Ever had "one of those days?"
I had one the other day. Seems Google was hacked and my email was sending out messages to people. Scarey. I don't know what else the hackers got about me, but I will be watching my financial accounts like a hawk.
But, along with that came a new epiphany. I have a very diligent bank in Meridian Bank here in AZ. Within minutes of their reception of an email from me about being locked out of my account, they called me to see if I had sent them an email. They assured me they did not send anything and helped me reset my password and ID. Small town community banks are like that---they watch over their customers and care just a little more.
When we moved to AA 2.5 years ago, we looked for a bank that would treat us like Farmer's Merchants Bank in Paxton did. We wanted someone that would know us when we walked in the door and would call us by name. We got that. When we deal with people at the bank, we feel we are dealing with friends, not some major corporation that is cold and insensitive.
That, I think, is the key to good customer relations. Treat people like their friends and you want them to return. Be kind, gentle, understanding, and willing to go out of the way to help. The more I am treated this way, the more I want to return. I always felt that way with Shields Automart in Paxton, that is why I bought about 20 cars from them over the years. That is how I find my doctor. If I can trust the person to let me know the facts quickly and up front, then I am more likely to feel comfortable with that proctology exam.
For instance... I went to my urologist for a small problem and he suggested a cytoscopy. (I will leave you to look up the details.) When he came into the exam room, I asked him, "What kind of grade did you get in this procedure?" His answer? "Grade? I just now looked over the manual on how to use the instrument!" I like a Dr. with a sense of humor! ( I think he was joking....)
Anyway, when it comes down to trusting people, it is kind of like picking your nose.... You can pick your friends, You can pick your nose... But you can't pick your friend's nose.
Doughnut
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Visiting the Donut Machine
Ever had one of those feelings of love, hope, excitement and joy all wrapped into one little emotion all at once? Been stunned by the mere sight of something you have not seen in a long time? We get that feeling with people, but machines? Well, I had those feelings yesterday when my son Jim and I went to Las Vegas to see the doughnut machine my parents had their Donut Shop when I was growing up . To make a long story short, my brother and I gave the machine back to the company that originally made it (DCA/Moline Manufacturing in Duluth, MN) and they restored the machine and now send it around the world to baker's conventions and make donuts with it for conventioneers!
We were met at the convention by Charlie Heinmuller of Moline Manufacturing and led into the giant hall where the machine literally was positioned in the middle of the arena. As we turned corner of the exhibit and spied the machine, the visual of the machine and smell of the heating oil wafted me into a sea of dreams. There I was, back in the Donut Shop in Hoopeston with Mom at the end of the table icing those treats and Dad adjusting the air pressure to make them perfect.
A lump rose in my throat as Charlie explained how they had left many of the pieces, including the motor, intact and had retooled some gears. We laughed as he told me how the machine draws crowds overseas when it is at exhibitions there and how many foreigners clamor for the doughnuts it puts out. These people want to buy the machine, but they are rebuffed by Gary Moline and the others at Moline Manufacturing because of the machine's history both with their company and with America. The machine, he tells them, is priceless.
I went to the side of the machine, peered inside at the spider where the doughnuts are separated so they can cook. It looked as though it was still 1964, and was just as clean as it was then.
The smells got even more powerful and the images clearer as the two men responsible for running the machine, Bob and Chris, were introduced to us. I told them how my dad used to dress in khaki pants and a V-necked T-shirt. They looked at each other, and broke out in laughter and recounted how they wanted to dress in khakis and then each unbuttoned their shirt to show me their V-necked T=shirts! We roared! As I explained to Bob and Chris how Dad used to coax the machine into getting the just right pressure, they constantly chuckled and said, "We have to do that, too!" At one point, Bob turned to Charlie and Don Moline (the Chairman of the Board of Moline Manufacturing who had joined us) and said, "We ought to hire him to run this thing!" We met the entire Moline family from Gary the President to his sons. It was good to see that the machine was involved still in a family business where many of the employees were also multi-generational.
Chris backed out of a small storage area carrying a mixing bowl full of dough. Though smaller than the one Dad used, he climbed on top of a small ladder and poured the dough into the machine. As he did this I told him how Dad filled the plugged cannister on the ground, then lifted it onto the machine and pulled the plug just as he got it over the cutter. He agreed that would be much easier. (the next file might be a bit sideways!)
Next came the moment of truth.... Bob and Chris turned the machine on and let it do its magic! The orginal motor chummed like clockwork and the gears ran flawlessly. The dough dropped magically into the hot oil and floated around the moat, getting flipped after 27 seconds by a flipper and 45 seconds later emerged from its circuitous route as a delicious globule of glutenous delight!
We all stood there transfixed by the metaphysical relationship that frying doughnuts work on the human psyche. As they rolled out the fron chute onto a table similar to what mom had, I had the urge to pick one up and place it into some ghostly bowl of icing. Chris reached over with a stick much like Dad and Mom used and placed it gently on the wire basket to cool. a lump rose in my throat that could only be choked down by a bite from that first one! Like Dad had done so many times, I picked it up, broke it into two pieces to check for doneness, and popped one piece into my mouth! For a fraction of a second, Mom and Dad stood next to me and I defied the laws of physics and went back in time. The doughnut was perfect!
The batch continued to run until the inevitable end where the "crippled" doughnuts came out. (I know, it is not PC, but that is what we called them.) For old times sake, one even got caught under the flipper in the back and had to be rescued. (In my book, Arnold Schuff would have gotten these.) There was no icing, but Chris did put about a dozen of them into a sack of sugar and coat them.
Bob and Chris were gracious enough to sack up a half dozen for us (I am sure I could have had more.) and Jim and I bid adieu to that doughnut machine. Mom and Dad get to spiritually go to places they could otherwise never see, and whenever I think of them and that machine, I will not see the rusted piece of junk that was in my garage for so many years, but rather I will remember that iconic piece of my childhood and Americana and the two loving people who taught me to always "keep my eye upon the doughnut and not upon the hole!"
Doughnut
Friday, September 24, 2010
To Sheldon,my brother.
One of life's greatest joys is family. One of life's greatest frustrations is family. One of life's greatest enjoyments is family.... I think you get the picture.
During my trip back to Illinois to publicize my book, GROWING UP DOUGHNUT, I had the pleasure to stay with my brother Jim in the tiny hamlet of New Salem, IL. Jim is a few years older than I am, and, he would say, wiser. Me? I got the looks in the family jeans.(the misuse is intentional)
During the course of our visit, my brother Jim seemed to me to have picked a bit of a compulsive behavior. Maybe it is his advanced age (He is, after all older than I.), or maybe he has always been this way and I never noticed. He has to have things just so, and he has become a creature of habit. For instance, I first recognized this problem when I was in the bathroom weighing myself and my luggage for the return trip. After I had concluded the exercise, I put the scales back where I thought they were. Jim immediately moved them 1/4 inch closer to the wall. He said that he had, "calculated the required space needed to look over his stomach and see the numbers..." Apparently being a little too far away might have made him weigh more.
In the "having things just so" file...When he drives, he has to have the passenger visor at just the right angle, or it makes him feel out of sorts when he drives. When he mows, he makes sure that his lines are straight. Me? I have to worry about whether my rocks get raked just right in my desert lawn.
All this came to a head when we were watching The Big Bang Theory. I realized that Jim, who is highly intelligent, had traits similar to those of Sheldon. So, I have taken to calling him Sheldon. I wonder, does this make me Leonard, Raj, or Walowitz? (Jim might say my actions resemble Walowitz's mom.)
Jim made an astounding observation when we were traveling the back roads of Pike County looking for deer during my stay. ( I have to say, for a county that boasts that it "harvests" 10,000 deer a year, I saw only 4...they were in Calhoun County, not Pike. Do deer know about this harvest?) The observation was this... it is amazing that two rather large guys from such a small mother could be so vastly different. He is a small town guy who likes to live in relative seclusion without all the hubbub of people. I, on the other hand, have migrated to the big city and now like the sights and sounds and interactions I have with people on a daily basis.
He is probably right. We are vastly different. But we still have one thing in common that I never told him. That is...when he is not around, I miss him.
Keep mowing Sheldon, and make sure your lines are straight.
Doughnut
During my trip back to Illinois to publicize my book, GROWING UP DOUGHNUT, I had the pleasure to stay with my brother Jim in the tiny hamlet of New Salem, IL. Jim is a few years older than I am, and, he would say, wiser. Me? I got the looks in the family jeans.(the misuse is intentional)
During the course of our visit, my brother Jim seemed to me to have picked a bit of a compulsive behavior. Maybe it is his advanced age (He is, after all older than I.), or maybe he has always been this way and I never noticed. He has to have things just so, and he has become a creature of habit. For instance, I first recognized this problem when I was in the bathroom weighing myself and my luggage for the return trip. After I had concluded the exercise, I put the scales back where I thought they were. Jim immediately moved them 1/4 inch closer to the wall. He said that he had, "calculated the required space needed to look over his stomach and see the numbers..." Apparently being a little too far away might have made him weigh more.
In the "having things just so" file...When he drives, he has to have the passenger visor at just the right angle, or it makes him feel out of sorts when he drives. When he mows, he makes sure that his lines are straight. Me? I have to worry about whether my rocks get raked just right in my desert lawn.
All this came to a head when we were watching The Big Bang Theory. I realized that Jim, who is highly intelligent, had traits similar to those of Sheldon. So, I have taken to calling him Sheldon. I wonder, does this make me Leonard, Raj, or Walowitz? (Jim might say my actions resemble Walowitz's mom.)
Jim made an astounding observation when we were traveling the back roads of Pike County looking for deer during my stay. ( I have to say, for a county that boasts that it "harvests" 10,000 deer a year, I saw only 4...they were in Calhoun County, not Pike. Do deer know about this harvest?) The observation was this... it is amazing that two rather large guys from such a small mother could be so vastly different. He is a small town guy who likes to live in relative seclusion without all the hubbub of people. I, on the other hand, have migrated to the big city and now like the sights and sounds and interactions I have with people on a daily basis.
He is probably right. We are vastly different. But we still have one thing in common that I never told him. That is...when he is not around, I miss him.
Keep mowing Sheldon, and make sure your lines are straight.
Doughnut
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Trip Update
Blogging? I ain't been doing no stupid blogging!
Finally! I got some time to write something, and I have to say it has been so long, I barely know how to put my fingers on the keys of the keyboard, let alone put words together in to phrases, sentences and paragraphs. You don't use it... You lose it, I guess.
Many of you know that I have been away from home for a while. No, I did not run away (although in my youth I thought of it... wanted to go and see the world), I have been on a "World Tour" promoting "Growing Up Doughnut."
To some the term "World Tour" conjures up far away, exotic places; meeting with thousands of throngs of people who clamor and hang on my every word. Well, that is exactly what I did. And for good measure, I added a "reunion" to the title. So, I went on the "Growing Up Doughnut Reunion World Tour."
