TSA To The Rescue

I think I had my first airplane flight when I was in 10^th grade.  It was great, and I loved everything about it, except for the rapid descent into Atlanta as we dodged a thunderhead.

One thing I don’t remember anything about is any security there may have been.  If memory serves, the main type of airline terror back then involved people wanting to get to Cuba, for which there was no commercial flight schedule available.  So, now and then, somebody with a gun would hijack a plane and demand that it be flown to Cuba.  I’m guessing that once in Cuba these folks had second thoughts about the whole thing, but that’s another matter.

Over the years airport security improved, and not only did we have to go through magnetometers to make sure we weren’t made of, or carrying metal, but our stuff started to get x-rayed as well.  It wasn’t a perfect system, as we found out on September 11^th, 2001.  Box cutters either weren’t spotted by the

Since then, the Transportation Security Administration was formed, and the sluggish, low-performing individuals who previously had been contracted for by the airports were replaced by sluggish, low-performing individuals who are now Federal employees.

That’s actually funny, but not a fair characterization.  On average, the new TSA agents do seem to be more professional, better trained, and interested in doing a good job.  Of course there are exceptions, such as the agents who have stolen things, groped people, and just generally behaved in an irritating fashion.

As I went through the lines in Madison on Tuesday I noticed something.  The activities being performed by these well-compensated federal employees range from very high skilled to menial.  Reviewing the validity of driver licenses and passports, or analyzing the video display of the x-ray machine are important jobs which need a lot of training.  Moving the empty trays from the end of the conveyer back to the beginning strikes me as something even I could do.

So, on the morning in question, instead of 30 or so government employees dealing with potential passengers at one of the two security stations at the Madison airport, there could, perhaps, have been 10, with another 10 or 20 people doing the less-skilled jobs.

I realize this is lunacy, of course, but it did occur to me. 

For what it’s worth, I would say that a high majority of the TSA people I’ve encountered when I fly have been doing a very good job – more so than the pre-9-11 days of private security services.  It could be that the same improvement could have resulted from increasing government oversight of those companies and setting higher standards, but I’ve always thought, why fix a problem when you can start a new government agency? 

Goodbye 2011

A lot of things happened in 2011, and I wouldn’t pretend to do a year in review type column, because frankly, it would take a lot of work to do it well.  I’m more comfortable picking and choosing a topic here and there.

For starters, two weeks ago I ended up on an elevator at the Seattle airport with Danny Glover.  It was an odd experience for several reasons.  First, it took me a minute to figure out who he was.  Second, he looked as wiped out from his flight as I was from mine.  Third, he was wearing these silly shoes with all the toes in different colors.

I think he’s a good actor, and while I disagree with much of what he’s said and done over the years (saying the Haiti earthquake was caused by global warming), I think he is a true humanitarian who works very hard for the causes that are important to him.

We got a granddaughter this year.  Not Mr. Glover and I, just to be clear.  That was a new experience, and so far a very nice one, though she isn’t yet old enough to try to borrow money, so maybe these are the easy times.

Around the world some bad guys were killed, died, or removed from power.  Only time will tell whether who and what replaces them will be better or worse, but even though it feels wrong to be happy about someone’s death, we can be happy that they won’t hurt anyone anymore.

My appendix gave out in 2011.  I don’t miss it much, though I think I’ve grown closer to my gall bladder, since it’s my only useless organ left.  I also had some atypical moles removed – not the kind that burrow into the ground – and some plumbing done on some veins in one leg.  Aging is just one exciting adventure after another!

Wall Street was occupied by some people who believed very strongly in something, but didn’t provide a statement as to exactly what it was until the second day of the occupation.  A wonderful photo which appeared to show a man pooping on a police car made two parents very proud indeed.

A number of people were electrocuted this year while attempting to steal copper wire from various buildings and streetlights.  At least they weren’t charged with anything.  Oh wait… I guess they WERE charged.

The U.S. Office of Personnel Management learned that it had sent $120 million in benefits to dead retired employees last year, and for each of the five years previous.  One son of a deceased employee kept cashing checks for 37 years, and was only discovered when he died.

It was surprising that the Packers made it to the Super Bowl in 2011, and terrific that they won!  This year they seem like a shoe-in, so I guess they probably won’t make it.  Life is ironic like that sometimes.

But, before you can know about the Super Bowl, you have to survive New Year’s Eve, so party prudently!  I need all the readers I can get!

December 15

It’s funny how certain dates stick in a person’s mind.  Birthdays and holidays are among those dates, though I am ashamed to say I could only estimate when my sisters’ birthdays fall.

We don’t so much celebrate the days people pass away.  We don’t call them “deathdays” as a counter to “birthdays.”  Those days are just regular days with perhaps some quiet moments of reflection.  Some people visit gravesites, and while I understand the sentiment of doing so, it’s not something I think to do.

My dad died on December 15^th, 1990.  It was a surreal day for all of us, as my family had to make the decision to turn off the machines that were keeping him going.  He never regained consciousness after heroic surgery to save him wasn’t successful.

It’s hard not to think about that day, but it’s more important to consider all that came before it.  To focus on the end of someone’s life is like staring at the period at the end of a sentence at the end of a book.

So, thanks for understanding when I again share a few thoughts about my dad.

He was a big guy at 6’3,” but he never thought of himself as an imposing figure.  He was a staunch conservative when Ronald Reagan was still just an actor, but he was also what we now call an environmentalist.  His biggest love was planting trees in the 160 acres of woodland he bought.

He was also what we now call a social conservative, and yet he welcomed a black son-in-law, a Catholic daughter-in-law, and a super-liberal, long-haired son-in-law who openly despised him early on.

My dad was rooted in tradition and the status quo, and yet he was among the first in his university department to embrace computers in education.  His first personal computer came so early in the evolution of home computing that there is one just like it in the Smithsonian.

He believed strongly in individual responsibility and personal liberty.  He wasn’t a libertarian, but had leanings in that direction.  For example, he was against the mandate for seatbelts in cars because he thought manufacturers would provide them for intelligent drivers who demanded them without the federal government stepping in.

He was incurably friendly to people.  He was a member of the Optimists Club, and was truly an optimist.  He took the long view on things, and believed that people are basically good, and that the marketplace would eventually weed out the companies who didn’t act in good faith.

If my dad wasn’t working in his woods, chances are he was reading or writing.  He produced a small magazine of political and philosophical writing six times a year or so.  He produced it on a hand cranked mimeograph machine, so every eight weeks or so he had black ink stains on his hands.  He had hundreds of subscribers, and I guess it’s accurate to say that he was a blogger 40 years or more before blogging was invented.

Mostly, though, I remember that he was a really good guy.  Every kid’s parents can be embarrassing, and he probably more than most.  But, his default attitude was kindness, and despite his deep intellect, he was not even a little snobbish.

