature pet. Forget the miniature poodle, or the Chihuahua, let’s all get a house rat for companionship. I bet they can even be trained to set up and beg, “go fetch,” and chase and catch a miniature Frisbee.
Can’t you just imagine little children walking their pet rat, with a little pink, studded collar for the girl rats and a blue spiked one for the boy rats. They can knit little sweaters for them to wear in cold weather. I wonder if a pet rat would find irony in a tiny, squeaky toy cat to play with.
The endangered manatees are having a difficult time in Florida right now because of the cold weather. (Manatees cannot survive in sustained water temperatures below 60 degrees.) A Florida Power and Light plant near Cape Canaveral used to discharge warm water from its power generation plant into a canal that the manatees used for refuge during cold weather. That plant is gone, destroyed, reduced to rubble. It will be replaced with a cleaner generation facility in about four years. In the meantime, the company has installed $4.7 million worth of heating equipment at the canal to keep the water warm for the manatees. That will warm the animals hearts, no doubt, and make others wonder if that money couldn’t have been better spent to warm a few of the homeless people in the area.
The cynic in me thought: I’m not sure we can replace the manatees once they are gone, but I’m pretty sure we will never run out of homeless people. Is that being cruel or just realistic?
The last chortle goes to a quote the paper attributed to Conan O’Brien. “Time Warner Cable is testing a premium service that sets a specific time for the installer to arrive. The two times are winter and spring.”
Keep smiling.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
THE PRIVILEGE OF GROWING OLD
The last leg of our trip to Florida was so uneventful as to be boring. We left our daughter’s house Saturday morning, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and drove to about 85 miles from the Georgia state line. We encountered little traffic and managed to log a little over 500 miles for the day. That left us with less than 400 miles for the next day.
We figured that by Sunday we would start to run into many families returning home from their Thanksgiving Day trip to grandma’s house, so we got up early, 5:30, and were on the road by a little after 6:00. We did not meet those families. Traffic was actually light for most of the trip.
The only slow-down came while we were in Georgia. Everyone was cruising along at 65, 70 (the speed limit) and a few doing 75 or 80. That’s the way it always is: some drivers staying close to five miles per hour under the speed limit, most driver staying close to the speed limit, and a few (like me) setting the cruise control at five mph over the speed limit. Everyone behaves themselves, stays in their lane, and you only need to be alert for the traffic bubbles of cars all going a little faster or slower then you are going. I was in the right-hand lane when that lane almost came to a complete stop.
We were still moving but at only about 45 mph. Well, you know how it works when you are in a slow-moving lane of traffic. The left lane was moving along at the normal speed, so you want to pull out and get in that lane. Unless you are quick, you have to wait for the cars behind you to get around you before you can change lanes. My turn finally arrived and I pulled out, speeded up to stay with the group and looked ahead to see what was causing the slow down.
As the faster left lane allowed me to move up, I saw one car blocking the right hand lane, moving at about 45 mph. There was nothing but open road in front of this car, so I guessed that the driver was having motor problems and had to drive slowly until he/she could limp to the next exit ramp. That was not the case, however.
As I pulled alongside the slow moving vehicle, I laughed. Sitting in the driver’s seat, peering straight ahead with a white-knuckle death grip on the steering wheel was a snowy-haired Grandma Moses. All you could see was white-haired little woman whose head barely cleared the steering wheel, and who was unaware of anything behind or beside her. You had to love her – even while you wished she would speed up or get off the road. And, no, I haven’t forgotten that Joyce and I are a grandma and grandpa, but I don’t yet drive on the Interstate at a cautious 45 mph.
We made it around Jacksonville without encountering any serious traffic and arrived at our place by two o’clock Sunday afternoon. We got the car unloaded and most things put away that evening.
Now we can start enjoying the sunshine, the heated pool, some golf and our winter friends.
We know that growing old is a privilege. Six of our friends in the Schenectady area lost that privilege this past year, so we know how lucky we are. We strive to enjoy each day and each other. We also try to contribute something to someone’s welfare or happiness each day.
I start by just smiling when I met someone, whether I knew them not. We old folks often walk around with a dour look on our puss. You might think we were mad at the world if you went by the look on our faces. So, when I pass anyone down here in “heavens waiting room” I put a big smile on my face and act happy to see them. They may go away wondering who that grinning idiot was, but they almost always smile back.
They may have good reason to look uncomfortable, even angry. Who knows? They may actually hurt or have cause to be unhappy. Most of us old codgers have one or maybe a half-dozen physical problems, so some level of pain is our constant companion. I can choose to laugh or cry. I figure I’d rather be labeled the village idiot than the town grouch, so I smile when I pass someone and try to brighten their day a bit.
We figured that by Sunday we would start to run into many families returning home from their Thanksgiving Day trip to grandma’s house, so we got up early, 5:30, and were on the road by a little after 6:00. We did not meet those families. Traffic was actually light for most of the trip.
The only slow-down came while we were in Georgia. Everyone was cruising along at 65, 70 (the speed limit) and a few doing 75 or 80. That’s the way it always is: some drivers staying close to five miles per hour under the speed limit, most driver staying close to the speed limit, and a few (like me) setting the cruise control at five mph over the speed limit. Everyone behaves themselves, stays in their lane, and you only need to be alert for the traffic bubbles of cars all going a little faster or slower then you are going. I was in the right-hand lane when that lane almost came to a complete stop.
We were still moving but at only about 45 mph. Well, you know how it works when you are in a slow-moving lane of traffic. The left lane was moving along at the normal speed, so you want to pull out and get in that lane. Unless you are quick, you have to wait for the cars behind you to get around you before you can change lanes. My turn finally arrived and I pulled out, speeded up to stay with the group and looked ahead to see what was causing the slow down.
As the faster left lane allowed me to move up, I saw one car blocking the right hand lane, moving at about 45 mph. There was nothing but open road in front of this car, so I guessed that the driver was having motor problems and had to drive slowly until he/she could limp to the next exit ramp. That was not the case, however.
As I pulled alongside the slow moving vehicle, I laughed. Sitting in the driver’s seat, peering straight ahead with a white-knuckle death grip on the steering wheel was a snowy-haired Grandma Moses. All you could see was white-haired little woman whose head barely cleared the steering wheel, and who was unaware of anything behind or beside her. You had to love her – even while you wished she would speed up or get off the road. And, no, I haven’t forgotten that Joyce and I are a grandma and grandpa, but I don’t yet drive on the Interstate at a cautious 45 mph.
We made it around Jacksonville without encountering any serious traffic and arrived at our place by two o’clock Sunday afternoon. We got the car unloaded and most things put away that evening.
Now we can start enjoying the sunshine, the heated pool, some golf and our winter friends.
We know that growing old is a privilege. Six of our friends in the Schenectady area lost that privilege this past year, so we know how lucky we are. We strive to enjoy each day and each other. We also try to contribute something to someone’s welfare or happiness each day.
I start by just smiling when I met someone, whether I knew them not. We old folks often walk around with a dour look on our puss. You might think we were mad at the world if you went by the look on our faces. So, when I pass anyone down here in “heavens waiting room” I put a big smile on my face and act happy to see them. They may go away wondering who that grinning idiot was, but they almost always smile back.
They may have good reason to look uncomfortable, even angry. Who knows? They may actually hurt or have cause to be unhappy. Most of us old codgers have one or maybe a half-dozen physical problems, so some level of pain is our constant companion. I can choose to laugh or cry. I figure I’d rather be labeled the village idiot than the town grouch, so I smile when I pass someone and try to brighten their day a bit.
Friday, November 26, 2010
LIGHT BULBS DON'T BOUNCE
Our trip south has thus far been interesting, if not filled with excitement.
Leaving for the winter to travel to Florida involves packing for both cool and possibly cold weather while also considering what we will need for the warmer Florida weather. Since we were already experiencing cold weather in New York, we had to have at least clothes that were appropriate departure day. We were traveling to our daughter’s home in Maryland and hoped it would be warmer there, which it was. Nevertheless, a storm was moving in across the Midwest, so who knew what type of clothing we would need in the next day or so. It’s always an adventure trying to second-guess Mother Nature, and we often end up with too many of one type of clothes and too few of the other.
Traveling in a car as we do these days is far less adventure filled than when we made similar trips in the Chuckwagon, as we called our now sold motor home. Although we can, and do, share the driving, I drove the entire trip this time. We made the 375-mile trip in just about eight hours. The road conditions were good and traffic was light … until.
We were traveling along happy has piglets snuggled against their mother’s warm belly while sucking on their favorite teat when we met with the first adventure of the trip. We were on a curve leaving Route I-83 to get around Harrisburg, PA when traffic came to stop. A complete stop! Ahead we saw nothing but cars, trucks and other vehicles nestled bumper to bumper like dogs greeting each other by sniffing butts. I happened to glance at the GPS on the dash and noticed that it was almost 8 miles to the next turn-off. That is how I knew later that it took us one hour and 18 minutes to travel those 8 miles. The backup, we learned, was caused by compressing three lanes of traffic into one lane, while side traffic entered the mix at several points, and all this for a work area of less than 200 yards long. Once past that roadwork bottleneck, we resumed normal speed and traveled to our Thanksgiving destination without further incident.
I have often wondered why after a long trip such as this that the first thing I want to do to sit down somewhere. Isn’t that strange. Anyway, our daughter was not yet home from her job, but we knew the Open Sesame that would raise the garage door, and we got in all right. Only one dog greeted us, which was a puzzle. We found the second one, Butch, mysteriously behind a closed door in our granddaughter’s room. Mysteriously, because both dogs are always free to roam the house during the day. I guess the adage “Snooze and you lose” applies in this case. Butch must have been snoozing in the bedroom when our granddaughter left for the day and became a captive of his laziness.
Our daughter returned home after work and that is when we learned our rest break was over. She had a list of “things” for us to do in preparation for the crowd that was due for Thanksgiving. Mom was to clean and vacuum and I had the responsibility of installing a new set of lights in the upstairs bathroom. Piece of cake, I figured.
Murphy’s Law says something to the effect that if anything can go wrong, it will. That bit of wisdom certainly applies with respect to home repairs. Each of the two light fixtures had three large, clear light bulbs in them. These had to come out so I could get to the escutcheons that held the light bar cover to the mounting plate. You know how light bulbs come out. You turn one a little and its feels really loose, but not loose enough to be removed. So you turn it some more and try again. I did this several times until I was sure it was loose enough to come out. But no. So I let go of the bulb to reposition my hand for another turn and, you got it, it WAS loose enough to come out. And it did.
Well, I’m leaning over the sink to get to the light bar that is mounted above the mirror and I am not in a good position to act quickly, so I thought I could – now get ready for this – catch it on the first bounce. Ha! In the same nano-second that I realized that light bulbs do not bounce, it did not bounce. It hit the sink below my arms shattered into 11 million tiny pieces. This is not a good thing to have happen where people frequently walk around bare footed.
OK, so Joyce had one more room to vacuum.
I was more cautious with the remaining bulbs and after replacing that first light fixture prepared to tackle the second one.
The cover plate on the second light fixture, I found, much to my consternation, covered not only the mounting plate but also two holes in the wall from an earlier fixture replacement. This was not part of the plan. While I carry numerous tools in my toolbox, spackling compound is not one of those tools. Nor do I carry a variety of paints with which to touch up holes once patched. Fortunately, my daughter had both spackling and touch-up paint and with great relief I announced shortly thereafter that the bathroom was finished.
Working on overhead projects that require me to look up for any length of time triggers my vertigo. This job was one of those projects and I found that I was dizzy and lightheaded the rest of the day. Not the way I wanted to start the Thanksgiving holiday season, but I survived and was ready for the big turkey massacre the next day.
I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving with friends and/or family. We did. We had 14 people that included two of my daughters and their families, sans one grandson, and my cousin and his wife. It’s good to have family around.
Leaving for the winter to travel to Florida involves packing for both cool and possibly cold weather while also considering what we will need for the warmer Florida weather. Since we were already experiencing cold weather in New York, we had to have at least clothes that were appropriate departure day. We were traveling to our daughter’s home in Maryland and hoped it would be warmer there, which it was. Nevertheless, a storm was moving in across the Midwest, so who knew what type of clothing we would need in the next day or so. It’s always an adventure trying to second-guess Mother Nature, and we often end up with too many of one type of clothes and too few of the other.
Traveling in a car as we do these days is far less adventure filled than when we made similar trips in the Chuckwagon, as we called our now sold motor home. Although we can, and do, share the driving, I drove the entire trip this time. We made the 375-mile trip in just about eight hours. The road conditions were good and traffic was light … until.
We were traveling along happy has piglets snuggled against their mother’s warm belly while sucking on their favorite teat when we met with the first adventure of the trip. We were on a curve leaving Route I-83 to get around Harrisburg, PA when traffic came to stop. A complete stop! Ahead we saw nothing but cars, trucks and other vehicles nestled bumper to bumper like dogs greeting each other by sniffing butts. I happened to glance at the GPS on the dash and noticed that it was almost 8 miles to the next turn-off. That is how I knew later that it took us one hour and 18 minutes to travel those 8 miles. The backup, we learned, was caused by compressing three lanes of traffic into one lane, while side traffic entered the mix at several points, and all this for a work area of less than 200 yards long. Once past that roadwork bottleneck, we resumed normal speed and traveled to our Thanksgiving destination without further incident.
I have often wondered why after a long trip such as this that the first thing I want to do to sit down somewhere. Isn’t that strange. Anyway, our daughter was not yet home from her job, but we knew the Open Sesame that would raise the garage door, and we got in all right. Only one dog greeted us, which was a puzzle. We found the second one, Butch, mysteriously behind a closed door in our granddaughter’s room. Mysteriously, because both dogs are always free to roam the house during the day. I guess the adage “Snooze and you lose” applies in this case. Butch must have been snoozing in the bedroom when our granddaughter left for the day and became a captive of his laziness.
Our daughter returned home after work and that is when we learned our rest break was over. She had a list of “things” for us to do in preparation for the crowd that was due for Thanksgiving. Mom was to clean and vacuum and I had the responsibility of installing a new set of lights in the upstairs bathroom. Piece of cake, I figured.
Murphy’s Law says something to the effect that if anything can go wrong, it will. That bit of wisdom certainly applies with respect to home repairs. Each of the two light fixtures had three large, clear light bulbs in them. These had to come out so I could get to the escutcheons that held the light bar cover to the mounting plate. You know how light bulbs come out. You turn one a little and its feels really loose, but not loose enough to be removed. So you turn it some more and try again. I did this several times until I was sure it was loose enough to come out. But no. So I let go of the bulb to reposition my hand for another turn and, you got it, it WAS loose enough to come out. And it did.
Well, I’m leaning over the sink to get to the light bar that is mounted above the mirror and I am not in a good position to act quickly, so I thought I could – now get ready for this – catch it on the first bounce. Ha! In the same nano-second that I realized that light bulbs do not bounce, it did not bounce. It hit the sink below my arms shattered into 11 million tiny pieces. This is not a good thing to have happen where people frequently walk around bare footed.
OK, so Joyce had one more room to vacuum.
I was more cautious with the remaining bulbs and after replacing that first light fixture prepared to tackle the second one.
The cover plate on the second light fixture, I found, much to my consternation, covered not only the mounting plate but also two holes in the wall from an earlier fixture replacement. This was not part of the plan. While I carry numerous tools in my toolbox, spackling compound is not one of those tools. Nor do I carry a variety of paints with which to touch up holes once patched. Fortunately, my daughter had both spackling and touch-up paint and with great relief I announced shortly thereafter that the bathroom was finished.
Working on overhead projects that require me to look up for any length of time triggers my vertigo. This job was one of those projects and I found that I was dizzy and lightheaded the rest of the day. Not the way I wanted to start the Thanksgiving holiday season, but I survived and was ready for the big turkey massacre the next day.
I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving with friends and/or family. We did. We had 14 people that included two of my daughters and their families, sans one grandson, and my cousin and his wife. It’s good to have family around.