I went to exotic places like Pittsfield, IL; Champaign, IL; Paxton, Loda, Hoopeston, Cheneyville, and Griggsville, IL. I spoke to Women's Groups, Reading Clubs, Libraries; just about anyone that would listen to me about my pride and joy from the depths of my psyche--Growing Up Doughnut. I went to out of the way places in Iowa and Missouri. And saw my old house in Hoopeston, the sweet corn canning factories, the Sweet Corn Festival and learned of the crowning of the National Sweetcorn Sweetheart, Brittany Hagan of Indiana, the second most beautiful girl in all of America. ( I say this because her chances are good that she will be Miss America like 5 other contestants. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Sweetheart )
The real orders of the trip, though, was to sell the book, sign the book, talk about the book, and reconnect with old friends; some who I had not seen in 30 years. I met up with Roger Beatty (who is in the book) and learned that he is now called "The Stink Ditch Guy" because of our escapades in the book. I also saw my good friend Don Smith from Carterville, and the Drollinger girls who came from West Lafayette and Georgia. Harold Simpson treated me to a Diet Coke at his Dairy Queen on Main Street, while Molly Culbert opened her shop "Flowers and Gifts by Molly" for a book signing. In Paxton, Andy Hudson let me have a table to greet friends and sell books in his store, "Hudson Drug and Hallmark Store". And Jane Addams Bookshop gave me a great deal of help promoting the book to folks in Champaign. Anne Dill of WCIA-TV and Dave Bennett and Jennifer Ketchmark of WCFN-TV put my story on the morning and evening, and I found two old friends in Wendy Doan-Mingee-Davis and John Green working there.
My family back in Illinois helped by lodging me: pseudo children Ryan and Elizabeth Carlson not only put up with me, but also saved the trip by letting me borrown Elizabeth's car. My former partner-in-crime, Jim Flaherty, gave me a bed and beer, while his lovely wife, Pam, fixed food for me (something she rarely does for Jim, according to him.) My real cousin Joan entertained me and my nephew and niece, Nick and Erin with a meal, and stayed up way past her bedtime to catch me up on the 30 years we have missed with each other. Despite having knee problems, Linda Martin let me crash on her couch on a stormy night in the Sweetcorn Capital of the World.
One of the greatest things happened to me when I was speaking at the Hoopeston Library on Sunday, though. (Thanks here to Linda Mitchell) While I was speaking about the book, two women entered from a side door and approached me at the podium. They just stood there and did not say a word. I was flabbergasted...who were these women that they would block the public's view of an important figure like me? As I stared at them, the age on their faces dripped away revealing two lovely ladies whom I had not seen in 20 years. There before me were my cousins from Chicago, Vera, and Suzie! Their grandfather was the man I owed my name to! I almost broke out in tears.
Overall, the trip was fantastic, and I have more stories to tell. Watch on Friday for a story about my brother, Sheldon!
Doughnut
Finally! I got some time to write something, and I have to say it has been so long, I barely know how to put my fingers on the keys of the keyboard, let alone put words together in to phrases, sentences and paragraphs. You don't use it... You lose it, I guess.
Many of you know that I have been away from home for a while. No, I did not run away (although in my youth I thought of it... wanted to go and see the world), I have been on a "World Tour" promoting "Growing Up Doughnut."
To some the term "World Tour" conjures up far away, exotic places; meeting with thousands of throngs of people who clamor and hang on my every word. Well, that is exactly what I did. And for good measure, I added a "reunion" to the title. So, I went on the "Growing Up Doughnut Reunion World Tour."
I went to exotic places like Pittsfield, IL; Champaign, IL; Paxton, Loda, Hoopeston, Cheneyville, and Griggsville, IL. I spoke to Women's Groups, Reading Clubs, Libraries; just about anyone that would listen to me about my pride and joy from the depths of my psyche--Growing Up Doughnut. I went to out of the way places in Iowa and Missouri. And saw my old house in Hoopeston, the sweet corn canning factories, the Sweet Corn Festival and learned of the crowning of the National Sweetcorn Sweetheart, Brittany Hagan of Indiana, the second most beautiful girl in all of America. ( I say this because her chances are good that she will be Miss America like 5 other contestants. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Sweetheart )
The real orders of the trip, though, was to sell the book, sign the book, talk about the book, and reconnect with old friends; some who I had not seen in 30 years. I met up with Roger Beatty (who is in the book) and learned that he is now called "The Stink Ditch Guy" because of our escapades in the book. I also saw my good friend Don Smith from Carterville, and the Drollinger girls who came from West Lafayette and Georgia. Harold Simpson treated me to a Diet Coke at his Dairy Queen on Main Street, while Molly Culbert opened her shop "Flowers and Gifts by Molly" for a book signing. In Paxton, Andy Hudson let me have a table to greet friends and sell books in his store, "Hudson Drug and Hallmark Store". And Jane Addams Bookshop gave me a great deal of help promoting the book to folks in Champaign. Anne Dill of WCIA-TV and Dave Bennett and Jennifer Ketchmark of WCFN-TV put my story on the morning and evening, and I found two old friends in Wendy Doan-Mingee-Davis and John Green working there.
My family back in Illinois helped by lodging me: pseudo children Ryan and Elizabeth Carlson not only put up with me, but also saved the trip by letting me borrown Elizabeth's car. My former partner-in-crime, Jim Flaherty, gave me a bed and beer, while his lovely wife, Pam, fixed food for me (something she rarely does for Jim, according to him.) My real cousin Joan entertained me and my nephew and niece, Nick and Erin with a meal, and stayed up way past her bedtime to catch me up on the 30 years we have missed with each other. Despite having knee problems, Linda Martin let me crash on her couch on a stormy night in the Sweetcorn Capital of the World.
One of the greatest things happened to me when I was speaking at the Hoopeston Library on Sunday, though. (Thanks here to Linda Mitchell) While I was speaking about the book, two women entered from a side door and approached me at the podium. They just stood there and did not say a word. I was flabbergasted...who were these women that they would block the public's view of an important figure like me? As I stared at them, the age on their faces dripped away revealing two lovely ladies whom I had not seen in 20 years. There before me were my cousins from Chicago, Vera, and Suzie! Their grandfather was the man I owed my name to! I almost broke out in tears.
Overall, the trip was fantastic, and I have more stories to tell. Watch on Friday for a story about my brother, Sheldon!
Doughnut
Friday, September 17, 2010
I'm back!
Hey! I am sorry for not writing in so long... I have been out of touch with reality with promoting the book back in Illinois (lack of internet helped, too.). But I PROMISE I will start writing again on Monday... and I have some very important news to relate...
Doughnut
Doughnut
Friday, August 27, 2010
Gettin' Ready To Be Trippin'
In case you have not looked at my profile for a while, I am old. I only say this because I find that as I get older, I don't travel as well. I don't like going to the airport, getting on a plane, and winging my way across the US. I don't like landing, merging in the hustle and bustle of deplaning. The very idea of standing next to people and scrambling to get my luggage makes me fearsome. I have learned to not like crowds.
That being said, I am embarking on a three week trip to Illinois to promote my book, "Growing Up Doughnut." I love talking to people, finding out their stories and reconnecting with friends, but there is something about being away from home that bothers me; I can't put my finger on it.
There is always the chance that I might miss my wife. NAAAAH! How could that be? For two-three weeks, there will be no one to make me eat right, pick up my clothes or whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I will be free! I will go where I want, when I want. Eat what I want, drink what I want. I will be the ultimate bachelor...footloose and fancy free.
Right! If you have not seen my itinerary, you don't know that almost every waking hour is spent on the road or speaking to people. I even get to be on TV (I sure hope that it DOESN'T add 10 lbs), although I have the face for radio. And there will be radio appearances, too. I am going back for two weeks, and will have almost no time for friends that I have not seen in 3 years or more. Is this what celebrities go through? I am sure the paparazzi will be out there, waiting for me show up someplace without underwear on, or to see if I spill spaghetti sauce on myself, or to find me driving drunk!
They are in for a surprise. The most they might get in pictures is me with drool running down my chin as I sleep on a friend's couch. There also might be the occasional doughnut icing on the corners of my moustache and the ketchup on my shirt. But really, I am no where near wild anymore. I mean, when I go out to eat, I drink iced tea because soft drinks make me gassy.
"My Two Hometowns" are great places filled with great people. And, despite my aforementioned fears of travel, I am looking forward to being back, even for a short time. I wish I had more time so I could visit with everyone I miss. So, if I don't get to see you, Just know that I miss you, especially when you're gone.
Look for me in Hoopeston and Paxton and Champaign next week... Here is my schedule:
September 1………….. Paxton Women’s Club 11 AM (Tin Pan)
Loda Library 1pm
September 2 …………..WCIA interview (Approx 7:10AM)
Speak to Jr. English Class Centennial HS (9AM)
WCFN interview (Approx 7:40PM)
September 3……………WHPO Interview (7:30AM)
WPXN Interview (1pm)
Jane Addams Bookshop (Champaign) 5-7
September 4……………Hudson’s Drug Shop @ 9-11AM
Molly Culbert’s (Hoopeston) @ 3-5PM
September 5……………Hoopeston Library @ 2PM
September 7……………Speak to English classes at PBLHS all day
You can also follow my trip on twitter @Donutwriter
That being said, I am embarking on a three week trip to Illinois to promote my book, "Growing Up Doughnut." I love talking to people, finding out their stories and reconnecting with friends, but there is something about being away from home that bothers me; I can't put my finger on it.
There is always the chance that I might miss my wife. NAAAAH! How could that be? For two-three weeks, there will be no one to make me eat right, pick up my clothes or whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I will be free! I will go where I want, when I want. Eat what I want, drink what I want. I will be the ultimate bachelor...footloose and fancy free.
Right! If you have not seen my itinerary, you don't know that almost every waking hour is spent on the road or speaking to people. I even get to be on TV (I sure hope that it DOESN'T add 10 lbs), although I have the face for radio. And there will be radio appearances, too. I am going back for two weeks, and will have almost no time for friends that I have not seen in 3 years or more. Is this what celebrities go through? I am sure the paparazzi will be out there, waiting for me show up someplace without underwear on, or to see if I spill spaghetti sauce on myself, or to find me driving drunk!
They are in for a surprise. The most they might get in pictures is me with drool running down my chin as I sleep on a friend's couch. There also might be the occasional doughnut icing on the corners of my moustache and the ketchup on my shirt. But really, I am no where near wild anymore. I mean, when I go out to eat, I drink iced tea because soft drinks make me gassy.
"My Two Hometowns" are great places filled with great people. And, despite my aforementioned fears of travel, I am looking forward to being back, even for a short time. I wish I had more time so I could visit with everyone I miss. So, if I don't get to see you, Just know that I miss you, especially when you're gone.
Look for me in Hoopeston and Paxton and Champaign next week... Here is my schedule:
September 1………….. Paxton Women’s Club 11 AM (Tin Pan)
Loda Library 1pm
September 2 …………..WCIA interview (Approx 7:10AM)
Speak to Jr. English Class Centennial HS (9AM)
WCFN interview (Approx 7:40PM)
September 3……………WHPO Interview (7:30AM)
WPXN Interview (1pm)
Jane Addams Bookshop (Champaign) 5-7
September 4……………Hudson’s Drug Shop @ 9-11AM
Molly Culbert’s (Hoopeston) @ 3-5PM
September 5……………Hoopeston Library @ 2PM
September 7……………Speak to English classes at PBLHS all day
You can also follow my trip on twitter @Donutwriter
Monday, August 23, 2010
A Heat Advisory?
Today in Phoenix we are under a heat advisory until WEDNESDAY. I really think that a heat advisory here is an oxymoron. I mean, really, heat? Phoenix? August? People really have to be out of it to think that there will be not be adverse heat conditions here at this time of year.
But, Illinois is having heat issues, too. That figures as school is just starting there. We always had a heat wave once school started, and there was no A/C in the student area of the building. Oh, administration offices had the coolness, but the learning part of the schools were unbearable. Made for a great environment. Teachers and students alike were more worried about sweat lines than "getting those test scores up".
I am going back to Illinois next week to promote my book, "Growing Up Doughnut." I will be getting there in the height of Labor Day weekend and staying until the Tuesday after Labor Day. I wish I had more time to see friends and places, but I do have to get back and spend some time with my family before returning here.