My girls’ best memories of him were when he took them fishing, and when he read kids’ books to them.  Come to think of it, I remember when he read books to us when we were kids.

So, happy December 15^th.  It’s not a day that will live in infamy, but it is a day that will live on in my memory as the punctuation at the end of a good life of a good guy.

Surprise! (Arizona)

While in Arizona last week on business I spent one night in a hotel in Surprise.  Surprise, Arizona is in the northwest corner of suburban Phoenix.  I guess I wanted to stay there because I wanted to know what made it surprising.

You may be surprised to know that Surprise is only 50 years old.  It feels odd to be older than a city.  Of course, before it was a city people lived there, going back to the pre-historic (to us, not to them) Hohokam Indians.

A lot of cotton was grown in the Surprise area at one time.  Now houses and strip malls sprout out of the desert sand, along with an amazing baseball complex (spring training home to the Texas Rangers and Kansas City Royals).  Even though it was 50 degrees and windy, the deep green grass of the numerous ball fields made me want to grab my glove and field some grounders – that is, if I could actually bend enough to reach the ground.

What I liked most about Surprise was the element of surprise as I drove down the streets.  For example, try to get your head around the concept of Surprise Urgent Care.  I picture someone grabbing me unexpectedly to give me stitches.  There is a Surprise Funeral Home.  I guess that’s what happens if the Surprise Urgent Care doesn’t work.

The Surprise Fire Department apparently shows up at any time for no reason.  The Surprise Water Utility likes to create geysers in your kitchen sink.  I sure wouldn’t buy mixed nuts at the Surprise Grocery Store, since there’s likely to be one of those spring-loaded snakes in it.

I happened to be in Surprise on the day they were setting up for their annual “Surprise Party,” which looked a lot like a county fair without the farm animals.  The poster shows Santa, a hot air balloon, and elephant rides.  Interesting trio of attractions.

One thing about Surprise, Arizona is how unsurprising life must be there.  It’s really flat, doesn’t get snowstorms (or hardly ever), and everything is neat and clean.  I’m sure a lot of people like to retire to a place with no surprises.  The things that make life interesting at 25 can be pretty scary at 85, I guess.

I like town names that evoke images or stories.  Embarrass, Minnesota or Truth or Consequences, New Mexico or Hell, Michigan.  There’s also Larry Bird’s famous hometown of French Lick, Indiana, along with Sweet Lips, Tennessee, and Fanny, West Virginia.  There are others not suitable for a family newspaper.

In addition to Surprise, Arizona also has a town called “Carefree.”  Gordon Lightfoot wrote a song called, “Carefree Highway” about the road that goes from Interstate 17 to the town of Carefree.  Of course, Arizona also has a town called “Tombstone.”  I think of the two I’d pick Carefree, but ultimately, I guess we all end up in Tombstone.

That is, if we first visit the Surprise Funeral Home.

Scandals Everywhere

It seems like there is a new scandal to wrestle our attention from other pressing issues almost every day.  Penn State’s athletic program seems to be in shambles, and now Syracuse has their own sex crime alleged in their basketball program.  Schools like Ohio State and USC are probably thankful that they were only found guilty of cheating, and not sexually charged scandals.

Then Monday morning I heard that a Green Bay Packer linebacker spent some time in the hooskow for some sort of physical assault.  Various Badger football and hockey players have been accused in the past, and I honestly didn’t follow those cases to their conclusions to see what was true and what was simply accusations.

Back during the years when the Packers weren’t winning championships, both James Lofton and Eddie Lee Ivory were accused of sexual assault.  Lofton is doing television for some network now, and I think he’s in the hall of fame.  Marv Albert, a famous sports announcer, got caught in his own sexual scandal years ago, but he’s still on the air.

We hear the news on these things, but not always the end of the story.  Scandals are usually on page one, but charges being dropped end up on page 24, if they’re printed at all.  That’s part of the problem with these things.  Did Justin Bieber father a child, or did someone accuse him of it for financial benefit?  How will we know?  And, is it any of our business?

Sadly, some scandals, true or not, take on a life of their own.  The infamous story of Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich asking his wife for a divorce on her death bed sounds pretty heartless.  But, in reality Mrs. Gingrich asked for the meeting to discuss their relationship, and not only that, she hasn’t been in her deathbed yet, since she has recovered from that sickness and is still alive and kicking.

Herman Cain has been the target of many accusations recently, and some or all of them may be real.  But what if they aren’t?  Black conservatives have pretty consistently been the subject of such accusations.  John Edwards, on the other hand, was given a pass on his indiscretion until after the primary was over.  And his wife really was dying.  Jessie Jackson not only had a child from an affair, but was paying off the woman with funds raised under the guise of helping those less fortunate.  Likewise Arnold Schwartzenager, who is off to star in movies now that he’s not governor any more, impregnated his housekeeper, and bought her her own little house.

President Clinton lied under oath about one of his scandals, but was given a pass on the others including an accusation of rape which many believe to be true to this day.  And yet we view him as a charming elder statesman now.  Justice Thomas was accused of transgressions that he denied, and 20 years later he still carries the burden with him.  Teddy and Jack Kennedy were both serial womanizers throughout their marriages, but they are revered.

I guess the truth of the matter is that nobody is perfect, and people who have the makeup to excel at sports or politics or business at a high level sometimes have the unsavory characteristics that lead them to scandalous behavior.

But in addition to that, people who are in the public eye might as well wear bulls eyes on their backs, because charges – true of false – can do a lot to slow down someone’s career.  A radio commentator once said that guilt or innocence are less important to some people than the seriousness of the charge.  And, there’s little risk to making those charges against a public figure, which is why I think I’ll live the rest of my life as a very non-public figure.

Olde Tyme TV

When I was a kid, my family got cable TV. Thinking back, it’s kind of hard to believe. We weren’t poor, but we sure weren’t rich, and it seems like the kind of frivolous expense my parents wouldn’t have allowed. It seems odd that we would watch cable TV on a black and white TV, but that’s just what we did.

Cable back then was not what it is now. Living in Oshkosh we gained the Milwaukee channels, WGN out of Chicago and a few other channels. No Weather Channel or CNN or C-Span were available then.

One channel I watched a lot was channel 18 from Milwaukee. They played a lot of old situation comedies like “I Love Lucy,” “The Dick Van Dyke Show,” and “Dragnet.” Even better, they played really old sitcoms like “Our Miss Brooks” with Eve Arden and the teen-aged Richard Crenna, “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet,” and “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show.”

Those old programs were great, partly because most of them originated on radio, where writing and character development were essential qualities of a good show. “Our Miss Brooks” was very funny, very dry, and sometimes very sexy, in a subtle way. Miss Brooks was an underpaid high school teacher who tried very hard to become romantic with a fellow teacher named Mr. Boynton, who was too thick-headed to comprehend her desires. Along with them, the squeaky-voiced student played by Richard Crenna, Walter, and principal Gale Gordon, who later starred with Lucille Ball, were also thorns in her side.