Friday, November 12, 2010
EXERCISE and the PRIVILEGE OF GROWING OLDER
I just finished my morning exercises and this seemed a good time to write about those exercises. The significance of finishing my exercises this morning is that this was the third time the week. I normally exercise for an hour on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. This was, however, the first time in a long while that I have been able to complete three mornings of exercise in one week. I was so tired after the first day or two that I would have to skip the remaining exercise day in any given week.
I knew I had to keep trying; I had to keep working to build up my endurance or I would otherwise gradually get to the point where I could not even do one morning exercise regimen. That was not an option for me.
I was a skinny, 90-pound weakling growing up as a child. I did not start exercising regularly until the early 1960s when President Kennedy promoted regular exercise through creation of the President’s Council on Fitness. I’ve been exercising more or less regularly ever since.
I led an exercise group several years ago at a campground where Joyce and I were spending the winter. The exercise program I developed was intended for seniors (most winter snowbirds are over 55) and was designed with the goal of maintaining flexibility and strength. Arthritis, bone loss, football or other sports injuries all combine to diminish our ability to do some things. The choice is simple: join the rocking chair group, gain weight, and die earlier than need be because we allow our muscles and joints to deteriorate.
As I said, I was not willing to go down that road. Hence, I stayed with my exercises and today I finished my third day without feeling as if I would die. I don’t believe in pushing myself to the point that I am exhausted – although my wife reminds me that I tend to overdue – but I do believe in the theory that if I can take three steps today, I should strive to take four steps tomorrow.
My strength and resolve to exercise weakened over the years. I had made several trips to the hospital for coronary stents (13 in all) and had a serious lung infection this past summer. I was out of shape and gradually had to rebuild my willingness and ability to complete my exercise program.
And I did it! Of course, I’ll probably need a nap this afternoon.
Exercise is one of the more or less free things we can do to prolong life and enjoy a better quality of life. I subscribe to the statement made by movie actress Laura Linney: “We should embrace the privilege of growing older.” Having lost five cohorts this past year, I appreciate that growing older is a privilege. Just growing older is not such a big deal if you cannot enjoy that life. That’s where the exercises come in. Strength and range-of-motion exercises enable me to continue doing what I like to do.
I prefer to exercise at home. First, I can design my own program, one that does not involve expensive equipment. Second, I do not need to allow travel time to and from a gym, especially in inclement weather. Third, I do not have to pay a gym membership fee. Fourth, I can watch television or listen to music of my choosing. Fifth, if want to or need to cut my program short some morning, I can do so without feeling guilty.
My approach does require a measure of self-discipline. When you pay for a gym membership and/or have scheduled time to be there, you are more likely to go. I have to be my own coach (Stop and get your breath), my own drill sergeant (Give me three more, maggot), my own cheerleader and my own evaluator of results.
I use a variety of exercises I have put together to deal with my unique circumstances. When you go to a gym, someone there will help develop a program suitable for you. I avoided arthroscopic knee surgery a few years ago after the surgeon suggested I first work to build up the muscles that control the knee joint and hold things in place. Without these exercises the surgery, he said, would be of little value because the problem would return. Those exercises led to stronger quadriceps, among other things, and eliminated the need for surgery. Those exercises are part of my thrice-weekly program.
I had a similar experience with my left shoulder. I could raise my left arm over my head only with help. I again faced arthroscopic surgery, at best, and, depending on what the surgeon found when he got in there, possibly more extensive reconstructive surgery. A year’s recovery time was the prediction. My cardiologist would not sign off on the surgery, as it would require taking me off one of my coronary medications. The orthopedic surgeon once again prescribed physical therapy. It worked and I now have complete range of motion in my shoulder. Those physical therapy exercises are also part of my weekly program.
I had some favorite exercises from the program I did years ago, but as my wife regularly reminds me, that was before the coronary stents plus, I was younger. Therefore, I stated looking around for some low-impact exercises that were appropriate for seniors.
I found what I was looking for at the "Real Age: Live Life to the Youngest" web page created by Drs. Oz and Roizen. The program I found that fit my needs best was the YOU2 Workout at the following website: http://www.realage.com/the-you-docs/you-staying-young/working-out-at-home-without-equipment. Highlight this and paste it into your web browser to see the complete 18-move program.
Here is what they say in the first paragraph:
“The best gym in the world? You're living in it. By using your own body weight to complete a strength-and-stretch workout, you'll have the ability to transform your body -- no excuses. This 18-move workout from the YOU Docs and celebrity trainer Joel Harper is one that you can do in fewer than 20 minutes -- and there's no need for equipment. It will strengthen your muscles (to make you stronger, leaner, and more equipped to handle the rigors of aging) and stretch them (to make you more flexible and dynamic, for the same reason).”
I do not do all 18 moves because I have substituted some of my own that deal with specific areas (e.g., shoulders and knees) that I want to work on. Use your head. If something hurts, stop. If you cannot at first do all the reps recommended, do what you can and try for one more the next time. Check with your doctor if you are in doubt about any of these exercises. Finally, combine these exercises with a sensible walking program and you may be surprised how you feel in a month or two.
Three days a week. That’s all it takes. Get up, get going and join me.
I knew I had to keep trying; I had to keep working to build up my endurance or I would otherwise gradually get to the point where I could not even do one morning exercise regimen. That was not an option for me.
I was a skinny, 90-pound weakling growing up as a child. I did not start exercising regularly until the early 1960s when President Kennedy promoted regular exercise through creation of the President’s Council on Fitness. I’ve been exercising more or less regularly ever since.
I led an exercise group several years ago at a campground where Joyce and I were spending the winter. The exercise program I developed was intended for seniors (most winter snowbirds are over 55) and was designed with the goal of maintaining flexibility and strength. Arthritis, bone loss, football or other sports injuries all combine to diminish our ability to do some things. The choice is simple: join the rocking chair group, gain weight, and die earlier than need be because we allow our muscles and joints to deteriorate.
As I said, I was not willing to go down that road. Hence, I stayed with my exercises and today I finished my third day without feeling as if I would die. I don’t believe in pushing myself to the point that I am exhausted – although my wife reminds me that I tend to overdue – but I do believe in the theory that if I can take three steps today, I should strive to take four steps tomorrow.
My strength and resolve to exercise weakened over the years. I had made several trips to the hospital for coronary stents (13 in all) and had a serious lung infection this past summer. I was out of shape and gradually had to rebuild my willingness and ability to complete my exercise program.
And I did it! Of course, I’ll probably need a nap this afternoon.
Exercise is one of the more or less free things we can do to prolong life and enjoy a better quality of life. I subscribe to the statement made by movie actress Laura Linney: “We should embrace the privilege of growing older.” Having lost five cohorts this past year, I appreciate that growing older is a privilege. Just growing older is not such a big deal if you cannot enjoy that life. That’s where the exercises come in. Strength and range-of-motion exercises enable me to continue doing what I like to do.
I prefer to exercise at home. First, I can design my own program, one that does not involve expensive equipment. Second, I do not need to allow travel time to and from a gym, especially in inclement weather. Third, I do not have to pay a gym membership fee. Fourth, I can watch television or listen to music of my choosing. Fifth, if want to or need to cut my program short some morning, I can do so without feeling guilty.
My approach does require a measure of self-discipline. When you pay for a gym membership and/or have scheduled time to be there, you are more likely to go. I have to be my own coach (Stop and get your breath), my own drill sergeant (Give me three more, maggot), my own cheerleader and my own evaluator of results.
I use a variety of exercises I have put together to deal with my unique circumstances. When you go to a gym, someone there will help develop a program suitable for you. I avoided arthroscopic knee surgery a few years ago after the surgeon suggested I first work to build up the muscles that control the knee joint and hold things in place. Without these exercises the surgery, he said, would be of little value because the problem would return. Those exercises led to stronger quadriceps, among other things, and eliminated the need for surgery. Those exercises are part of my thrice-weekly program.
I had a similar experience with my left shoulder. I could raise my left arm over my head only with help. I again faced arthroscopic surgery, at best, and, depending on what the surgeon found when he got in there, possibly more extensive reconstructive surgery. A year’s recovery time was the prediction. My cardiologist would not sign off on the surgery, as it would require taking me off one of my coronary medications. The orthopedic surgeon once again prescribed physical therapy. It worked and I now have complete range of motion in my shoulder. Those physical therapy exercises are also part of my weekly program.
I had some favorite exercises from the program I did years ago, but as my wife regularly reminds me, that was before the coronary stents plus, I was younger. Therefore, I stated looking around for some low-impact exercises that were appropriate for seniors.
I found what I was looking for at the "Real Age: Live Life to the Youngest" web page created by Drs. Oz and Roizen. The program I found that fit my needs best was the YOU2 Workout at the following website: http://www.realage.com/the-you-docs/you-staying-young/working-out-at-home-without-equipment. Highlight this and paste it into your web browser to see the complete 18-move program.
Here is what they say in the first paragraph:
“The best gym in the world? You're living in it. By using your own body weight to complete a strength-and-stretch workout, you'll have the ability to transform your body -- no excuses. This 18-move workout from the YOU Docs and celebrity trainer Joel Harper is one that you can do in fewer than 20 minutes -- and there's no need for equipment. It will strengthen your muscles (to make you stronger, leaner, and more equipped to handle the rigors of aging) and stretch them (to make you more flexible and dynamic, for the same reason).”
I do not do all 18 moves because I have substituted some of my own that deal with specific areas (e.g., shoulders and knees) that I want to work on. Use your head. If something hurts, stop. If you cannot at first do all the reps recommended, do what you can and try for one more the next time. Check with your doctor if you are in doubt about any of these exercises. Finally, combine these exercises with a sensible walking program and you may be surprised how you feel in a month or two.
Three days a week. That’s all it takes. Get up, get going and join me.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
THE MAGIC OF MULCH
I have been scolded by my loyal readers (both of them) for not posting to my blog more often. What can I say? I plead guilty. My only defense is that I’ve been busy with other things.
I will try to do better. However, I try not to bore you with inane comments that insult your intelligence. I may bruise your brain once in awhile, but I try to write only when I have something to say.
So what is this “Magic of Mulch” crap? Just this. We suburbanites are wasting too much money – not to mention valuable nutrients – on bagging our lawn clippings.
I purchased a new lawn mower last spring and more by accident than design the lawn mower I got was a mulching mower. That means it has a heavy-duty engine (7.5 hp) and a more bell shaped blade housing. This design forces the clipped grass blades back downs through the rotating blade to be cut again before falling to the ground. The more powerful engine guarantees that the cutting blade rotates fast enough to whack those clippings one more time before they fall into the grass below.
This mower has a grass catcher attachment that one can use when cutting taller grass that needs to be bagged or discarded on your compost pile. I have not yet had to use it.
How can that be? Well, as I said, I got this new mower last spring when on the first day of mowing the power mower I had started making strange noises. Since it was 20+ years old and had been repaired once before, I turned it off and headed for the mall to find another. I found the mower I wanted and purchased it that day. Hence, I was on top of the spring-summer mowing season from day one with my new mulching mower.
I didn’t know much about mulching mowers and, like many of you, had used a grass catcher in the past to collect grass clippings that I put on my compost pile. This compost pile has for 45 years added much needed moister-holding content to my otherwise very sandy garden soil. I never bagged my grass clippings to be carted off to the town compost pile.
As I read about mulching, however, I learned that mulching your grass clippings is actually preferable to bagging. Those grass clippings contain valuable nutrients that our lawns need. In fact, many of us buy expensive fertilizer to put on our lawn in the spring (and fall) to improve the root system and help thicken the mat of “good” grass that will then prevent weed grasses from getting started. Those nutrients find their way into the blades of grass that we cut off – and then throw away.
Mulching puts those nutrients right back into the soil. The nutrients are recycled, if you will, and many of us are ardent recyclers. Recycling helps the environment, improves the looks of our lawn, and saves money.
But, you might complain, aren’t those brown clumps of dry grass ugly, not to mention bad for the lawn as they breed mold and create thatch that must later be removed with a thatching tool? That can happen if you wait too long between mowing, as is common among those who bag their grass clippings. Mulching requires that you cut only the top one-third of the grass blade AND that one-third should be no more than one inch long.
Consider these points from the Cornell University Cooperative Extension office:
Just Mow It: A Guide to Grass Recycling
Consider The Benefits Of Leaving Clippings On The Lawn When Mowing:
• You can save one-third of your annual lawn care time by mowing frequently and not collecting clippings.
• Clippings left on the lawn recycle nutrients, saving about 25% of your annual fertilizer costs. According to Dr. Norman Hummel, Jr., Turfgrass Specialist at Cornell University, "one ton of fresh clippings contain approximately 15 pounds of nitrogen, 2 pounds of phosphorous and 10 pounds of potassium -- the three major nutrients -- and smaller quantities of the other elements essential for plant life." We must stop thinking of grass clippings as "garbage."
• According to a University of Connecticut research scientist, clippings left on the lawn can increase the organic content of the soil and lead to increased earthworm activity. Earthworms improve soil aeration and water movement through the soil, providing a better environment for plant growth.
• A ton of grass clippings contains more than 1,700 pounds of water. Leaving clippings on the lawn saves tax dollars spent for labor, fuel costs and dumping fees that are incurred to dispose of this moisture-laden material.
How to Recycle Grass: Successful recycling of grass clippings to your lawn requires nothing more than basic lawn care on a regular basis.
• Mow when your grass is dry and 3 to 3-1/2 inches tall. Never cut it shorter than 2 to 2-1/2 inches or remove more than one third of the leaf surface at any one mowing. This will allow your lawn to have a larger and deeper root system -- a stronger defense against weeds, diseases and drought.
• Use a sharp mower blade or a mulching mower if you have one. A sharp blade and frequent mowing will mean finer clippings that will decompose quickly. If you have trouble using your mower without the bagger, call your dealer for assistance. Mulching kits are available to retrofit some mowers.
So why am I talking about mulching this time of year? With a light dusting of snow already on the ground in this part of New York, most of us are thinking about putting our lawnmowers away and making sure the snow blower works. Yes, but for one nasty little thing: all those leaves that are on the ground or still on the trees. They are out there (under the snow, perhaps) and still need to be removed unless we want some ugly brown spots on our lawn next spring.
Now is the time to think about mulching those leaves rather than raking them. Mulching leaves makes as much sense as mulching lawn clippings. Here’s why, as explained by the folks at Superlandscaping: http://www.superlandscaping.com/learn/leaf-mulching.
Benefits of Leaf Mulching
Following are some of the main benefits mulching can offer your lawn:
• Soil enrichment: leaf mulch is excellent for returning nutrients back to the soil and causes your lawn to require less fertilizer and other additives as a result.
• Water conservation: mulching can help to retain moisture in the soil in your lawn. When you cover soil with leaf mulch, the mulch reduces the soil’s exposure to sunlight and wind, which reduces water evaporation.
• Insulation: mulch insulates your plants’ roots from the heat in the summer, the cold during winter, and wind all year long. It also prevents soil compaction and erosion from wind and rain.
• Weed control: leaf mulching can help prevent weeds from growing in your lawn by covering the surface of your lawn. You should add a thick layer of mulch (two to three inches) in gardens to reduce the need for herbicides.
• Saves money: by using natural fertilization methods instead of synthetic ones, you can save money on caring for your lawn.
I have already mulched my first batch of leaves under the crab apple tree and the weeping cherry, but I will be out there again later in the week when this snow dusting evaporates (or melts) and the leaves are dry. It’s quick, easy on my back and good for my lawn.
You might want to give it a try.
I will try to do better. However, I try not to bore you with inane comments that insult your intelligence. I may bruise your brain once in awhile, but I try to write only when I have something to say.
So what is this “Magic of Mulch” crap? Just this. We suburbanites are wasting too much money – not to mention valuable nutrients – on bagging our lawn clippings.