Hoopeston and Paxton are two towns very close to my heart. One was the city of my youth, the other the town of my adulthood. I learned many lessons in both of them, and most of my 1260 Facebook friends are from one of these experiences. There are a few from Morning Sun, IA, and a few from Eureka College, but for the most part I either a Cornjerker, a Mustang, or a Panther for most of my life.
I have not been back to these communities in almost three years, and I wonder how much they have changed. Paxton has a few less bridges and Hoopeston has fewer downtown stores. But what has not changed in either of these hamlets is their passion for their towns and their identities with these population centers. Hoopeston has a new project called, "Be a part of it!" and Paxton has its Main Street group. Both are trying to breathe life into towns hit hard by the recession and are holding their heads high.
One thing bothers me about all this. Both communities have vast resources of people who want to work. Hoopeston has factories sitting idle as does Paxton. Why are companies going overseas to get workers and helping those economies instead of helping the US economy right here? That is a question for legislators in Washington and Springfield and Phoenix. Why have they allowed companies to basically abandon the US to help countries in far corners of the world at the expense of our own people? Did the Free Trade Agreement that Reagan thought would create global equalization lead to the problems we face today?
It is time to give politicians who would allow jobs to go overseas a heat advisory.
But, Illinois is having heat issues, too. That figures as school is just starting there. We always had a heat wave once school started, and there was no A/C in the student area of the building. Oh, administration offices had the coolness, but the learning part of the schools were unbearable. Made for a great environment. Teachers and students alike were more worried about sweat lines than "getting those test scores up".
I am going back to Illinois next week to promote my book, "Growing Up Doughnut." I will be getting there in the height of Labor Day weekend and staying until the Tuesday after Labor Day. I wish I had more time to see friends and places, but I do have to get back and spend some time with my family before returning here.
Hoopeston and Paxton are two towns very close to my heart. One was the city of my youth, the other the town of my adulthood. I learned many lessons in both of them, and most of my 1260 Facebook friends are from one of these experiences. There are a few from Morning Sun, IA, and a few from Eureka College, but for the most part I either a Cornjerker, a Mustang, or a Panther for most of my life.
I have not been back to these communities in almost three years, and I wonder how much they have changed. Paxton has a few less bridges and Hoopeston has fewer downtown stores. But what has not changed in either of these hamlets is their passion for their towns and their identities with these population centers. Hoopeston has a new project called, "Be a part of it!" and Paxton has its Main Street group. Both are trying to breathe life into towns hit hard by the recession and are holding their heads high.
One thing bothers me about all this. Both communities have vast resources of people who want to work. Hoopeston has factories sitting idle as does Paxton. Why are companies going overseas to get workers and helping those economies instead of helping the US economy right here? That is a question for legislators in Washington and Springfield and Phoenix. Why have they allowed companies to basically abandon the US to help countries in far corners of the world at the expense of our own people? Did the Free Trade Agreement that Reagan thought would create global equalization lead to the problems we face today?
It is time to give politicians who would allow jobs to go overseas a heat advisory.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Travel South For A Taste Of History
I almost forgot to tell you about the south trip of I-17. I have been so busy doing absolutely nada today! That happens to retirees, we often forget what day it is, what month. I can't tell you how much that sometimes frustrates me and other times makes my life so simple. I can always put off yardwork, or work at Debi's house. Those things will be there. But the couch might move if I am not on it... Hey! It's a job, some one has to protect the old homestead.
Anyway, Let's hypothetically talk about if I moved off the couch and went on a trip and took I-17 south, then I-10 east.
Once we get out of the spaghetti that is the highways around Phoenix (the US 60, I-10, 101, 202, I-17) and hit the cozy 4 lane towards Tucson, there are many sights to see depending on which you go. I-17 offers a quick trip as the speed limit is 75 (You can go 82 easily) but the back trip through Florence is more scenic.
The Florence trip has multiple prisons, the Tom Mix memorial, and a verisimilitude of flora and fauna. (And don't forget the antique shops.) I-17 gives you speed, plenty of stops and some historic landmarks. Picacho Peak is the highlight of the trip historically. Picacho Peak is the farthest west battle of the Civil War, and the marker is hidden just off the entry road to the state park. It was here that the Confederacy became complacent after a win over a Union scouting party and retreated to Tucson, only to find that there was a large contingent of Union soldiers close behind. The Union took control of the territory then.
Further down the road, on the south side of the road, you will see tails of airplanes rise out of the desert. This is not a mirage, but a storage area for airlines (particularly Northwest Airline) to store unneeded airliners. There are many different ones that are not used anymore. The airport there used to be a base for CIA operations in Southeast Asia, and is still used by the Arizona Air National Guard for training. Other countries send their helicopter pilots out there to train in the desert. This is nothing, though, when compared to Davis-Monthan Air Base in Tucson.
Davis Monthan is home to the group that trains pilots and mechanics and groundspeople for the Air Force. There are literally HUNDREDS of planes and helicopters of all types and sizes mothballed out there for practice; some will be taken apart and shredded and the recycled metal wil be used for other planes, etc. This is quite a sight to see, and if you go to the Pima Air and Space Museum, there are tours of the facility available.
Just west and south of Tucson towards Nogales on I-19 is the Titan Missile Museum. This Cold War Era Titan Missile base is the only one left in the US with an actual Titan Missile still in the silo. It is bone chilling to think that there were 18 of these in the Tucson area that could have been launched on a moment's notice. This attraction is a DON'T MISS. Everyone should see the base and hear the thrilling descriptions of the guides, some whom served in Titan silos.
"The Town To Tough To Die" is about a half hour to 45 minutes down I-10 from Tucson. Tombstone offers a look back into the faded era of cowboy towns and mining communities. It was here that Wyatt Earp and his brothers and Doc Holliday killed the Clanton gang at the OK Corral. Cowboys walk the streets and readily tell visitors the town's history, Big Nose Kate's Saloon is still in operation and serves some of the best sandwiches around. Visitors should not miss the shoot out. A final visit to Boot Hill Graveyard is a must. Just reading the old epitaphs is worth the visit. If you like ghosts, Tombstone has those too. The Birdcage Theatre is full of spooky feelings and changes in temperature as things have been left untouched for a century. There is also a night time tour where they turn out the lights and let you sit there in the dark. If you are lucky, you may feel a touch, or hear the eerie sounds of pleasure emanating from the basement in the rooms once used by prostitutes to please their johns.
On your way back to Tucson, you will be stopped by Border Patrol agents and asked if you are an American Citizens. A few may be asked to show a drivers license as proof, or the car may be searched.
After all, it is Arizona. Happy Travels!
Doughnut
Anyway, Let's hypothetically talk about if I moved off the couch and went on a trip and took I-17 south, then I-10 east.
Once we get out of the spaghetti that is the highways around Phoenix (the US 60, I-10, 101, 202, I-17) and hit the cozy 4 lane towards Tucson, there are many sights to see depending on which you go. I-17 offers a quick trip as the speed limit is 75 (You can go 82 easily) but the back trip through Florence is more scenic.
The Florence trip has multiple prisons, the Tom Mix memorial, and a verisimilitude of flora and fauna. (And don't forget the antique shops.) I-17 gives you speed, plenty of stops and some historic landmarks. Picacho Peak is the highlight of the trip historically. Picacho Peak is the farthest west battle of the Civil War, and the marker is hidden just off the entry road to the state park. It was here that the Confederacy became complacent after a win over a Union scouting party and retreated to Tucson, only to find that there was a large contingent of Union soldiers close behind. The Union took control of the territory then.
Further down the road, on the south side of the road, you will see tails of airplanes rise out of the desert. This is not a mirage, but a storage area for airlines (particularly Northwest Airline) to store unneeded airliners. There are many different ones that are not used anymore. The airport there used to be a base for CIA operations in Southeast Asia, and is still used by the Arizona Air National Guard for training. Other countries send their helicopter pilots out there to train in the desert. This is nothing, though, when compared to Davis-Monthan Air Base in Tucson.
Davis Monthan is home to the group that trains pilots and mechanics and groundspeople for the Air Force. There are literally HUNDREDS of planes and helicopters of all types and sizes mothballed out there for practice; some will be taken apart and shredded and the recycled metal wil be used for other planes, etc. This is quite a sight to see, and if you go to the Pima Air and Space Museum, there are tours of the facility available.
Just west and south of Tucson towards Nogales on I-19 is the Titan Missile Museum. This Cold War Era Titan Missile base is the only one left in the US with an actual Titan Missile still in the silo. It is bone chilling to think that there were 18 of these in the Tucson area that could have been launched on a moment's notice. This attraction is a DON'T MISS. Everyone should see the base and hear the thrilling descriptions of the guides, some whom served in Titan silos.
"The Town To Tough To Die" is about a half hour to 45 minutes down I-10 from Tucson. Tombstone offers a look back into the faded era of cowboy towns and mining communities. It was here that Wyatt Earp and his brothers and Doc Holliday killed the Clanton gang at the OK Corral. Cowboys walk the streets and readily tell visitors the town's history, Big Nose Kate's Saloon is still in operation and serves some of the best sandwiches around. Visitors should not miss the shoot out. A final visit to Boot Hill Graveyard is a must. Just reading the old epitaphs is worth the visit. If you like ghosts, Tombstone has those too. The Birdcage Theatre is full of spooky feelings and changes in temperature as things have been left untouched for a century. There is also a night time tour where they turn out the lights and let you sit there in the dark. If you are lucky, you may feel a touch, or hear the eerie sounds of pleasure emanating from the basement in the rooms once used by prostitutes to please their johns.
On your way back to Tucson, you will be stopped by Border Patrol agents and asked if you are an American Citizens. A few may be asked to show a drivers license as proof, or the car may be searched.
After all, it is Arizona. Happy Travels!
Doughnut
Monday, August 16, 2010
Don Goes to Congress (and Yarnell, and Rock Springs Cafe)
Before I can continue my travels south of the Valley, I do need to clear up some unfinished business with the sites north of it.
Yesterday (Sunday) Dorothy and I took the opportunity to travel north with some good friends, Rick and Pat Glenn. These two are world travelers, and in their jobs as consultants for a text book company, they get to see a great many out of the way places. Going to Yarnell and Congress was going to be good, because Pat likes to go antiquing, Rick likes to drive. For once, I was able to just sit back and enjoy the view.
Going up the 60 past Wickenberg is a great trip. Some advice, though, do not take the loop around Wickenberg, or you will miss a great little town that needs you to stop and look and get into the stores. The loop that the residents wanted so badly, has taken its toll on this small village, and there are many empty store fronts. The downtown area is somewhat historic, and good place to just relax and walk the streets.
Once out of town, though, head to Congress on the north. There are some great vistas on the way, and the surrounding landscape is almost transformed from desert to plains via what appears to be a large rock garden. Boulders are stacked on boulders in precarious positions (One set has been painted to look like a toad.).
There is not much in Congress, but we stopped at an antique shop that had a great deal of what most people would call "junk." The store had some treasures in it, such as a 1891 over/under Derringer complete with a box of ammo and various pictures and items, which although having no value, were of interest. Outside next to the building was an assortment of items that were definitely turn of the 20th Century as well as some nice lawn ornaments.
Yarnell was a nice, little town, also. A bit bigger than Congress, it boasts a couple restaurants, a pizza place, an American Legion and a goodly number antique stores. The first one that caught our eye was a place that billed itself as having "New Dead Things." Here we stayed for quite a while as chatted up the shopkeeper about her life, Yarnell and her two dogs, Sparky and Troia. She had items that were priceless and was not even trying to sell them, she just wanted to have them, "...For people to touch and feel, so they could get a sense of history." These included ancient bones, pieces of tusks, and arrowheads. I was tempted to buy a Native American grinding stone which she said was hundreds of years old, but I figured I would not be grinding peote beans any time soon.