Many of those old programs had this in common: a person could really relax and enjoy the travails of the characters, knowing that nothing offensive would happen, including overt references to genitals, and that at the end of each show, everything would turn out okay. Whatever impending disaster the episode had in store was averted, and life went on.

Another odd thing about those programs is that many of them had traditional nuclear families. While there’s surely nothing wrong with non-traditional families, the mother/father/son/daughter families have been an endangered species on television for many years.

We don’t have cable at our house, or satellite. Thanks to digital TV, we have more channels than before, including a few that play old programs. Many evenings I choose to watch “M.A.S.H.,” or “Bob Newhart,” or “Taxi” instead of “Dancing With The Surviving Idol Losers,” or “Miami CSI, NCIS, SVU.” That way, I don’t have to watch anybody get killed or autopsied, and the only people who get humiliated are actors playing characters.

I don’t think modern television is bad. Some of it is pretty well written, and many of the characters portrayed are very entertaining. I guess there’s enough worrisome and offensive news these days that I like to enjoy some shows that are neither worrisome nor offensive.

I guess my process of turning into an old geezer is well under way.

Right to Remain Silent

Ron White is one of the guys who toured as part of the Blue Collar Comedy group, and performed in their very popular concert videos.  He always seems to have a drink in his hand, and smokes like a chimney.  So, he’s not exactly a role model for America’s youth, but despite his bad language and joyous political incorrectness, I think he’s a funny guy.

One of his more endearing stories revolves around him being physically thrown out of a bar in New York City.  In this story, he is in the process of being arrested, and he says, “I had the right to remain silent… but not the ability.”

Boy!  How many times has that happened to you?  Not the being arrested part, but the inability to keep quiet about something when it makes much more sense to do so.

I think I suffer from that affliction more than most people.  My mouth has gotten me into trouble many times over the years, and the funny thing is I realize my mistake before I’ve even finished the sentence.  The classic error, which every man makes once in his life, is asking a woman who appears to be pregnant when she’s due.  If she’s not pregnant, that’s a mistake from which you cannot recover.

Lately I’ve been much better about keeping quiet about things.  Many people who are “friends” of mine on Facebook have not been as reticent about expressing their views in very clear and insistent terms.  Part of the reason is that our world and our state are both experiencing traumatic changes, and people are very emotional about what’s going on.  That emotion translates to strong language, which can be insulting to people who might disagree with the point of view expressed.

I’ve always believed that there can be disagreement without attacking people who see things differently than I do, or wishing them harm.  Civil discourse is occasionally held up as an essential virtue, but then those same people launch into an attack if their interests are challenged.

The thing is, I don’t want to communicate only with people who agree with me, because a person doesn’t grow that way.  And yet, intemperate comments that insult my intelligence just make me disrespect the people who make them.  And, it doesn’t help my normally cheerful demeanor.

This paragraph should say something like, “Let’s all be kind to each other,” but that’s not likely to happen anytime soon.  Instead, maybe people could think for a moment between writing their emails or Tweets or Facebook posts and sending them.  A couple of seconds to ponder might result in better communication in the long run.

The Good-time Club

A good situation comedy succeeds because it takes real life and caricatures it a little to make it silly so that we’ll laugh at it.  But, it’s “this close” to real life, which makes us all relate to it at some level.

For example, in “Everybody Loves Raymond,” all the adult characters were absurd, but each had an element of truth about them.  Ray was self-centered and prone to fibbing to make up for his shortcomings.  His mother, Marie, was controlling and manipulative, and his father was insensitive and crude.  They were all funny because everything they did was something we could imagine someone we’ve known doing, plus 5%.

The program “The Office” is sometimes hard to watch because the characters – usually the boss, Michael – do something that is so inappropriate that it makes us shudder.  Inappropriate, but not beyond what people in our own work experiences are capable of.

One recurring theme in “The Office” is the ubiquitous office party or birthday celebration.  The planning committee generally settles on the lowest common denominator, since any new, good idea is voted down by one or more negative employees.

At a former job of mine, there used to be an informal tradition of people in one’s department bringing in doughnuts or cupcakes to celebrate birthdays.  One employee had his feelings hurt one day when his birthday came and went without being noticed, and he actually complained to the boss.

The next day, the “Goodtime Club” was formed.  It was a committee that took care of getting baked goods for all birthdays, no matter what.  Not only did it take the fun out of the previous departmental gatherings, but we all had to pay $5 per year, whether we wanted to or not.

Someone I know has just been assigned to co-chair a company committee to cause fun to happen.  So far, some of the good ideas have been discarded because negative “half-empty” committee members don’t want to do anything creative or interesting.

I suggested that she find video of a number of episodes of “The Office” that deal with party committee planning, edit them together, and show them to the committee.  After viewing the clips, she could then ask for a show of hands to see who found the Dunder Mifflin committee’s behavior to be normal.  Then she should kick those people off the committee, and make some fun happen with colleagues who still believe in it.  Fun, that is.

Unfortunately, there are people who seem to feed on negativity and unhappiness.  Their biggest pleasure in life is to get other people to buy-in to their sour attitude.  Misery loves company, you know.  Their best lines are, “That won’t work,” “We tried that once,” and, “Why can’t we just leave things the way they are?”

The nice thing about watching “The Office” is that, unlike our real jobs, after 30 minutes it’s over.  Maybe the trick is to enjoy the absurdity of the people we work with, and pretend we’re living in a TV show.  Although, it’s probably best not to laugh out loud if one of those absurd people is your boss.

Goodbye to Pumpkin

The cycle of life and death for cats usually runs its course pretty quickly.  Feral cats and a lot of farm cats have a rough life, battling weather, predators, and diseases.  The only reason they live as long as they do is their remarkable hunting prowess and great survival skills.

Indoor cats face challenges too.  Being in a safe environment can be stressful to cats because their natural state of being is to be constantly on alert – either to hunt or survive being hunted.

We’ve owned and lost a number of cats over the years.  Dickens was a shelter cat who made the trip with us from Duluth when we moved.  She was a Siamese, and had some attitude problems, but she was mostly a very nice cat.

Shadow #1 was an outdoor cat who came with our place, and one day she was just gone.  We suspect it was an owl that got her.  Bob was a six-toed cat who really did look like a bobcat.  He survived one car/cat battle, but not the second.  We adopted him from a friend, and we were glad to have him as long as we did.

Kitty adopted us.  She lived in our barn and sheep shed.  She was very friendly, but thought it was fun to bite now and then.  She gave birth to a bunch of kittens one spring.  We have away all but two.  Shadow #2 was a soft and gentle female.  Pumpkin was a big cat – both big boned and heavy.