I purchased a new lawn mower last spring and more by accident than design the lawn mower I got was a mulching mower. That means it has a heavy-duty engine (7.5 hp) and a more bell shaped blade housing. This design forces the clipped grass blades back downs through the rotating blade to be cut again before falling to the ground. The more powerful engine guarantees that the cutting blade rotates fast enough to whack those clippings one more time before they fall into the grass below.
This mower has a grass catcher attachment that one can use when cutting taller grass that needs to be bagged or discarded on your compost pile. I have not yet had to use it.
How can that be? Well, as I said, I got this new mower last spring when on the first day of mowing the power mower I had started making strange noises. Since it was 20+ years old and had been repaired once before, I turned it off and headed for the mall to find another. I found the mower I wanted and purchased it that day. Hence, I was on top of the spring-summer mowing season from day one with my new mulching mower.
I didn’t know much about mulching mowers and, like many of you, had used a grass catcher in the past to collect grass clippings that I put on my compost pile. This compost pile has for 45 years added much needed moister-holding content to my otherwise very sandy garden soil. I never bagged my grass clippings to be carted off to the town compost pile.
As I read about mulching, however, I learned that mulching your grass clippings is actually preferable to bagging. Those grass clippings contain valuable nutrients that our lawns need. In fact, many of us buy expensive fertilizer to put on our lawn in the spring (and fall) to improve the root system and help thicken the mat of “good” grass that will then prevent weed grasses from getting started. Those nutrients find their way into the blades of grass that we cut off – and then throw away.
Mulching puts those nutrients right back into the soil. The nutrients are recycled, if you will, and many of us are ardent recyclers. Recycling helps the environment, improves the looks of our lawn, and saves money.
But, you might complain, aren’t those brown clumps of dry grass ugly, not to mention bad for the lawn as they breed mold and create thatch that must later be removed with a thatching tool? That can happen if you wait too long between mowing, as is common among those who bag their grass clippings. Mulching requires that you cut only the top one-third of the grass blade AND that one-third should be no more than one inch long.
Consider these points from the Cornell University Cooperative Extension office:
Just Mow It: A Guide to Grass Recycling
Consider The Benefits Of Leaving Clippings On The Lawn When Mowing:
• You can save one-third of your annual lawn care time by mowing frequently and not collecting clippings.
• Clippings left on the lawn recycle nutrients, saving about 25% of your annual fertilizer costs. According to Dr. Norman Hummel, Jr., Turfgrass Specialist at Cornell University, "one ton of fresh clippings contain approximately 15 pounds of nitrogen, 2 pounds of phosphorous and 10 pounds of potassium -- the three major nutrients -- and smaller quantities of the other elements essential for plant life." We must stop thinking of grass clippings as "garbage."
• According to a University of Connecticut research scientist, clippings left on the lawn can increase the organic content of the soil and lead to increased earthworm activity. Earthworms improve soil aeration and water movement through the soil, providing a better environment for plant growth.
• A ton of grass clippings contains more than 1,700 pounds of water. Leaving clippings on the lawn saves tax dollars spent for labor, fuel costs and dumping fees that are incurred to dispose of this moisture-laden material.
How to Recycle Grass: Successful recycling of grass clippings to your lawn requires nothing more than basic lawn care on a regular basis.
• Mow when your grass is dry and 3 to 3-1/2 inches tall. Never cut it shorter than 2 to 2-1/2 inches or remove more than one third of the leaf surface at any one mowing. This will allow your lawn to have a larger and deeper root system -- a stronger defense against weeds, diseases and drought.
• Use a sharp mower blade or a mulching mower if you have one. A sharp blade and frequent mowing will mean finer clippings that will decompose quickly. If you have trouble using your mower without the bagger, call your dealer for assistance. Mulching kits are available to retrofit some mowers.
So why am I talking about mulching this time of year? With a light dusting of snow already on the ground in this part of New York, most of us are thinking about putting our lawnmowers away and making sure the snow blower works. Yes, but for one nasty little thing: all those leaves that are on the ground or still on the trees. They are out there (under the snow, perhaps) and still need to be removed unless we want some ugly brown spots on our lawn next spring.
Now is the time to think about mulching those leaves rather than raking them. Mulching leaves makes as much sense as mulching lawn clippings. Here’s why, as explained by the folks at Superlandscaping: http://www.superlandscaping.com/learn/leaf-mulching.
Benefits of Leaf Mulching
Following are some of the main benefits mulching can offer your lawn:
• Soil enrichment: leaf mulch is excellent for returning nutrients back to the soil and causes your lawn to require less fertilizer and other additives as a result.
• Water conservation: mulching can help to retain moisture in the soil in your lawn. When you cover soil with leaf mulch, the mulch reduces the soil’s exposure to sunlight and wind, which reduces water evaporation.
• Insulation: mulch insulates your plants’ roots from the heat in the summer, the cold during winter, and wind all year long. It also prevents soil compaction and erosion from wind and rain.
• Weed control: leaf mulching can help prevent weeds from growing in your lawn by covering the surface of your lawn. You should add a thick layer of mulch (two to three inches) in gardens to reduce the need for herbicides.
• Saves money: by using natural fertilization methods instead of synthetic ones, you can save money on caring for your lawn.
I have already mulched my first batch of leaves under the crab apple tree and the weeping cherry, but I will be out there again later in the week when this snow dusting evaporates (or melts) and the leaves are dry. It’s quick, easy on my back and good for my lawn.
You might want to give it a try.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
SMALLER GOVERNMENT MEANS FEWER SUBSIDIES – ARE WE READY FOR THAT?
I hear a great deal these days from the tea party followers, and from a few of my friends, about smaller government. We must, they argue, get government out of the business of trying to level the human or business playing field. Robbing from the rich (taxes) to give to the poor (welfare, Medicare, Medicaid, food stamps, and other subsidies for the have-nots) is ruining this country and running up a national debt our children and grandchildren will have to pay.
This is akin, they argue, to the bumper sticker popular with many of our RV friends: SPENDING OUR CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE. We frequently saw this sticker on the motor homes of our traveling friends. These friends, or course, were usually retired and had enough money to own an RV and to travel around the country. Their wealth may have come from actual hard work and smart investments, but as often as not the life style they enjoyed was possible because they had a defined-benefit pension plan and social security – and large mortgage payments on their RV.
The cry to privatize Social Security, to reduce taxes, or to eliminate government subsidies to the poor comes exclusively from those who have money and secure jobs. True, they went to school, worked hard and deserve the position and pay they receive. I never understood, though, how they could so easily dismiss those who, through no fault of their own, need a helping hand. Granted governments – well, politicians actually – frequently get carried away with the welfare thing and too often give away more than the nation can afford. They never seem able to establish programs that that provide temporary assistance and do not promise life-long support.
That said, we have to face the fact that some people will need support for the rest of their lives. Ignoring this fact will return us to the era of poor houses, Oliver Twist-like children begging (or stealing) in the streets, the elderly or injured dying prematurely because of inattention to their health, and other bad socio-economic conditions we have long-since put behind us as a nation.
Are there people who will take advantage of any system you set up? Certainly. Are there bankers who presently take advantage of loopholes in banking regulations to make millions for themselves while allowing their stockholders to lose money? Getting government out of people’s lives makes as much sense as getting government out of regulating banks.
Actually, we all try to “beat the system” when we fill out our tax returns and list all the legal exceptions. How so? Well, the fact that the government allows exceptions invites all of us to look for every deduction we can find – even sometimes if we have to bend the rule just a little to make it fit our circumstance. We do it and companies do it. Companies even go so far as to hire teams of lawyers to find every loophole they can to save money on their taxes. Few, if any, of us ever opens the tax form, fills in the personal information, lists our total income for the year and turns immediately to the tax table to see what we owe. That would be stupid.
Can you then blame the person on SSI, food stamps, unemployment (yes, unemployment benefits are a government subsidy), welfare, Medicaid or any other government program for trying to get from it all they can?
And that brings us to all those other subsidies the government provides: tax breaks to businesses to relocate, subsidies for tobacco farmers, subsidies to cotton growers, subsides to honey bee ranchers, subsidies to corn growers, subsidies to railroads, subsidies to keep the price of milk from dropping too low, subsidies to maintain the interstate highway system, subsidies to the aero-space industry, and so on.
Consider the CRP program for farmers and ranchers. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, “The Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) provides technical and financial assistance to eligible farmers and ranchers to address soil, water, and related natural resource concerns on their lands in an environmentally beneficial and cost-effective manner. The program provides assistance to farmers and ranchers in complying with Federal, State, and tribal environmental laws, and encourages environmental enhancement. Farmers receive an annual rental payment for the term of the multi-year contract. Cost sharing is provided to establish the vegetative cover practices.”
The annual rental payment varies depending upon a variety of factors, but farmer with 300 acres in the CRP program may receive as much as $100 per acre or $30,000 a year for essentially doing nothing but planting, say, Lespedeza (a member of the pea family) and mowing it once a year. That’s a government subsidy for farmers than the rest of us never get to participate in.
Like all subsidies, it makes sense, or did at one time. Maybe it still makes sense. Not all government subsidies make sense, however.
Froma Harrop in her October 18 column points out that Mayor Bloomberg of New York City is being criticized by some for wanting to stop people from using their food stamps to buy “Coca-Cola and other sugary, fattening drinks.” He is not. Moreover, she adds, he does not want to stand between all New Yorkers and their cans of soda. “But he would end the taxpayers’ role as enabler of poor nutrition choices.” Further, she reminds us, “There’s a difference between a government ban on something and its refusal to subsidize it.”
That makes sense to me. If I lend you money because you can’t pay your mortgage or buy groceries for your kids, I sure as hell will resent it if you take some of that money to buy a case of beer or, worse, spend a weekend at a nearby casino. When you are using other people’s money (the NYC taxpayers, in Bloomberg’s case), you have to expect some oversight and restrictions on how you spend that money.
There is a difference also between what Medicare or Medicaid insurance will pay for (subsidize) and what medical care you may have. You may have any medical procedure you want and can pay for. Insurance is agrees to pay only for specified procedures.
Regardless, smaller government (which I favor) means fewer subsidies. The problem is that not many of us are willing to give up the various government subsidies we receive. How many subsidies are you willing to do without? Before you answer, you may want to take a few minutes to review the subsidies you now receive: unemployment insurance, school tax relief, road maintenance, police and fire services, insurance and banking regulation, meat and produce inspection, etc. All of these are important, but in simpler times, when taxes were lower, some of these services did not exist or existed in a greatly reduced form. Are we ready to return to those days?
This is akin, they argue, to the bumper sticker popular with many of our RV friends: SPENDING OUR CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE. We frequently saw this sticker on the motor homes of our traveling friends. These friends, or course, were usually retired and had enough money to own an RV and to travel around the country. Their wealth may have come from actual hard work and smart investments, but as often as not the life style they enjoyed was possible because they had a defined-benefit pension plan and social security – and large mortgage payments on their RV.
The cry to privatize Social Security, to reduce taxes, or to eliminate government subsidies to the poor comes exclusively from those who have money and secure jobs. True, they went to school, worked hard and deserve the position and pay they receive. I never understood, though, how they could so easily dismiss those who, through no fault of their own, need a helping hand. Granted governments – well, politicians actually – frequently get carried away with the welfare thing and too often give away more than the nation can afford. They never seem able to establish programs that that provide temporary assistance and do not promise life-long support.
That said, we have to face the fact that some people will need support for the rest of their lives. Ignoring this fact will return us to the era of poor houses, Oliver Twist-like children begging (or stealing) in the streets, the elderly or injured dying prematurely because of inattention to their health, and other bad socio-economic conditions we have long-since put behind us as a nation.
Are there people who will take advantage of any system you set up? Certainly. Are there bankers who presently take advantage of loopholes in banking regulations to make millions for themselves while allowing their stockholders to lose money? Getting government out of people’s lives makes as much sense as getting government out of regulating banks.
Actually, we all try to “beat the system” when we fill out our tax returns and list all the legal exceptions. How so? Well, the fact that the government allows exceptions invites all of us to look for every deduction we can find – even sometimes if we have to bend the rule just a little to make it fit our circumstance. We do it and companies do it. Companies even go so far as to hire teams of lawyers to find every loophole they can to save money on their taxes. Few, if any, of us ever opens the tax form, fills in the personal information, lists our total income for the year and turns immediately to the tax table to see what we owe. That would be stupid.
Can you then blame the person on SSI, food stamps, unemployment (yes, unemployment benefits are a government subsidy), welfare, Medicaid or any other government program for trying to get from it all they can?
And that brings us to all those other subsidies the government provides: tax breaks to businesses to relocate, subsidies for tobacco farmers, subsidies to cotton growers, subsides to honey bee ranchers, subsidies to corn growers, subsidies to railroads, subsidies to keep the price of milk from dropping too low, subsidies to maintain the interstate highway system, subsidies to the aero-space industry, and so on.
Consider the CRP program for farmers and ranchers. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, “The Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) provides technical and financial assistance to eligible farmers and ranchers to address soil, water, and related natural resource concerns on their lands in an environmentally beneficial and cost-effective manner. The program provides assistance to farmers and ranchers in complying with Federal, State, and tribal environmental laws, and encourages environmental enhancement. Farmers receive an annual rental payment for the term of the multi-year contract. Cost sharing is provided to establish the vegetative cover practices.”
The annual rental payment varies depending upon a variety of factors, but farmer with 300 acres in the CRP program may receive as much as $100 per acre or $30,000 a year for essentially doing nothing but planting, say, Lespedeza (a member of the pea family) and mowing it once a year. That’s a government subsidy for farmers than the rest of us never get to participate in.
Like all subsidies, it makes sense, or did at one time. Maybe it still makes sense. Not all government subsidies make sense, however.
Froma Harrop in her October 18 column points out that Mayor Bloomberg of New York City is being criticized by some for wanting to stop people from using their food stamps to buy “Coca-Cola and other sugary, fattening drinks.” He is not. Moreover, she adds, he does not want to stand between all New Yorkers and their cans of soda. “But he would end the taxpayers’ role as enabler of poor nutrition choices.” Further, she reminds us, “There’s a difference between a government ban on something and its refusal to subsidize it.”
That makes sense to me. If I lend you money because you can’t pay your mortgage or buy groceries for your kids, I sure as hell will resent it if you take some of that money to buy a case of beer or, worse, spend a weekend at a nearby casino. When you are using other people’s money (the NYC taxpayers, in Bloomberg’s case), you have to expect some oversight and restrictions on how you spend that money.
There is a difference also between what Medicare or Medicaid insurance will pay for (subsidize) and what medical care you may have. You may have any medical procedure you want and can pay for. Insurance is agrees to pay only for specified procedures.
Regardless, smaller government (which I favor) means fewer subsidies. The problem is that not many of us are willing to give up the various government subsidies we receive. How many subsidies are you willing to do without? Before you answer, you may want to take a few minutes to review the subsidies you now receive: unemployment insurance, school tax relief, road maintenance, police and fire services, insurance and banking regulation, meat and produce inspection, etc. All of these are important, but in simpler times, when taxes were lower, some of these services did not exist or existed in a greatly reduced form. Are we ready to return to those days?
Sunday, October 17, 2010
WHY ATTEND CHURCH?
This past summer while driving across the central U.S. we stopped for the night at a motel that offered free copies of the Marysville, KS Advocate. Having a newspaper to read was a special treat for us as we had spent the five weeks we were at our place in Colorado without television or a newspaper. You can understand why we felt somewhat out of touch with what was going on in the country and welcomed the chance to read a newspaper.
True, we had some radio reception at the ranch, but we were 50 miles from Colorado Springs and about the same distance from Canon City. The few stations we received were mostly music stations and they only did a five-minute news wrap up at the top of each hour. After that, it was all music – mostly country music.
We eagerly took the Advocate back to our room and started reading it. We learned, among other things, that the cattle disease anaplasmosis had been reported in the region. That, we surmised, was news to local cattle farmers. We also learned that Boos Pumpkin Patch would be open that coming Saturday.
