I have been slacking this week in my writing. You say, "This week?" I have had a bit of a hard time getting into a flow. With all the hubbub here: my kids moving and fixing my office and what not...By the way, this is the first official blog that I have written in my new home office. Kind of snazzy. I have all the amenities of an office and the commute is not that far for me to do everyday if I wish.
I offer all this information to rationalize that my busy schedule has made me a slacker. I never slacked, much...and this new found passion is one which I have to ease into. Writing burnout is not my goal here, but rather the expression of sincere ideas which someone somewhere can read and say, "Awwww, yes, I agree." or "That guy is full of horse ptuttie." But it takes time to get into a groove, and I have yet to hit my stride. If I was Alfonso Soriano, I would just swing at low outside one and walk to the dugout before going out into the field and defying all fundamental laws of baseball and hope that the next time up, I could hit a homer so people would think I earned my great big salary.
This week, in terms of rationalization, I have been entertaining a former student of mine who came to Arizona as forward scouting party for his parents. He and his family have been close to us for years, and I have watched the little round furball grow into quite a man. He came out this week, and we have covered the state from Tombstone to the Grand Canyon. In our nine hours of travel by car, we have had some great talks. Everything from coaching to parenting (he has no children, yet, but he is looking for the perfect mate, girls) to politics and religion.
On Wednesday night, we had a lovely visit with one of his classmates that lives out here in the valley, we will call her Tweedledum. I call her that because that is how her high school biology teacher referred to her in class, along with her labmate, TweedleDee. She was a great kid back when I had her in class and she is a beautiful woman now. After garnering a degree in psych, she has gone on to start a degree in nursing. She hopes to be a Nurse Practitioner some day, and I believe she will do it.
These two fine adults showed me this week that one of the reasons I had kids and went into education has been fulfilled. Someday, I wanted my students to be friends. There are many of my former students out there, and now we are friends. Back-in-the-day, we struggled to understand each other as I sometimes dragged them through the lessons berating them, making fun of them, praising them, and sometimes scolding them. The ultimate goals in life, however, were theirs, not mine. If they are not what they wanted to be, it is not my fault, it is theirs. My ultimate goal was to get them to function as an adult and be a profitable member of society. As Michael Jackson's song goes, "Start with the man in the mirror."
I love my kids, both my biological and my educational. They have all been a great part of my life and have taught me as much, hopefully, as I have taught them. Some have turned out great, others are still struggling. But I love them like a pig loves mud.
Thanks for reading.
Doughnut
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Grass Fire Burns Impression
Sunday evening, I stepped out the door to my hacienda to clean the windows on my house. In the sky was a thick, black and brown cloud. I knew immediately that there was something of enormity burning a few blocks away. Sirens had not sounded and there appeared to be no fire engines yet. Being the inquisitive old man I am, Jim and I got in the car and headed in that direction.
I was amazed that a 40 acre public park about half a mile from the family ranch was engulfed in flames! We drove to a side street to take a look see. To our astonishment, we were not the first ones on the scene, but rather had come late to the burning bushes. Unlike Moses, though, our bushes were being swallowed by flames. It took us about seven minutes to get to the fire, but the Phoenix Fire Department had not shown yet.
We stood for about three minutes and perused the landscape, and I commented that we had to go before we were unable to leave. As we hit the end of the dead end road, A PFD engine was struggling to get through because all the gawkers like ourselves had blocked the two lane street and had the engine no where to go. Finally, one guy drove upon the sidewalk, and we followed suit, allowing the firemen to do their jobs.
It was quite a neighborhood event. The fire was finally put out about three hours later, and involved over 40 firemen and a boat load of equipment.
When we got home, we sat and talked about the experience and the people that showed up from nowhere to stand around and hinder the firemen. We admonished them, scolded them, made fun of them. Then my daughter came into the room and said merely, "And you fools were right there, too!"
Puts everything into perspective. I am glad I do not live in a glass house.
Doughnut.
I was amazed that a 40 acre public park about half a mile from the family ranch was engulfed in flames! We drove to a side street to take a look see. To our astonishment, we were not the first ones on the scene, but rather had come late to the burning bushes. Unlike Moses, though, our bushes were being swallowed by flames. It took us about seven minutes to get to the fire, but the Phoenix Fire Department had not shown yet.
We stood for about three minutes and perused the landscape, and I commented that we had to go before we were unable to leave. As we hit the end of the dead end road, A PFD engine was struggling to get through because all the gawkers like ourselves had blocked the two lane street and had the engine no where to go. Finally, one guy drove upon the sidewalk, and we followed suit, allowing the firemen to do their jobs.
It was quite a neighborhood event. The fire was finally put out about three hours later, and involved over 40 firemen and a boat load of equipment.
When we got home, we sat and talked about the experience and the people that showed up from nowhere to stand around and hinder the firemen. We admonished them, scolded them, made fun of them. Then my daughter came into the room and said merely, "And you fools were right there, too!"
Puts everything into perspective. I am glad I do not live in a glass house.
Doughnut.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Baseball Is Life
I spent a good Friday night in the nose bleed section at Chase Ballpark last night. The game was a blowout as the Diamondbacks got killed by the Pirates 10-3. I felt sorry for the D-Backs who seemed to be outgunned from every position. From the front office to the bull pen, this poor team is going nowhere. This means that by the end of September if they are pulling in a thousand people a game, they should consider themselves lucky.
I stopped on my way in to the park and bought a program from one of those non team associated vendors on the outside for two dollars rather than paying the five dollars inside the park and getting the team propaganda. The magazine had some good articles in it which were not all pro-Diamondbacks, but the most telling item in it was a listing of yearly salaries for the Diamondbacks players. Since we got to "The Chase" early enough to get a good seat (there were only about 22,000 people there), I did some quick math in my head. (Yes, kids, it is possible to do math without a calculator.) What I discovered was that the entire starting line-up for Arizona, all nine men, did not make as much in a year as Steve Nash is going to make playing for the Phoenix Suns this year. And we wonder why Arizona cannot win? They are playing a big league schedule with a Triple A roster!
I love good baseball. Notice the adjective good...But right now AZ is not playing good baseball. They do not even have a manager with ANY managerial experience. They hired AJ hoping that his communication talents could get them inspiration. But, I feel for him. He is trying to make chicken salad without the proper ingredience, and is learning on the job, too.
In one of my favorite movies, "Field of Dreams" one of the characters says that baseball reflects life. Between the lines all things are equal, the great American game where people who work hard sometimes get the breaks and win, while others lose. There is no grey area. That is why people like sports. Sometimes it is fair and sometimes life is foul.
And like AJ Hinch, we take what we have and we try to make the best of it.
Go Dbacks! (No, I have not lost my love of the Cubs, but I need someone to root for in person!)
Doughnut
I stopped on my way in to the park and bought a program from one of those non team associated vendors on the outside for two dollars rather than paying the five dollars inside the park and getting the team propaganda. The magazine had some good articles in it which were not all pro-Diamondbacks, but the most telling item in it was a listing of yearly salaries for the Diamondbacks players. Since we got to "The Chase" early enough to get a good seat (there were only about 22,000 people there), I did some quick math in my head. (Yes, kids, it is possible to do math without a calculator.) What I discovered was that the entire starting line-up for Arizona, all nine men, did not make as much in a year as Steve Nash is going to make playing for the Phoenix Suns this year. And we wonder why Arizona cannot win? They are playing a big league schedule with a Triple A roster!
I love good baseball. Notice the adjective good...But right now AZ is not playing good baseball. They do not even have a manager with ANY managerial experience. They hired AJ hoping that his communication talents could get them inspiration. But, I feel for him. He is trying to make chicken salad without the proper ingredience, and is learning on the job, too.
In one of my favorite movies, "Field of Dreams" one of the characters says that baseball reflects life. Between the lines all things are equal, the great American game where people who work hard sometimes get the breaks and win, while others lose. There is no grey area. That is why people like sports. Sometimes it is fair and sometimes life is foul.
And like AJ Hinch, we take what we have and we try to make the best of it.
Go Dbacks! (No, I have not lost my love of the Cubs, but I need someone to root for in person!)
Doughnut
Friday, July 24, 2009
Small towns are super places to grow up. Most people who do not get that experience don't understand how a person can go through their adolescent life knowing everybody, and everybody knowing them. But it is an unusually rewarding experience.
I was looking at Facebook today and one of my friends from Hoopeston had put up pictures of the Class of 1969's reunion. What a group. As I looked through those pictures, I recalled what I remember to be those people. Sometimes it was hard to see them, other times, they had never aged, or had come to look like their parents. All the memories from forty years ago flooded back. And the years faded away. I was transported back to when I was sixteen and living on Penn Street in Hoopeston, IL.
My best friend growing up was Bill Gholson. His family accepted me as one of theirs and his sisters became mine. Gloria, Sheila, Nora and Brenda all were my family, and Bill's mom and dad were also mine. They treated me like it. We laughed together, and when I needed it, I was scolded.
That is the beauty of life in the small town back in the 50s-70s. Kids had respect for their elders, even if the older generation was not related. Beaver Cleaver and Wally actually lived down my street and the Brady Bunch were real neighbors. The police were respected and they understood problems of living in the small town, because they grew up there. My parents knew what I did before I got in the house.
The song goes, "Yesterday is dead and gone..." but I do have to say that I find myself longing for those simpler times. I miss Penn Street, the Gholson girls and my good buddy Bill. And John, Steve, Alan, Roger, Delmar, Ellen, Billie Sue, Linda, Debbie, Juanita, and all the rest of the Cornjerker clan.
When did the fast lane overtake me?