They were very nice cats, all in all.  Early on they both had health problems, and we spent thousands of dollars to get them mended.  Shadow had swallowed a long thread that was choking her intestines.  Pumpkin had a urinary system that needed a total re-plumbing.

Shadow lived to be six years old, or so.  I found her in the bathtub one night.  There was no water in the tub and no sign of any injury, but we wonder if she was running around and hit her head on the faucet or something.  It was tough to see her go.

After our two newest cats adopted us a few years ago, Pumpkin seemed to get a new lease on life.  He became more active and interested.  There is no question that he disliked the new cats, mostly because they enjoyed sneaking up on him to have a play fight.  With his failing eyesight, he didn’t see it as playing.

In the past year good old Pumpkin has had a harder time controlling his bodily functions, and he’s become more bold at stealing food from the counter or the stove when he gets the chance.  Mostly he has seemed to be doing okay, though he is probably less than half his previous weight.

Recently he had his last vet visit, and the prognosis was not good at all.  His many accidents were likely the fault of a tumor in his belly, and the odds of a successful surgery on a failing 16 year old cat aren’t good, so we made the decision to end his life calmly and quietly.

It’s never an easy decision, but we feel that allowing an animal to feel pain and fear unnecessarily is not being a good pet owner.

It’s funny, but since we got the two younger cats – and even before – Pumpkin had taken up residence on a small table that sits next to our front door.  He could look out the window and stay up above the sneak attacks of the other cats from his perch.  Now that he’s gone, I think we’ll have to move that table somewhere else.  We won’t be able to walk by and skritch behind his ears or under his chin.  He always seemed grateful for those little gestures.

Over those 16 years Pumpkin gave us a lot of entertainment, a lot of comforting cuddling, and even caught some mice.  I hope we’ve done the right thing by him, and I think we have.  He certainly did have a good life, and he gave us many good memories to help him live on in the story of our family.

Don’t Mind Me

I try not to think about it, but the truth is that I’m closer to 60 years old than I am to 55.  It seems impossible, but I guess it must be true.  Now, I can claim that I’m very young for my age, but that sounds pretty self-delusional – not that I’m above that.

Mostly I feel the same as I’ve always felt.  I still wear jeans as often as possible, and I don’t wear them up around my armpits.  I still like a lot of rock and pop music, though I’ve added more country to my listening.  And, I listen to a lot of talk radio, which
puts me into the older Americans category I guess.

I’ve been messing things up more often lately.  I don’t know if that’s a sign of impending old age, or just a problem of focus, or maybe just a series of coincidental incidents.  That would be a good name for a band: “The Coincidental Incidents.”

For example, during my many travels I’ve left my calendar someplace – probably a hotel room or rental car.  Dementia?  Or perhaps leaving a hotel room after having turned out the lights in order to save the earth, thereby making my black calendar impossible to see?  Or maybe it slid under the seat of a rental car?

Another dark hotel room moment resulted in leaving my computer and briefcase in a hotel room.  I got it back, but that was a
pain.  I now have a check-out checklist before I shut the door one last time.

I’ve scheduled meetings and then written them down on the wrong date.  I left my credit card in the payment folio at
a restaurant, resulting in its theft, and $1,500 in fraudulent charges being made in 12 hours’ time.

When I think about these episodes, it occurs to me that none of them are really unusual for me over the course of my life. I left a credit card at a restaurant in 1978.  I’ve been leaving clothes in hotel room drawers and closets for 30 years or more.  The lost calendar was the third of my career, to the best of my memory, which may not be that good.

The truth is that I am, and always have been, a goof-up.  I think I make up for it with other favorable qualities, but messing up isn’t something new for me.

I think it may run in my family.  At age 40 my dad would walk around the house looking for his glasses, which he was wearing
at the time.  Thirty years later, he was doing the same thing.  He was the epitome of the absent minded professor.  I do
teach part time, but I’m no professor.

And, my mind isn’t absent.  It’s just busy doing something else when it should be taking care of business.  But, it’s one quality I seemed to have inherited from my dad.

A certain song keeps going through my head.  It’s by the band “Chumbawamba.”  The lyric goes like this: “Do you suffer from long term memory loss?  I can’t remember.”   How apt.

So, if you see me on Main Street, standing there looking puzzled, I’m probably experiencing what the Urban Dictionary calls “Destinesia: When you get to where you are going and forget why you went there.”  Don’t mind me: I’m just approaching 60.

Amish Sophistication

A while ago we took a long car trip to and from Upstate New York.  It was a nice trip, and part of the reason it was so nice is that we took a number of detours off the Interstate.  It’s hard to beat the Interstate system for getting places quickly, but that speed comes at the price of not getting to see the local scenery and the sense of history in America’s small towns.

One of our diversions, as the British call detours, took us through Amish Country in northern Indiana.  As with most Amish communities, there were plenty of buggies, pastured horses, and homes with no electrical wires connecting them to “the grid.”

We didn’t get the chance to speak with any Amish folks in Indiana, but in an earlier escape from the Interstate in New York State, we stopped at an Amish family’s roadside stand to buy some cookies and a peach pie, and the young children who waited on us were smart and articulate, and – this may be shocking to you – were able to make correct change without a calculator!

Back to Indiana, we noticed that this particular Amish region had a different look about it.  The farms seemed to be doing very well.  The homes were larger than usual, the yards and gardens were beautifully kept up, and several places had multiple buggies, including some really nice ones.  As with most Amish communities, there was plenty of free enterprise going on, with woodworking shops, bakeries, harness shops, and many other businesses in operation.

In a brochure we noted that some Amish gave four hour buggy tours, some culminating in a family dinner at an Amish house.  I imagine that is quite an experience.  While I believe most Amish communities are wary of becoming too cozy with “The English,” they also realize that we have a real curiosity about them, and are not afraid to pay money to experience at least a hint of their lifestyle.

As we drove along the country roads (looking for a particular shop which turned out to be closed for the day by the time we found it) I thought about why people in modern society are drawn to elements of the Amish world.

I don’t know much about the Amish religion, but I gather that technological progress isn’t seen as a good thing, and that followers are discouraged from being flashy dressers, or otherwise drawing attention to themselves.

As non-Amish folks, I think many of us admire their tenacity in avoiding the shallowness of our reality show culture while living their lives in what would ironically be considered by many as good fodder for a reality show.

Some Amish communities are less inward looking than others.  During our drive we went past a Pizza Hut in a small town, and outside were two horses and buggies tethered to a hitching post.  I know pizza isn’t in the Bible per se, but it is pretty much unleavened…

Other than avoiding the horse apples in the road, it was a very pleasant side trip.  I don’t think we fall into the trap of over-romanticizing the Amish culture.  Everything is not sweetness and light in their communities, and many Amish can’t wait to escape to our world.

It is interesting, though, to step back in time for a few hours to see how our great-grandparents lived, but also to see that entrepreneurism in our country is still possible; even for those without cars or electricity or a MBA.