One article that caught my eye was the one by Jerry Zanker, pastor of the Marysville First Christian Church. The title was “Why go to church?” Being a doubting Thomas, I wondered what answer he would give, so I read the article.
Pastor Zanker started right off by feeding my doubt with the statement that “79 percent of Americans identify themselves as Christians but only 20 percent attend worship service regularly.” While I never had definite figures to support my cynicism about religious folks, I already knew that a great many so-called Christians were such in name only. Not only did they not attend church services regularly, the rest of their daily lives belied the notion that they were serious Christians.
Indeed, by the simple, unscientific practice of observing people, I learned that being a Christian for many folks was something akin to being a Democrat or Republican or Rotarian or Chamber of Commerce member. Whatever the label, whatever the organization, it was important to these people to belong to something. They desperately needed to be identified with an organization or cause – not so much that belonging required them to change the way their live but enough for them to enjoy the social aspects of belonging. Even if they attended church services with some regularity, they did so to see and be seen more so than to actually take part in the religious outreach of the church.
Pastor Zanker wrote in his article that he looked at “the Scripture from the Book of Acts to discover what going to church can do for us.” Imagine my surprise when the first thing he mentioned was “that the church gives us a sense of fellowship or belonging.” Well, that was legitimate. We are herd animals and whether it is a political party, the Sons of Norway, the Lions Club, or the local sports booster club, most adults belong to something; actually, we usually belong to several groups or organizations. Whenever we move into a new school, a new community, a new job or any new social setting, we immediately set about trying to find someone with whom we can identify so we can have that essential sense of belonging.
Not being a student of the Bible, I had no idea if the Book of Acts actually addressed the matter as specifically as the pastor suggested, but I was willing accept that it did. (A minister wouldn’t lie, would he?)
The second thing the church gives us that Pastor Zanker identified was the opportunity to worship. “Worship,” he said, “is more than what goes on in a church building, but is a way of life.” We need, he added, “one hour of focused worship with our attention on Jesus Christ.” My disappointment began to grow. One hour? The pastor was justifying his church’s weekly service and his position as the church’s leader rather than answering the question posed by his article’s title.
Ministers, I fear, are guilty of asking questions and answering them the way they want, much like politicians, because they are seldom, if ever required -- from the pulpit at least -- to defend what they say. Parishioners are expected to sit passively and absorb whatever “wisdom” the pastor presents. Notice that even when people in the pews are sitting there with Bible in hand, the minister feels completely comfortable telling the congregation the meaning of a particular passage he just read to them. He expects them to accept his interpretation. And they seem always to accept it. I’ve never seen a parishioner stand up and say, “Wait a minute, reverend. I don’t think that is what this passage says at all.”
Apparently, we take seriously the notion that we in the congregation are the minister’s flock, and we act like sheep, following his every direction or suggestion.
Moving on, Reverend Zanker identifies the third thing the church does for us is “to lead us to spiritual maturity.” That means, I imagine, the spiritual maturity defined by the pastor and, possibly, church doctrine. Independent spiritual maturity is frowned on. The church is a congregation, a melding of many into one. There is strength in numbers but especially if those among the numbers think and act as one. (I will again confess that I am not a biblical scholar and I have not checked the Book of Acts to see if it spells out these four characteristics of church membership in any detail.)
The good pastor tells us that the “fourth thing the church does is that it prepares us for ministry.” Zanker explains what this means with these words: “God has placed each one of us on earth to make a contribution to society. We weren’t just created to consume resources and take up space. God designed each of us to make a difference with our lives. We all have special gifts and abilities that God has given us for ministry.”
I have no quarrel with that, but I do wonder how many of his congregation – remember, this is central Kansas – will acknowledge, "that God designed each of us,” including homosexuals, say, “to make a difference with our lives.” It is something to wonder about, wouldn’t you agree?
The final thing the church does for us is “help us to understand and carry out our life’s mission.” But only, I fear, if your life’s mission, as you have come to understand it during your growth in spiritual maturity, agrees with the tenets of the church and the general position of others in the church with which you have developed a sense of fellowship or belonging.
I learned years ago that the fundamental responsibility of any good pastor is to look after the needs of the church. The church is first. Pastor Zanker confirmed my suspicion when at the end of his article he writes, “My prayer is that maybe I’ve given you enough reasons why you might want to attend worship.”
Not satisfied to let it go with that, he adds, “Because as I told our congregation that when you understand what it means to not just go to church – but be the church, you will have discovered your life’s true purpose.” Although he means to make it sound like the church is nothing without you, he really wants you to believe that you are nothing without the church. I have to balk at that.
The pastor is preaching to the choir. He wrote this article not so much to persuade those Christians who do not attend church regularly but to confirm that for those who do, that according to the bible they are doing the right thing. He probably received many positive comments from his parishioners on his excellent article as they left church this Sunday. And that is what he was going for, I suspect.
I mentioned at the beginning that I was a doubting Thomas, but I feel compelled to say further that I was once a participating member of the church. I sang in the choir, often at two services, served as a deacon and later as an elder of the church, and served as vice president of consistory. I also served on the church’s budget committee, among other things. I know how things get done in the church and why. Modern churches are businesses, and more decisions in the church are made for business reasons than for religious reasons.
True, we had some radio reception at the ranch, but we were 50 miles from Colorado Springs and about the same distance from Canon City. The few stations we received were mostly music stations and they only did a five-minute news wrap up at the top of each hour. After that, it was all music – mostly country music.
We eagerly took the Advocate back to our room and started reading it. We learned, among other things, that the cattle disease anaplasmosis had been reported in the region. That, we surmised, was news to local cattle farmers. We also learned that Boos Pumpkin Patch would be open that coming Saturday.
One article that caught my eye was the one by Jerry Zanker, pastor of the Marysville First Christian Church. The title was “Why go to church?” Being a doubting Thomas, I wondered what answer he would give, so I read the article.
Pastor Zanker started right off by feeding my doubt with the statement that “79 percent of Americans identify themselves as Christians but only 20 percent attend worship service regularly.” While I never had definite figures to support my cynicism about religious folks, I already knew that a great many so-called Christians were such in name only. Not only did they not attend church services regularly, the rest of their daily lives belied the notion that they were serious Christians.
Indeed, by the simple, unscientific practice of observing people, I learned that being a Christian for many folks was something akin to being a Democrat or Republican or Rotarian or Chamber of Commerce member. Whatever the label, whatever the organization, it was important to these people to belong to something. They desperately needed to be identified with an organization or cause – not so much that belonging required them to change the way their live but enough for them to enjoy the social aspects of belonging. Even if they attended church services with some regularity, they did so to see and be seen more so than to actually take part in the religious outreach of the church.
Pastor Zanker wrote in his article that he looked at “the Scripture from the Book of Acts to discover what going to church can do for us.” Imagine my surprise when the first thing he mentioned was “that the church gives us a sense of fellowship or belonging.” Well, that was legitimate. We are herd animals and whether it is a political party, the Sons of Norway, the Lions Club, or the local sports booster club, most adults belong to something; actually, we usually belong to several groups or organizations. Whenever we move into a new school, a new community, a new job or any new social setting, we immediately set about trying to find someone with whom we can identify so we can have that essential sense of belonging.
Not being a student of the Bible, I had no idea if the Book of Acts actually addressed the matter as specifically as the pastor suggested, but I was willing accept that it did. (A minister wouldn’t lie, would he?)
The second thing the church gives us that Pastor Zanker identified was the opportunity to worship. “Worship,” he said, “is more than what goes on in a church building, but is a way of life.” We need, he added, “one hour of focused worship with our attention on Jesus Christ.” My disappointment began to grow. One hour? The pastor was justifying his church’s weekly service and his position as the church’s leader rather than answering the question posed by his article’s title.
Ministers, I fear, are guilty of asking questions and answering them the way they want, much like politicians, because they are seldom, if ever required -- from the pulpit at least -- to defend what they say. Parishioners are expected to sit passively and absorb whatever “wisdom” the pastor presents. Notice that even when people in the pews are sitting there with Bible in hand, the minister feels completely comfortable telling the congregation the meaning of a particular passage he just read to them. He expects them to accept his interpretation. And they seem always to accept it. I’ve never seen a parishioner stand up and say, “Wait a minute, reverend. I don’t think that is what this passage says at all.”
Apparently, we take seriously the notion that we in the congregation are the minister’s flock, and we act like sheep, following his every direction or suggestion.
Moving on, Reverend Zanker identifies the third thing the church does for us is “to lead us to spiritual maturity.” That means, I imagine, the spiritual maturity defined by the pastor and, possibly, church doctrine. Independent spiritual maturity is frowned on. The church is a congregation, a melding of many into one. There is strength in numbers but especially if those among the numbers think and act as one. (I will again confess that I am not a biblical scholar and I have not checked the Book of Acts to see if it spells out these four characteristics of church membership in any detail.)
The good pastor tells us that the “fourth thing the church does is that it prepares us for ministry.” Zanker explains what this means with these words: “God has placed each one of us on earth to make a contribution to society. We weren’t just created to consume resources and take up space. God designed each of us to make a difference with our lives. We all have special gifts and abilities that God has given us for ministry.”
I have no quarrel with that, but I do wonder how many of his congregation – remember, this is central Kansas – will acknowledge, "that God designed each of us,” including homosexuals, say, “to make a difference with our lives.” It is something to wonder about, wouldn’t you agree?
The final thing the church does for us is “help us to understand and carry out our life’s mission.” But only, I fear, if your life’s mission, as you have come to understand it during your growth in spiritual maturity, agrees with the tenets of the church and the general position of others in the church with which you have developed a sense of fellowship or belonging.
I learned years ago that the fundamental responsibility of any good pastor is to look after the needs of the church. The church is first. Pastor Zanker confirmed my suspicion when at the end of his article he writes, “My prayer is that maybe I’ve given you enough reasons why you might want to attend worship.”
Not satisfied to let it go with that, he adds, “Because as I told our congregation that when you understand what it means to not just go to church – but be the church, you will have discovered your life’s true purpose.” Although he means to make it sound like the church is nothing without you, he really wants you to believe that you are nothing without the church. I have to balk at that.
The pastor is preaching to the choir. He wrote this article not so much to persuade those Christians who do not attend church regularly but to confirm that for those who do, that according to the bible they are doing the right thing. He probably received many positive comments from his parishioners on his excellent article as they left church this Sunday. And that is what he was going for, I suspect.
I mentioned at the beginning that I was a doubting Thomas, but I feel compelled to say further that I was once a participating member of the church. I sang in the choir, often at two services, served as a deacon and later as an elder of the church, and served as vice president of consistory. I also served on the church’s budget committee, among other things. I know how things get done in the church and why. Modern churches are businesses, and more decisions in the church are made for business reasons than for religious reasons.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
IS HATING A NECESSARY HUMAN CONDITION?
You may have noticed that we humans, at least we Americans, always seem to have someone or some group we hate. Maybe hate is a strong word, but we, nevertheless, seem to require a boogieman in our lives or we are not happy.
For some people it’s those radical liberals who want to give away “everything I’ve worked for” to those “worthless bums unwilling to work for a living.” For others the boogieman is those insensitive conservatives who always want to turn back the clock to some earlier time, ignoring the plight of those around them who have suffered setbacks in their lives.
Lately, however, the target of much of our hate has been directed at the Muslims. They are a handy target since we don’t know many, if any, of them personally, they dress funny, have funny sounding names, and allegedly have a religion that allows, even encourages, them to mistreat their women and kill infidels, meaning us good Christians. What’s not to hate?
I heard an interview the other day of one father of a firefighter killed in the 911 tragedy. The reporter asked why the father opposed the Muslims building a cultural center two and one half blocks from Ground Zero, the former site of the World Trade Center, when within a block of that site were several sleazy strip joints and stores selling pornography. Wouldn’t a cultural center be preferable to such businesses so near Ground Zero? The father’s answer: “They didn’t kill my son, the Muslims did.”
The first part of his answer is factually correct. The second part is factually wrong. “The Muslims” didn’t kill his son. Twelve radical Muslim fanatics killed his son. Whackos never represent the main stream whether they are radical Muslims, radical Christians, radical abortionists, radical pro-lifers, or radical whatever. Crazy is crazy.
Am I nitpicking? I don’t think so.
If we are going to direct our hatred at groups of people based on the actions of a few, in particular the actions of one or more radical members of a group, then we need – using this logic – to condemn Irish Catholics. Say what?
Timothy McVeigh, convicted and executed for his part in the Oklahoma City bombing that took the lives of 168 people, many of them children, and injured 680 more people, was raised as an Irish Catholic. He was raised in Lockport, New York. Should we add all those people to our hate list? Are they guilty by association?
If that doesn’t make sense to you, as it doesn’t to me, why do we insist on making all Muslims guilty by their religious association with the 12 sick-minded radicals that commandeered four planes and flew two of them into the World Trade Center towers? The only answer I have to my question is that some of us just have to hate someone and we are easily led to hate the target-of-the-month, in this case, the Muslims.
If we are not capable as adult, rational people to think through news reports and inflammatory comments to reach non-hysterical conclusions, we run the risk of being no better than the radical Muslims who swallowed the hatred fed them about America by “their” propaganda leaders or biased news media.
Hatred is destructive. Let’s not go there.
For some people it’s those radical liberals who want to give away “everything I’ve worked for” to those “worthless bums unwilling to work for a living.” For others the boogieman is those insensitive conservatives who always want to turn back the clock to some earlier time, ignoring the plight of those around them who have suffered setbacks in their lives.
Lately, however, the target of much of our hate has been directed at the Muslims. They are a handy target since we don’t know many, if any, of them personally, they dress funny, have funny sounding names, and allegedly have a religion that allows, even encourages, them to mistreat their women and kill infidels, meaning us good Christians. What’s not to hate?
I heard an interview the other day of one father of a firefighter killed in the 911 tragedy. The reporter asked why the father opposed the Muslims building a cultural center two and one half blocks from Ground Zero, the former site of the World Trade Center, when within a block of that site were several sleazy strip joints and stores selling pornography. Wouldn’t a cultural center be preferable to such businesses so near Ground Zero? The father’s answer: “They didn’t kill my son, the Muslims did.”
The first part of his answer is factually correct. The second part is factually wrong. “The Muslims” didn’t kill his son. Twelve radical Muslim fanatics killed his son. Whackos never represent the main stream whether they are radical Muslims, radical Christians, radical abortionists, radical pro-lifers, or radical whatever. Crazy is crazy.
Am I nitpicking? I don’t think so.
If we are going to direct our hatred at groups of people based on the actions of a few, in particular the actions of one or more radical members of a group, then we need – using this logic – to condemn Irish Catholics. Say what?
Timothy McVeigh, convicted and executed for his part in the Oklahoma City bombing that took the lives of 168 people, many of them children, and injured 680 more people, was raised as an Irish Catholic. He was raised in Lockport, New York. Should we add all those people to our hate list? Are they guilty by association?
If that doesn’t make sense to you, as it doesn’t to me, why do we insist on making all Muslims guilty by their religious association with the 12 sick-minded radicals that commandeered four planes and flew two of them into the World Trade Center towers? The only answer I have to my question is that some of us just have to hate someone and we are easily led to hate the target-of-the-month, in this case, the Muslims.
If we are not capable as adult, rational people to think through news reports and inflammatory comments to reach non-hysterical conclusions, we run the risk of being no better than the radical Muslims who swallowed the hatred fed them about America by “their” propaganda leaders or biased news media.
Hatred is destructive. Let’s not go there.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
MYSTERY CRITTER FOUND
In my last blog I spoke of a ghost or mystery critter of some sort that had knocked things off the wall, defecated and vomited on the floor, and generally created a mess in the garage here at out mountain retreat. I feared that it was an animal that wandered into the garage last fall as we were closing up and got shut in for the winter.
If so, that poor creature would have searched in vain for a way out. Further, it would have also searched in vain for something to eat or for water, leading to a slow death from starvation and/or dehydration, if it didn't freeze to death first.