Doughnut
I was looking at Facebook today and one of my friends from Hoopeston had put up pictures of the Class of 1969's reunion. What a group. As I looked through those pictures, I recalled what I remember to be those people. Sometimes it was hard to see them, other times, they had never aged, or had come to look like their parents. All the memories from forty years ago flooded back. And the years faded away. I was transported back to when I was sixteen and living on Penn Street in Hoopeston, IL.
My best friend growing up was Bill Gholson. His family accepted me as one of theirs and his sisters became mine. Gloria, Sheila, Nora and Brenda all were my family, and Bill's mom and dad were also mine. They treated me like it. We laughed together, and when I needed it, I was scolded.
That is the beauty of life in the small town back in the 50s-70s. Kids had respect for their elders, even if the older generation was not related. Beaver Cleaver and Wally actually lived down my street and the Brady Bunch were real neighbors. The police were respected and they understood problems of living in the small town, because they grew up there. My parents knew what I did before I got in the house.
The song goes, "Yesterday is dead and gone..." but I do have to say that I find myself longing for those simpler times. I miss Penn Street, the Gholson girls and my good buddy Bill. And John, Steve, Alan, Roger, Delmar, Ellen, Billie Sue, Linda, Debbie, Juanita, and all the rest of the Cornjerker clan.
When did the fast lane overtake me?
Doughnut
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Directionally Challenged Reality Show
There could be a whole new reality show which entails having directionally challenged people try to get around in Phoenix or any other big city.
Driving places in Phoenix is easy, except if you are directionally challenged. I keep telling my wife that the city is a grid. A graph with specific lines that run east and west and north and south. Once you lay the grid over the valley, you can see that it is interrupted by mountains. And there are certain exceptions to the rules of street names. Therein lies the challenge.
Normally, streets that run North and South have numbers: 23rd Street, 23 Avenue, 23Road, Lane, Drive, Circle...So it can be a bit confusing. Streets that run East and West have names...Bell Road, Greenway Road, Thunderbird Road, etc. There are also the exceptions to those streets and roads that were here before the grid and that run diagonally through the valley: Cave Creek Road, Grand, Tatum Boulevard, Scottsdale Road. Then there are the highways that loop around the outside of the cities: the Loop 101 which was the first loop and goes around the center; the Loop 202 which goes around the East Valley; and the soon to be Loop 303 which will go around the West side of the Valley. Those cause other problems...
The other day, we were traveling around the valley viewing the sites (which we do about two times a week) and my wife was trying to get her bearings. She asked if we were on Cactus Road and I replied that we were. A couple blocks later, we did not make a turn and we were on Thunderbird Road. She asked, "When did we turn?" I told her we had not, and she became confused. It seems that at Cave Creek Road, Cactus and Thunderbird move over a mile to go around a mountain, but there is no warning, other than a little green sign at the intersection. The GRID CHANGED WITHOUT NOTICE! A little while later, we caught up with Cactus again...Now she is totally confused.
She has often said that the main reason we moved out here is so I could send her to the store and she would get lost and wander aimlessly. I keep telling her there is no chance of that. What I have not told her, though, is that to get home she has to turn on 23rd Avenue because it becomes our street without any turns.
Maybe later,I will send her out for a Subway sandwich on 19th Avenue and Greenway Road... or is that Greenway Parkway?
Doughnut
Driving places in Phoenix is easy, except if you are directionally challenged. I keep telling my wife that the city is a grid. A graph with specific lines that run east and west and north and south. Once you lay the grid over the valley, you can see that it is interrupted by mountains. And there are certain exceptions to the rules of street names. Therein lies the challenge.
Normally, streets that run North and South have numbers: 23rd Street, 23 Avenue, 23Road, Lane, Drive, Circle...So it can be a bit confusing. Streets that run East and West have names...Bell Road, Greenway Road, Thunderbird Road, etc. There are also the exceptions to those streets and roads that were here before the grid and that run diagonally through the valley: Cave Creek Road, Grand, Tatum Boulevard, Scottsdale Road. Then there are the highways that loop around the outside of the cities: the Loop 101 which was the first loop and goes around the center; the Loop 202 which goes around the East Valley; and the soon to be Loop 303 which will go around the West side of the Valley. Those cause other problems...
The other day, we were traveling around the valley viewing the sites (which we do about two times a week) and my wife was trying to get her bearings. She asked if we were on Cactus Road and I replied that we were. A couple blocks later, we did not make a turn and we were on Thunderbird Road. She asked, "When did we turn?" I told her we had not, and she became confused. It seems that at Cave Creek Road, Cactus and Thunderbird move over a mile to go around a mountain, but there is no warning, other than a little green sign at the intersection. The GRID CHANGED WITHOUT NOTICE! A little while later, we caught up with Cactus again...Now she is totally confused.
She has often said that the main reason we moved out here is so I could send her to the store and she would get lost and wander aimlessly. I keep telling her there is no chance of that. What I have not told her, though, is that to get home she has to turn on 23rd Avenue because it becomes our street without any turns.
Maybe later,I will send her out for a Subway sandwich on 19th Avenue and Greenway Road... or is that Greenway Parkway?
Doughnut
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Life is Good
My parents were both born in 1911, before airplanes, before computers, before dial telephones. When they died (Dad in 1968, Mom in 1986), they had seen a number technological advancements. Their world changed rapidly, and they were able to keep up as best they could. But today’s world is changing so fast that keeping up could be a full time job in itself.
Take for instance, television. Back in June, all the television stations were forced to go digital by the government. Nothing was wrong with the old analog signals, but the feds thought that we all needed clearer pictures. “Back in the day” we had one TV in the house, and a rotor on our antenna that turned to capture the signal of one of the three stations we received on the dial. The pictures were black and white, lacked some contrast, but they sufficed. Now, it seems, I have to be able to see an athletic contest in a picture so crisp it “is like I am there.” Heck, I can even pause the game, or record it and watch it later. I wonder, if I tried to hit pause when my wife is talking to me, could I get what she says later?
Computers go out of date faster than they are produced, cell phones are antiques before I dial my first number, and cars are outdated before I get them paid for. (Not really on the car, I usually keep a car only about two years.) When will technology slow down and allow us to take a breath?
My dad loved beer. He would have at least one a day. Sometimes, he would save up and have a lot of them at once. I wonder what he would say about the newest beer technology, the refrigerator keg? This baby from Miller keeps beer cold in the frig in a mini keg and carbonated for thirty days! What a technological marvel. Now I can have tap beer in my house, or at a party. That, my friends, is an advancement. As a civilization have now made great strides in entertaining. No more going to the liquor store, buying a full keg, a tapper, and some ice. Now we can get this little darling home under our arm, and put it to good use the moment we get there with the handy dandy tapper it comes with!
Now, if I could figure out to get a technological advancement that would allow the Cubs to win a World Series.
Life is good!
Doughnut.
Take for instance, television. Back in June, all the television stations were forced to go digital by the government. Nothing was wrong with the old analog signals, but the feds thought that we all needed clearer pictures. “Back in the day” we had one TV in the house, and a rotor on our antenna that turned to capture the signal of one of the three stations we received on the dial. The pictures were black and white, lacked some contrast, but they sufficed. Now, it seems, I have to be able to see an athletic contest in a picture so crisp it “is like I am there.” Heck, I can even pause the game, or record it and watch it later. I wonder, if I tried to hit pause when my wife is talking to me, could I get what she says later?
Computers go out of date faster than they are produced, cell phones are antiques before I dial my first number, and cars are outdated before I get them paid for. (Not really on the car, I usually keep a car only about two years.) When will technology slow down and allow us to take a breath?
My dad loved beer. He would have at least one a day. Sometimes, he would save up and have a lot of them at once. I wonder what he would say about the newest beer technology, the refrigerator keg? This baby from Miller keeps beer cold in the frig in a mini keg and carbonated for thirty days! What a technological marvel. Now I can have tap beer in my house, or at a party. That, my friends, is an advancement. As a civilization have now made great strides in entertaining. No more going to the liquor store, buying a full keg, a tapper, and some ice. Now we can get this little darling home under our arm, and put it to good use the moment we get there with the handy dandy tapper it comes with!
Now, if I could figure out to get a technological advancement that would allow the Cubs to win a World Series.
Life is good!
Doughnut.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Late For Appointment? You Could Pay For It!
After working on the houses the past week, I now know why Jesus was a carpenter, Michaelango was a painter and Beethoven a musician. All these people had a great deal of time spent in solitude where they heard nothing but the sound of their own voice. Especially Beethoven.
My inner self and I discussed many different topics over the course of the repairs, painting, electrifying and pounding. There were two that kept rising to the surface as I took time to go to therapy. (Physical, although I could probably use the mental and emotional cleansing.) One was the younger generation and its OCD on themselves, the other was the idea that professionals seem to think they should charge me if I do not show up or am late for an appointment.
It is the latter which we will pick on today.
The irking idea that doctors, therapists, lawyers, plumbers, and many other professionals now have signs that say they "...could charge you if you do not cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance" is one that all of us should rise up against and protest!
What these people are saying is, "My time is more important than yours." I have seen signs in doctor's offices that say, "If you have been waiting 20 minutes past your appointment, please notify the desk." Twenty minutes PAST my appointment? If that is the case, why did I make an appointment? Or, my favorite, a assistant calls your name and takes you into an exam room, sits you down without any of their three month old magazines, or a clock and proceeds to tell you to disrobe, and "The doctor will be with you shortly." So, you wait, sans clothes, in a gown that is open at the back, for an indeterminate amount of time, for this god-like creature to open the door and come see you for 5-7 minutes.
I understand that emergencies come up. But, surely someone could come tell me, instead of leaving me there with my Shields hanging out of the gown. If the doctor was not going to see me at my appointed time, why require me to make an appointment at all? A little civility goes a long way. How many times have you sat in that room, looked at all the posters of the human body and wondered where your pain is at and tried to diagnose yourself?