Social Media Mediocre

Some changes happen slowly, like losing one’s hair, trees growing, or children getting toilet trained.  Other changes happen fast – so fast that we have a hard time adjusting to them.  Weather can change that fast, as can the price of gold, stocks, and Beany Babies.

The last ten years has spawned an immense change in our lives, even if we haven’t participated.  That change is in the form of the electronification, if that’s even a word, of communication.

Ten years ago the term “social media” may have existed, but only among a fairly small group of people.  “Myspace.com” and “facebook.com” existed, but were both in the very early stages of acceptance.  Blogging – in essence, electronic newsletters—were coming into vogue.  Websites that gather news from many sources, like drudgereport.com, started in the mid 1990’s, but really took off during the Monica Lewinski scandal, which was first exposed by Matt Drudge.

Now, newspapers, magazines, and even radio and TV stations are putting a lot of resources into on-line identities.  Books are becoming a fading commodity as the Kindle and other forms of electronic publishing surge forward.  The closing of Borders bookstores is the most recent evidence of that change.

The social media, starting with myspace.com, facebook.com, and then twitter.com  seem to have shoved a lot of other media to the side.  The timeframe for dissemination of news and information – factual or not – has gone from days to hours to minutes to seconds, as tweeters send messages while news happens.

Thanks to Facebook, I get a little reminder every day about my “friends’” birthdays.  If someone is my real-life
friend, I should know their birthday – though I probably don’t, because I’m a guy.  Wishing a virtual friend happy
birthday seems disingenuous.  Although, it was nice last December when so many people sent those wishes to me.

To be honest, I am feeling left behind by a lot of this.  I don’t have a “smart” phone or an I-pad, and the thought of adding that technology to my electronic arsenal seems daunting.  I have a Twitter account, but wonder who cares about what I write, or how it could possibly matter.

I feel like an old man in 1910, shaking my fist at those darn automobiles, or shunning the telephone.  I’m sitting here in 2011 hearing myself use strange phrases like, “Would you like to Skype?”

I’m not a Luddite, but I wait with both enthusiasm and trepidation for whatever is coming next, and what the next thing is that will go away.

If you find out, send me an email, okay?

I’m Back!

Hello.

Sometimes in life you just know when it’s time to take a break from something.  As you may, or may not have noticed, I haven’t posted anything on this blog for a long time now.  I think I needed a break.

I didn’t intentionally stop posting things, but one day I realized it had been a few months.  At first I felt guilty.  I don’t know why.  It’s not like anything bad happened due to my inaction.  My ego would have loved to hear a hew and cry from the legions of readers who so looked forward to my posts.  But, my logical mind is not surprised that no such things happened.

But, now that autumn is here, I’m back, and will be posting much more regularly.  In fact, I’ll be posting a number of pieces this week, and then aiming for at least one per week going forward.

So, if you’re a reader of my posts, thanks for being patient!

Peter

Columnists’ Party I

A while back I once again attended the annual conference of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists.  It is an annual opportunity to spend several days learning, socializing, and feeling like an imposter.  The requirement for belonging to the NSNC is sending in $50 each year.

Even though there are nationally known and semi-famous people in attendance, there are plenty of small town folks like me who come to learn and get motivated.

This year’s conference was held in Detroit.  I have visited Detroit several times in the past, and I could have lived a full
life without going back.  However, the agenda and itinerary sounded interesting, so I decided to go.  I wasn’t disappointed.

For the next couple of weeks I’d like to share my journal of what all took place.

Sunday Afternoon:

I arrived at the Weston Book-Cadillac Hotel mid-afternoon.  It’s a beautifully restored showplace of a hotel.  From my room’s window I saw a mixture of revitalized buildings and parks, and vacant shells of once useful edifices.  The building right outside my window had trees growing out of the roof.  Not on purpose.

When I logged on my computer, the list of wireless networks within range included “FBI surveillance van2.”  I wondered who was being surveilled.  Maybe it was me.  Right.

After registering, we were bussed (buses courtesy of the Detroit Convention and Visitors’  Bureau) to a hole-in-the-wall bar for a reception.  A former columnist was playing lead guitar in a blues band.  It was loud, but fun.  I took the early bus back.

Monday Morning:

After breakfast (sponsored by Chrysler Group) we heard a panel discussion on “Crusading Columnists.”  One of them crusaded against using the microphone, so he wasn’t heard well.  That was followed by a workshop on free-lancing.  A lot of columnists have lost their jobs in the past five years, so any source of income is important.

A couple more sessions went on, followed by another Tourism sponsored bus ride to the building that houses Compuware and Quicken Loans.  It’s quite a building.  Water rains down into an indoor pond from 100 feet up.  There are 12 elevators. Thousands of people work there, instead of the suburbs because of the commitment these two companies have for the future of Detroit.

Next we visited a tech start-up incubator.  In aplace with so many unemployed, learning to start one’s own business is a good idea.

Then we went to the Motown Museum.  With the exception of the few people who were a little too old or a little too young, everyone seemed to really like it.  It was really something to stand in the first Motown studio where the likes of Stevie Wonder, the Supremes, and Michael Jackson first recorded.   Very cool.

After a few minutes to re-gather ourselves back at the hotel, we then got back on the buses to a tour and reception at the “Heidelberg Project.”  It is no secret that Detroit has some horrible neighborhoods and some serious crime problems.  One street, in what was the first black neighborhood in Detroit, has become a tourist attraction despite its
location.  It’s called the Heidelberg Project, and it consists of multiple works of art that are mostly created of “found” objects displayed in unusual ways.   It is an oasis of energy and pride in a pretty bleak community.

There is a house with several hundred stuffed animals stuck to it.  There is a partial tree with shopping carts strewn in its branches.  One house is totally surrounded by miscellaneous junk.  Ostensibly, each work of art is meaningful and symbolizes something.  I wondered what would happen if a hurricane were to hit Detroit, but then it occurred to me that it kind-of looks like maybe a hurricane already hit.  I found it interesting, to be sure, and elements of it were artistic, in my opinion.  Not everybody would see it that way.  But, that’s common to all modern art.

For more about this interesting conference, ncluding my time with Roger Ebert… kind of… check out this spot in a few days.

Stormy Night Letter

Dear Family,

Interesting night.  Huge storm came over Dane County.  We didn’t get the worst of it.  Tennis ball size hail hit a lot of areas.  We went to the neighbor’s house to ride out the storm.  Power went out just as we hit their basement, after a huge wind gust came through.  I don’t know what the speed of the wind was, but they were talking about 60-80 MPH winds in the county.

After things subsided, we headed for home, which wasn’t easy since the big tree on the corner of our yard lost two big branches, (a spruce tree lost its top also) and took down the electrical wires.  We tried to go around the block to get home, but other roads were blocked too.  We finally made it home going through Rockdale, but had to park the car across the street and walk along the corn field, around the horse’s pasture, and through the sheep shed to avoid the down wires.