We made other stops in the town and found all the shopkeepers rather cordial. They were easy to approach, very knowledgeable about their wares and the area, and shared their love of the community and the life it afforded them easily. I could tell that they loved living in these small towns and that the unhurried lifestyle and tranquil surroundings were just what they wanted in life.
We continued our trip up Route 89, around the square in Prescott, and then back down I-17. As we were getting on the interstate, I happened to mention that I had never been to the world renowned Rock Springs Cafe. That became our next destination.
The Rock Springs Cafe is renowned for its pies. But I have to say that the folks there make a mean Mexican Pizza. I ordered that as an appetizer, but it turned out being my meal. This monster was a 14 inch pizza with all the toppings that go on a Mexican Pizza. I am a big pizza eater, but I could not finish this, and have room for a piece of pie, so I brought the final 2/3rds home with me.
Sundays at the Rock Springs is "cream pie day". Rick got his favorite, Banana Cream (he was forced to share with Pat); Dorothy relented and had Chocolate Cream; I went against the grain and had a Jack Daniels Pecan pie. I am not going to go into the amount of moaning that was coming from our table, but leave it said that these were probably the best pie these diners have had in a long time. Rock Springs Cafe....thanks for the sugar high! ( and the slight buzz)
I didn't get to south on I-17 today... so tomorrow there will be a special edition of The Doughnut Hole 503.
Keep your eye upon the doughnut.
Doughnut
Yesterday (Sunday) Dorothy and I took the opportunity to travel north with some good friends, Rick and Pat Glenn. These two are world travelers, and in their jobs as consultants for a text book company, they get to see a great many out of the way places. Going to Yarnell and Congress was going to be good, because Pat likes to go antiquing, Rick likes to drive. For once, I was able to just sit back and enjoy the view.
Going up the 60 past Wickenberg is a great trip. Some advice, though, do not take the loop around Wickenberg, or you will miss a great little town that needs you to stop and look and get into the stores. The loop that the residents wanted so badly, has taken its toll on this small village, and there are many empty store fronts. The downtown area is somewhat historic, and good place to just relax and walk the streets.
Once out of town, though, head to Congress on the north. There are some great vistas on the way, and the surrounding landscape is almost transformed from desert to plains via what appears to be a large rock garden. Boulders are stacked on boulders in precarious positions (One set has been painted to look like a toad.).
There is not much in Congress, but we stopped at an antique shop that had a great deal of what most people would call "junk." The store had some treasures in it, such as a 1891 over/under Derringer complete with a box of ammo and various pictures and items, which although having no value, were of interest. Outside next to the building was an assortment of items that were definitely turn of the 20th Century as well as some nice lawn ornaments.
Yarnell was a nice, little town, also. A bit bigger than Congress, it boasts a couple restaurants, a pizza place, an American Legion and a goodly number antique stores. The first one that caught our eye was a place that billed itself as having "New Dead Things." Here we stayed for quite a while as chatted up the shopkeeper about her life, Yarnell and her two dogs, Sparky and Troia. She had items that were priceless and was not even trying to sell them, she just wanted to have them, "...For people to touch and feel, so they could get a sense of history." These included ancient bones, pieces of tusks, and arrowheads. I was tempted to buy a Native American grinding stone which she said was hundreds of years old, but I figured I would not be grinding peote beans any time soon.
We made other stops in the town and found all the shopkeepers rather cordial. They were easy to approach, very knowledgeable about their wares and the area, and shared their love of the community and the life it afforded them easily. I could tell that they loved living in these small towns and that the unhurried lifestyle and tranquil surroundings were just what they wanted in life.
We continued our trip up Route 89, around the square in Prescott, and then back down I-17. As we were getting on the interstate, I happened to mention that I had never been to the world renowned Rock Springs Cafe. That became our next destination.
The Rock Springs Cafe is renowned for its pies. But I have to say that the folks there make a mean Mexican Pizza. I ordered that as an appetizer, but it turned out being my meal. This monster was a 14 inch pizza with all the toppings that go on a Mexican Pizza. I am a big pizza eater, but I could not finish this, and have room for a piece of pie, so I brought the final 2/3rds home with me.
Sundays at the Rock Springs is "cream pie day". Rick got his favorite, Banana Cream (he was forced to share with Pat); Dorothy relented and had Chocolate Cream; I went against the grain and had a Jack Daniels Pecan pie. I am not going to go into the amount of moaning that was coming from our table, but leave it said that these were probably the best pie these diners have had in a long time. Rock Springs Cafe....thanks for the sugar high! ( and the slight buzz)
I didn't get to south on I-17 today... so tomorrow there will be a special edition of The Doughnut Hole 503.
Keep your eye upon the doughnut.
Doughnut
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The Grand Canyon State Travels
We have had a number of visitors this summer. I like visitors because I get to share the beauty of this great state with them. I have travelled the length of Interstate 10 from Flaggstaff to Tombstone and down south on I-19 towards Nogales. I have found in my travels that one thing constantly changes, and that is the landscape. The people don't, but every twist and turn in the highway on a given day brings new sights.
Let' start in the northern part of the state. The greatest of Arizona's attractions, The Grand Canyon. I have been to the GC twice this summer, and it never ceases to amaze me. It is a "big hole in the ground" but it is a gorgeous big hole. The striations of the rock and the changing colors and contours leaves no doubt of some event or guiding hand in the painting of its grandeur.
As we return to Flaggstaff, the San Francisco Mountains rise up and grace our view. Early June still finds snow on the caps, while later in the summer, we can see "the purple mountains majesty." Although the area to the east and north of Flagg has been devastated by fire this spring, the mountains are still a wondrous sight. And the absence of heat makes the crossroads of Arizona a great escape. Add in the Phoenix Cardinals Training Camp during August, and it becomes the even more appealing.
Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon area are outstanding for sights and mysteries. Sedona is sometimes called "The Harmonic Center of the Universe" so it is filled with little shops that sell New Age items. It also has what are called Vortices in and around Sedona which supposedly help visitors feel peace and tranquility (read lots of hippies and wannabes here). It also has an area outside to the west that is a haven for UFO watchers and has an Area 51 flavor to it as it is protected by government and fenced in.
Past Cottonwood on AZ 89A is Jerome, a mystical place in its own right. This hamlet, built upon the side of a mountain, was once a mining town, but is now filled with shops, taverns and eating places. Jerome is renowned for it ghosts, and a trip to Haunted Hamburger and other places may get you tapped on the shoulder by a ghostly countenance. The drive back down from Jerome to Prescott is filled with switchbacks and hairpin turns which challenge driving skills and your inner ear as vertigo sometimes takes over. The 30 mile trip often takes about an hour, but the time goes unnoticed, as you seemingly fly down the mountain and end up on the plains just outside Prescott, the one time Capital of Arizona.
Prescott is a bustling hamlet that has unique courthouse walk. The walk has a timeline of history carved into it, and visitors can walk the trail of time and get an idea of the history behind the community which wanted so badly to be the leader of state. A stroll down Whiskey Row and a visit to bars along it entertains visitors with spirits of the liquid kind and stories of spirits of ethereal kind. Prescott Rodeo Days offers a look back to "the thrilling days of yesteryear." (Although you won't see the Lone Ranger anywhere.)
From Prescott, travelers can choose to go back to I-17 and visit Campe Verde one of the first outposts of the US Army, or go to Montezuma's Castle, a city built around 1100AD and abandoned in 1400AD by the Sinagua Indians. (Montezuma was never there). For more thrills of Ghost towns, a quick trip south on AZ 60 and stops in Congress and Yarnell can bring more spirits and stories. Wickenburg is the largest town this way, and it is trying to stay true to its Western Heritage while embracing vineyards and wineries. This way takes you in the "back door" to the valley and you find yourself on Grand Avenue on the west side of town.
All along the way there are many shops, restaurants in which to stop. In all of them you will find people who are proud of their state, and more than happy to see you. Politics never enters conversations unless someone (read here, you) bring it up. Then Arizonans are passionate about their freedom, their rights, and making sure people understand their issues.
On my next entry (Monday) we'll explore the lands south of the valley, including a Titan Missile Silo.
Doughnut
Let' start in the northern part of the state. The greatest of Arizona's attractions, The Grand Canyon. I have been to the GC twice this summer, and it never ceases to amaze me. It is a "big hole in the ground" but it is a gorgeous big hole. The striations of the rock and the changing colors and contours leaves no doubt of some event or guiding hand in the painting of its grandeur.
As we return to Flaggstaff, the San Francisco Mountains rise up and grace our view. Early June still finds snow on the caps, while later in the summer, we can see "the purple mountains majesty." Although the area to the east and north of Flagg has been devastated by fire this spring, the mountains are still a wondrous sight. And the absence of heat makes the crossroads of Arizona a great escape. Add in the Phoenix Cardinals Training Camp during August, and it becomes the even more appealing.
Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon area are outstanding for sights and mysteries. Sedona is sometimes called "The Harmonic Center of the Universe" so it is filled with little shops that sell New Age items. It also has what are called Vortices in and around Sedona which supposedly help visitors feel peace and tranquility (read lots of hippies and wannabes here). It also has an area outside to the west that is a haven for UFO watchers and has an Area 51 flavor to it as it is protected by government and fenced in.
Past Cottonwood on AZ 89A is Jerome, a mystical place in its own right. This hamlet, built upon the side of a mountain, was once a mining town, but is now filled with shops, taverns and eating places. Jerome is renowned for it ghosts, and a trip to Haunted Hamburger and other places may get you tapped on the shoulder by a ghostly countenance. The drive back down from Jerome to Prescott is filled with switchbacks and hairpin turns which challenge driving skills and your inner ear as vertigo sometimes takes over. The 30 mile trip often takes about an hour, but the time goes unnoticed, as you seemingly fly down the mountain and end up on the plains just outside Prescott, the one time Capital of Arizona.
Prescott is a bustling hamlet that has unique courthouse walk. The walk has a timeline of history carved into it, and visitors can walk the trail of time and get an idea of the history behind the community which wanted so badly to be the leader of state. A stroll down Whiskey Row and a visit to bars along it entertains visitors with spirits of the liquid kind and stories of spirits of ethereal kind. Prescott Rodeo Days offers a look back to "the thrilling days of yesteryear." (Although you won't see the Lone Ranger anywhere.)
From Prescott, travelers can choose to go back to I-17 and visit Campe Verde one of the first outposts of the US Army, or go to Montezuma's Castle, a city built around 1100AD and abandoned in 1400AD by the Sinagua Indians. (Montezuma was never there). For more thrills of Ghost towns, a quick trip south on AZ 60 and stops in Congress and Yarnell can bring more spirits and stories. Wickenburg is the largest town this way, and it is trying to stay true to its Western Heritage while embracing vineyards and wineries. This way takes you in the "back door" to the valley and you find yourself on Grand Avenue on the west side of town.
All along the way there are many shops, restaurants in which to stop. In all of them you will find people who are proud of their state, and more than happy to see you. Politics never enters conversations unless someone (read here, you) bring it up. Then Arizonans are passionate about their freedom, their rights, and making sure people understand their issues.
On my next entry (Monday) we'll explore the lands south of the valley, including a Titan Missile Silo.
Doughnut
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Catchin Up and Pushing off.
I just realized that I have not written since July 26; where does time go? I mean, just yesterday I was writing, playing touron host, and going about my business of selling books. And I lost the writing part. Man, am I a slacker or what?