Me pay for not showing up on time or at all? They should be paying me, then, if they are late. I saw an ad the other day on the television for a plumber that promised to be on time, or the call is free. Now, there is a concept. Why do I have to stay at home and be there between 12-4? Why can't the people tell me they will be there at 2? If they are going to be late, call. I love the plumber's idea. I applaud it! Imagine what would happen to the medical industry if it would make the same promise. "We will see you on time, or your treatment is free!" Talk about a medical miracle!
Ever called the Cable TV guy? They will usually give you a four hour window instead of a certain time...what a concept...being on time. These companies overwork their people, when they could be putting on more help and spurring the economy. They expect me to pay my bill on time. What would happen if I sent them a notice that said, "The bill for these services will be paid sometime within the next four months, and the owner of the company must be present to sign for it when the bill gets there."
From now on, when you go to the doctor, hand the receptionist a card that says, "The doctor will see me on time, or I may not pay for this visit."
To make our time worth something, we must stand up and make it worth something. If you want to comment on this article, I could read your comment between Monday and Friday...
Doughnut.
My inner self and I discussed many different topics over the course of the repairs, painting, electrifying and pounding. There were two that kept rising to the surface as I took time to go to therapy. (Physical, although I could probably use the mental and emotional cleansing.) One was the younger generation and its OCD on themselves, the other was the idea that professionals seem to think they should charge me if I do not show up or am late for an appointment.
It is the latter which we will pick on today.
The irking idea that doctors, therapists, lawyers, plumbers, and many other professionals now have signs that say they "...could charge you if you do not cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance" is one that all of us should rise up against and protest!
What these people are saying is, "My time is more important than yours." I have seen signs in doctor's offices that say, "If you have been waiting 20 minutes past your appointment, please notify the desk." Twenty minutes PAST my appointment? If that is the case, why did I make an appointment? Or, my favorite, a assistant calls your name and takes you into an exam room, sits you down without any of their three month old magazines, or a clock and proceeds to tell you to disrobe, and "The doctor will be with you shortly." So, you wait, sans clothes, in a gown that is open at the back, for an indeterminate amount of time, for this god-like creature to open the door and come see you for 5-7 minutes.
I understand that emergencies come up. But, surely someone could come tell me, instead of leaving me there with my Shields hanging out of the gown. If the doctor was not going to see me at my appointed time, why require me to make an appointment at all? A little civility goes a long way. How many times have you sat in that room, looked at all the posters of the human body and wondered where your pain is at and tried to diagnose yourself?
Me pay for not showing up on time or at all? They should be paying me, then, if they are late. I saw an ad the other day on the television for a plumber that promised to be on time, or the call is free. Now, there is a concept. Why do I have to stay at home and be there between 12-4? Why can't the people tell me they will be there at 2? If they are going to be late, call. I love the plumber's idea. I applaud it! Imagine what would happen to the medical industry if it would make the same promise. "We will see you on time, or your treatment is free!" Talk about a medical miracle!
Ever called the Cable TV guy? They will usually give you a four hour window instead of a certain time...what a concept...being on time. These companies overwork their people, when they could be putting on more help and spurring the economy. They expect me to pay my bill on time. What would happen if I sent them a notice that said, "The bill for these services will be paid sometime within the next four months, and the owner of the company must be present to sign for it when the bill gets there."
From now on, when you go to the doctor, hand the receptionist a card that says, "The doctor will see me on time, or I may not pay for this visit."
To make our time worth something, we must stand up and make it worth something. If you want to comment on this article, I could read your comment between Monday and Friday...
Doughnut.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Independence Weekend
What a week! Have you ever had one of those weeks where your backside catches up to your frontside, and you feel totally drained because you can't seem to ever get ahead? This was one of those weeks.
This past week I have been cleaning, painting, and repairing my daughter's new house. Now "new" is a relative term. It is new to her, but it is about 10 years older than she is. So, this lovley piece of ranch-style architecture was in need of some sprucing up. My wife, her sister, my friend Stan, and I worked to get this house in order. Notice that my daughter's name did not necessarily appear here. That is ok, though. She has supplied funds, food, and encouragement. She has been working her tail off at her job so she can pay for this "fun" we have been having. Truth be told, I really enjoyed myself and no matter how tired I got, I think she bought the house so, (1) She could get out of mine and have a life. (2) I would have something to do that would get me off the couch and away from Facebook for a while. The whole experience would have been less painful if I had just not had knee surgery, was prone to wear out easily. But, a good time was had by all and discovered that I still had some home repairs that I thought I had lost.
I am baffled, however, by mitreing. I was never any good at geometry, thanks to the pretty blond that sat next to me in that class in high school. So the idea of splitting a 90 degree angle into two parts and then have it join together again to look seamless using two pieces of wood taxes my 8th grade shop skills. Now, if all I had to do was make ashtrays out of plastic, no problem. The best thing that happened was when I dicovered that you can get mitred corners at Lowe's that look like fancy trim. WOO HOO.... my life is suddenly simpler. And this stuff called caulk, priceless.
So, Saturday is independence day for my kids, and my wife and I. With the help of our good friend Steve and his company truck, we will be childless by Sunday evening.
Then I can start work on my own house...I thought I retired?
Doughnut
This past week I have been cleaning, painting, and repairing my daughter's new house. Now "new" is a relative term. It is new to her, but it is about 10 years older than she is. So, this lovley piece of ranch-style architecture was in need of some sprucing up. My wife, her sister, my friend Stan, and I worked to get this house in order. Notice that my daughter's name did not necessarily appear here. That is ok, though. She has supplied funds, food, and encouragement. She has been working her tail off at her job so she can pay for this "fun" we have been having. Truth be told, I really enjoyed myself and no matter how tired I got, I think she bought the house so, (1) She could get out of mine and have a life. (2) I would have something to do that would get me off the couch and away from Facebook for a while. The whole experience would have been less painful if I had just not had knee surgery, was prone to wear out easily. But, a good time was had by all and discovered that I still had some home repairs that I thought I had lost.
I am baffled, however, by mitreing. I was never any good at geometry, thanks to the pretty blond that sat next to me in that class in high school. So the idea of splitting a 90 degree angle into two parts and then have it join together again to look seamless using two pieces of wood taxes my 8th grade shop skills. Now, if all I had to do was make ashtrays out of plastic, no problem. The best thing that happened was when I dicovered that you can get mitred corners at Lowe's that look like fancy trim. WOO HOO.... my life is suddenly simpler. And this stuff called caulk, priceless.
So, Saturday is independence day for my kids, and my wife and I. With the help of our good friend Steve and his company truck, we will be childless by Sunday evening.
Then I can start work on my own house...I thought I retired?
Doughnut
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Sedentary Man
Being stiff is not new to me. I mean, I get stiff sometimes just watching movies that have a lot of action. STOP! Get your mind out of the gutter.
My age is beginning to show. All I have to do these days to find my self board like is to work in the yard for a few minutes. If I spend time doing any kind of physical activity, then rest, I have trouble getting restarted. My doctor tells me it is arthritis. There is nothing right about it, though.
When I was younger, let's say twenty-five years younger, I could go up and down the court fine with no problems the next day. I even ran two miles a night. Stiffness never occurred the next day. I was in shape; not the body that men craved and women feared, but a slimmer version of the one that plops down in front of the TV each night now. What happened?
Kids.
That's right, my downfall was children. My wife lost all her pregnancy weight and then some and is a beautiful woman. While she dropped all that weight, I went behind her and picked it up. While she was pregnant, I gained sympathy weight, too, but I never lost mine. Suddenly, when the kids ate, I ate. When the TV was on in the evening, I ate. I ate instead of jogged, I ate instead of played... you get the picture. I became sedentary, the typical American. I watched the kids play and ate a sack of fries instead of playing games myself. They loved potato chips, I did too, and I ate a whole bag at a sitting. The body that men craved and women feared suddenly did not have a six pack, but rather developed a keg. I went from Hands Solo to Jabba the Hut.
As I sat around more, my muscles became shorter, and so did I. My kids suddenly were taller than me. Soon, when they move out of my house and take their dog, I will have no one to blame. They won't buy those sugary soft drinks that I can't resist, those mounds of Oreos that I cannot keep my hands off. I will have no excuse for not exercising, for not eating right.
My brother recently lost about forty pounds, about a three year old. I applaud him. I wish I had his drive, his fortitude. But me, I love a good bag of Doritos and Tombstone Pizza.
That will be my epitaph.
My age is beginning to show. All I have to do these days to find my self board like is to work in the yard for a few minutes. If I spend time doing any kind of physical activity, then rest, I have trouble getting restarted. My doctor tells me it is arthritis. There is nothing right about it, though.
When I was younger, let's say twenty-five years younger, I could go up and down the court fine with no problems the next day. I even ran two miles a night. Stiffness never occurred the next day. I was in shape; not the body that men craved and women feared, but a slimmer version of the one that plops down in front of the TV each night now. What happened?
Kids.
That's right, my downfall was children. My wife lost all her pregnancy weight and then some and is a beautiful woman. While she dropped all that weight, I went behind her and picked it up. While she was pregnant, I gained sympathy weight, too, but I never lost mine. Suddenly, when the kids ate, I ate. When the TV was on in the evening, I ate. I ate instead of jogged, I ate instead of played... you get the picture. I became sedentary, the typical American. I watched the kids play and ate a sack of fries instead of playing games myself. They loved potato chips, I did too, and I ate a whole bag at a sitting. The body that men craved and women feared suddenly did not have a six pack, but rather developed a keg. I went from Hands Solo to Jabba the Hut.
As I sat around more, my muscles became shorter, and so did I. My kids suddenly were taller than me. Soon, when they move out of my house and take their dog, I will have no one to blame. They won't buy those sugary soft drinks that I can't resist, those mounds of Oreos that I cannot keep my hands off. I will have no excuse for not exercising, for not eating right.