As we were in the sheep shed, I was surprised to see that the sheep were looking at us from outside their enclosure.  They had been in the yard and garden, enjoying broccoli, cabbage, and some other delicacies.  History repeats itself — as you’ll recall, they got out two years ago and ate and stomped on a lot.

A number of large branches had blown off the tree behind the gray shed (no, I’m sorry.  I mean the grey shed) and one of them took out a big chunk of the fence between the sheep and the garden.  Further inspection (once the sheep were put into the big pasture) showed that one of the hay wagons had been flipped up on its side, and both hay bunks had been destroyed.  Several big branches were in the vegetable and flower gardens, one of them at least 30 yards from the tree it came from.

Numerous large branches were in the horse’s area, but she didn’t’ seem to be hurt at all.

The only damage to the house was a piece of fascia that appears to have been hit by something, and peeled back.

Due to the blocked road and downed wires, there was a Dane County cop car at the top of the hill until the power company guys showed up.  It’s odd to hear chain saws at 3:30am.  The power came back on around 5am, I think.  Mom got up to watch the action in the middle of the night, and was outside by 4am.  I was not.

All in all, a stressful night, made better by being with neighbors.  Have you ever been so tired that you could feel your cells crying?  I’m about there.

But, nobody was hurt, and the damage was very minimal by comparison to what many have experienced this year in Joplin, Tuscaloosa, and other places.  It makes you think.  Sometimes good luck comes to us in disguise.

Love, Dad

Good Morning!

I was up just after 6:30 this morning, and I’d like to say that it was my usual time to get up.  Sadly, I often have a hard
time getting out of bed in the morning.  It’s not so bad this time of year because of the early sunlight and the enthusiastic birds outside, but sometimes it’s just nice to stay in bed and get a little more sleep.

Most days it doesn’t matter when I get up, since my job is pretty flexible.  I may be working at 9pm, so being at work by
8:30am is not really required.  That’s both a great advantage and a disincentive for getting up promptly in the morning.

When I need to get up especially early to get an airplane flight or something, I set multiple alarms, and usually stay awake most of the night anyway, because the stakes of oversleeping are so high.  Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t make more sense just to drive the airport and sleep in the parking lot, but a person might still oversleep if they did that.

When I go to bed early I just toss and turn.  No, it’s more of a turn, followed by another turn, and THEN a toss.  Staying up late helps me get to sleep quickly, but doesn’t leave enough time before morning.

With all that in mind, I read a headline today that made me think: “Alarm Clocks Blow up at Ikea Stores in Belgium, France and The Netherlands.”  I was compelled to read on, only to find that this isn’t a feature of these alarm clocks, but that the three devices in question had been sabotaged by some Ikea hating individual or individuals.  Fortunately, nobody was hurt, except for one guy who had a ringing in his ears.  I’ll bet!

Overlooking, for a moment, the criminal intent of those responsible, I think you’d agree that an alarm clock that might explode would probably cure a person from lingering in bed too long.   I’m afraid, though, that I’d just stay awake,
listening for any tell-tale signs of the impending “BOOM!”

In fact, sleeping between the mattress and the box spring would offer some pretty good protection, though it wouldn’t be very comfortable.

Maybe it would be better to have a non-lethal alarm clock – perhaps one that activates a fire hose pointed at the sleeper who hits the snooze button one too many times?  I’m sure that it would be refreshing, and probably make a morning shower redundant, but the shock might just be too much.

I hope they catch the person or people who intended harm with the rigged-up alarm clocks at Ikea.  But, I also hope that some enterprising individual will consider what I’ve laid out here for fool-proof wake-up devices.

If reading this column has made you drowsy, I apologize.  I also admonish you not to let those heavy eyelids drop until you’re done with the paper.  If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure I hear a very soft “tick, tick, tick” sound.  It could be my imagination, of course.  But, do you want to take that chance?  I didn’t think so.

Know When to Fold ‘Em

I have a confession to make: I’m not much of a card player.  Unless the game is really easy, like Uno or Crazy Eights, I find that by the time the rules have been explained my attention span has lapsed, and I’ve lost interest.

Many of my relations play a game called Pinochle, pronounced “pee – knuckle.”  How nice.  It’s a game that was invented by people who were mentally disturbed, and anyone who masters the game becomes a little bit off center as well.

Poker is a game I understand, and have played in the past, though the Texas Hold-em version is new to me, and seems unnecessarily complicated, which makes it more fun for people who like cards, and less fun for me.

I was just thinking about somebody playing poker.  Maybe it’s me.  I don’t know.  The person has a pair of twos, and thinks it would be fun to bluff, with the hope that the other players will fold.

I bid $100.  The other players raise me another $100.  So, not to be out bluffed, I raise them $500.   It goes on like this for some time.   I realize I’m in over my head and should have quit at $100, but it’s too late to pull back.  Hours go by, and the pot gets bigger and bigger.  And, by “pot” I’m referring to the pile of money, not the size of my belly.

When the dust settles (it’s a dusty poker room) the pot is up to, say, $14 trillion and change.

I think that’s kind-of what we’ve been doing in our country.  We want to “fix” the economy, so we ante up a couple hundred billion dollars or so, and when that doesn’t work, we try putting in another hundred billion until, as the late Illinois Senator and pop star Everett Dirksen once famously said, “pretty soon we’re talking about real money.”

Unlike the typical poker player, though, our government has printing presses, and keeps making more money.  That sounds like the poker player’s dream, except that for every dollar they print, the value of every other dollar goes down, giving us inflation and, indirectly, higher oil prices, since the people who speculate on oil do so in dollars, and the dollars are worth less, so the price goes higher.  Worth less; not worthless, at least so far.

I picture myself at the poker table, realizing I have only a few chips, and I hope I would have the good sense not to “invest” any more of them in what is a losing cause.  And I certainly hope I would not borrow more money to keep in the game.  Would you?

Fortunately for all of us I’m not in the position of making any of these big decisions.  I do believe, though, that “throwing money” at our problems hasn’t been the right approach.  I think it’s time for us to know when to fold-‘em when it comes to spending more money.

Spending money when you’re broke usually doesn’t end well.

Lose Your Lunch

Something came up in the news the other day that got me remembering lunch time at school.  Not college or high school, but way back in elementary and junior high school, as it was called in the middle ages.

I admit that what made school worthwhile for me was gym class, recess, and lunch.  Any learning that took place was strictly the result of being in the classroom between those other activities.  Lunch was a wonderful oasis of food and hilarity in the desert of fractions and the state soil (Antigo silt loam, if I remember correctly).

Once excused for lunch, we would line up at the door of the classroom, and “walk” to our respective bathrooms where we were required to wash our hands, which we did with the utmost speed, in order to get to the stairway down to the lunchroom before the other classes.