But in my defense, it was hot those three weeks; deadly hot. Fry an egg on my front walk hot. I know, I did it. Fat guys like me have a tendency to go into hibernation and stay in the AC all day, except when we are out in the air conditioned car tooling around. Being out without a hat can fry one's brain cells easily and I have little left to cook. But now that cooler weather (and heads) are occurring, I should be able to get back in the swing. Heck, I got up today at 7AM, took a shower, and kissed my wife good bye as she headed out to school, I think I can handle doing some writing.
The sale of my book, Growing Up Doughnut has been going well all summer. I say that, but I really have no idea how many copies I have sold. Seems that the release of the book was early in the reporting period, so I get no report until Amazon, Barnes and Noble and any other distributor reports to my publisher late this month. I guess it it doing well, though, as the book remains in the top 1/3 on Amazon, and is rated in the top 75,000 on BN. I know, that sounds like it is way down there, but the shear volume of books sold on those sights is in the millions.
I am getting ready to go back to Central Illinois on Labor Day Weekend. I will make a sincere attempt to let you folks know what is happening, but I make no promises. I have quite a few speaking engagements, TV Appearances (the Hubble is in line at the right time) and book signings. I will get to spend some time with some friends, my big brother (who is much smaller than me now) and see some sights.
Once that is finished, then it is back to the grind of writing the next part of the Saga of "Growing Up Doughnut" and I am doing a couple other things, also.
BTW...(I seldom use text symbols) have you heard the sounds of school yet around your house? I found the silence almost eerie now that Dorothy is gone for the day. And the anticipation of her return home so I can hear the stories of the day is almost too much to take. This is what it must be like for parents with children in school.
Maybe we need to have more kids....Rod Stewart did, and he is 65!
Doughnut
But in my defense, it was hot those three weeks; deadly hot. Fry an egg on my front walk hot. I know, I did it. Fat guys like me have a tendency to go into hibernation and stay in the AC all day, except when we are out in the air conditioned car tooling around. Being out without a hat can fry one's brain cells easily and I have little left to cook. But now that cooler weather (and heads) are occurring, I should be able to get back in the swing. Heck, I got up today at 7AM, took a shower, and kissed my wife good bye as she headed out to school, I think I can handle doing some writing.
The sale of my book, Growing Up Doughnut has been going well all summer. I say that, but I really have no idea how many copies I have sold. Seems that the release of the book was early in the reporting period, so I get no report until Amazon, Barnes and Noble and any other distributor reports to my publisher late this month. I guess it it doing well, though, as the book remains in the top 1/3 on Amazon, and is rated in the top 75,000 on BN. I know, that sounds like it is way down there, but the shear volume of books sold on those sights is in the millions.
I am getting ready to go back to Central Illinois on Labor Day Weekend. I will make a sincere attempt to let you folks know what is happening, but I make no promises. I have quite a few speaking engagements, TV Appearances (the Hubble is in line at the right time) and book signings. I will get to spend some time with some friends, my big brother (who is much smaller than me now) and see some sights.
Once that is finished, then it is back to the grind of writing the next part of the Saga of "Growing Up Doughnut" and I am doing a couple other things, also.
BTW...(I seldom use text symbols) have you heard the sounds of school yet around your house? I found the silence almost eerie now that Dorothy is gone for the day. And the anticipation of her return home so I can hear the stories of the day is almost too much to take. This is what it must be like for parents with children in school.
Maybe we need to have more kids....Rod Stewart did, and he is 65!
Doughnut
Monday, July 26, 2010
Why Would I Do That Again?
As we near the end of July, school posters, ads, and reminders pop up all over the place. Do I miss teaching? YES! (Well, let's qualify that....) I miss the kids and the challenges they give me, but I do not miss the administrative and bureaucratic BS that now goes with the profession.
Just the other day, I realized that in one small hour on the phone about a job interview. I was going to be a TA (Teaching Assistant) for an online university based in Clinton, IA. The people on the other end of the phone were nice people, well-intentioned (I think), but hardly aware of what grading papers in an English class is like.
Over the 34 years I taught English, I had learned to manage the barrage of papers that I created for myself. Sometimes I would give assignments that required one sentence answers to questions; sometimes I would give multiple choice assignments, and once a week, I would give an essay. These essays would range from usually around two pages to more than that. But, I knew how to budget my time, because I felt that if a student was going to spend the time writing this assignment, then I certainly should take the time to go over every bit of it and make it a colorful red. I had over 125 students, and that meant reading and marking over 250 pages sometimes. (Depending on if everyone turned in the assignment and met the required length.) I did this every week for the 36 weeks of school for 34 years.
When I asked how many students I would be responsible for, the lady told me 30-60. When I asked how many pages each assignment was, I was told 2-8 pages. What was I getting paid for this? Approximately 850 dollars for five weeks, or about 160 dollars a week. I was expected to get the papers back to students within 48 hours, I was to use a rubric to grade the papers and I could only work 12 a week, max. Now, if I followed their procedure, students may not get what I thought was a good review of their work, as I would have to spend less time on each page, and I would not get to use the same amount of red ink I was used. But the final straw, as I listened to the "college people of higher learning" was that they really did not care about quality, they only cared about quantity.
Later in the day, I read that there over 2000 "for Profit" universities in the US alone. And, according to the article in USA Today, they were going to have to start meeting certain standards, just like the secondary schools now have to do. So, Arne Duncan, who ran the Chicago Public Schools into the ground, and his colleagues in the US Dept. of Education now want to restrict the learning of folks at colleges and subject them to the same standards of what appears to be the No Child Left Behind Act. (Which I call The Every Child Becomes Mediocre Act)
After hearing this, and seeing the workload and the pay, I came to a conclusion. I would be better off spending my time floating in the pool and working at the museum and writing than I would be grading papers.
I mean, after all, I was not going to be the assistant, I was going to be the teacher. Been there, done that....
Doughnut
Just the other day, I realized that in one small hour on the phone about a job interview. I was going to be a TA (Teaching Assistant) for an online university based in Clinton, IA. The people on the other end of the phone were nice people, well-intentioned (I think), but hardly aware of what grading papers in an English class is like.
Over the 34 years I taught English, I had learned to manage the barrage of papers that I created for myself. Sometimes I would give assignments that required one sentence answers to questions; sometimes I would give multiple choice assignments, and once a week, I would give an essay. These essays would range from usually around two pages to more than that. But, I knew how to budget my time, because I felt that if a student was going to spend the time writing this assignment, then I certainly should take the time to go over every bit of it and make it a colorful red. I had over 125 students, and that meant reading and marking over 250 pages sometimes. (Depending on if everyone turned in the assignment and met the required length.) I did this every week for the 36 weeks of school for 34 years.
When I asked how many students I would be responsible for, the lady told me 30-60. When I asked how many pages each assignment was, I was told 2-8 pages. What was I getting paid for this? Approximately 850 dollars for five weeks, or about 160 dollars a week. I was expected to get the papers back to students within 48 hours, I was to use a rubric to grade the papers and I could only work 12 a week, max. Now, if I followed their procedure, students may not get what I thought was a good review of their work, as I would have to spend less time on each page, and I would not get to use the same amount of red ink I was used. But the final straw, as I listened to the "college people of higher learning" was that they really did not care about quality, they only cared about quantity.
Later in the day, I read that there over 2000 "for Profit" universities in the US alone. And, according to the article in USA Today, they were going to have to start meeting certain standards, just like the secondary schools now have to do. So, Arne Duncan, who ran the Chicago Public Schools into the ground, and his colleagues in the US Dept. of Education now want to restrict the learning of folks at colleges and subject them to the same standards of what appears to be the No Child Left Behind Act. (Which I call The Every Child Becomes Mediocre Act)
After hearing this, and seeing the workload and the pay, I came to a conclusion. I would be better off spending my time floating in the pool and working at the museum and writing than I would be grading papers.
I mean, after all, I was not going to be the assistant, I was going to be the teacher. Been there, done that....
Doughnut
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
A Slice a Day Does the Body Good
Have you ever had one of those feelings that you really should not have awakened in the morning? I did that yesterday and missed writing. During the whole day, I just did not feel complete or full filled.
The day started with me being in some kind of stupor (not stupid... that goes without saying). I just could not get my head off the pillow; nor could I open my eyes for any specific length of time. My mind was awake, but my poor body was not. I lay in bed thinking, "It's time to get up!" I heard revilie, my mother shouting at me, even thought I felt cold water on my face. Still no reaction; I was glued to my bed with my eyelids shut. I knew I had arms and legs, but they did not work. What was my problem?
I had worked all weekend with my head lower than my butt ( not in it!). Bending over and doing the work on the floor of my daughter's house seemed to have taken its toll on me. Or maybe I was stuck in a real life version of "Groundhog Day" and I was Bill Murray's character. I kept dozing, waking, trying to move... dozing, waking, trying to move.
Finally, I succeeded in moving and my body slung itself over the edge of the bed, and my eyes opened as I was able to roust my bones from their aperture and get them perpendicular with the floor. It was a feat of both physical and mental strength. I felt good on the edge there, but still I had to become fully erect and gain the ability to put one foot in front of the other and march into the kitchen for a cup of joe.
My mind was not fully functional as I made a usual breakfast of a ham sandwich on toast, coffee and some grapes. I looked at (note I did not say read) the AZ Republic and played the morning news show in the background, not really caring about any event that happened outside the four walls of my humble abode the night before or early in the morning.
I teetered to the living room and turned on the flat screen to gaze at some TV that I had recorded over the weekend. The show went by fast and I can't really tell you what I watched. I do know, though, that my eyelids again betrayed me, and I felt compelled to return to the comfort of my bed. I had a choice... bed or pool. I could go float out in the pool, or I could crawl back betweeen the sheets. One offered soft gentle rocking, the other a cool breeze. After much cogitation on the matter, I decided that bed would be better as I would not have the peril of rolling into the deep end of the pool and being possibly being fished from its clutches. Three hours went by quickly and quietly.
When I awoke from what seemed like a long winter's nap, I drove to the airport and picked up my second born who was returning from a weekend of debauchery in Chicago with her friends. She had not forgotten Ol'Dad... She and my surrogate daughter had gone to Giordanos before they parted in Chi Town and the youngest of the fruit of my loins brought back enough stuffed pizza to satisfy a craving for a while.
My day ended with those old feelings of remorse for the day being put in their place. Amazing how a good slice of pizza makes the day seem better.
Doughnut
The day started with me being in some kind of stupor (not stupid... that goes without saying). I just could not get my head off the pillow; nor could I open my eyes for any specific length of time. My mind was awake, but my poor body was not. I lay in bed thinking, "It's time to get up!" I heard revilie, my mother shouting at me, even thought I felt cold water on my face. Still no reaction; I was glued to my bed with my eyelids shut. I knew I had arms and legs, but they did not work. What was my problem?
I had worked all weekend with my head lower than my butt ( not in it!). Bending over and doing the work on the floor of my daughter's house seemed to have taken its toll on me. Or maybe I was stuck in a real life version of "Groundhog Day" and I was Bill Murray's character. I kept dozing, waking, trying to move... dozing, waking, trying to move.
Finally, I succeeded in moving and my body slung itself over the edge of the bed, and my eyes opened as I was able to roust my bones from their aperture and get them perpendicular with the floor. It was a feat of both physical and mental strength. I felt good on the edge there, but still I had to become fully erect and gain the ability to put one foot in front of the other and march into the kitchen for a cup of joe.
My mind was not fully functional as I made a usual breakfast of a ham sandwich on toast, coffee and some grapes. I looked at (note I did not say read) the AZ Republic and played the morning news show in the background, not really caring about any event that happened outside the four walls of my humble abode the night before or early in the morning.