My brother recently lost about forty pounds, about a three year old. I applaud him. I wish I had his drive, his fortitude. But me, I love a good bag of Doritos and Tombstone Pizza.
That will be my epitaph.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Handy man Daddy to the rescue!
It has been a couple days since I sat down at the computer to write. I have not been slouching, though, but rather helping my daughter with her new nest.
It is time for the birds to fly the coop. My children are moving out of my house next week and we have been cleaning and repairing the new abode to help speed the process. I love both of my children. They are probably my best friends here in AZ. Both they and we have been looking forward to the day, though, when they move out.
If you bring your kids up right, there should come a time when you can let them go, knowing that they will return for more than just money. My kids will be close by. Not close enough that we have to lock the doors, but we will have to set some ground rules for them to come over and for us to visit them. For one, they should call before dropping by, and we should do likewise. They might be embarassed if they drop in unannounced, and we might find their house dirty or not picked up (heaven forbid!)
I tell you this to warn you that the next few days may be a little erratic in the posting department. But hang with me while I put in toilets, paint, repair electrical outlets, wash floors, and just generally get to be Handyman Daddy!
Hopefully, when all is done and they are moved in. I can start my projects here at our house with all my appendages!
Doughnut
It is time for the birds to fly the coop. My children are moving out of my house next week and we have been cleaning and repairing the new abode to help speed the process. I love both of my children. They are probably my best friends here in AZ. Both they and we have been looking forward to the day, though, when they move out.
If you bring your kids up right, there should come a time when you can let them go, knowing that they will return for more than just money. My kids will be close by. Not close enough that we have to lock the doors, but we will have to set some ground rules for them to come over and for us to visit them. For one, they should call before dropping by, and we should do likewise. They might be embarassed if they drop in unannounced, and we might find their house dirty or not picked up (heaven forbid!)
I tell you this to warn you that the next few days may be a little erratic in the posting department. But hang with me while I put in toilets, paint, repair electrical outlets, wash floors, and just generally get to be Handyman Daddy!
Hopefully, when all is done and they are moved in. I can start my projects here at our house with all my appendages!
Doughnut
Friday, July 10, 2009
Got up early today...4:15AM. The sun was not up yet. Why did I get up so early? To take the fruit of my loins to the airport so he could catch a plane to Peoria, IL. He was then going to drive the 2.5 hours to Paxton to attend the wedding of his friend and my pseudo son, Ryan Carlson.
It is Ryan's wedding that is spurring this episode.
It is tough for me to remember the day I was married. Really, it is tough to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. But none the less, Ryan's marriage has made me think about my 35 years of wedded bliss.
I don't know how I found a beautiful woman in the first place. Back in 1973, this young, beautiful brunette with hair so long she could sit on it, caught my eye one day as I was on the Eureka College campus visiting. Visiting? YEs, I had quit and was contemplating a return engagement. When I saw her, I knew that I needed a college education! So I told her and her boyfriend at the time, that I was returning, and if he did not treat her right, she would be mine in the fall. To make a long story short, I should have written more prophecies that day. When I returned in the fall, we were not only dating, but by November we were engaged! And, we remained so until August of 1975. That is when she really hooked me.
Married life has been quite a ride, and I have enjoyed it. Don't mistake the past tense as the end of the road, though. I realized early on that I had met my soul mate.
Those of you, like Ryan, who are contemplating the big jump into monogamy, I have a few tidbits:
1. She is always right.
2. When she is wrong, she is right.
3. If you even think she is wrong, remember 1 and 2.
4. Never go to bed mad, if it can be avoided. (There are
obvious reasons why for this.)
5. If you do go to bed mad, be the first to wake up so you can fix
breakfast.
6. Include in your vows, "What is yours is yours, what is mine is
yours."
7. When you have kids, remember they all look like her.
8. Pick up your underwear and socks, wash some dishes, learn how to
operate a vacuum.
9. Tell her you love her constantly, even when your buddies are around.
10. This is most important....Learn to Put the Toilet seat DOWN!
Good luck to all you newlyweds out there. Remember, you think it is hot today on your wedding day? You ain't seen nothing yet! If it is raining, there are sunny days ahead.
Ryan, we always have a couch for you.
Dougnut.
It is Ryan's wedding that is spurring this episode.
It is tough for me to remember the day I was married. Really, it is tough to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. But none the less, Ryan's marriage has made me think about my 35 years of wedded bliss.
I don't know how I found a beautiful woman in the first place. Back in 1973, this young, beautiful brunette with hair so long she could sit on it, caught my eye one day as I was on the Eureka College campus visiting. Visiting? YEs, I had quit and was contemplating a return engagement. When I saw her, I knew that I needed a college education! So I told her and her boyfriend at the time, that I was returning, and if he did not treat her right, she would be mine in the fall. To make a long story short, I should have written more prophecies that day. When I returned in the fall, we were not only dating, but by November we were engaged! And, we remained so until August of 1975. That is when she really hooked me.
Married life has been quite a ride, and I have enjoyed it. Don't mistake the past tense as the end of the road, though. I realized early on that I had met my soul mate.
Those of you, like Ryan, who are contemplating the big jump into monogamy, I have a few tidbits:
1. She is always right.
2. When she is wrong, she is right.
3. If you even think she is wrong, remember 1 and 2.
4. Never go to bed mad, if it can be avoided. (There are
obvious reasons why for this.)
5. If you do go to bed mad, be the first to wake up so you can fix
breakfast.
6. Include in your vows, "What is yours is yours, what is mine is
yours."
7. When you have kids, remember they all look like her.
8. Pick up your underwear and socks, wash some dishes, learn how to
operate a vacuum.
9. Tell her you love her constantly, even when your buddies are around.
10. This is most important....Learn to Put the Toilet seat DOWN!
Good luck to all you newlyweds out there. Remember, you think it is hot today on your wedding day? You ain't seen nothing yet! If it is raining, there are sunny days ahead.
Ryan, we always have a couch for you.
Dougnut.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Day Trip of Yesterday
What a day! We road tripped to Sedona and to Jerome, AZ. Took along my good friend, Stan Daro and we laughed all the way.
The Red Rock area of Arizona is some of the most beautiful in America. The area is home to many vortices which resonate with magnet energy. It is home to many places for spirituality and New Age thinking and experiences. You almost want to climb a mountain, fold your legs (If you can.) and contemplate the universe.
The trip brought to mind the travels that Stan and I in 1983 in a Chevette on my first trip to Arizona. Stan is around six feet seven inches tall, so you can imagine how cramped he was in a Chevy Chevette which was like a shoebox on wheels. No air conditioning, only an AM radio back in those days and we traveled across country to visit the Grand Canyon State.
The trip then as now, was filled with laughter, philosophy and great ideas. We talked about everything from visions to visitors, stopped at Starbucks and overate at a Mexican Restaurant in Sedona. Our trip up the mountain to Jerome was beautiful and Stan had more than his share of "Isn't that beautiful?" comments as we looked down on the Valley below. The switchbacks on the road and the tears from the constant laughter made the trip an adventure.
Once in Jerome, we visited the many shops, including one that had been a bordello. Now it is just curios, no women of the night for our curiousity. The temperature up there at six thousand feet was a cool eighty-five, and when we dropped back into the valley, the heat again topped 106 at 5:30.
We had a great day, and seemed as though we had not been apart for a year. That is the way with friends. You never skip a beat. No matter how far apart, you are always joined.
If you have not contacted someone in a while, do it now.
Doughnut
The Red Rock area of Arizona is some of the most beautiful in America. The area is home to many vortices which resonate with magnet energy. It is home to many places for spirituality and New Age thinking and experiences. You almost want to climb a mountain, fold your legs (If you can.) and contemplate the universe.
The trip brought to mind the travels that Stan and I in 1983 in a Chevette on my first trip to Arizona. Stan is around six feet seven inches tall, so you can imagine how cramped he was in a Chevy Chevette which was like a shoebox on wheels. No air conditioning, only an AM radio back in those days and we traveled across country to visit the Grand Canyon State.
The trip then as now, was filled with laughter, philosophy and great ideas. We talked about everything from visions to visitors, stopped at Starbucks and overate at a Mexican Restaurant in Sedona. Our trip up the mountain to Jerome was beautiful and Stan had more than his share of "Isn't that beautiful?" comments as we looked down on the Valley below. The switchbacks on the road and the tears from the constant laughter made the trip an adventure.
Once in Jerome, we visited the many shops, including one that had been a bordello. Now it is just curios, no women of the night for our curiousity. The temperature up there at six thousand feet was a cool eighty-five, and when we dropped back into the valley, the heat again topped 106 at 5:30.
We had a great day, and seemed as though we had not been apart for a year. That is the way with friends. You never skip a beat. No matter how far apart, you are always joined.
If you have not contacted someone in a while, do it now.
Doughnut
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Make Education a Family Experience Again
Education is great. We are told that without it, we can go nowhere in our lives. We have been fed this idea for a long time; now all those warnings seem ready to come to pass. Kind of like the Y2K threat a few years ago.
I taught for 34 years at two different schools. Longevity pays. Older teachers, like me, went into education knowing full well we wouldn’t get rich. We loved learning and helping others learn. Pay was a nice by-product, but we took two jobs so we could pursue a passion we had. Me? I worked at various radio stations, I sold insurance, I did whatever I had to do in the summer to do what I loved. And something is bothering me about education today.
Besides the fact that we have all these neat regulations and teachers are losing their creativity and their educational freedom, there is a growing problem with new teachers and administrators and the new education model. Seems to me that even as my career was winding down, these new folks were changing the face of education from a humanist centered approach where learning and teaching was done in a warm inviting atmosphere, to a cold, uninviting, intimidating, bottom line, show me the numbers, business approach.
