ARE WE SMARTER THEN A CAT?

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?

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.

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.