I teetered to the living room and turned on the flat screen to gaze at some TV that I had recorded over the weekend. The show went by fast and I can't really tell you what I watched. I do know, though, that my eyelids again betrayed me, and I felt compelled to return to the comfort of my bed. I had a choice... bed or pool. I could go float out in the pool, or I could crawl back betweeen the sheets. One offered soft gentle rocking, the other a cool breeze. After much cogitation on the matter, I decided that bed would be better as I would not have the peril of rolling into the deep end of the pool and being possibly being fished from its clutches. Three hours went by quickly and quietly.
When I awoke from what seemed like a long winter's nap, I drove to the airport and picked up my second born who was returning from a weekend of debauchery in Chicago with her friends. She had not forgotten Ol'Dad... She and my surrogate daughter had gone to Giordanos before they parted in Chi Town and the youngest of the fruit of my loins brought back enough stuffed pizza to satisfy a craving for a while.
My day ended with those old feelings of remorse for the day being put in their place. Amazing how a good slice of pizza makes the day seem better.
Doughnut
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Construction man going wild
Ever done something and the next morning regretted it? I have that feeling this morning. It is not an alcohol induced remorse, but rather a physical one. I am not exactly a weekend warrior, so the exhaustion and lactose buildup is not due to some athletic endeavor. No, I thought I would help my daughter out and do some remodeling on her house.
I have done some restructuring of houses in my time. I built multiple decks, torn down walls and redone them, tiled floors, put in windows... you get the idea. All I had to do here was raise her sunken living room floor by four inches. No problem... I just take out the carpeting, frame up the outside, lay the joists and then put down the plywood sub floor. Easy... I get to use my new Craftsman Hammer and I will be done by evening.
What was it that Shakespeare said about mice and men and plans?
What I did not expect was that construction of the house involved a four inch lip around it before the carpenter put up walls. In the Midwest, slab houses usually are a slab, then the walls are put on that, so I thought it would be no problem. Here I have to drill into the lip. This took me all day to do ONE hole, and I knew there had to be a better way. I went to Ace and talked to the helpful hardware man, he reiterated the bolt method. I went to Home Depot and they said I should get a nail gun and literally shoot the nails into the concrete. Sounds like fun. Me, a powder charge and nails... WOOT!
So I dragged myself out of bed this morning ready to get armed and dangerous. Look out world, I will be shooting the nail gun soon.
Who said that remodeling is not challenging?
Doughnut
I have done some restructuring of houses in my time. I built multiple decks, torn down walls and redone them, tiled floors, put in windows... you get the idea. All I had to do here was raise her sunken living room floor by four inches. No problem... I just take out the carpeting, frame up the outside, lay the joists and then put down the plywood sub floor. Easy... I get to use my new Craftsman Hammer and I will be done by evening.
What was it that Shakespeare said about mice and men and plans?
What I did not expect was that construction of the house involved a four inch lip around it before the carpenter put up walls. In the Midwest, slab houses usually are a slab, then the walls are put on that, so I thought it would be no problem. Here I have to drill into the lip. This took me all day to do ONE hole, and I knew there had to be a better way. I went to Ace and talked to the helpful hardware man, he reiterated the bolt method. I went to Home Depot and they said I should get a nail gun and literally shoot the nails into the concrete. Sounds like fun. Me, a powder charge and nails... WOOT!
So I dragged myself out of bed this morning ready to get armed and dangerous. Look out world, I will be shooting the nail gun soon.
Who said that remodeling is not challenging?
Doughnut
Monday, July 12, 2010
My Wife Helps Me Be Wiser
Yesterday was my wife's .....birthday. I would put a number in there, but she might not appreciate it. I don't know why, she is more beautiful and younger looking now than when we married 35 years ago. I thought I would take this opportunity to lecture my other "sons" about their wives. I know, I should probably save this for the anniversary day, but it is on my mind now, and in my feeble condition, I might forget....What was I talking about?....Oh, Yeah...
One of my "sons" (Ryan) celebrated he and Elizabeth's first anniversary yesterday. These two are so cute together. (Yes, I said cute.) They still have that honeymoon attitude about them as they look into each other's eyes and hang each other's words. Ryan, make sure it stays that way. Over the years, I have found that I rarely win an argument, even when I am right. Occasionally Dorothy will tell me I am right, but I don't hold my breath waiting. This is just something you have to get used to. She will come around to your way of thinking in bits and pieces, but more than anything, you know when you are right, and you don't have to rub her nose it.
When I look at you two, I see Dorothy and I when we were young. I still look at her that way, I still try and touch her leg, or her arm whenever she says something that makes me chuckle. I still hang on her every word and love to watch her walk away. Don't lose that. As long as you look at her as not only your wife, but your best friend (sometimes your only one) your relationship will constantly renew itself as you discover different corners of your shared personality.
Justin, I don't know your new betrothed. This is something to be rectified. But, I can see through your pictures of her that she is fun loving and witty. She has a look on her face that tells me that she can't do without you. A love built on passion, excitement and adventure is one that will find all those in the smallest experiences. You, too, have found a best friend. When the physical stuff subsides, you need someone that can match you in brains. Believe me, Dorothy has all that. I remember the line from Forrest Gump, "I am not a very smart man, Jenny, but I do know what love is..."
Finally, boys, this bit of advice goes to both of you. Always remember, "What is hers is hers and what is yours is hers."
Dorothy may have gotten a year older, but I look at it this way... for 6 weeks, I get the experience of an older woman. If that is not exciting, look up what Ben Franklin had to say about older women....
Doughnut
One of my "sons" (Ryan) celebrated he and Elizabeth's first anniversary yesterday. These two are so cute together. (Yes, I said cute.) They still have that honeymoon attitude about them as they look into each other's eyes and hang each other's words. Ryan, make sure it stays that way. Over the years, I have found that I rarely win an argument, even when I am right. Occasionally Dorothy will tell me I am right, but I don't hold my breath waiting. This is just something you have to get used to. She will come around to your way of thinking in bits and pieces, but more than anything, you know when you are right, and you don't have to rub her nose it.
When I look at you two, I see Dorothy and I when we were young. I still look at her that way, I still try and touch her leg, or her arm whenever she says something that makes me chuckle. I still hang on her every word and love to watch her walk away. Don't lose that. As long as you look at her as not only your wife, but your best friend (sometimes your only one) your relationship will constantly renew itself as you discover different corners of your shared personality.
Justin, I don't know your new betrothed. This is something to be rectified. But, I can see through your pictures of her that she is fun loving and witty. She has a look on her face that tells me that she can't do without you. A love built on passion, excitement and adventure is one that will find all those in the smallest experiences. You, too, have found a best friend. When the physical stuff subsides, you need someone that can match you in brains. Believe me, Dorothy has all that. I remember the line from Forrest Gump, "I am not a very smart man, Jenny, but I do know what love is..."
Finally, boys, this bit of advice goes to both of you. Always remember, "What is hers is hers and what is yours is hers."
Dorothy may have gotten a year older, but I look at it this way... for 6 weeks, I get the experience of an older woman. If that is not exciting, look up what Ben Franklin had to say about older women....
Doughnut
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Grow a Spine
I hope you have been following the news lately about my adopted state, Arizona.
Arizona is not Illinois. There are few flat areas, few cornfields, and lots of mountains and HEAT!
Living in AZ during the summer, is kind of like taking up residence inside your oven for three months. "It's a dry heat." With a pool and some AC and a mountain of cool beverages, it is quite nice to see sun 340 days a year and not worry about tornadoes or governors being indicted.
Arizona is, however, under fire from just about every person who thinks that illegal immigration is the law of the land, including the President of the US. (POTUS) My state is suffering from unemployment like the rest of the country, a low economy like the rest of the country, and a bad housing market that was once the backbone of this area. What is has that the rest of the US does not, is a border that seems to be leaking illegals that come through the desert. What? Arizona is a border state? Just ask the member of the Milwaukee Board of Supervisors, Julie West. She will tell you that AZ is not a border state:
“If this was Texas, which is a state that is directly on the border with Mexico, and they were calling for a measure like this saying that they had a major issue with undocumented people flooding the borders, I would have to look twice at this. But this is a state that is a ways removed from the border.” (Yes, But However" website)
I think this goes to prove that those outside Arizona (and some inside) do not understand the law.
Even POTUS seems to have no clue when he okayed the filing of the lawsuit against Arizona, calling the law "a misguided law." He has promised troops for the border, but they have not materialized; he has promised to send his advisors for a meeting, that has not happened. (You know, I just thought the last sentence sounded a lot like part of the Declaration of Independence charges against George III!)
I long for the days of this country when people followed the law and entered the country through regular channels and became citizens the proper way. But now, the protocol seems to be to sneak into the country or overstay you visa and then possibly steal an ID, get work, live here illegally for a number of years, then ask to be forgiven and granted immunity from prosecution;given citizenship and then go on. OR...don't get citizenship, use up the social system money meant for citizens, then complain that the rest of the country is a racist and lacks compassion for your plight.
Immigrants to the US who came here via Ellis Island all saw the same poem on the plaque by the Lady Liberty, entitled "The New Colossus"
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Emma Lazarus
The US Constitution does not mention immigration, and it has ignored the problem. Arizona has started the ball rolling to be sure that those who want a life here go through the proper channels and do not corrupt the process for those who have gone and who really want to later. What ever happened to immigration quotas? When did it become all right for visitors to come in the backdoor unannounced? Mark Twain once wrote, "Fish and visitors smell in three days." If we put that adage to use, then unannounced, unwanted, undocumented "visitors" also have a distinct odor and need to be thrown out.
Arizona does not believe in isolationism, nor does it want that for itself or the country. A depressed state does not need boycotts, it needs help. Some sister states are beginning to see that what Arizona is doing can make a difference. 70 percent of all Arizonans, and almost 55% of all Americans believe the same thing. For a country where majority rules, there does not seem to be many politicians listening.
It is time that the US government grows a spine and takes its responsibilities upon its back. That POTUS lives up to his oath of office. He tries to build another country halfway around the globe when his own backyard is being trashed by invaders.
Did we learn nothing from the lesson of the Romans?
Doughnut
Arizona is not Illinois. There are few flat areas, few cornfields, and lots of mountains and HEAT!
Living in AZ during the summer, is kind of like taking up residence inside your oven for three months. "It's a dry heat." With a pool and some AC and a mountain of cool beverages, it is quite nice to see sun 340 days a year and not worry about tornadoes or governors being indicted.
Arizona is, however, under fire from just about every person who thinks that illegal immigration is the law of the land, including the President of the US. (POTUS) My state is suffering from unemployment like the rest of the country, a low economy like the rest of the country, and a bad housing market that was once the backbone of this area. What is has that the rest of the US does not, is a border that seems to be leaking illegals that come through the desert. What? Arizona is a border state? Just ask the member of the Milwaukee Board of Supervisors, Julie West. She will tell you that AZ is not a border state:
“If this was Texas, which is a state that is directly on the border with Mexico, and they were calling for a measure like this saying that they had a major issue with undocumented people flooding the borders, I would have to look twice at this. But this is a state that is a ways removed from the border.” (Yes, But However" website)
I think this goes to prove that those outside Arizona (and some inside) do not understand the law.
Even POTUS seems to have no clue when he okayed the filing of the lawsuit against Arizona, calling the law "a misguided law." He has promised troops for the border, but they have not materialized; he has promised to send his advisors for a meeting, that has not happened. (You know, I just thought the last sentence sounded a lot like part of the Declaration of Independence charges against George III!)
I long for the days of this country when people followed the law and entered the country through regular channels and became citizens the proper way. But now, the protocol seems to be to sneak into the country or overstay you visa and then possibly steal an ID, get work, live here illegally for a number of years, then ask to be forgiven and granted immunity from prosecution;given citizenship and then go on. OR...don't get citizenship, use up the social system money meant for citizens, then complain that the rest of the country is a racist and lacks compassion for your plight.