These new educators are more worried about scores and money than they are about the people they teach.
New teachers want more money and they take a “you are no better than me” approach their salary. Never mind that they have no experience, are more prone to mistakes, and just don’t understand the ways of the world yet. Still wet behind the ears, they think that their lack of experience should command the same amount of money, if not more, than a veteran teacher who has been in the trenches for twenty or more years. They don’t really care that the people they serve are having trouble meeting house payments, are losing jobs or having to move away. They are worried about what is in it for them. Like their business counterparts, they want to grab the brass ring and have it all without paying dues. But that goes back to when they were in little league or some other activity and were told that they were just as good as someone else, when in reality, in this situation, they are not. There are not many professions where unproven rookies get more than tried and true veterans.
I remember in one negotiations meeting we had, a school board member told me that I was not very bright because I worked on weekends and at night. I told him that I worked those hours because I needed to let my kids know I cared for them. That year we took a freeze in our salary, and the next year, we did, too, because there was little money. But we had jobs! No one was riffed. When the money came around, the board took care of us and rewarded our loyalty. Sometimes you sacrifice. So the new car or the renovations or the trip to the Bahamas are put on hold, big deal. Think of someone else besides the person in the mirror.
Administrators don’t seem to be as personable either. Used to be that after a football game, the entire faculty, staff and school board would get together at someone’s house for pops and conversation. Not now. This new breed are taught by the people in the Ivory Towers that they must build a wall around themselves and keep detached from those they rule. The reality is, when I was teaching, you were friends with your principal and superintendent and you worked to make them proud, not because you were afraid of your job or some test score. Loyalty is rewarded.
Basics are basics. If people are treated right and shown that they are cared about, they will work hard. Business cares only about the bottom line, but educators cannot have that attitude. They are not in an input/output situation with immediate gratification. Students that are mediocre now, may be inspired later because someone cared.
My advice to education is this: Dump the test score idea, dump the business attitude. Get back to basics. Fail someone who doesn’t deserve to pass. Don’t worry about the rest of world’s scores. . Don’t be greedy. Make STUDENTS accountable.
Education used to be a family experience, make it so again.
Doughnut
I taught for 34 years at two different schools. Longevity pays. Older teachers, like me, went into education knowing full well we wouldn’t get rich. We loved learning and helping others learn. Pay was a nice by-product, but we took two jobs so we could pursue a passion we had. Me? I worked at various radio stations, I sold insurance, I did whatever I had to do in the summer to do what I loved. And something is bothering me about education today.
Besides the fact that we have all these neat regulations and teachers are losing their creativity and their educational freedom, there is a growing problem with new teachers and administrators and the new education model. Seems to me that even as my career was winding down, these new folks were changing the face of education from a humanist centered approach where learning and teaching was done in a warm inviting atmosphere, to a cold, uninviting, intimidating, bottom line, show me the numbers, business approach.
These new educators are more worried about scores and money than they are about the people they teach.
New teachers want more money and they take a “you are no better than me” approach their salary. Never mind that they have no experience, are more prone to mistakes, and just don’t understand the ways of the world yet. Still wet behind the ears, they think that their lack of experience should command the same amount of money, if not more, than a veteran teacher who has been in the trenches for twenty or more years. They don’t really care that the people they serve are having trouble meeting house payments, are losing jobs or having to move away. They are worried about what is in it for them. Like their business counterparts, they want to grab the brass ring and have it all without paying dues. But that goes back to when they were in little league or some other activity and were told that they were just as good as someone else, when in reality, in this situation, they are not. There are not many professions where unproven rookies get more than tried and true veterans.
I remember in one negotiations meeting we had, a school board member told me that I was not very bright because I worked on weekends and at night. I told him that I worked those hours because I needed to let my kids know I cared for them. That year we took a freeze in our salary, and the next year, we did, too, because there was little money. But we had jobs! No one was riffed. When the money came around, the board took care of us and rewarded our loyalty. Sometimes you sacrifice. So the new car or the renovations or the trip to the Bahamas are put on hold, big deal. Think of someone else besides the person in the mirror.
Administrators don’t seem to be as personable either. Used to be that after a football game, the entire faculty, staff and school board would get together at someone’s house for pops and conversation. Not now. This new breed are taught by the people in the Ivory Towers that they must build a wall around themselves and keep detached from those they rule. The reality is, when I was teaching, you were friends with your principal and superintendent and you worked to make them proud, not because you were afraid of your job or some test score. Loyalty is rewarded.
Basics are basics. If people are treated right and shown that they are cared about, they will work hard. Business cares only about the bottom line, but educators cannot have that attitude. They are not in an input/output situation with immediate gratification. Students that are mediocre now, may be inspired later because someone cared.
My advice to education is this: Dump the test score idea, dump the business attitude. Get back to basics. Fail someone who doesn’t deserve to pass. Don’t worry about the rest of world’s scores. . Don’t be greedy. Make STUDENTS accountable.
Education used to be a family experience, make it so again.
Doughnut
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Education Rant (Part One)
There would be whining... I promised this in my first blog. So, today, I whine. But, it is not just any whine; it a rant about something that makes me so angry I could scream, but I know that my voice is that of someone whistling in the wind.
Education.
I think I am qualified to speak to this. I mean, I was an educator for 34 years. I served as a teacher/coach/ quasi-administrator. I earned the title quasi for 10 years as I went out of the classroom and into the office without an administrator's certificate. I had no real power, and I sought none. But I was a sounding board,and I did have the opportunity to deal with some great kids that were somewhat troubled and misguided at times. All of the kids with whom I dealt had one thing in common --- someplace along the way they fell through the cracks in the system. We were not helping them. In some places, it was our schools fault, in most cases, it was theirs and their parents, though.
I found, though, that the changes in education are not because of the kids. What? You say...not the kids fault? Where, pray tell is there fault?
We as Americans have been led to believe that our Jeffersonian education system is not very good. People from the right tell us this, people from the left tell us this. Like I said the other day, we are trying to solve the problems of society and many other things through our education system. Public education is a must, but must all students have an education? Must it be the same education? Aren't we trying, in some cases, to put round pegs into square holes? And when they don't fit, we pound the corners off until they do!
Some place along the line, somebody told us that we were not educating our children like other countries. That these foreign students were "Scoring higher" on testing. So testing became the new god of education. And everyone is trying to make sure that the new god gets its sacrifices. Let's understand something... unlike other countries, in AMERICA we test EVERYBODY, and thanks to George Bush and others and NCLB, we now lump those that have special needs in with our brainiacs and then report the averaged results to the people. This is obviously going to pull down our scores. So, the so-called experts, the people in the ivory towers, who usually have not set foot in a classroom or have only been there for a few years, begin to try and change things.
My theory is this...If you are patient and want to bring down a nation without firing a shot, invade its education system and lower the IQ of the populace. Make them so they cannot think, but rather are stumped when they run into a problem. This will make them dependent on people who have "expertise". You change the social system by increasing the gap intellectually between the haves and the have nots.
Stop and think. When we were growing up, we went to school and did the basics. We learned the times tables, we learned how to take a sentence apart and put it back together again. We learned civics and history until they came out our ears. Those that were not necessarily interested in those things went to shop classes and learned trades. Now, ask a kid what 11 x 12 is and they pull out a calculator. Ask them how to parse a sentence, or even what the parts of speech are, and they give you that blank look, like one of their computers has locked up. American education is terrible because it has tried to build the house and then add the foundation.
There is a movement out there to take all creativity out of teaching and all learning out of education. It promotes that all students need to learn the exact same things. Some people call it curriculum mapping. This movement teaches towards the test no matter what school officials say. If it is not on the map, teachers cannot teach it. Ooops, there goes handwriting; Sorry, Suzy, but your question is not in today's lesson, we cannot take time on it. Teachers will be told they must all be on the same page on the same day, so all the students have the same information; it doesn't matter if they all do not understand it. Teachers must conform.
I know there are those out there that do not agree with me. But, I ask you, What were you taught and how were you taught it? Did you love to go to school? Why? Who were your favorite teachers and why? And finally, if you have a kid that does not like school, ask them why. They will tell you it is boring and they don't learn anything. Because teachers are prohibited from making it interesting. They cannot take advantage of that "teaching moment."
E Pluribus Unum... If you had Mrs. Jones or Mr. Rundquist in Latin Class, you can translate that!
More tomorrow
Doughnut.
Education.
I think I am qualified to speak to this. I mean, I was an educator for 34 years. I served as a teacher/coach/ quasi-administrator. I earned the title quasi for 10 years as I went out of the classroom and into the office without an administrator's certificate. I had no real power, and I sought none. But I was a sounding board,and I did have the opportunity to deal with some great kids that were somewhat troubled and misguided at times. All of the kids with whom I dealt had one thing in common --- someplace along the way they fell through the cracks in the system. We were not helping them. In some places, it was our schools fault, in most cases, it was theirs and their parents, though.
I found, though, that the changes in education are not because of the kids. What? You say...not the kids fault? Where, pray tell is there fault?
We as Americans have been led to believe that our Jeffersonian education system is not very good. People from the right tell us this, people from the left tell us this. Like I said the other day, we are trying to solve the problems of society and many other things through our education system. Public education is a must, but must all students have an education? Must it be the same education? Aren't we trying, in some cases, to put round pegs into square holes? And when they don't fit, we pound the corners off until they do!
Some place along the line, somebody told us that we were not educating our children like other countries. That these foreign students were "Scoring higher" on testing. So testing became the new god of education. And everyone is trying to make sure that the new god gets its sacrifices. Let's understand something... unlike other countries, in AMERICA we test EVERYBODY, and thanks to George Bush and others and NCLB, we now lump those that have special needs in with our brainiacs and then report the averaged results to the people. This is obviously going to pull down our scores. So, the so-called experts, the people in the ivory towers, who usually have not set foot in a classroom or have only been there for a few years, begin to try and change things.