Yesterday afternoon, my nose led to search further into a plastic crate in which I found the poor creatures remains. There was little smell left as the fully grown black cat had dried to mostly skin, fur and bones.
We held a cremation for the remains this morning.
Curiosity can indeed kill a cat.
I called Bob and Mary Campbell, our rancher neighbors, to determine if they were missing a black cat from among their barn cats. She said yes, "But," she added, "our barn cats go missing all the time. Some get hurt somewhere and go off to die alone. Others just disappear, possibly taken by a coyote or some other bigger animal." I told her that I found the black one and explained what I believed happened. Her comment was typical of farmers and ranchers who live with animals. She said, "Well." Then added, "That's too bad."
I thought that was a little callus but then realized that on a ranch, horses get hurt and have to be put down, calves are born and then die, and cats wander off and get caught in traps or, in this case, get trapped inside a building they cannot get out of. Shit happens.
Ranching -- dare I say, life? -- is for the living. You regret losing a good horse. You regret losing one or several calves during calving season, for whatever reason; they represent lost income. And you regret the painful death of any animal, but life goes on and the ranch demands the attention of those living and still in charge. That's just the way it is. Take precautions to avoid accidents, but you have to take care of the life before you.
I'll try to remember that.
If so, that poor creature would have searched in vain for a way out. Further, it would have also searched in vain for something to eat or for water, leading to a slow death from starvation and/or dehydration, if it didn't freeze to death first.
Yesterday afternoon, my nose led to search further into a plastic crate in which I found the poor creatures remains. There was little smell left as the fully grown black cat had dried to mostly skin, fur and bones.
We held a cremation for the remains this morning.
Curiosity can indeed kill a cat.
I called Bob and Mary Campbell, our rancher neighbors, to determine if they were missing a black cat from among their barn cats. She said yes, "But," she added, "our barn cats go missing all the time. Some get hurt somewhere and go off to die alone. Others just disappear, possibly taken by a coyote or some other bigger animal." I told her that I found the black one and explained what I believed happened. Her comment was typical of farmers and ranchers who live with animals. She said, "Well." Then added, "That's too bad."
I thought that was a little callus but then realized that on a ranch, horses get hurt and have to be put down, calves are born and then die, and cats wander off and get caught in traps or, in this case, get trapped inside a building they cannot get out of. Shit happens.
Ranching -- dare I say, life? -- is for the living. You regret losing a good horse. You regret losing one or several calves during calving season, for whatever reason; they represent lost income. And you regret the painful death of any animal, but life goes on and the ranch demands the attention of those living and still in charge. That's just the way it is. Take precautions to avoid accidents, but you have to take care of the life before you.
I'll try to remember that.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
WHY NOT MORE BLOGS, CHUCK?
Chuck, why don’t you write on your blog more often?
I have actually never been asked that question, but I am aware that many of you may want to ask it. Well, I am aware of little these days as my grey matter gradually turns to mush, but I am cognizant (just showing off my college education) of the fact that I haven’t written anything recently and, therefore, probably have a number of disappointed blog fans wondering why. Okay, “disappointed” might be a bit strong.
Here are some possible answers to the question. Pick out the one that seems to have the best fit. (Everyone scores a perfect 100 on this test, by the way.)
1. Chuck is a lazy, no-talent bum with little to say and even less talent for putting it in writing.
2. Chuck writes often, he just doesn’t publish.
3. Chuck is too busy answering email from the last blog to have time to write a new one.
4. Chuck has nothing to say worth reading and has the good sense to know it.
5. Answer #4 is completely bogus except for the part about “nothing to say worth reading.”
6. Chuck and Joyce have been on the road to Colorado and he hasn’t had time to prepare a summary of his travel adventures.
7. There were no travel adventures so Chuck (as usual) has nothing to write about.
8. People have asked me to stop writing on my blog.
Pick an answer. Pick two or three if you like.
Joyce and I are our 15 acres of the Colorado Mountains that we lovingly refer to as The Ranch. We arrived five days ago after spending three days in Denver visiting with Joyce’s brother and sister-in-law AND hoping our lungs would adjust a little to the altitude there before we came on up to the ranch. The altitude in Denver, as most people know, is around 5,280 feet, hence the nickname, The Mile-High City. The altitude at the ranch is 8750 feet; we just refer to it as nearly 9,000 feet. A couple of hundred feet doesn’t matter one way or the other when you can’t breathe.
In reality, breathing is not the problem. Breathing is easy. The air is clean, free of most of man’s pollutants and carries the scent of Ponderosa pine, wild flowers and, occasionally, some cow shit. Clean, breathable air is plentiful; it’s the lower oxygen that is the problem.
Here’s a little lesson on air density. The percentage of oxygen in air, at 21%, remains almost unchanged up to 7,000 feet (2,100 m). There is no change in the ratio of oxygen to nitrogen. However, it is the air pressure itself, the number of molecules (of both oxygen and nitrogen) per given volume, which drops as altitude increases. Consequently, the available amount of oxygen to sustain mental and physical alertness decreases above 10,000 feet (3,000 m).
Ha! My ability to sustain mental and physical alertness, already at dangerously low levels, decreases a lot the first few days at the ranch. After walking from the living room to the bathroom, I have to stop and catch my breath. When toweling off after my shower, I have to stop and take five or six big breaths before continuing. (In this weakened and nude state I am, of course, vulnerable to any passing woman: a fact that is not lost on my wife.)
Showering is one of several great pleasures here at the ranch. We have a drilled well, 240 feet deep, that has naturally soft water, I mean soft to the point of feeling slick. If you are old enough, you may remember the Brylcreem hair pomade for men that was popular during the middle of the last century. The catch phrase in their radio and television ads was, “A little dab’l do you.” Well, that’s true with the soft water from our well. You don’t need much soap to work up a tremendous lather. And cold? You need a lot of hot water and only a little cold water when taking a shower.
But that cold water tastes so good when you need a refreshing drink direct from the tap. And you do need to drink lots of water out here. The air is drier, so you need more water to stay hydrated. In addition, drinking extra water helps stave off altitude sickness. More than one guest to the ranch has had a vacation stay spoiled by not heeding our advice to take it easy the first couple of days – and to drink lots of water!!
Headaches are the most common complaint at this altitude, along with the feeling of breathlessness. The dryer air may dry out nasal passages causing more sneezing and nose blowing. Too much exertion and lack of water, however, may lead to nausea and a day or two in bed.
So, it’s only after taking it easy for three or four days that Joyce and I start to do anything. (I spent two days just sitting in my recliner reading.) But today, we are starting to work on various projects. Well, Joyce is. I encourage her to prepare meals, do laundry and other “easy” chores while I sit at my computer typing. When Joyce walks in the room, I roll my eyes, act as if I have a headache, or feign some other form of illness so she won't think I should get up and do something. The lawn needs mowing and the garage needs cleaning, but I don’t want to overdo.
Speaking of the garage, we either have ghosts or there is a sneaky (possibly dead now) critter that has taken up residence there. Ghosts don’t usually leave behind dried poop, so I’m going with the critter line. The “residence” part is still under investigation. What I fear is that some animal wandered into the garage the last time it was open and we inadvertently locked it in. The place was a mess when we got out here this summer. Things were knocked off wall hooks, there was poop and vomit on the floor, and other indications of something running around frantically -- probably searching for a way out. Poor thing. What a horrible way to die.
Equally horrible is the task before me: finding the, hopefully petrified, remains and removing them.
Now you know why I am saving myself from getting all worn out from mundane chores and steeling myself for the job ahead. You also know why I haven’t been blogging lately.
I have actually never been asked that question, but I am aware that many of you may want to ask it. Well, I am aware of little these days as my grey matter gradually turns to mush, but I am cognizant (just showing off my college education) of the fact that I haven’t written anything recently and, therefore, probably have a number of disappointed blog fans wondering why. Okay, “disappointed” might be a bit strong.
Here are some possible answers to the question. Pick out the one that seems to have the best fit. (Everyone scores a perfect 100 on this test, by the way.)
1. Chuck is a lazy, no-talent bum with little to say and even less talent for putting it in writing.
2. Chuck writes often, he just doesn’t publish.
3. Chuck is too busy answering email from the last blog to have time to write a new one.
4. Chuck has nothing to say worth reading and has the good sense to know it.
5. Answer #4 is completely bogus except for the part about “nothing to say worth reading.”
6. Chuck and Joyce have been on the road to Colorado and he hasn’t had time to prepare a summary of his travel adventures.
7. There were no travel adventures so Chuck (as usual) has nothing to write about.
8. People have asked me to stop writing on my blog.
Pick an answer. Pick two or three if you like.
Joyce and I are our 15 acres of the Colorado Mountains that we lovingly refer to as The Ranch. We arrived five days ago after spending three days in Denver visiting with Joyce’s brother and sister-in-law AND hoping our lungs would adjust a little to the altitude there before we came on up to the ranch. The altitude in Denver, as most people know, is around 5,280 feet, hence the nickname, The Mile-High City. The altitude at the ranch is 8750 feet; we just refer to it as nearly 9,000 feet. A couple of hundred feet doesn’t matter one way or the other when you can’t breathe.
In reality, breathing is not the problem. Breathing is easy. The air is clean, free of most of man’s pollutants and carries the scent of Ponderosa pine, wild flowers and, occasionally, some cow shit. Clean, breathable air is plentiful; it’s the lower oxygen that is the problem.
Here’s a little lesson on air density. The percentage of oxygen in air, at 21%, remains almost unchanged up to 7,000 feet (2,100 m). There is no change in the ratio of oxygen to nitrogen. However, it is the air pressure itself, the number of molecules (of both oxygen and nitrogen) per given volume, which drops as altitude increases. Consequently, the available amount of oxygen to sustain mental and physical alertness decreases above 10,000 feet (3,000 m).
Ha! My ability to sustain mental and physical alertness, already at dangerously low levels, decreases a lot the first few days at the ranch. After walking from the living room to the bathroom, I have to stop and catch my breath. When toweling off after my shower, I have to stop and take five or six big breaths before continuing. (In this weakened and nude state I am, of course, vulnerable to any passing woman: a fact that is not lost on my wife.)
Showering is one of several great pleasures here at the ranch. We have a drilled well, 240 feet deep, that has naturally soft water, I mean soft to the point of feeling slick. If you are old enough, you may remember the Brylcreem hair pomade for men that was popular during the middle of the last century. The catch phrase in their radio and television ads was, “A little dab’l do you.” Well, that’s true with the soft water from our well. You don’t need much soap to work up a tremendous lather. And cold? You need a lot of hot water and only a little cold water when taking a shower.
But that cold water tastes so good when you need a refreshing drink direct from the tap. And you do need to drink lots of water out here. The air is drier, so you need more water to stay hydrated. In addition, drinking extra water helps stave off altitude sickness. More than one guest to the ranch has had a vacation stay spoiled by not heeding our advice to take it easy the first couple of days – and to drink lots of water!!
Headaches are the most common complaint at this altitude, along with the feeling of breathlessness. The dryer air may dry out nasal passages causing more sneezing and nose blowing. Too much exertion and lack of water, however, may lead to nausea and a day or two in bed.
So, it’s only after taking it easy for three or four days that Joyce and I start to do anything. (I spent two days just sitting in my recliner reading.) But today, we are starting to work on various projects. Well, Joyce is. I encourage her to prepare meals, do laundry and other “easy” chores while I sit at my computer typing. When Joyce walks in the room, I roll my eyes, act as if I have a headache, or feign some other form of illness so she won't think I should get up and do something. The lawn needs mowing and the garage needs cleaning, but I don’t want to overdo.
Speaking of the garage, we either have ghosts or there is a sneaky (possibly dead now) critter that has taken up residence there. Ghosts don’t usually leave behind dried poop, so I’m going with the critter line. The “residence” part is still under investigation. What I fear is that some animal wandered into the garage the last time it was open and we inadvertently locked it in. The place was a mess when we got out here this summer. Things were knocked off wall hooks, there was poop and vomit on the floor, and other indications of something running around frantically -- probably searching for a way out. Poor thing. What a horrible way to die.
Equally horrible is the task before me: finding the, hopefully petrified, remains and removing them.
Now you know why I am saving myself from getting all worn out from mundane chores and steeling myself for the job ahead. You also know why I haven’t been blogging lately.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
SOME OF THE BEST TOMATOES COME FROM THE COMPOST PILE
I've been a gardener most of my life, I figure. My dad always had a garden, so I was introduced to gardening at an early age.
I can't honestly say I enjoyed working in my dad's garden as a youth because my major responsibility at that time was to remove weeds and rocks -- we lived in Southwest Missouri on the edge of the Ozark Mountains where rocks are born and grow. Being in the garden, however, allowed me the privilege of getting to be first to eat a tomato fresh off the vine, to savor the young peas in a not-fully-developed pea pod, or to yank a tender young carrot from the ground, wipe off the dirt on my overalls and eat it right there.
I still love fresh vegetables. When I got my own place after college, I immediately cleared an area for my vegetable garden.
In recent years I could not maintain the garden I previously did because I was gone during a big part of the summer. I gradually replaced seasonal crops with annual ones: rhubarb, horseradish, raspberries, and green onions. The rest of the garden was covered with black plastic to keep the weeds at bay.
We are sticking closer to home this season due to an upcoming wedding involving our oldest granddaughter, so I had the opportunity to plant more seasonal vegetables. When I brought in my first red tomato the other day I was reminded of the several summers we enjoyed the delicious, huge Big Boy tomatoes that came from no less a place than my dad's compost pile.
Dad taught me the value of maintaining a compost pile. Grass clippings, pulled weeds, hedge clippings, and even the valuable stuff we now flush down the drain via our garbage disposals. All of these items decompose and all have valuable nutrients that can be returned to the garden soil to enrich it for next season's garden. Dad was doing organic gardening before the term became popular.
Well, early one summer before dad had turned the compost pile over he noticed a tomato plant coming up in one corner. It had clearly come up from a seed that had survived the winter and he decided to let it grow. It produced some of the biggest, meatiest tomatoes we had ever seen, tomatoes of the Big Boy variety that he had grown the previous season. Big Boy tomatoes are a hybrid tomato and hybrids don't usually reproduce well from seed. This one did, however, and dad decided to save some of the seeds that fall. He shared some of those with me and I started my own tomato plants the following spring.
We were pleased to have the seedlings develop into healthy tomato vines, even though they have been transplanted from their "native" Ozark region to the Zone 5 region in upstate New York. The vines grew big and strong and produced for us the same robust tomatoes they had for my dad. We were now working with the fourth generation of seeds from the original plant, so we were not only pleased but a little surprised.
Those tomatoes were delicious! We had more tomatoes than we could eat that summer, which is unusual since everyone in the family likes fresh tomatoes.
I saved some of the seeds from one of the healthiest tomatoes in mid-summer to use the follow spring. Seedlings from those seeds grew as expected and the resulting tomato plants once again grew healthy and strong. But!
We noticed one little problem with our tomatoes that summer. They were big and red and solid throughout, but some of the solidness came from a hard green core that had developed and they were more misshapen than round. After cutting out the core and slicing, we had a big odd shaped slice of tomato with a big hole in the middle. They were still delicious but a pain to prepare.
When I checked with my dad back in Missouri I learned that he was experiencing the same thing. The tomatoes were apparently beginning to revert to some of the original stock from which the Big Boy hybrid had been developed.
We gave up on the strain after that summer, but I always remember those two seasons when we had some of the tastiest tomatoes you could ever want -- and they came from the compost pile.
And get this, the other day after turning my compost pile I noticed a young tomato plant coming up next to the wall. You know, I just had to let it grow. We'll see what develops later in the summer. It may be another tomato surprise.
I can't honestly say I enjoyed working in my dad's garden as a youth because my major responsibility at that time was to remove weeds and rocks -- we lived in Southwest Missouri on the edge of the Ozark Mountains where rocks are born and grow. Being in the garden, however, allowed me the privilege of getting to be first to eat a tomato fresh off the vine, to savor the young peas in a not-fully-developed pea pod, or to yank a tender young carrot from the ground, wipe off the dirt on my overalls and eat it right there.