Most days we didn’t know what was being served until we got to the stairwell.  The exception to that was tuna noodle casserole day.  That smell spread throughout the three story building, and possibly to surrounding towns.  In deference to Catholic pupils, Fridays were always meat-free, and we always hoped for the fish sticks option.

I remember that I brought my lunch sometimes.  I didn’t like it, because what I brought from home was less interesting, and probably more healthy than what the cooks came up with.  Or, maybe I just didn’t like being seen as
different.  I’m not sure.  It was a long time ago.

The lunch ladies, if I remember correctly, were all heavyset older women with hairnets, dresses and aprons.  They seemed nice.  Lunch was 35 cents, plus 3 cents for milk.  Two or three times a year there would be chocolate milk.

We could go up for seconds if there was food left over.  One thing there was always plenty of was white
bread, slathered with butter.  The butter was about a half-inch thick.  It’s surprising that our arteries didn’t just clog up right there on the spot.

Kids being kids, some food ended up in the trash, but not too much.  There were grown-ups there to make sure we ate, and to minimize the waste.  There were no vending machines, so it was either lunch – what you brought or what you got in the lunch line – or nothing.

I have a lot of good memories of school lunch.

I was surprised to read the other day that a school in Chicago is banning children from bringing lunch from home, unless there are specific dietary needs that the parent can prove.  The people who run that school say that, basically, they know better what the children should eat than the children’s parents.  While that may be true in some cases, I thought that parents have the right to raise their children as they see fit.

An article in the Chicago Tribune notes that since the school has been serving a healthy menu, the amount of food thrown away by students has increased considerably.  You can lead a horse to water…

Maybe my notion of parenthood is outmoded, like white bread with too much butter.  Or, maybe there is a conflict here between good intentions and individual liberty.  I’ll have to give it some thought over lunch.

Quirky, but Brilliant

I’ve been watching more television than usual lately.  As I recovered from surgery, I still had plenty of energy to operate the remote.  And, mostly the weather has been either too wet or too cold to do much yard work. 

I’m a fan of good situation comedy shows, of which there are not many.  I also don’t mind a good drama, though it seems that a third of the evening television schedule is comprised of shows where we’re likely to see a corpse being sliced and diced with the objective of solving its murder.  

I’m not a reality show fan, which puts me in the minority of TV viewers.  And, without cable, there are not many sports shows or cable news networks to watch.  So, I’ll sometimes sit with cats on my lap and the remote in my hand, scanning the free TV channels for something good.

I’ve noticed a trend lately, and I guess it’s not really new.  I call it the “Quirky but brilliant” TV hero.  Chief among them these days is Dr. House.  The tormented genius thing wears pretty thin on me.  It almost feels like each week’s “House” episode is verging on a parody of itself, even though the show wins awards every year.  So, I guess it’s just me.

Kathy Bates is starring in a new program about a rebel lawyer who doesn’t play by the rules. It’s called “Harry’s Law.”  She is Harry.  I think she’s a great actress, but I wonder how she can speak her lines without snickering.  I find the writing to be preachy and unlike anything anyone would say in real life.  And yet, it’s a big hit.

Dana Delaney is in a new program called “Body of Proof.”  She plays a female “House” – type character who is so disagreeable and annoying that she no longer deals with living patients.  She’s a forensic pathologist.  Actually, she has several deep dark secrets as to why she is so horrible to everyone, and why she’s no longer a brain surgeon.  Of course, she’s brilliant and keeps from being fired because she solves everything. 

Jimmy Smits plays a fellow who retires from the Supreme Court so he can work for the “little guy.”  He maybe isn’t brilliant and quirky on “Outlaw,” but the thought of someone quitting the Supreme Court is a pretty big stretch.

I guess it’s important in television for the audience to have some idea what to expect when they tune in a program.  The caricatured characters in the programs above need to be true to who they are, I guess, just as Horatio does on CSI Miami when he puts on his sunglasses and says something comically serious at least once per episode.

Quirky and brilliant characters have been around before.  My favorite: Mr. Peabody, the brilliant and quirky dog who, with his boy, “Sherman,” traveled by means of the way-back machine to visit historical places and times.  Of course, that was a cartoon – part of Jay Ward’s brilliant and quirky “Rocky and Bullwinkle” show.  Even though he was animated, Mr. Peabody was as plausible a character as House, in my book.

I should just face the fact that I’m turning into a cranky old man who is irritable and overly critical of everyone and everything, but who can solve virtually any problem with the sparsest of information.  Hmmm… I sound quirky and brilliant.  I need a TV show.  Call it, “Recliner Guy.”

Freedom of Speech

Ron White is one of the guys who toured as part of the Blue Collar Comedy group, and performed in their very popular concert videos.  He always seems to have a drink in his hand, and smokes like a chimney.  So, he’s not exactly a role model for America’s youth, but despite his bad language and joyous political incorrectness, I think he’s a funny guy.

One of his more endearing stories revolves around him being physically thrown out of a bar in New York City.  In this story, he is in the process of being arrested, and he says, “I had the right to remain silent… but not the ability.”

Boy!  How many times has that happened to you?  Not the being arrested part, but the inability to keep quiet about something when it makes much more sense to do so.

I think I suffer from that affliction more than most people.  My mouth has gotten me into trouble many times over the years, and the funny thing is I realize my mistake before I’ve even finished the sentence.  The classic error, which every man makes once in his life, is asking a woman who appears to be pregnant when she’s due.  If she’s not pregnant, that’s a mistake from which you cannot recover.

Lately I’ve been much better about keeping quiet about things.  Many people who are “friends” of mine on Facebook have not been as reticent about expressing their views in very clear and insistent terms.  Part of the reason is that our world and my state of Wisconsin are both experiencing traumatic changes, and people are very emotional about what’s going on.  That emotion translates to strong language, which can be insulting to people who might disagree with the point of view expressed.

I’ve always believed that there can be disagreement without attacking people who see things differently than I do, or wishing them harm.  Civil discourse was a hot topic a month ago, but it seems to have been moved to the back burner in the past few weeks.

The thing is, I don’t want to communicate only with people who agree with me, because a person doesn’t grow that way.  And yet, intemperate comments that insult my intelligence just make me disrespect the people who make them.  And, it doesn’t help my normally cheerful demeanor. 

This paragraph should say something like, “Let’s all be kind to each other,” but that’s not likely to happen anytime soon.  Instead, maybe people could think for a moment between writing their emails or Tweets or Facebook posts and sending them.  A couple of seconds to ponder might result in better communication in the long run.

Television Choices

We don’t have access to cable TV where we live.  And, while we could get satellite TV, we’ve chosen not to.  Thanks to the digital conversion, we now have a lot more channels of free television to watch, but nothing like cable and satellite offer.

As a consequence of not having so many choices at home, when I travel for work I find myself mesmerized by the array of lights and colors that confront me on the hotel room television sets.