My theory is this...If you are patient and want to bring down a nation without firing a shot, invade its education system and lower the IQ of the populace. Make them so they cannot think, but rather are stumped when they run into a problem. This will make them dependent on people who have "expertise". You change the social system by increasing the gap intellectually between the haves and the have nots.
Stop and think. When we were growing up, we went to school and did the basics. We learned the times tables, we learned how to take a sentence apart and put it back together again. We learned civics and history until they came out our ears. Those that were not necessarily interested in those things went to shop classes and learned trades. Now, ask a kid what 11 x 12 is and they pull out a calculator. Ask them how to parse a sentence, or even what the parts of speech are, and they give you that blank look, like one of their computers has locked up. American education is terrible because it has tried to build the house and then add the foundation.
There is a movement out there to take all creativity out of teaching and all learning out of education. It promotes that all students need to learn the exact same things. Some people call it curriculum mapping. This movement teaches towards the test no matter what school officials say. If it is not on the map, teachers cannot teach it. Ooops, there goes handwriting; Sorry, Suzy, but your question is not in today's lesson, we cannot take time on it. Teachers will be told they must all be on the same page on the same day, so all the students have the same information; it doesn't matter if they all do not understand it. Teachers must conform.
I know there are those out there that do not agree with me. But, I ask you, What were you taught and how were you taught it? Did you love to go to school? Why? Who were your favorite teachers and why? And finally, if you have a kid that does not like school, ask them why. They will tell you it is boring and they don't learn anything. Because teachers are prohibited from making it interesting. They cannot take advantage of that "teaching moment."
E Pluribus Unum... If you had Mrs. Jones or Mr. Rundquist in Latin Class, you can translate that!
More tomorrow
Doughnut.
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Days of Yesteryear
I went early this morning to my physical therapy session following surgery. Nothing really exciting happened, I was just tortured for about an hour, electrocuted for another 20 minutes and then put on ice for twenty. The normal routine that most knee patients go through.
While I was on the bike, though, an ad on television caught my eye. It was an ad for Nestle's drink for kids called, "Juicy Juice for Brain Development". Seems that Nestles is on this kick to convince parents that their juicey juice will make the brains of infants grow faster and the kids smarter. What happened to play time? What happened to pretend?
I have to say that I long for the good old days when kids were allowed to be kids. That a backyard and a neighborhood were where kids grew and parents pretty much left us alone. Summer play time started when we got up and we came home when the street lights came on. We "checked in" occasionally during the day, but for the most part we were left to our own designs to entertain ourselves.
Neighborhood baseball games, football, basketball games were the norm. No adults to bother us or make the rules. We made them up. Out of bounds was the telephone pole, or a homerun was over the highest electrical wire. If we did not have enough for a baseball game, we altered the rules to pitchers hands out or auto matic out in right field for right handed batters and left field for lefties. Two hands below the waist or two hands anywhere and no rushing until you count five in football. We argued and we learned the art of negotiation. We got the hell kicked out of us sometimes. A neighbor's hose was our water fountain, and we knew which neighbors wanted no part of us, and we left them alone.
We read books on rainy days. Any book. Our comics were worn out, dog eared, as were our copies of Mark Twain and the Hardy Boys. We talked, we rode bikes all over, we laughed. Our brains were elevated by plain old water, or Coca Cola or Pepsi, not by some drink that labled itself as brain developer. So what if a parent gives the kid this stuff and then does not let him or her think for themselves. That is trouble with kids these days. They have to be entertained constantly. They have to be led, they are not creative enough to create games and rules. More importantly parents won't let them.
What if poor Tommy or Sissy gets dirty? What if they make a mistake? Everyone that participates HAS to get a trophy! Kids are not taught that they grow through failure. They have to feel good about themselves 24-7-365...That is why kids do not know respect, and they do not do well in school. They are not allowed to fail. There is nothing to work for.
Hold on, my brain is not developing.... I need some "adult brain devloper". I thik I will go talk to my cousin Jack and his friend the Captain.
More tomorrow on my philosophy of education.
Doughnut
While I was on the bike, though, an ad on television caught my eye. It was an ad for Nestle's drink for kids called, "Juicy Juice for Brain Development". Seems that Nestles is on this kick to convince parents that their juicey juice will make the brains of infants grow faster and the kids smarter. What happened to play time? What happened to pretend?
I have to say that I long for the good old days when kids were allowed to be kids. That a backyard and a neighborhood were where kids grew and parents pretty much left us alone. Summer play time started when we got up and we came home when the street lights came on. We "checked in" occasionally during the day, but for the most part we were left to our own designs to entertain ourselves.
Neighborhood baseball games, football, basketball games were the norm. No adults to bother us or make the rules. We made them up. Out of bounds was the telephone pole, or a homerun was over the highest electrical wire. If we did not have enough for a baseball game, we altered the rules to pitchers hands out or auto matic out in right field for right handed batters and left field for lefties. Two hands below the waist or two hands anywhere and no rushing until you count five in football. We argued and we learned the art of negotiation. We got the hell kicked out of us sometimes. A neighbor's hose was our water fountain, and we knew which neighbors wanted no part of us, and we left them alone.
We read books on rainy days. Any book. Our comics were worn out, dog eared, as were our copies of Mark Twain and the Hardy Boys. We talked, we rode bikes all over, we laughed. Our brains were elevated by plain old water, or Coca Cola or Pepsi, not by some drink that labled itself as brain developer. So what if a parent gives the kid this stuff and then does not let him or her think for themselves. That is trouble with kids these days. They have to be entertained constantly. They have to be led, they are not creative enough to create games and rules. More importantly parents won't let them.
What if poor Tommy or Sissy gets dirty? What if they make a mistake? Everyone that participates HAS to get a trophy! Kids are not taught that they grow through failure. They have to feel good about themselves 24-7-365...That is why kids do not know respect, and they do not do well in school. They are not allowed to fail. There is nothing to work for.
Hold on, my brain is not developing.... I need some "adult brain devloper". I thik I will go talk to my cousin Jack and his friend the Captain.
More tomorrow on my philosophy of education.
Doughnut
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Aftermath
Robert Frost, in his poem, MENDING WALL wrote, "Good fences make good neighbors."
Good Sunday Morning! I hope that all of your Fourth of July celebrations were excellent, and that you gained an extra ounce of patriotism yesterday, along with a couple of pounds from eating burgers and dogs, and drinking your favorite beverage.
Fireworks are fun to watch, but I wonder why we utilize such a device that is used in war to distract the enemy or to light up the battlefield to celebrate? We fire dynamite into the sky, explode it, and watch the colors and feel the sensation of the explosion. We seem to be looking for the thrill of war without the actual involvement. Who doesn't feel a leap in their heart when an explosion occurs and the beautiful colors and shapes amaze and astound us as we say, "OOOOOOO" almost as a reflex? Ironically, many of the people firing off the fireworks, probably have a distaste for the Chinese people.
My neighbor, just behind my wall, shot off some pretty big fireworks last night. We live in the middle of town, mind you, and there is an ordinance and a few state laws against such displays. The fireworks were loud, close to my house,and they scared my dog. I was a little peeved, especially when I went to close the gate to my sideyard, and a bottle rocket fell from the sky and landed in front of me. Luckily, it was the one that just exploded, before it fell, not one that might have gone astray and exploded in my yard. I picked up the empty and put it on the wall. And told him that I was going to get my garden hose ready, just in case. Secretly, I hoped he did hit my house so I could own his, too.
But, my neighbor did not burn my house down, and my dog is gradually coming out from under the bed. By next year, he will be chasing his blunt tail again. (My dog, not my neighbor....)
Doughnut
Good Sunday Morning! I hope that all of your Fourth of July celebrations were excellent, and that you gained an extra ounce of patriotism yesterday, along with a couple of pounds from eating burgers and dogs, and drinking your favorite beverage.
Fireworks are fun to watch, but I wonder why we utilize such a device that is used in war to distract the enemy or to light up the battlefield to celebrate? We fire dynamite into the sky, explode it, and watch the colors and feel the sensation of the explosion. We seem to be looking for the thrill of war without the actual involvement. Who doesn't feel a leap in their heart when an explosion occurs and the beautiful colors and shapes amaze and astound us as we say, "OOOOOOO" almost as a reflex? Ironically, many of the people firing off the fireworks, probably have a distaste for the Chinese people.
My neighbor, just behind my wall, shot off some pretty big fireworks last night. We live in the middle of town, mind you, and there is an ordinance and a few state laws against such displays. The fireworks were loud, close to my house,and they scared my dog. I was a little peeved, especially when I went to close the gate to my sideyard, and a bottle rocket fell from the sky and landed in front of me. Luckily, it was the one that just exploded, before it fell, not one that might have gone astray and exploded in my yard. I picked up the empty and put it on the wall. And told him that I was going to get my garden hose ready, just in case. Secretly, I hoped he did hit my house so I could own his, too.
But, my neighbor did not burn my house down, and my dog is gradually coming out from under the bed. By next year, he will be chasing his blunt tail again. (My dog, not my neighbor....)
Doughnut
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Liberation Day
Today is the Fourth of July! Later, I will be filling my pie hole with all sorts of All-American goodies, and then we are going to find some fireworks somewhere in the Valley of the Sun. But First, I have to tell you about my trip to Bed, Bath, and Beyond yesterday.