Immigrants to the US who came here via Ellis Island all saw the same poem on the plaque by the Lady Liberty, entitled "The New Colossus"
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Emma Lazarus
The US Constitution does not mention immigration, and it has ignored the problem. Arizona has started the ball rolling to be sure that those who want a life here go through the proper channels and do not corrupt the process for those who have gone and who really want to later. What ever happened to immigration quotas? When did it become all right for visitors to come in the backdoor unannounced? Mark Twain once wrote, "Fish and visitors smell in three days." If we put that adage to use, then unannounced, unwanted, undocumented "visitors" also have a distinct odor and need to be thrown out.
Arizona does not believe in isolationism, nor does it want that for itself or the country. A depressed state does not need boycotts, it needs help. Some sister states are beginning to see that what Arizona is doing can make a difference. 70 percent of all Arizonans, and almost 55% of all Americans believe the same thing. For a country where majority rules, there does not seem to be many politicians listening.
It is time that the US government grows a spine and takes its responsibilities upon its back. That POTUS lives up to his oath of office. He tries to build another country halfway around the globe when his own backyard is being trashed by invaders.
Did we learn nothing from the lesson of the Romans?
Doughnut
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Going Into The Home Stretch
Summer is officially halfway through! The Fourth of July is gone, Memorial Day has passed and now it is full speed ahead to Labor Day! As we peaked the hill and started the descent into fall, a look back on events so far may be in order.
Summer got off with a bang as the whole fam damily was around for Memorial Day weekend. June 1st saw my brother-in-law, Jim get his apartment in Tucson and move there to get himself in shape for his new prosthesis. Things there seem to be doing well, and he should be on the apparatus soon. Watching what he has gone through for the past year really has made me hesitant about healthcare. I mean, if the system treats vets the way it has him, what will be in store for the rest of us? I have gone from being an avid supporter to having a "wait and see" attitude.
June was a great month for doing nothing! The Valley warmed up quickly, and my tomato plants and Debi's yard are struggling. I had to move my plants three times to get them out of the sun. Growing things out here is not as easy as it is in the Midwest, and watering is sometimes a mystery. You can water too much and kill something, and you can water not enough and kill something.... used to think that heat was good for plants, but not here. I am still struggling to keep my four tomatoes growing to maturity.
Debi's lawn is another conundrum. We have spent well over 600 dollars on seed, fertilizer, and dirt. We have watered it, raked it, rolled it, and kept the dog off it. But we grow weeds, not grass. I know Bermuda grass looks like weeds, but these weeds seem to have mind of their own. They look nothing like grass, but rather Kudzu. At least the dog has something play in and does not roll around in dirt anymore!
My book has done well so far this summer. I don't know how many copies I have sold, but the comments I get from people makes me think that it is receiving good reviews from readers. I can't get the book into mainstream stores, though. The big publishers have a lock there, and just will not talk to independent publishers. Getting the book reviewed is also trouble. The Chicago Tribune Digital Editor promised to review it, or get someone to review it, but so far there is no response to my letters to her. To break even on this book, ( I paid to have it published) will take sales of about 1000 copies. I am told that if I have 800 copies sold, it will be doing well. When I go back on Labor Day to Hoopeston, I will be interviewed by WCIA in Champaign and by several radio stations. Let's hope that helps.
The blog has suffered this summer. And for that I apologize. But I will attempt to have regular postings on Tuesday and Friday, so it will be like a column. HMMM maybe some paper will be picking me up.....
See you in the funny papers!
Doughnut
Summer got off with a bang as the whole fam damily was around for Memorial Day weekend. June 1st saw my brother-in-law, Jim get his apartment in Tucson and move there to get himself in shape for his new prosthesis. Things there seem to be doing well, and he should be on the apparatus soon. Watching what he has gone through for the past year really has made me hesitant about healthcare. I mean, if the system treats vets the way it has him, what will be in store for the rest of us? I have gone from being an avid supporter to having a "wait and see" attitude.
June was a great month for doing nothing! The Valley warmed up quickly, and my tomato plants and Debi's yard are struggling. I had to move my plants three times to get them out of the sun. Growing things out here is not as easy as it is in the Midwest, and watering is sometimes a mystery. You can water too much and kill something, and you can water not enough and kill something.... used to think that heat was good for plants, but not here. I am still struggling to keep my four tomatoes growing to maturity.
Debi's lawn is another conundrum. We have spent well over 600 dollars on seed, fertilizer, and dirt. We have watered it, raked it, rolled it, and kept the dog off it. But we grow weeds, not grass. I know Bermuda grass looks like weeds, but these weeds seem to have mind of their own. They look nothing like grass, but rather Kudzu. At least the dog has something play in and does not roll around in dirt anymore!
My book has done well so far this summer. I don't know how many copies I have sold, but the comments I get from people makes me think that it is receiving good reviews from readers. I can't get the book into mainstream stores, though. The big publishers have a lock there, and just will not talk to independent publishers. Getting the book reviewed is also trouble. The Chicago Tribune Digital Editor promised to review it, or get someone to review it, but so far there is no response to my letters to her. To break even on this book, ( I paid to have it published) will take sales of about 1000 copies. I am told that if I have 800 copies sold, it will be doing well. When I go back on Labor Day to Hoopeston, I will be interviewed by WCIA in Champaign and by several radio stations. Let's hope that helps.
The blog has suffered this summer. And for that I apologize. But I will attempt to have regular postings on Tuesday and Friday, so it will be like a column. HMMM maybe some paper will be picking me up.....
See you in the funny papers!
Doughnut
Friday, July 2, 2010
Think of Friends this July 4
Friendships often fade with distance, but true friends pick up where they left off. That is the way with many of my friends when we get back together after years of separation. That is the way it was last week when my good friend, and editor, Susie Dayton, showed up on my patio.
Luckily for her I heard her voice before I tore off my shorts to get in the pool!
I entrusted Sus to edit my book "Growing Up Doughnut" (available at Amazon.com) because she was my friend, and because I knew she would do a good job. How did I know this even though we had not seen each other in over 40 years? We had talked on Facebook and on the phone a number of times and we kept acquainted, but we never got together. She had not changed, she was still silly, bright, and had that great sense of humor. Friends rarely disappoint us when we ask them to do something, and Susie did not disappoint when it came to the task for which she volunteered.
Others have stepped up also with advice and services as I struggle to get the book into mainstream bookstores. Scott Baer has helped make an audio interview for me that will soon be on this blog; Dr. Bill Gholson gave me guidance and direction and kept me on track; Andy Hudson, a former student, has agreed to carry the book in his drugstore; and Ursula (Roncevich) Baker, another former student, is helping with advice and footwork on marketing. Finally, all you former students from Paxton, Buckley, Loda, Roberts, Thawville, Clarence, and Morning Sun have bought the book. My hometown peeps of Hoopeston have responded with their purchases and have reaped praise upon me and the book.
Through the book, I have talked to friends from long ago and found them all to be successful whether they might be a Sgt. Major in the Marines, a doctor in Chicago, or a housewife in Hoopeston. They have all done what they wanted and are happy. That is all that I could want for them. That is what my book is about...friendship, growing, loving, losing, and remembering.
As we head into the 4th of July weekend, take a moment to stop and look around you. Look at what you have and what you had. You are in your life exactly where you are supposed to be, surrounded by the people that are supposed to be there.
This weekend, raise a glass to those you have known, and to those you will know; to those you knew and are gone and to those you don't know but are giving their all. When you watch those fireworks, and see that flag unfurled, I hope you get a tear in your eye and a lump in throat.
I always do.
Doughnut
Luckily for her I heard her voice before I tore off my shorts to get in the pool!
I entrusted Sus to edit my book "Growing Up Doughnut" (available at Amazon.com) because she was my friend, and because I knew she would do a good job. How did I know this even though we had not seen each other in over 40 years? We had talked on Facebook and on the phone a number of times and we kept acquainted, but we never got together. She had not changed, she was still silly, bright, and had that great sense of humor. Friends rarely disappoint us when we ask them to do something, and Susie did not disappoint when it came to the task for which she volunteered.
Others have stepped up also with advice and services as I struggle to get the book into mainstream bookstores. Scott Baer has helped make an audio interview for me that will soon be on this blog; Dr. Bill Gholson gave me guidance and direction and kept me on track; Andy Hudson, a former student, has agreed to carry the book in his drugstore; and Ursula (Roncevich) Baker, another former student, is helping with advice and footwork on marketing. Finally, all you former students from Paxton, Buckley, Loda, Roberts, Thawville, Clarence, and Morning Sun have bought the book. My hometown peeps of Hoopeston have responded with their purchases and have reaped praise upon me and the book.
Through the book, I have talked to friends from long ago and found them all to be successful whether they might be a Sgt. Major in the Marines, a doctor in Chicago, or a housewife in Hoopeston. They have all done what they wanted and are happy. That is all that I could want for them. That is what my book is about...friendship, growing, loving, losing, and remembering.
As we head into the 4th of July weekend, take a moment to stop and look around you. Look at what you have and what you had. You are in your life exactly where you are supposed to be, surrounded by the people that are supposed to be there.
This weekend, raise a glass to those you have known, and to those you will know; to those you knew and are gone and to those you don't know but are giving their all. When you watch those fireworks, and see that flag unfurled, I hope you get a tear in your eye and a lump in throat.
I always do.
Doughnut
Friday, June 25, 2010
SURPRISE!!!!
I love my wife. Throughout the 35 years+ we have been together, she has never ceased to amaze me. She has rarely surprised me, though. On Thursday, however, she accomplished a major surprise. It was major not because of what it was, but because of how many people were involved. Dorothy had to silence my two kids (no real problem, they love to get dad's goat), my good friend, Rick (he almost gave up the ghost), her best friend, Barb (This was easy, Barb forgot the moment after she was told.), my friend Susie (the object of the surprise), and Susie's sister, Louise (She lives in NC, so we rarely talk, except on Facebook.).
Dorothy started the big surprise on Father's Day by telling me that I was not to volunteer to be a docent at the AZ Capitol Museum on Mon-Thurs of next week. We were going away, but she would not tell me where. My kids faked cluelessness (hard for them), so I gave up trying to find out what the surprise was.
Yesterday I decided to clean the garage and straighten it up. We are having some friends from Hoopeston over on Saturday, and I wanted my garage clean in case we end up there. (Many nights in Hoopeston were spent in the garage sitting around). About half an hour into my task, Dorothy decides that she will help because she, "doesn't want me to get overcome by heat." (At 8AM it was already 90.) Then, out of the blue, my son calls and offers to have me go with him and get his new Iphone4, then he enticed me with the offer of a free lunch at my favorite Greek place, "The Greek Pita" on Thunderbird, just one block west of I-17. (did you get the advertisement for them? I lost my wallet there, and Nadia found it and returned it to my house!)
When we came back, I went out to the patio to get my regular glasses, and sitting there was Susie Dayton, the person who had edited my book, and a good friend whom I have not seen in about 40 years! My wife had arranged for her to come to the valley, spend a week with us, and just hang!
This began me thinking about friends, loves, yesterday. So, during the next couple articles, those topics will be my focus.
Doughnut
Dorothy started the big surprise on Father's Day by telling me that I was not to volunteer to be a docent at the AZ Capitol Museum on Mon-Thurs of next week. We were going away, but she would not tell me where. My kids faked cluelessness (hard for them), so I gave up trying to find out what the surprise was.