There is truly something for everyone, as long as by “everyone” you mean people with various personality flaws or psychological disorders.

Just the other day I was scanning through the offerings available, and I saw what appeared to be a sweet love story.  A couple was kissing passionately, that is until the gentleman (a term I use quite loosely) decided to squeeze the life out of his romantic partner by wringing her neck.  I clicked a few channels further to find a show called “Obese and Pregnant.”  Now, I’m not saying there could be some educational value to such a show, but why would I want to watch it?  After all, I’m not pregnant.

A few more clicks and there was a thriller movie with music so sinister that I knew someone was going to be killing someone any second, so I kept clicking.

The worst time to find something to watch is early in the morning.  The array of infomercials and Home Shopping Network type channels is amazing.  Fortunately, I’m able to return most of the stuff.

To be fair, there are channels available on cable and satellite that I wish we could see at home.  The news channels, History, Discovery, and even TV Land would be nice to have.  C-Span is almost as terrifying as some of the psycho movies sometimes, depending on who is talking, but one can learn a lot about politics by watching it.  And, there are some sporting events unavailable to us common folk on free TV that it would be fun to watch, but then again, if NASCAR or the NFL or the University of Wisconsin decide that making more money from limiting broadcast of their games to pay TV is more important than keeping me as a fan, so be it.

The sad thing is that while television sometimes does a good job of depicting real life, it isn’t real life.  Reality shows are a sham, in that they are as produced as any scripted show.  So, any time I spend scanning the dial looking for entertainment is time I’m not spending engaged in real life with real people.  While it’s true that some TV during down time isn’t a bad thing, being transfixed by the pixels on the screen is really the definition of a waste of time.

So, maybe having only a few channels to choose from at home is a good thing.  And, maybe when I’m traveling I should just shut off the idiot box and open up a book.  And I will.  Right after “I Dream of Jeanie.”

Someone Else

Have you ever noticed that certain things are very funny when they happen to other people, but not nearly as hilarious if they happen to us?   Programs like America’s Funniest Videos are very successful because they show people falling from roofs, getting hit in the nether regions with anything from footballs to baseball bats, and best men and grooms fainting at weddings.  All of these things are very funny, but only if they happen to someone else.

So, when I bumped a 32 ounce cup of Diet Mountain Dew (which, of course, had no lid) and it toppled onto my computer Saturday morning, I’m sure it was very, very funny, but not to me.

I lunged into action, picking up the notebook computer and trying to drain it as best I could.  I got lots of napkins and blotted like crazy.  I even took it out into the sun to dry, shaking it gently to coax the hidden drops out.

When all seemed to be well, I brought it back in, set it up on the table, and heard an odd sound coming from the machine.  It sounded like someone was making bacon, but I’m afraid the only thing that was frying was my hard drive.

Here’s where it gets into the good news/bad news battle.  The good news is that having had some problems with my computer a few weeks ago, I was planning to get a new one before long.  The bad news is that it died when I was many hundreds of miles from home, staying in a hotel, without a car.  The good news is that there was a Best Buy about ¾ of a mile away that had a pretty good computer on sale.  The bad news is that they couldn’t salvage anything from my hard drive, and it took them all day to come to that determination.

The worst thing is that I couldn’t – despite tremendous effort – figure out a way to blame someone else for this debacle.  It was all me.  If the toppling cup of fizz had been captured on video, you probably would have laughed.  I know I would have.

It seems like a lot of little things have been happening lately.  Broken eyeglasses, two computer meltdowns, and a cracked crown – the mouth kind, not the head kind.  The trick is, of course, to remember that in none of those incidents has anyone been hurt, and I’m fortunate enough to have the resources to deal with each problem and all the others that came before and will come after.  When things are mostly good the little things really take on more importance than they should.

What have I learned?  You’d think I’d learn that it is a bad idea to have a beverage near a computer, but some quick calculations tell me I’ve gotten away with it approximately 10,000 times during my career so far, and other than some wet papers in the pre-computer days, it has never before been a problem.

Instead I’ve learned that eventually every computer dies, so it pays to make arrangements before it happens.  Come to think of it, eventually we all die too.  But, that’s a much bigger discussion for another day.

Some Notes

I’ve been pretty distracted this last few days, so rather than do a thorough job talking about any one thing, I’m afraid I’ll have to settle for a few words on several topics.  Think of it as the Reader’s Digest condensed version.

First: the awful shootings in Tucson.  The tragedy is overwhelming, and we’re all hopeful that the congresswoman recovers fully.  It would be a miracle, but they do happen now and then.  The days when any three people could have someone temporarily committed to a mental health facility (at least in Wisconsin) were rife with potential for abuse of civil liberties, but we can hardly help but wonder if the pendulum has swung too far in the other direction.  The junior college the shooter attended and the police were aware that he was dangerous, but couldn’t do anything until he did something illegal. 

I’m disappointed in the people who are trying so hard to make the actions of an unbalanced person political fodder.  There is plenty of intemperate language emanating from both sides of the political world, and thinking back to the previous presidency, I have no doubt which side has been the most vitriolic.  Yes, people should be more civil, but no, the First Amendment isn’t pretend.  People who thought President Bush was ruining the country had a right to say so in as strong language as they wished.  The same is true for people who question the current policies.

Second, the reason I’ve been distracted is that my computer decided to go on strike.  I won’t bore you with all the details, but I’ve had to reinstall the operating system, which in automotive lingo means that I had to put in a new engine.

Sadly, that resulted in the loss of everything on the computer.  Fortunately, I had recently backed up my documents, except for my email, which is really where most of the information I need resided.  And, being disorganized, I misplaced my registration numbers for the programs I use, so the people at Microsoft will be wanting me to pay them again pretty soon. 

These services that back everything up on-line may seem expensive, but I’m beginning to think they’re probably a very good value.

Third on my list is our new fridge.  We bought a new one just before Christmas, even though it seemed that the one we had was pretty new.  But, upon thinking about it, we realized it was probably somewhere between 15 and 20 years old. 

It worked perfectly well, except for occasionally freezing everything.  Carrots and milk are especially bad when they’ve been frozen.  It also ran almost all the time, commencing each cycle with a loud “POP!” 

                The new one worries us because it is so quiet.  It hardly ever goes on, and when it does, it’s like a whisper.  We can still have a conversation in the kitchen when it is running.  Cool! 

                Forth, and last, both of our daughters have been hit by other drivers in the last several months.  One driver took off – possibly because of his immigration status – and the other stepped up by taking full responsibility.  Both of our kids will be fine, but it’s a reminder that the many distractions that modern society gives us should really be put aside while we’re driving.  I don’t know if either of the two offenders noted above were texting, talking on the phone, putting on make-up, or whatever, but the point stands. 

Those are my notes on the news.  With Microsoft’s blessings, a more coherent column next week!