Now, I consider myself somewhat manly. I don’t go to strip clubs, bars or ride a horse, but I still know my way around tools and cars. Wait, I do go to strip clubs. They involve paint, though, not women taking off their clothes. Lowe’s, Home Depot, my local Ace Hardware to talk with the helpful hardware man. I love power tools, construction things, and thinking about renovation. Notice, I said thinking. I don’t do much of it, at least not that which involves knocking out walls or driving dump loaders. I just about do anything else, though. A man that can’t handle tools, just isn’t a man.
So you can see how my self image is somewhat embarrassed to go into a store that sells stuff for bedrooms and bathrooms and whatever else they sell. All I really need in a bathroom is a good high volume, increased height, flush toilet, a rack for some papers, and the soft, cushy, toilet paper. None of that single ply stuff for me. In the bedroom, a bed that I don’t have to crawl out of, about 10 pillows, and a radio to lull me to sleep at night.. This store, though, has all sorts of stuff that you might need. Bedspreads, sheets, pillowcases, little storage thingies for the brush after you clean up the toilet, smelly things to cover odors, brooms, mops, grill tools, you name it, it is there. It also has an aisle for “As Seen On TV” stuff! I didn’t realize they had a Billy Mays Memorial Aisle!
I swallowed my manliness and had a great time hawking products. I even bought a Shark and the companion hand held Shark, two Point and Paints, a new product that cleans the inside of my windshield easier and without any mess or fuss. I fingered the Ka-Boom, but passed. And my wife drew the line at a ShamWOW, even though I told her that it would help clean up all my spills around the house. She reluctantly let me buy all those things with her slate of twenty-percent off discount coupons, and she struggled to get me out of my new found play place. Did you know that you can buy the Magic Bullet there? Need a combination TV Tray, laptop computer table? It’s there.
And I never saw so items for bathrooms all lined up in nice, neat little rows! I now know why women are so attracted to Bed, Bath and Beyond.
I feel liberated!
Happy Fourth.
Doughnut
Now, I consider myself somewhat manly. I don’t go to strip clubs, bars or ride a horse, but I still know my way around tools and cars. Wait, I do go to strip clubs. They involve paint, though, not women taking off their clothes. Lowe’s, Home Depot, my local Ace Hardware to talk with the helpful hardware man. I love power tools, construction things, and thinking about renovation. Notice, I said thinking. I don’t do much of it, at least not that which involves knocking out walls or driving dump loaders. I just about do anything else, though. A man that can’t handle tools, just isn’t a man.
So you can see how my self image is somewhat embarrassed to go into a store that sells stuff for bedrooms and bathrooms and whatever else they sell. All I really need in a bathroom is a good high volume, increased height, flush toilet, a rack for some papers, and the soft, cushy, toilet paper. None of that single ply stuff for me. In the bedroom, a bed that I don’t have to crawl out of, about 10 pillows, and a radio to lull me to sleep at night.. This store, though, has all sorts of stuff that you might need. Bedspreads, sheets, pillowcases, little storage thingies for the brush after you clean up the toilet, smelly things to cover odors, brooms, mops, grill tools, you name it, it is there. It also has an aisle for “As Seen On TV” stuff! I didn’t realize they had a Billy Mays Memorial Aisle!
I swallowed my manliness and had a great time hawking products. I even bought a Shark and the companion hand held Shark, two Point and Paints, a new product that cleans the inside of my windshield easier and without any mess or fuss. I fingered the Ka-Boom, but passed. And my wife drew the line at a ShamWOW, even though I told her that it would help clean up all my spills around the house. She reluctantly let me buy all those things with her slate of twenty-percent off discount coupons, and she struggled to get me out of my new found play place. Did you know that you can buy the Magic Bullet there? Need a combination TV Tray, laptop computer table? It’s there.
And I never saw so items for bathrooms all lined up in nice, neat little rows! I now know why women are so attracted to Bed, Bath and Beyond.
I feel liberated!
Happy Fourth.
Doughnut
Friday, July 3, 2009
America, My House
I don't like to talk politics or sex or religion. My parents taught me that wasn't nice and, really, usually talking about these subjects with friends caused more problems than solved them. But seeing that the next few days will be one big celebration caused by politics, I thought I would delve just a little. Forgive me if I ruffle feathers, but I am not going to bring down an eagle, I am just going to exercise my right as an American...
I love this country. There is no better place to live, you all know that...that fact is a given. But, like any home, it does have its problems and not all the inhabitants of the home agree on how to fix them. Like I said yesterday, we are trying to find "a guy" to help us fix these problems. Our house, afterall, is an old house, and it does have some major problems.
But the core is good. In all the times we were looking for houses, we looked for houses that were not necessarily new, but rather had character and a good set of bones. We wanted a house that we could work on, make changes where needed, and love. In Arizona, when we looked to retire, we found one that was about forty years old, definitely needed some work, but we could make it ours over time. We had enough money to buy it, but we would have to make a list and whittle it down a little at a time. We redid the pool first (a must in Arizona), then the kitchen (if you know me, or take a look at my picure, then you know why this was a must, also.), then the roof. All these things were immediate needs, and we did them over time, not in the first year, not in the first one hundred days. We had to have patience and a plan. We did not always agree on the plan, nor did we agree on the schedule, but we worked things out without too much fighting or name calling. We knocked down some walls, threw some good money after bad projects, but overall, Dorothy and I negotiated and remained compatible. After all, we have had much larger bad times than a meer reconstruction project.
The point is this... our house, like this country has problems. Some of them have built up over the years while no one was paying attention to them, and suddenly the small cracks have become major fissures. The "guy" that was working on them was a little conservative and he ran out of time. He did some good things, but he also did not do some things he should have and he took on projects that had a negative impact on the maintenance of the foundation. When he left, we, the people, hired someone with different ideas who initally spent a great deal of money. But, we are giving him a chance. He has many problems. His problem is he is trying to satisfy everyone in the family at once, and is taking on too many projects. We will have to sit him down and have a talk with him and tell him to focus more and not spread himself so thin. The key is we are talking to him, not yelling at him, not degrading him.
When I go looking whether I need to get a new guy or rehire the old guy and let him continue on his plan, I look at the competitors and those that speak for them. By this I mean that I look at advertisements and I listen to what supporters say. If I feel that I need to change, I review what has been said not only about my guy, but by whom it was said, and the tone of their voice. If the new guy and especially his supporters are loud and obnoxious and seemingly throw mud constantly, then that guy has no shot at my business. These supporter can tell me ideas, but they do not need to demean my guy or shout at me and tell me how dumb I am for trusting him in the first place. I also wonder how these supporters can be so negative, so full of self righeousness, but not willing to take on the job themselves. My guess is that their bark is far louder than their bite, and like the bully on the block, have no real punch.
Ok, I have broken my promise that I expressed at the beginning of my blog. But it is Independence Day Weekend. I am going to celebrate the birth of our nation. Like a good parent. However, I will never stop trying to help it grow. Things are different now than they were in 1776; the ideals are the same. We as a nation have had a couple of family feuds, but we have always gotten through it. We will get through this, too. We will, if we do not listen to the voices of irrationality that scream at us through the radio and on TV. America was born of free thinkers, so now, we, too, must listen to all sides, not just one. To be a free thinker, we have to be open-minded and allow our brains to search through the rhetoric to the brunt of the message.
Tomorrow, eat, drink, make Mary. Then on Monday, talk to your guy and tell him how you hope he will change. Ask him if you can help. Don't listen to the angry mob, but rather tell them to be rational and talk to you, not at you.
Happy Birthday, America.
Doughnut
I love this country. There is no better place to live, you all know that...that fact is a given. But, like any home, it does have its problems and not all the inhabitants of the home agree on how to fix them. Like I said yesterday, we are trying to find "a guy" to help us fix these problems. Our house, afterall, is an old house, and it does have some major problems.
But the core is good. In all the times we were looking for houses, we looked for houses that were not necessarily new, but rather had character and a good set of bones. We wanted a house that we could work on, make changes where needed, and love. In Arizona, when we looked to retire, we found one that was about forty years old, definitely needed some work, but we could make it ours over time. We had enough money to buy it, but we would have to make a list and whittle it down a little at a time. We redid the pool first (a must in Arizona), then the kitchen (if you know me, or take a look at my picure, then you know why this was a must, also.), then the roof. All these things were immediate needs, and we did them over time, not in the first year, not in the first one hundred days. We had to have patience and a plan. We did not always agree on the plan, nor did we agree on the schedule, but we worked things out without too much fighting or name calling. We knocked down some walls, threw some good money after bad projects, but overall, Dorothy and I negotiated and remained compatible. After all, we have had much larger bad times than a meer reconstruction project.
The point is this... our house, like this country has problems. Some of them have built up over the years while no one was paying attention to them, and suddenly the small cracks have become major fissures. The "guy" that was working on them was a little conservative and he ran out of time. He did some good things, but he also did not do some things he should have and he took on projects that had a negative impact on the maintenance of the foundation. When he left, we, the people, hired someone with different ideas who initally spent a great deal of money. But, we are giving him a chance. He has many problems. His problem is he is trying to satisfy everyone in the family at once, and is taking on too many projects. We will have to sit him down and have a talk with him and tell him to focus more and not spread himself so thin. The key is we are talking to him, not yelling at him, not degrading him.
When I go looking whether I need to get a new guy or rehire the old guy and let him continue on his plan, I look at the competitors and those that speak for them. By this I mean that I look at advertisements and I listen to what supporters say. If I feel that I need to change, I review what has been said not only about my guy, but by whom it was said, and the tone of their voice. If the new guy and especially his supporters are loud and obnoxious and seemingly throw mud constantly, then that guy has no shot at my business. These supporter can tell me ideas, but they do not need to demean my guy or shout at me and tell me how dumb I am for trusting him in the first place. I also wonder how these supporters can be so negative, so full of self righeousness, but not willing to take on the job themselves. My guess is that their bark is far louder than their bite, and like the bully on the block, have no real punch.