I still love fresh vegetables. When I got my own place after college, I immediately cleared an area for my vegetable garden.
In recent years I could not maintain the garden I previously did because I was gone during a big part of the summer. I gradually replaced seasonal crops with annual ones: rhubarb, horseradish, raspberries, and green onions. The rest of the garden was covered with black plastic to keep the weeds at bay.
We are sticking closer to home this season due to an upcoming wedding involving our oldest granddaughter, so I had the opportunity to plant more seasonal vegetables. When I brought in my first red tomato the other day I was reminded of the several summers we enjoyed the delicious, huge Big Boy tomatoes that came from no less a place than my dad's compost pile.
Dad taught me the value of maintaining a compost pile. Grass clippings, pulled weeds, hedge clippings, and even the valuable stuff we now flush down the drain via our garbage disposals. All of these items decompose and all have valuable nutrients that can be returned to the garden soil to enrich it for next season's garden. Dad was doing organic gardening before the term became popular.
Well, early one summer before dad had turned the compost pile over he noticed a tomato plant coming up in one corner. It had clearly come up from a seed that had survived the winter and he decided to let it grow. It produced some of the biggest, meatiest tomatoes we had ever seen, tomatoes of the Big Boy variety that he had grown the previous season. Big Boy tomatoes are a hybrid tomato and hybrids don't usually reproduce well from seed. This one did, however, and dad decided to save some of the seeds that fall. He shared some of those with me and I started my own tomato plants the following spring.
We were pleased to have the seedlings develop into healthy tomato vines, even though they have been transplanted from their "native" Ozark region to the Zone 5 region in upstate New York. The vines grew big and strong and produced for us the same robust tomatoes they had for my dad. We were now working with the fourth generation of seeds from the original plant, so we were not only pleased but a little surprised.
Those tomatoes were delicious! We had more tomatoes than we could eat that summer, which is unusual since everyone in the family likes fresh tomatoes.
I saved some of the seeds from one of the healthiest tomatoes in mid-summer to use the follow spring. Seedlings from those seeds grew as expected and the resulting tomato plants once again grew healthy and strong. But!
We noticed one little problem with our tomatoes that summer. They were big and red and solid throughout, but some of the solidness came from a hard green core that had developed and they were more misshapen than round. After cutting out the core and slicing, we had a big odd shaped slice of tomato with a big hole in the middle. They were still delicious but a pain to prepare.
When I checked with my dad back in Missouri I learned that he was experiencing the same thing. The tomatoes were apparently beginning to revert to some of the original stock from which the Big Boy hybrid had been developed.
We gave up on the strain after that summer, but I always remember those two seasons when we had some of the tastiest tomatoes you could ever want -- and they came from the compost pile.
And get this, the other day after turning my compost pile I noticed a young tomato plant coming up next to the wall. You know, I just had to let it grow. We'll see what develops later in the summer. It may be another tomato surprise.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
FINDING OUR LEADER
Much has been said and written lately about our president. The comments run along the lines of, "Who is this guy in the White House?," or "Will the real Obama please stand up."
He is not delivering on what he promised. He promised to get us out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and hasn't. He promised to improve the economy, and hasn't. He promised to do something about the jobs situation, and hasn't. He promised to do something about the deficit, and hasn't. The complaints list goes on and on.
We forget what he has done or, in some instances, had to do just to get the nation to a point where something could be done about the list of complaints above. I'll use a football analogy. We forget that sometimes in a football game the coach has to sacrifice a play or two, maybe even an entire quarter, to test the strength of the opponents and determine what his team can do against that strength. Obama may still be in the first quarter of the game while some of us on the sidelines are acting like the game is over.
Aside from that (i.e., it's easier to call the shots when you don't have a stake in the game), we all, Democrats, Republicans and especially, Independents, have to stop chasing the promise.
THE PROMISE is what politicians tell you to get elected. They know that they can accomplish nothing on your behalf (their constituents) unless they get elected. So that is their first priority. And to get elected, they have to tell you what you want to hear. Never tell the truth and never answer a question directly if you can avoid it. The truth will not set you free (except, maybe, to seek another line of work) and direct answers will only get you in trouble with someone or some group. Hence, the campaign promise. Promise what you must, never mind later.
And we keep falling for it. We keep voting for the person who promises a new deal better than the old deal. We believe the candidate who promises to fix the mistakes of the last administration. We fawn over the charismatic poll who may not have a thought of any value but speaks well or looks good. We love heroes: we'll take a man with experience in a war 40 years ago over a younger, possibly more knowledgeable man. We do not ask the hard questions of candidates ourselves and do not tune into or read the comments of those media people who do ask such questions. We just want to hear the promise.
The second priority of every politician, the one upper most in his or her mind 30 seconds after taking the oath of office is: "What must I do now to get reelected?" Forget the campaign promises, reality takes precedence now. Everything that you say or do from this point forward will be used for or against your bid for reelection. The next campaign has started.
Independent voters determine most elections. But so long as independent voters are swayed by the magic of THE PROMISE, they will continue to vote for the wrong person. The wrong person in this case being the person who makes the biggest promises or presents them in the most attractive package. Sometimes that person is capable of leadership, sometimes not.
We voters have the power, but with it comes the responsibility to use our heads rather than our ideological hearts to determine who to vote for. It is shameful enough that there are straight party-line votes in Congress. That not one congressperson has the strength of conviction to vote for something presented by a member of the opposite party because (a) it actually makes sense, or (b) because no one from his/her party has proposed anything better. Just as bad, however, is the sad state of affairs in which roughly one-third of the voting public can be counted on to do the same thing: that is, vote the party line regardless of the issues, the candidate, any proposed solutions or lack thereof.
When candidates can count on the "party faithful" to sweep them into office and need only direct their efforts toward pleasing their "base," we can count on there never being intelligent attention given to national economic matters, national jobs or welfare issues, or national security interests here and abroad. Remember your base, remember your large contributors. Those are the people who put you in office. Ignore them at your political peril.
Isn't it time we start accepting our responsibility before we demand any more from the politicians in Washington or the state house? "Vote them all out of office," is the battle cry of some break-away groups. And replace them with whom? Will replacing all the Democrats with Republicans AND vice versa really change things, you think?
He is not delivering on what he promised. He promised to get us out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and hasn't. He promised to improve the economy, and hasn't. He promised to do something about the jobs situation, and hasn't. He promised to do something about the deficit, and hasn't. The complaints list goes on and on.
We forget what he has done or, in some instances, had to do just to get the nation to a point where something could be done about the list of complaints above. I'll use a football analogy. We forget that sometimes in a football game the coach has to sacrifice a play or two, maybe even an entire quarter, to test the strength of the opponents and determine what his team can do against that strength. Obama may still be in the first quarter of the game while some of us on the sidelines are acting like the game is over.
Aside from that (i.e., it's easier to call the shots when you don't have a stake in the game), we all, Democrats, Republicans and especially, Independents, have to stop chasing the promise.
THE PROMISE is what politicians tell you to get elected. They know that they can accomplish nothing on your behalf (their constituents) unless they get elected. So that is their first priority. And to get elected, they have to tell you what you want to hear. Never tell the truth and never answer a question directly if you can avoid it. The truth will not set you free (except, maybe, to seek another line of work) and direct answers will only get you in trouble with someone or some group. Hence, the campaign promise. Promise what you must, never mind later.
And we keep falling for it. We keep voting for the person who promises a new deal better than the old deal. We believe the candidate who promises to fix the mistakes of the last administration. We fawn over the charismatic poll who may not have a thought of any value but speaks well or looks good. We love heroes: we'll take a man with experience in a war 40 years ago over a younger, possibly more knowledgeable man. We do not ask the hard questions of candidates ourselves and do not tune into or read the comments of those media people who do ask such questions. We just want to hear the promise.
The second priority of every politician, the one upper most in his or her mind 30 seconds after taking the oath of office is: "What must I do now to get reelected?" Forget the campaign promises, reality takes precedence now. Everything that you say or do from this point forward will be used for or against your bid for reelection. The next campaign has started.
Independent voters determine most elections. But so long as independent voters are swayed by the magic of THE PROMISE, they will continue to vote for the wrong person. The wrong person in this case being the person who makes the biggest promises or presents them in the most attractive package. Sometimes that person is capable of leadership, sometimes not.
We voters have the power, but with it comes the responsibility to use our heads rather than our ideological hearts to determine who to vote for. It is shameful enough that there are straight party-line votes in Congress. That not one congressperson has the strength of conviction to vote for something presented by a member of the opposite party because (a) it actually makes sense, or (b) because no one from his/her party has proposed anything better. Just as bad, however, is the sad state of affairs in which roughly one-third of the voting public can be counted on to do the same thing: that is, vote the party line regardless of the issues, the candidate, any proposed solutions or lack thereof.
When candidates can count on the "party faithful" to sweep them into office and need only direct their efforts toward pleasing their "base," we can count on there never being intelligent attention given to national economic matters, national jobs or welfare issues, or national security interests here and abroad. Remember your base, remember your large contributors. Those are the people who put you in office. Ignore them at your political peril.
Isn't it time we start accepting our responsibility before we demand any more from the politicians in Washington or the state house? "Vote them all out of office," is the battle cry of some break-away groups. And replace them with whom? Will replacing all the Democrats with Republicans AND vice versa really change things, you think?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
CAN WE PLEASE LEARN TO SAY IT CORRECTLY?
When are we going to stop saying "two thousand AND ten" for the current year?
Everyone does it, including news casters -- even those on the national news -- who should know better. We put the word "and" after the decimal designation on all figures over two digits these days. Hence, 193 become one hundred and ninety three. The figure 27 is spoken as twenty seven, but I half expect any day to hear someone say, "twenty and seven."
When you add the digit four in the hundreds position, i.e., 427, many of us will say "four hundred and twenty seven." That is wrong!
A three-digit figure such as 427 is correctly read as "four hundred twenty-seven." The figure 8,427 is correctly read as "eight thousand four hundred twenty-seven." No "and."
Any "and" in reading a figure comes when there is a decimal point. If your luncheon bill is $26.78, the cashier should say, "Your bill is twenty-six dollars AND seventy-eight cents." If you bought a car for $23,800.52 (tax and fees included), you would say, "My new car cost me twenty-three thousand eight hundred dollars and fifty-two cents." If you say, "My car cast me twenty-three thousand and eight hundred dollars and fifty-two cents," you are displaying your ignorance.
I do not remember educated adults using "and" in our dates or other large numbers before the year 2,000. Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December seventh, nineteen forty-one, not December seventh, nineteen hundred and forty-one. For some reason after the year 2,000 we started adding the word "and" to large numbers. Thus, the year 2001 became two thousand and one -- and we were off on the wrong track, never to return to speaking correctly, I fear.
In 1960 we spoke of that year as nineteen sixty, not nineteen and sixty. Why do we feel obligated to speak of this current year as two thousand and ten?
Isn't it time to try and remember a little of what our math teacher in school taught us and start talking about numbers larger than two digits like we had at least a fourth-grade education?
Everyone does it, including news casters -- even those on the national news -- who should know better. We put the word "and" after the decimal designation on all figures over two digits these days. Hence, 193 become one hundred and ninety three. The figure 27 is spoken as twenty seven, but I half expect any day to hear someone say, "twenty and seven."
When you add the digit four in the hundreds position, i.e., 427, many of us will say "four hundred and twenty seven." That is wrong!
A three-digit figure such as 427 is correctly read as "four hundred twenty-seven." The figure 8,427 is correctly read as "eight thousand four hundred twenty-seven." No "and."
Any "and" in reading a figure comes when there is a decimal point. If your luncheon bill is $26.78, the cashier should say, "Your bill is twenty-six dollars AND seventy-eight cents." If you bought a car for $23,800.52 (tax and fees included), you would say, "My new car cost me twenty-three thousand eight hundred dollars and fifty-two cents." If you say, "My car cast me twenty-three thousand and eight hundred dollars and fifty-two cents," you are displaying your ignorance.
I do not remember educated adults using "and" in our dates or other large numbers before the year 2,000. Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December seventh, nineteen forty-one, not December seventh, nineteen hundred and forty-one. For some reason after the year 2,000 we started adding the word "and" to large numbers. Thus, the year 2001 became two thousand and one -- and we were off on the wrong track, never to return to speaking correctly, I fear.
In 1960 we spoke of that year as nineteen sixty, not nineteen and sixty. Why do we feel obligated to speak of this current year as two thousand and ten?
Isn't it time to try and remember a little of what our math teacher in school taught us and start talking about numbers larger than two digits like we had at least a fourth-grade education?
Monday, July 12, 2010
DO ME A FAVOR, PLEASE
Please do me a favor and stop sending me stuff that someone else wrote. We're friends, aren't we? I like you and respect you or else we probably would have never become friends. That means I value what you have to say on a particular subject and I trust you to occasionally find some value in my thoughts.
We can discuss religion or politics or the price of tea in China all you want. The key part of that sentence is, "We can discuss." When you send me something written by someone else, something that is often inaccurate or marginally misleading in the hopes -- What? -- that it will cause me to change my views on religion or my political stance on something, I always ignore it and usually delete it before opening it. As soon as I see that it went to several hundred people before you got it and forwarded it, I delete it.
Tell me how YOU feel about the oil crisis in the Gulf of Mexico. Tell me YOUR thoughts on the Kagan nomination to the Supreme Court. Tell me how YOU feel about the local school bond issue. I will gladly discuss anything with you. I'll share my views and give you my reasons. But to have a discussion, I need to know your thoughts, your feelings and your reasoning. Otherwise, there is nothing to discuss. I have you assume that for whatever reason you are just jerking my chain.
There can be no discussion with some nameless person who wrote something in 24-point type, in blue yet, and sent it around the world to ten thousand others before you received it. Let those people sound off all they want. Let them share their propaganda, their bigotry, their wild accusations. Let them make whatever ridiculous claims they want. You and I do not have to participate in the charade. Their tirade of misstatements, misquotes or political spin will have a life without you and I participating.
And PLEASE do not urge me to SEND THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW. I do not participate in any of those chain-letter type programs. If you have something to say (or want to paraphrase someone whose opinion you value) and think it is of sufficient value, send it to me along with your thoughts. I don't need your encouragement to share it if I think it worth sharing. And whether I do or not is no reflection on my patriotism, my support for our armed forces, my politics, my religion or my respect for motherhood.
If you must send me something you received in your inbox, at least have the courtesy to attach a note at the beginning explaining why you are sending it and include some of your own thoughts or disclaimers.
As I said in the beginning, we are friends. I value and respect YOUR opinion. That doesn't mean I always agree you. Friends don't have to agree on everything, they just have to have some things in common, some things on which they do agree. Friends can just enjoy each other's company.
You may hold some beliefs that I find a little short of stupid -- and vice versa. You may do some things I would never do. But I am always interested in learning why you have the beliefs you have, why you behave the way you do, and I can still like you even though you can sometimes be such a jerk. You fascinate me at times, but you always make me happy to call you friend.
So, please stop sending me the propaganda generated by email friends who lack your taste. Some of it is funny, but seldom is it interesting or worthy of comment, much less the time needed to forward it to others in my contact list.
HOWEVER, if you have the insatiable urge to forward material to people in your contact list, highlight and copy this article and send it to them. They may think you are a first-class jerk, but then again, they may just thank you.
We can discuss religion or politics or the price of tea in China all you want. The key part of that sentence is, "We can discuss." When you send me something written by someone else, something that is often inaccurate or marginally misleading in the hopes -- What? -- that it will cause me to change my views on religion or my political stance on something, I always ignore it and usually delete it before opening it. As soon as I see that it went to several hundred people before you got it and forwarded it, I delete it.