Ok, I have broken my promise that I expressed at the beginning of my blog. But it is Independence Day Weekend. I am going to celebrate the birth of our nation. Like a good parent. However, I will never stop trying to help it grow. Things are different now than they were in 1776; the ideals are the same. We as a nation have had a couple of family feuds, but we have always gotten through it. We will get through this, too. We will, if we do not listen to the voices of irrationality that scream at us through the radio and on TV. America was born of free thinkers, so now, we, too, must listen to all sides, not just one. To be a free thinker, we have to be open-minded and allow our brains to search through the rhetoric to the brunt of the message.
Tomorrow, eat, drink, make Mary. Then on Monday, talk to your guy and tell him how you hope he will change. Ask him if you can help. Don't listen to the angry mob, but rather tell them to be rational and talk to you, not at you.
Happy Birthday, America.
Doughnut
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The First Year
This first year in "The Zona" has absolutely flown by. It seems like just yesterday we were leaving humid Illinois for "the dry heat" of Arizona. People back in the Land of Lincoln say it gets hot here, and it does. But, let's face it, 110 degrees with 15 percent humidity is a little less oppressive than 95 degrees and 85 percent humidity. Here it is hot and the sun warms you and makes you sizzle a little. Back there, it warms the water ON you and makes you boil.
I do miss seasons. Fall went by without much fanfare. I was in my pool on Christmas and New Year's Days. We opened presents and I called back to my brother in New Salem, Illinois (a suburb of Pittsfield) to wish him a merry Christmas and to rub in the fact that I was in flip flops and shorts while he had on his wooly muck mucks and three pairs of long underwear. I called the bank in Paxton and they told me to quit calling! If I did not quit, they would keep my money! We all laughed, me louder than them. But I have seasons if I want them.
When winter comes, I can go to Flagstaff, they get 20 Feet of snow, then it is back to the warmth of valley. If I want to see the change of seasons, I can go to Sedona, and also catch the beauty of the Red Rocks. I never have to wear a winter coat, though the people out here do buy and wear them!
I was astounded that the folks out here will run around in heavy down jackets in December or January,while I am cruising around in the convertible with the top down. Don't get me wrong, it does get cold here. Two days in January, the overnight lows were in the high 20s and the pipes that are on my house froze until 9AM...never happened in Illinois, we put our pipes on the inside of the walls. But overall, things go by fast.
I have no grass in my yard. Had it removed. Decided that since I lived in the desert, I was not going to pay to water my lawn just so I could pay someone to mow it, or mow it myself. I had enough mowing with the acre I had back in Illinois. No, here I rake rocks! I spend actual time after I trim my bushes out front raking the rocks so they have little lines in them like I would have after I mowed back in Illinois! Am I crazy or what? I always told Dorothy that if I started doing that, she should kick me...
I also found that the number one industry out here is not construction. It is car washing! There have to be at least 10 car washes within a mile of my house. Some cost as little as two dollars, others eight. The more expensive ones have people that wipe the car off for me and vacuum. A lazy man's heaven!
Speaking of lazy man's heaven. Every one out here has "a guy". A guy for every chore. A guy for cable, phone, plumber, Air conditioning (a must have guy) pest control, car washing, landscaping, windows, carpets... you name it and Arizonans have a guy for it.
Me? I wanna be "a guy" but what talent do I have? I know! I can be the Pooh guy! I pick up more pooh from my yard that my daugther's four-legged pooh machine leaves, than any "guy" I know!
Later, Tater.
Doughnut
I do miss seasons. Fall went by without much fanfare. I was in my pool on Christmas and New Year's Days. We opened presents and I called back to my brother in New Salem, Illinois (a suburb of Pittsfield) to wish him a merry Christmas and to rub in the fact that I was in flip flops and shorts while he had on his wooly muck mucks and three pairs of long underwear. I called the bank in Paxton and they told me to quit calling! If I did not quit, they would keep my money! We all laughed, me louder than them. But I have seasons if I want them.
When winter comes, I can go to Flagstaff, they get 20 Feet of snow, then it is back to the warmth of valley. If I want to see the change of seasons, I can go to Sedona, and also catch the beauty of the Red Rocks. I never have to wear a winter coat, though the people out here do buy and wear them!
I was astounded that the folks out here will run around in heavy down jackets in December or January,while I am cruising around in the convertible with the top down. Don't get me wrong, it does get cold here. Two days in January, the overnight lows were in the high 20s and the pipes that are on my house froze until 9AM...never happened in Illinois, we put our pipes on the inside of the walls. But overall, things go by fast.
I have no grass in my yard. Had it removed. Decided that since I lived in the desert, I was not going to pay to water my lawn just so I could pay someone to mow it, or mow it myself. I had enough mowing with the acre I had back in Illinois. No, here I rake rocks! I spend actual time after I trim my bushes out front raking the rocks so they have little lines in them like I would have after I mowed back in Illinois! Am I crazy or what? I always told Dorothy that if I started doing that, she should kick me...
I also found that the number one industry out here is not construction. It is car washing! There have to be at least 10 car washes within a mile of my house. Some cost as little as two dollars, others eight. The more expensive ones have people that wipe the car off for me and vacuum. A lazy man's heaven!
Speaking of lazy man's heaven. Every one out here has "a guy". A guy for every chore. A guy for cable, phone, plumber, Air conditioning (a must have guy) pest control, car washing, landscaping, windows, carpets... you name it and Arizonans have a guy for it.
Me? I wanna be "a guy" but what talent do I have? I know! I can be the Pooh guy! I pick up more pooh from my yard that my daugther's four-legged pooh machine leaves, than any "guy" I know!
Later, Tater.
Doughnut
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The Anniversary
We have just completed our first full year in Arizona. WOO HOO! We decided a long time ago that when the time came for us to retire, we would come here. My daughter made it easy for us.
When the kids were little, my wife's mother lived in the Valley of the Sun for health reasons. We came here one summer and fell in love with the place. Where else could you go year round without a coat? Where else, besides some tropical paradise, could you be in the sun about 320 days a year? No more milk drinking! We now got vitamin D straight from the source without going through the cow's mediary. Our reliance on farms would diminish and we would no longer breathe what farmer's called "the smell of money." It took us 30 years to return.
But return we did. After deciding that we had had enough of the rat race of education, we sold everything we could, gave some away, loaded up an ABF truck with the rest and headed west, taking Horace Greeley's advice. So, you ask, how did my daughter make it easy?
I always wanted to come out here. Wanted to do it since I started to go to broadcasting school in Artesia, New Mexico back in the 1973. Could never seem to pull the trigger on leaving Illinois. After all, my brother, my mother were there, and my roots were there. I had lived in Central Illinois all my life except for a stint in Iowa, which might as well be Illinois. My daughter, Debi, took an intern position with the Mesa Police Department in her senior year of college. When she came out here to live with her Aunt Debbie (Our family tends to name kids after other family members...There are over six Jameses in our gene pool, and three Dons), she told me as she was taking me to the airport, "If you ever want to see me again, you will move here. I am not going back to Illinois." And, to my knowledge, she has only been back twice in five years. So the decision was easy. A daddy cannot leave his daughter out in the cold, cruel world alone.
My son, James, with whom I am extremely close, never offered to have me move to California! Never threatened me with withholding his presence! But Debi meant it. So, I went home, told Dorothy, and we began the search for a house. Which, by the way, the Debi's picked out.
The move, so far, has been great. My blood pressure is down, my weight is up, and every day I seem to pooh sunshine. Arizona is the next best place to Paradise. I threw out my winter coat, long pants, and tie shoes. From now on its just flip-flops,shorts and Suntan lotion. How can a place that has 320 days of sunshine, about a thousand golf courses, and a Jack in the Box on every corner be bad?
More tomorrow.
Don Shields
When the kids were little, my wife's mother lived in the Valley of the Sun for health reasons. We came here one summer and fell in love with the place. Where else could you go year round without a coat? Where else, besides some tropical paradise, could you be in the sun about 320 days a year? No more milk drinking! We now got vitamin D straight from the source without going through the cow's mediary. Our reliance on farms would diminish and we would no longer breathe what farmer's called "the smell of money." It took us 30 years to return.
But return we did. After deciding that we had had enough of the rat race of education, we sold everything we could, gave some away, loaded up an ABF truck with the rest and headed west, taking Horace Greeley's advice. So, you ask, how did my daughter make it easy?
I always wanted to come out here. Wanted to do it since I started to go to broadcasting school in Artesia, New Mexico back in the 1973. Could never seem to pull the trigger on leaving Illinois. After all, my brother, my mother were there, and my roots were there. I had lived in Central Illinois all my life except for a stint in Iowa, which might as well be Illinois. My daughter, Debi, took an intern position with the Mesa Police Department in her senior year of college. When she came out here to live with her Aunt Debbie (Our family tends to name kids after other family members...There are over six Jameses in our gene pool, and three Dons), she told me as she was taking me to the airport, "If you ever want to see me again, you will move here. I am not going back to Illinois." And, to my knowledge, she has only been back twice in five years. So the decision was easy. A daddy cannot leave his daughter out in the cold, cruel world alone.
My son, James, with whom I am extremely close, never offered to have me move to California! Never threatened me with withholding his presence! But Debi meant it. So, I went home, told Dorothy, and we began the search for a house. Which, by the way, the Debi's picked out.
The move, so far, has been great. My blood pressure is down, my weight is up, and every day I seem to pooh sunshine. Arizona is the next best place to Paradise. I threw out my winter coat, long pants, and tie shoes. From now on its just flip-flops,shorts and Suntan lotion. How can a place that has 320 days of sunshine, about a thousand golf courses, and a Jack in the Box on every corner be bad?
More tomorrow.
Don Shields
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)