Tell me how YOU feel about the oil crisis in the Gulf of Mexico. Tell me YOUR thoughts on the Kagan nomination to the Supreme Court. Tell me how YOU feel about the local school bond issue. I will gladly discuss anything with you. I'll share my views and give you my reasons. But to have a discussion, I need to know your thoughts, your feelings and your reasoning. Otherwise, there is nothing to discuss. I have you assume that for whatever reason you are just jerking my chain.
There can be no discussion with some nameless person who wrote something in 24-point type, in blue yet, and sent it around the world to ten thousand others before you received it. Let those people sound off all they want. Let them share their propaganda, their bigotry, their wild accusations. Let them make whatever ridiculous claims they want. You and I do not have to participate in the charade. Their tirade of misstatements, misquotes or political spin will have a life without you and I participating.
And PLEASE do not urge me to SEND THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW. I do not participate in any of those chain-letter type programs. If you have something to say (or want to paraphrase someone whose opinion you value) and think it is of sufficient value, send it to me along with your thoughts. I don't need your encouragement to share it if I think it worth sharing. And whether I do or not is no reflection on my patriotism, my support for our armed forces, my politics, my religion or my respect for motherhood.
If you must send me something you received in your inbox, at least have the courtesy to attach a note at the beginning explaining why you are sending it and include some of your own thoughts or disclaimers.
As I said in the beginning, we are friends. I value and respect YOUR opinion. That doesn't mean I always agree you. Friends don't have to agree on everything, they just have to have some things in common, some things on which they do agree. Friends can just enjoy each other's company.
You may hold some beliefs that I find a little short of stupid -- and vice versa. You may do some things I would never do. But I am always interested in learning why you have the beliefs you have, why you behave the way you do, and I can still like you even though you can sometimes be such a jerk. You fascinate me at times, but you always make me happy to call you friend.
So, please stop sending me the propaganda generated by email friends who lack your taste. Some of it is funny, but seldom is it interesting or worthy of comment, much less the time needed to forward it to others in my contact list.
HOWEVER, if you have the insatiable urge to forward material to people in your contact list, highlight and copy this article and send it to them. They may think you are a first-class jerk, but then again, they may just thank you.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
ME, PICK ME
Me, me, me, pick me. Me next. Come on, pick me. I'm ready. Pleeeze.
Aren't they precious? They all want to be picked. I keep telling them, "When you're ready."
They just don't understand. They have to be big and black, otherwise I can't take them. Not yet, anyway.
Don't forget where I am, they seem to be saying. I'll be ready by this afternoon. Come back and pick me.
You got to love them. So eager. So full of the juice of life. So tasty.
The black raspberries in my garden are about to drive me crazy with their pleas. I can only take the ripest ones each day, and some days not all of them. My cup runneth over this morning and I had to stop picking. I'll got back this evening, and I know that some I passed over this morning will spend the day getting darker so they can be picked this evening. I really enjoy making them happy.
And tomorrow morning on my breakfast cereal they will make me happy. Don't you just love it when you can be in harmony with nature?
Aren't they precious? They all want to be picked. I keep telling them, "When you're ready."
They just don't understand. They have to be big and black, otherwise I can't take them. Not yet, anyway.
Don't forget where I am, they seem to be saying. I'll be ready by this afternoon. Come back and pick me.
You got to love them. So eager. So full of the juice of life. So tasty.
The black raspberries in my garden are about to drive me crazy with their pleas. I can only take the ripest ones each day, and some days not all of them. My cup runneth over this morning and I had to stop picking. I'll got back this evening, and I know that some I passed over this morning will spend the day getting darker so they can be picked this evening. I really enjoy making them happy.
And tomorrow morning on my breakfast cereal they will make me happy. Don't you just love it when you can be in harmony with nature?
Monday, June 21, 2010
BELIEVING DOESN'T ALWAYS MAKE IT SO
You will be surprised at who wrote the following.
The Big Lie - All this was inspired by the principle--which is quite true within itself--that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying.
—Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf, vol. I, ch. X[1]
It seems strange to quote Adolf Hitler for anything, but his explanation of the big lie seems to fit the circumstances. And certainly, he was a master of the big lie. So what big lie am I talking about?
A Mr. Calvin Nauman of Rotterdam, NY had an angry letter to the editor in the Schenectady Gazette that caught my eye the other day. It was not because I necessarily disagreed; it was because of his use of the big lie to justify his position.
He wrote, speaking of local columnist Carl Strock, “Carl also seems to get a kick out of making fun of the Christians, and though he claims to have several Bibles, doesn’t seem to believe that there really is a God.” Fair enough, although I am not sure that owning several Bibles is a prerequisite for believing in God. Regardless, if that is Nauman’s belief, then he is entitled to it. He offers no justification for the statement other than his feeling (belief) that Strock “doesn’t seem to believe.”
Nauman, however, writes in his next paragraph, apparently to justify another of his beliefs, “There is mention of God in the constitutions of all 50 states and on our money also. There’s a creator behind it all – Darwin’s theory [of evolution] is a bunch of hogwash.” You have to wonder how this supports his statement that “Carl also seems to get a kick out of making fun of the Christians,” but Nauman must feel that it does and this his position is made stronger by invoking the constitution of “all 50 states and on our money also.”
This is a subtle use of the big lie. Not that what he says is false, but as Hitler noted, All this was inspired by the principle--which is quite true within itself--that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility. Nauman no doubt feels his belief in God is made stronger by injecting the certain force of credibility that all 50 states mention God in their constitutions. No bible needed.
There is safety in numbers. When we want to justify what we believe, we instinctively look for support by turning to friends and colleagues who believe as we do. This does not make our belief true, just more believable, at least to us. The six-year-old who believes in Santa Clause will defend that belief by noting, “All my friends believe in Santa Clause.” And in his or her mind there is the comforting thought: See, they can’t all be wrong, so I must be right to believe as I do.
An adage states that birds of a feather flock together. This should remind us that most of our friends believe as we do because … well, because they believe as we do. Hence, when we are comforted or encouraged in our beliefs because “everyone we know feels that way,” we should stop and ask just how many people we know who feel differently. Our circle of true friends is often much smaller than we may admit.
There are people, like Nauman, who believe the evidence for God is all around us; the evidence is there for those who will open their eyes and minds. That God created the heavens and the earth. He is therefore justified in saying (because that is what he believes) that Darwin’s theory of evolution is a bunch of hogwash. Others feel (believe) he ignores the facts when he denounces Darwin’s theory of evolution.
Neither side will win their argument so long as the foundation for it rests on what they believe.
Invoking the name of 50 states or 50 people does not change that fact.
As a school administrator, I and other administrators often had to deal with “the big lie.” That is, there would be an incident involving two or three students, a fight, say. By the time the angry calls started coming in, the incident involving three students had become multiple incidents involving a great many students. And always, concerned parents reported having heard from several other parents about “these fights” going on at school.
What they had heard was about one fight reported 50 times. The big lie took on credence by virtue of so many people hearing about it from so many others.
Believe what you will. (You will anyway, with or without my approval.) But we should all stop once in awhile and remind ourselves that much of what we hold dear regarding religion, politics, our schools, the boss or that off-base newspaper reporter derives from what we have heard or accepted based on our beliefs -- with support from our circle of friends, of course.
We hear what we want to hear, interpret what we want from what we read, and associate with people of a like mind. Unfortunately, this makes us all susceptible to the big lie.
The Big Lie - All this was inspired by the principle--which is quite true within itself--that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying.
—Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf, vol. I, ch. X[1]
It seems strange to quote Adolf Hitler for anything, but his explanation of the big lie seems to fit the circumstances. And certainly, he was a master of the big lie. So what big lie am I talking about?
A Mr. Calvin Nauman of Rotterdam, NY had an angry letter to the editor in the Schenectady Gazette that caught my eye the other day. It was not because I necessarily disagreed; it was because of his use of the big lie to justify his position.
He wrote, speaking of local columnist Carl Strock, “Carl also seems to get a kick out of making fun of the Christians, and though he claims to have several Bibles, doesn’t seem to believe that there really is a God.” Fair enough, although I am not sure that owning several Bibles is a prerequisite for believing in God. Regardless, if that is Nauman’s belief, then he is entitled to it. He offers no justification for the statement other than his feeling (belief) that Strock “doesn’t seem to believe.”
Nauman, however, writes in his next paragraph, apparently to justify another of his beliefs, “There is mention of God in the constitutions of all 50 states and on our money also. There’s a creator behind it all – Darwin’s theory [of evolution] is a bunch of hogwash.” You have to wonder how this supports his statement that “Carl also seems to get a kick out of making fun of the Christians,” but Nauman must feel that it does and this his position is made stronger by invoking the constitution of “all 50 states and on our money also.”
This is a subtle use of the big lie. Not that what he says is false, but as Hitler noted, All this was inspired by the principle--which is quite true within itself--that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility. Nauman no doubt feels his belief in God is made stronger by injecting the certain force of credibility that all 50 states mention God in their constitutions. No bible needed.
There is safety in numbers. When we want to justify what we believe, we instinctively look for support by turning to friends and colleagues who believe as we do. This does not make our belief true, just more believable, at least to us. The six-year-old who believes in Santa Clause will defend that belief by noting, “All my friends believe in Santa Clause.” And in his or her mind there is the comforting thought: See, they can’t all be wrong, so I must be right to believe as I do.
An adage states that birds of a feather flock together. This should remind us that most of our friends believe as we do because … well, because they believe as we do. Hence, when we are comforted or encouraged in our beliefs because “everyone we know feels that way,” we should stop and ask just how many people we know who feel differently. Our circle of true friends is often much smaller than we may admit.
There are people, like Nauman, who believe the evidence for God is all around us; the evidence is there for those who will open their eyes and minds. That God created the heavens and the earth. He is therefore justified in saying (because that is what he believes) that Darwin’s theory of evolution is a bunch of hogwash. Others feel (believe) he ignores the facts when he denounces Darwin’s theory of evolution.
Neither side will win their argument so long as the foundation for it rests on what they believe.
Invoking the name of 50 states or 50 people does not change that fact.
As a school administrator, I and other administrators often had to deal with “the big lie.” That is, there would be an incident involving two or three students, a fight, say. By the time the angry calls started coming in, the incident involving three students had become multiple incidents involving a great many students. And always, concerned parents reported having heard from several other parents about “these fights” going on at school.
What they had heard was about one fight reported 50 times. The big lie took on credence by virtue of so many people hearing about it from so many others.
Believe what you will. (You will anyway, with or without my approval.) But we should all stop once in awhile and remind ourselves that much of what we hold dear regarding religion, politics, our schools, the boss or that off-base newspaper reporter derives from what we have heard or accepted based on our beliefs -- with support from our circle of friends, of course.
We hear what we want to hear, interpret what we want from what we read, and associate with people of a like mind. Unfortunately, this makes us all susceptible to the big lie.
Friday, June 18, 2010
SOME POINTS TO PONDER
FIRST THOUGHT
I was working in my garden this afternoon pulling weeds. We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately and the weeds have grown strong and tall. Not necessarily so with the garden plants, you understand. I had to be careful not to pull up a pepper or tomato plant while weeding, as they were shorter and struggling to reach the sun under the weed canopy.
That started me thinking – always a dangerous pastime. Regardless, my thoughts led me to wonder why in this age of gene splicing that scientists have not been encouraged to find the gene that allows weeds to grow big and strong in dry times while garden plants struggle. Find the gene that enables weeds to be so recklessly extravagant in their growth and transplant that gene into ordinary garden plants and you will become a very rich person, I thought.
You may have heard of Round Up ready soybeans. If not, let me tell you about them. These genetically modified soybeans remain unharmed by Round Up, the herbicide that destroys grass, weeds and other growing plants. It does not affect plants that have not yet sprouted, but when sprayed on a growing plant it penetrates the leaves, travels to the roots and destroys the plant. Round Up ready soybeans, however, are unaffected by Round Up spray after they have reached a certain height. Hence, farmers can plant their soybeans, let they grow until they reach 8-10 inches and then spray the entire field with Round Up. This spraying destroys all weeds while the soybeans keep on growing. The farmer saves time and money by not having to disc the field several times to remove weeds, thus reducing his costs and increasing his profits.
If this sort of gene splicing, creating a gene that specifically rejects the killing effect of Round UP, can be done, why can’t scientists find some way to splice into garden plants the gene or genes that allow weeds to grow whatever the weather? We gardeners would still have to weed our garden plots but the garden plants would now be on an equal footing with the weeds – growing strong during wet periods and staying strong during dry periods.
Frankly, I would like to see Round Up ready garden plants. Plant your tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, peppers and whatever else, and then give them a week or two to become well rooted in their new home. During that time, the weed seeds in your carefully prepared garden will have discovered the warmth of the sun and decide to start growing. Let them. In fact, give them another week or so and then spray the whole garden with Round Up. Voila, no more weeds, just healthy garden plants.
I would pay extra for such plants, wouldn’t you?
SECOND THOUGHT
Isn’t it time we put a stop to the drunk driving nonsense in this country by doing the only sensible thing someone convicted of driving while intoxicated understands – removal of driving privileges?
For the first offense, we might start with removal of license and driving privileges for one month. Too bad if that causes inconvenience for you or your family. If you have to bum a ride to work with a spouse, neighbor or co-worker during that period, that is just too bad. For trips to the movies, grocery store, shopping mall, golf course, or anywhere else, you will enjoy the privilege of being chauffeur driven for one month. You will have 30 days to think about whether you ever want to go through this again.
Should the experience of that lesson be short lived and you have a second conviction for driving while under the influence, you will lose your license and driving privileges for six months! And should you be dumb enough to have a third conviction, you will lose the right to drive a vehicle for life or until you have undergone extensive (and expensive) rehabilitation as determined by the courts.
I’m not finished weeding my garden, so I will likely have more thoughts to share with you in another day or two. Stay tuned.
I was working in my garden this afternoon pulling weeds. We’ve had quite a bit of rain lately and the weeds have grown strong and tall. Not necessarily so with the garden plants, you understand. I had to be careful not to pull up a pepper or tomato plant while weeding, as they were shorter and struggling to reach the sun under the weed canopy.
That started me thinking – always a dangerous pastime. Regardless, my thoughts led me to wonder why in this age of gene splicing that scientists have not been encouraged to find the gene that allows weeds to grow big and strong in dry times while garden plants struggle. Find the gene that enables weeds to be so recklessly extravagant in their growth and transplant that gene into ordinary garden plants and you will become a very rich person, I thought.
You may have heard of Round Up ready soybeans. If not, let me tell you about them. These genetically modified soybeans remain unharmed by Round Up, the herbicide that destroys grass, weeds and other growing plants. It does not affect plants that have not yet sprouted, but when sprayed on a growing plant it penetrates the leaves, travels to the roots and destroys the plant. Round Up ready soybeans, however, are unaffected by Round Up spray after they have reached a certain height. Hence, farmers can plant their soybeans, let they grow until they reach 8-10 inches and then spray the entire field with Round Up. This spraying destroys all weeds while the soybeans keep on growing. The farmer saves time and money by not having to disc the field several times to remove weeds, thus reducing his costs and increasing his profits.
If this sort of gene splicing, creating a gene that specifically rejects the killing effect of Round UP, can be done, why can’t scientists find some way to splice into garden plants the gene or genes that allow weeds to grow whatever the weather? We gardeners would still have to weed our garden plots but the garden plants would now be on an equal footing with the weeds – growing strong during wet periods and staying strong during dry periods.
Frankly, I would like to see Round Up ready garden plants. Plant your tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, peppers and whatever else, and then give them a week or two to become well rooted in their new home. During that time, the weed seeds in your carefully prepared garden will have discovered the warmth of the sun and decide to start growing. Let them. In fact, give them another week or so and then spray the whole garden with Round Up. Voila, no more weeds, just healthy garden plants.
I would pay extra for such plants, wouldn’t you?
SECOND THOUGHT
Isn’t it time we put a stop to the drunk driving nonsense in this country by doing the only sensible thing someone convicted of driving while intoxicated understands – removal of driving privileges?
For the first offense, we might start with removal of license and driving privileges for one month. Too bad if that causes inconvenience for you or your family. If you have to bum a ride to work with a spouse, neighbor or co-worker during that period, that is just too bad. For trips to the movies, grocery store, shopping mall, golf course, or anywhere else, you will enjoy the privilege of being chauffeur driven for one month. You will have 30 days to think about whether you ever want to go through this again.
Should the experience of that lesson be short lived and you have a second conviction for driving while under the influence, you will lose your license and driving privileges for six months! And should you be dumb enough to have a third conviction, you will lose the right to drive a vehicle for life or until you have undergone extensive (and expensive) rehabilitation as determined by the courts.
I’m not finished weeding my garden, so I will likely have more thoughts to share with you in another day or two. Stay tuned.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
GO AHEAD, GET YOUR HANDS DIRTY
It time to get down and dirty, in the garden that is. Spring and early summer is the time to get outdoors and get in touch with Mother Nature, literally. Hope springs eternal, we are told, and at no time is that more true than in the spring of the year. We hope something good will come from out effort when we plant, prune and fertilize in our garden, flower box or patio planter.
It usually does. Mother Nature is reliable.
Yes, there can be disappointments. The tomatoes develop leaf wilt and die. The radishes have tiny worms in them. The raspberries are small and dry. And nothing bothers the blasted weeds.
Be strong and persistent. The gardener is the Sheppard and the plants are his flock. He must tend them, he must see that they have what they need to grow strong, and he must fight off all would-be attackers vigorously. Miracle Grow will help your “little ones” grow strong. Some Preen Weed Preventer will forestall new weeds from emerging after you put your tomato plants in the ground, a little wax paper around the base at soil level will protect other seedlings from cutworms, and a shot or two of Malathion spray will send other predators to their reward.
Each week, sometimes even each day, you get to watch your efforts grow, blossum and mature.
I like growing things from seed. I am currently nursing a prickly pear cactus grown from seeds I obtained from a red pear-shaped fruit I picked up last summer while in the desert around Phoenix, Arizona. You may never have seen a cactus grown from seed. Neither had I. However, since the fruit has seeds, I wondered why one could not grow a cactus from seed.
True, many cacti spread through pieces of the parent plant that fall off or are dislodged by a passing animal. You may have noticed that many cacti have large stems or segments separated by rather small or thin joints. The Cholla cactus is one example. If you brush against a section of this cactus, it will grab your skin or clothing and not let go, breaking off at the nearest joint to be deposited elsewhere when you relieve yourself of it. That section will take root and a new cactus plant is born.
Nevertheless, cholla cacti make flowers and create seedpods, just as prickly pear cacti do. So, is it unreasonable to think that a cactus can be grown from seed? Not at all. I have now done it.
My current effort is directed at growing a sycamore tree from seed. Why? Just to see if I can do it. It can be done, according to what I read, but I have so far not created the right conditions for it to happen. I will just have to keep trying.
This morning, however, I chose to get my hands dirty by hoeing around my tomato plants, my cucumber and zucchini plants, and my horseradish. My back did not care for that little exercise, but I have a small garden so it didn’t take long. I enjoy the exercise so my back can just get over it – and it will after a little rest.
So, if you haven’t done so already, get out that spade, that trowel, that rake and hoe and go plant something. Plants some flowers if you don’t care for fresh vegetables. Put a tomato seedling purchased at your favorite garden center in a planter on the back porch and nurture it along. You will be rewarded later this summer.
It usually does. Mother Nature is reliable.
Yes, there can be disappointments. The tomatoes develop leaf wilt and die. The radishes have tiny worms in them. The raspberries are small and dry. And nothing bothers the blasted weeds.
Be strong and persistent. The gardener is the Sheppard and the plants are his flock. He must tend them, he must see that they have what they need to grow strong, and he must fight off all would-be attackers vigorously. Miracle Grow will help your “little ones” grow strong. Some Preen Weed Preventer will forestall new weeds from emerging after you put your tomato plants in the ground, a little wax paper around the base at soil level will protect other seedlings from cutworms, and a shot or two of Malathion spray will send other predators to their reward.
Each week, sometimes even each day, you get to watch your efforts grow, blossum and mature.
I like growing things from seed. I am currently nursing a prickly pear cactus grown from seeds I obtained from a red pear-shaped fruit I picked up last summer while in the desert around Phoenix, Arizona. You may never have seen a cactus grown from seed. Neither had I. However, since the fruit has seeds, I wondered why one could not grow a cactus from seed.
True, many cacti spread through pieces of the parent plant that fall off or are dislodged by a passing animal. You may have noticed that many cacti have large stems or segments separated by rather small or thin joints. The Cholla cactus is one example. If you brush against a section of this cactus, it will grab your skin or clothing and not let go, breaking off at the nearest joint to be deposited elsewhere when you relieve yourself of it. That section will take root and a new cactus plant is born.
Nevertheless, cholla cacti make flowers and create seedpods, just as prickly pear cacti do. So, is it unreasonable to think that a cactus can be grown from seed? Not at all. I have now done it.
My current effort is directed at growing a sycamore tree from seed. Why? Just to see if I can do it. It can be done, according to what I read, but I have so far not created the right conditions for it to happen. I will just have to keep trying.
This morning, however, I chose to get my hands dirty by hoeing around my tomato plants, my cucumber and zucchini plants, and my horseradish. My back did not care for that little exercise, but I have a small garden so it didn’t take long. I enjoy the exercise so my back can just get over it – and it will after a little rest.
So, if you haven’t done so already, get out that spade, that trowel, that rake and hoe and go plant something. Plants some flowers if you don’t care for fresh vegetables. Put a tomato seedling purchased at your favorite garden center in a planter on the back porch and nurture it along. You will be rewarded later this summer.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
CRITICS CANNOT HELP BUT BE CRITICAL
Critics sometimes just have to be critical. I remember a local movie critic, now deceased, who took his job (and title) so seriously that he could seldom bring himself to praise a film. He reviewed every film as if it were supposed to be great art rather than just entertainment. Many popular film therefore failed to receive his recommendation.
Some political commentators, dare I say “critics,” operate in a similar manner. In their case, though, the decision to be critical or supportive of something happening in national politics derives from their party affiliation. Hence, they will never be found writing something critical of a person in their chosen political party, nor will they challenge a piece of legislation offered by leaders in “the party.” Similarly, their readers can trust them always to find something critical to say about members of the opposing party; and they will nit-pick to pieces any legislation put forth by that party – even when they have nothing better to offer.
We have come to accept that as the nature of politics and we excuse our favorite commentators for all such sins.
I do not! There can be no bipartisan solutions to our nation’s problems as long as the electorate accepts, even expects, their elected representatives to act in this manner. Blind acceptance to anything coming out of “your” party and single-minded opposition to everything proposed by the other party is not leadership. It is sheep-like, follow-the-leader politics, even if that takes the country over the cliff. It’s stupid and we should not tolerate it.
The tea party movement is an expression of many people’s disgust with the way things are done (or not) in Washington. Many people in the movement want all the scoundrels in Washington replaced. That’s not likely to happen, but that doesn't’t stop critics from searching under every stone for something about which they can complain. I share some of their frustration.
I also share some of Wendy Button’s ideas in her Huffington Post piece about The White House Correspondents Dinner. She, however, got off track right at the beginning. She opened with, “There is no other time than the night of The White House Correspondents Dinner when Washington is more out of touch with the country it guides and informs.”
From there, she went on to rage about how all those correspondents and politicians of both parties are laughing it up and celebrating while our young men are dying in Iran and Afghanistan. She did, however raise some interesting points. She went on to point out that since the wars began, and as of April 29, 2010, Department of Defense reports show, “that in Iraq 31,790 have been wounded and 4,397 have been killed and in Afghanistan, 5,677 have been wounded and 1,043 killed.”
Those are sobering figures, figures worthy of our consideration. Ms. Button alerts readers to the little known fact that the “wounded in action number is incomplete. It excludes [emphasis added] everyone who was medically evacuated because of a serious injury or illness.” She quickly provides “the total number of non-fatal casualties that includes those wounded in action and those medically evacuated for injuries and illness,” as 70,615 in Iraq and 14,936 in Afghanistan.
Doing the arithmetic for her readers, she reveals that “the total number of battlefield casualties is 90,925” while stating “That number is arresting in its size and the American people need to know it.”
I agree with her on that point. We are ill informed about the wars by Washington and too often ignore our wounded service members once they have returned from these two wars, and previous wars.
It’s easy to feel sympathy for the wounded veteran in a wheel chair or one who is missing a limb. It is much harder to stir the public to action for less obvious service-related problems. Among the 2 million or so men and women who have been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, Button notes, “the suicide rate for active duty soldiers has more than doubled since these wars began, nearly 15 percent of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans are unemployed, and their families have to fight to get a wheel chair or surgery or help with a creeping traumatic brain injury.”
We should be ashamed. I support her disappointment that these figures are not reported more and that more people are not clamoring for their elected representatives to do more for our service people. There are many chest thumpers and flag wavers across the land who want us to “Support Our Troops,” but I don’t see many demonstrations demanding better treatment for our servicemen and women when they return from harms way.
Button loses my support when she begins her tirade against the “prominent journalists” at The White House Correspondents Dinner who should have used that platform to inform the public and the politicians present of the need for action on this matter.
I do not support the idea that because there are problems with our fighting service people, or that there are other problems in the land – tornadoes, oil slicks, bank failures, droughts, floods or earthquakes – that we must stop having parties with “bad jokes and back slapping.” Nor do I support the idea that having such an affair as The White House Correspondents Dinner shows that Washington “is more out of touch with the country it guides and informs.” That is nonsense.
As I said at the beginning, critics sometimes just have to be critical. This was one of those times for Wendy Button. She could have written a brilliant piece exposing the lack of care and support we give those asked to go fight for us in Iran and Afghanistan. She chose instead to remember her title as critic and attack someone, the prominent journalists and politicians at last night’s White House Correspondents Dinner.
Some political commentators, dare I say “critics,” operate in a similar manner. In their case, though, the decision to be critical or supportive of something happening in national politics derives from their party affiliation. Hence, they will never be found writing something critical of a person in their chosen political party, nor will they challenge a piece of legislation offered by leaders in “the party.” Similarly, their readers can trust them always to find something critical to say about members of the opposing party; and they will nit-pick to pieces any legislation put forth by that party – even when they have nothing better to offer.
We have come to accept that as the nature of politics and we excuse our favorite commentators for all such sins.
I do not! There can be no bipartisan solutions to our nation’s problems as long as the electorate accepts, even expects, their elected representatives to act in this manner. Blind acceptance to anything coming out of “your” party and single-minded opposition to everything proposed by the other party is not leadership. It is sheep-like, follow-the-leader politics, even if that takes the country over the cliff. It’s stupid and we should not tolerate it.
The tea party movement is an expression of many people’s disgust with the way things are done (or not) in Washington. Many people in the movement want all the scoundrels in Washington replaced. That’s not likely to happen, but that doesn't’t stop critics from searching under every stone for something about which they can complain. I share some of their frustration.
I also share some of Wendy Button’s ideas in her Huffington Post piece about The White House Correspondents Dinner. She, however, got off track right at the beginning. She opened with, “There is no other time than the night of The White House Correspondents Dinner when Washington is more out of touch with the country it guides and informs.”
From there, she went on to rage about how all those correspondents and politicians of both parties are laughing it up and celebrating while our young men are dying in Iran and Afghanistan. She did, however raise some interesting points. She went on to point out that since the wars began, and as of April 29, 2010, Department of Defense reports show, “that in Iraq 31,790 have been wounded and 4,397 have been killed and in Afghanistan, 5,677 have been wounded and 1,043 killed.”
Those are sobering figures, figures worthy of our consideration. Ms. Button alerts readers to the little known fact that the “wounded in action number is incomplete. It excludes [emphasis added] everyone who was medically evacuated because of a serious injury or illness.” She quickly provides “the total number of non-fatal casualties that includes those wounded in action and those medically evacuated for injuries and illness,” as 70,615 in Iraq and 14,936 in Afghanistan.
Doing the arithmetic for her readers, she reveals that “the total number of battlefield casualties is 90,925” while stating “That number is arresting in its size and the American people need to know it.”
I agree with her on that point. We are ill informed about the wars by Washington and too often ignore our wounded service members once they have returned from these two wars, and previous wars.
It’s easy to feel sympathy for the wounded veteran in a wheel chair or one who is missing a limb. It is much harder to stir the public to action for less obvious service-related problems. Among the 2 million or so men and women who have been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, Button notes, “the suicide rate for active duty soldiers has more than doubled since these wars began, nearly 15 percent of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans are unemployed, and their families have to fight to get a wheel chair or surgery or help with a creeping traumatic brain injury.”
We should be ashamed. I support her disappointment that these figures are not reported more and that more people are not clamoring for their elected representatives to do more for our service people. There are many chest thumpers and flag wavers across the land who want us to “Support Our Troops,” but I don’t see many demonstrations demanding better treatment for our servicemen and women when they return from harms way.
Button loses my support when she begins her tirade against the “prominent journalists” at The White House Correspondents Dinner who should have used that platform to inform the public and the politicians present of the need for action on this matter.
I do not support the idea that because there are problems with our fighting service people, or that there are other problems in the land – tornadoes, oil slicks, bank failures, droughts, floods or earthquakes – that we must stop having parties with “bad jokes and back slapping.” Nor do I support the idea that having such an affair as The White House Correspondents Dinner shows that Washington “is more out of touch with the country it guides and informs.” That is nonsense.
As I said at the beginning, critics sometimes just have to be critical. This was one of those times for Wendy Button. She could have written a brilliant piece exposing the lack of care and support we give those asked to go fight for us in Iran and Afghanistan. She chose instead to remember her title as critic and attack someone, the prominent journalists and politicians at last night’s White House Correspondents Dinner.
Monday, April 26, 2010
SPRING
You know it is spring when the rabbits and robins have returned.
I can only wish that this was the type of rabbit that returned but, alas, not so. This rabbit is my granddaughter who dressed this way to serve patrons at Panera Bread where she works. Needless to say, she was a big hit with the male customers, young and old.
No, the rabbits I speak of are the cute little bunny rabbits that will grow up to be big rabbits that dine at the buffet I call my garden. While weeding along a fence line, Joyce uncovered a nest of tiny bunnies. Their mother scampered off, as is the practice, to distract her and hopefully lead her away from the nest. Joyce is single minded when it comes to weeding, so she continued digging and pulling. And then, there they were. Three tiny baby rabbits hunkered down and remaining very still, as their mother (or instinct) told them to do.
We left them alone knowing, however, that they will likely become playthings for one of the several free-range cats that roam the neighborhood.
We have a weeping cherry tree in our backyard that each year attracts a pair of robins. We assume it is the same pair of robins each year, but we don't know that for sure. (They all look alike, you know.)
No, the rabbits I speak of are the cute little bunny rabbits that will grow up to be big rabbits that dine at the buffet I call my garden. While weeding along a fence line, Joyce uncovered a nest of tiny bunnies. Their mother scampered off, as is the practice, to distract her and hopefully lead her away from the nest. Joyce is single minded when it comes to weeding, so she continued digging and pulling. And then, there they were. Three tiny baby rabbits hunkered down and remaining very still, as their mother (or instinct) told them to do.
We left them alone knowing, however, that they will likely become playthings for one of the several free-range cats that roam the neighborhood.
We have a weeping cherry tree in our backyard that each year attracts a pair of robins. We assume it is the same pair of robins each year, but we don't know that for sure. (They all look alike, you know.) The first year they settled in to build a nest in the tree they had two eggs but one one hatched. It died. The next year they had better luck and raised two young ones to fledgling size. One of them, unfortunately, jumped or fell from the nest before it was ready to fly and died.
We were happy to see them return this year and start again to build a nest in the fork of the weeping cherry. It appears to be finished although we have not seen either mom or dad take up residence yet. Still, their presence assures us that spring has arrived.
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