Yesterday I decided to clean the garage and straighten it up. We are having some friends from Hoopeston over on Saturday, and I wanted my garage clean in case we end up there. (Many nights in Hoopeston were spent in the garage sitting around). About half an hour into my task, Dorothy decides that she will help because she, "doesn't want me to get overcome by heat." (At 8AM it was already 90.) Then, out of the blue, my son calls and offers to have me go with him and get his new Iphone4, then he enticed me with the offer of a free lunch at my favorite Greek place, "The Greek Pita" on Thunderbird, just one block west of I-17. (did you get the advertisement for them? I lost my wallet there, and Nadia found it and returned it to my house!)
When we came back, I went out to the patio to get my regular glasses, and sitting there was Susie Dayton, the person who had edited my book, and a good friend whom I have not seen in about 40 years! My wife had arranged for her to come to the valley, spend a week with us, and just hang!
This began me thinking about friends, loves, yesterday. So, during the next couple articles, those topics will be my focus.
Doughnut
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Work Hard For the Comps
The "work" day is going well. I put the word work in quotations, because it seems that writers sometimes get no respect for what they do. I mean, my family gives me heck about sitting around the house all day in my BVDs and staring at the ceiling or the water in the pool. But I am constantly working.....
Since my book, "Growing Up Doughnut" was released about a month ago, I have done less writing and thinking and more talking on the phone. Don't get me wrong, I love talking (as you may well remember) and the sound of my own voice sometimes mesmerizes me into a state of self-importance. But since my efforts at marketing are going along bumpily ( I get more no's than yes's) I need to find time to write and think more.
The book marketing is an entity on its own, and I am sure that if I had an agent, that person would be doing this for their percentage of the $1.77 cent royalty I get on each book. There is mailing costs to promoters and book buyers, bookstores, reviewers, TV stations, radio outlets, as well as family and friends. Shy of taking out a full page ad in a major paper, or even a half page advertisement, this marketing stuff is tough. And expensive.
I need a doughnut shop to step up and say, "We'll sponsor you, Doughnut!" and give me some cash to be their spokesperson. I need a major morning news show like "Today" to call (Channel 3, WCIA TV in Champaign, IL has booked me already!), or even "Ellen" or "Oprah" to take notice. My peeps are getting the word out now, and maybe Barnes and Noble or TARGET will carry the book! Wouldn't that be a hoot! I could be on a TARGET ad with a big red dot on my face... or a doughnut hole in the dot... Wait! I know! Sam's Club! I could do a whirl wind tour of Sam's Clubs and do autographs.....Ken Levine needs to read my book and contact me about turning it into a situation comedy...Maybe Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady could use the book to do for doughnuts what they did for nerds in "Big Bang Theory!"
I can see it now... Pulitzer, Emmy, Oscar; all the biggies. But you know, the accolades I love the most? The ones I get from .....
JERKY AND THE CORNJERKER NATION!
Doughnut
Since my book, "Growing Up Doughnut" was released about a month ago, I have done less writing and thinking and more talking on the phone. Don't get me wrong, I love talking (as you may well remember) and the sound of my own voice sometimes mesmerizes me into a state of self-importance. But since my efforts at marketing are going along bumpily ( I get more no's than yes's) I need to find time to write and think more.
The book marketing is an entity on its own, and I am sure that if I had an agent, that person would be doing this for their percentage of the $1.77 cent royalty I get on each book. There is mailing costs to promoters and book buyers, bookstores, reviewers, TV stations, radio outlets, as well as family and friends. Shy of taking out a full page ad in a major paper, or even a half page advertisement, this marketing stuff is tough. And expensive.
I need a doughnut shop to step up and say, "We'll sponsor you, Doughnut!" and give me some cash to be their spokesperson. I need a major morning news show like "Today" to call (Channel 3, WCIA TV in Champaign, IL has booked me already!), or even "Ellen" or "Oprah" to take notice. My peeps are getting the word out now, and maybe Barnes and Noble or TARGET will carry the book! Wouldn't that be a hoot! I could be on a TARGET ad with a big red dot on my face... or a doughnut hole in the dot... Wait! I know! Sam's Club! I could do a whirl wind tour of Sam's Clubs and do autographs.....Ken Levine needs to read my book and contact me about turning it into a situation comedy...Maybe Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady could use the book to do for doughnuts what they did for nerds in "Big Bang Theory!"
I can see it now... Pulitzer, Emmy, Oscar; all the biggies. But you know, the accolades I love the most? The ones I get from .....
JERKY AND THE CORNJERKER NATION!
Doughnut
Monday, June 21, 2010
Father's Day Meatfest
Yesterday was Father's Day, and my children (both grown to adulthood now) took the old man out to eat. My wife did not come along, it was just the three of us. Dorothy is not a big eater, and this restaurant we went to deals with serving their guests copious ( in my daughter's words) amounts of meat.
The establishment was named FOGO de CHAO in Scottsdale. This restaurant bills itself as a Brazilian Churbrascaria, which roughly translated is Portuguese for BBQ.
I knew I was in for a dining delight when I walked into the restaurant and saw large beef ribs on spits in the front window! These ribs were skewered and rotating on spits horizonatally with the juices running into a pan. The fire was not under the skewers, but rather the ribs were in a circle around it! The skewers and fire were about 3 feet high, and I could easily look at them without bending over.
When we sat down, we were cautioned by the waiter to not indulge too much in the salad bar, or we would miss out on a rare dining experience. This gaucho knew his stuff!
Here is the deal... guys with skewers holding different kinds of meat walk around the dining room and ask guests if they want some meat. Now there are 13 different kinds of meat, and each skewer is about a yard long. (Think of it as a "yard o' Meat"). Each diner has a card that is red on one side and green on the other. When the red is up, you are saying "No meat"; when the green is up, you are shouting, "Come here and cut me some animal flesh!" And they do!
The gauchos bring the meat to your table, and cut it right off the skewer and lay it on your plate. Not just one gauch, but all of them come by your table until you turn the card over to RED! Chicken, pork, lamb, beef, sausage, chicken wrapped with bacon, beef wrapped in piggy, chicken on a stick, ribeye, sirloin, and Little Bo Peep all brought to you for your gorging pleasure.
In addition, you get potatoes, something that I can't spell or pronounce, and glazed bananas.
We ate for over two hours! I was so full when I got home, that my buttons on my pants were straining and my belt was cutting into my already large belly. But what an experience!
Some Dads get ties, some golf clubs, some socks.... but my kids know their Daddy! I won't have to eat for a day....
Doughnut
The establishment was named FOGO de CHAO in Scottsdale. This restaurant bills itself as a Brazilian Churbrascaria, which roughly translated is Portuguese for BBQ.
I knew I was in for a dining delight when I walked into the restaurant and saw large beef ribs on spits in the front window! These ribs were skewered and rotating on spits horizonatally with the juices running into a pan. The fire was not under the skewers, but rather the ribs were in a circle around it! The skewers and fire were about 3 feet high, and I could easily look at them without bending over.
When we sat down, we were cautioned by the waiter to not indulge too much in the salad bar, or we would miss out on a rare dining experience. This gaucho knew his stuff!
Here is the deal... guys with skewers holding different kinds of meat walk around the dining room and ask guests if they want some meat. Now there are 13 different kinds of meat, and each skewer is about a yard long. (Think of it as a "yard o' Meat"). Each diner has a card that is red on one side and green on the other. When the red is up, you are saying "No meat"; when the green is up, you are shouting, "Come here and cut me some animal flesh!" And they do!
The gauchos bring the meat to your table, and cut it right off the skewer and lay it on your plate. Not just one gauch, but all of them come by your table until you turn the card over to RED! Chicken, pork, lamb, beef, sausage, chicken wrapped with bacon, beef wrapped in piggy, chicken on a stick, ribeye, sirloin, and Little Bo Peep all brought to you for your gorging pleasure.
In addition, you get potatoes, something that I can't spell or pronounce, and glazed bananas.
We ate for over two hours! I was so full when I got home, that my buttons on my pants were straining and my belt was cutting into my already large belly. But what an experience!
Some Dads get ties, some golf clubs, some socks.... but my kids know their Daddy! I won't have to eat for a day....
Doughnut
Monday, June 7, 2010
Marriage Advice for Jehan
Where has time gone? It seems like yesterday that I wrote on this blog. By now, I imagine, most of my loyal following are worried (?) about me and wonder (?) of my whereabouts and possibly are concerned (?) about my physical well-being.
Not to fear, though, I am alive and well in the Nation's Capitol! The president asked me to surreptiously come to the DC to give hime advice on how to handle crisis, and to possibly to get the Baltimore Orioles on the winning track. He saw, however, that opinions are like sphincters...everybody has one, and most smell. The Orioles, I am afraid, are hopeless this year.
I have found out here, though, a friend in a three year old chocolate lab named Ella. Ella is the dog of my "nephew" Jehan and his new wife Lyndsey, the real reason I came to DC. They got married last weekend in a beautiful ceremony in the Visual Arts Museum in Baltimore, just off the Inner Harbor. The reception was there, also.
While at the ceremony, I found myself tearing up. Not because it was sad (It was a beautiful ceremony) but rather because I found myself reflecting on my own marriage. I wasn't crying because I have had very happy, marriage for 35 years to a wonderful woman.
I tried to give Jehan some advice for his marriage. (1) Always remember--- What is hers is hers, and what is yours is, well, hers. (2) When you first get up in the morning, tell her, "You are beautiful, and Ilove you." When you go to bed, tell, "You are beautiful and I love you." And at least three time during the day, say, "I love you." and give her a kiss and a hug. (Even if she does not want it,)
Finally, like Ella, rub her belly once in a while, and she will be your friend for life.
Doughnut
Not to fear, though, I am alive and well in the Nation's Capitol! The president asked me to surreptiously come to the DC to give hime advice on how to handle crisis, and to possibly to get the Baltimore Orioles on the winning track. He saw, however, that opinions are like sphincters...everybody has one, and most smell. The Orioles, I am afraid, are hopeless this year.
I have found out here, though, a friend in a three year old chocolate lab named Ella. Ella is the dog of my "nephew" Jehan and his new wife Lyndsey, the real reason I came to DC. They got married last weekend in a beautiful ceremony in the Visual Arts Museum in Baltimore, just off the Inner Harbor. The reception was there, also.
While at the ceremony, I found myself tearing up. Not because it was sad (It was a beautiful ceremony) but rather because I found myself reflecting on my own marriage. I wasn't crying because I have had very happy, marriage for 35 years to a wonderful woman.
I tried to give Jehan some advice for his marriage. (1) Always remember--- What is hers is hers, and what is yours is, well, hers. (2) When you first get up in the morning, tell her, "You are beautiful, and Ilove you." When you go to bed, tell, "You are beautiful and I love you." And at least three time during the day, say, "I love you." and give her a kiss and a hug. (Even if she does not want it,)
Finally, like Ella, rub her belly once in a while, and she will be your friend for life.
Doughnut
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Dilemma of Summer Vacation
My wife began her official summer off today and I have to say that it is going to be strange having her around all day. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife and she is my best friend, but as we all know, there comes a time when a person needs to be alone and the day time hours are my time hours. That is when I do my writing, watch my TV, catch up on my emails and generally do whatever I want, when I want. If I don't want to get dressed until noon--I don't; if I want to do some yardwork, I do. If want to sit and contemplate my navel, I get a mirror and do so.
For a couple weeks, my style has been cramped by my brother-in-law who has been spending time with us recovering from an amputation. By style I mean I have had to put on clothes at a regular time every day. (Never mind the image, go with me...) I have not been exactly free to do my thing when I want to do it... I have felt as stifled as Edith Bunker. He moves out May 31.
But my wife is now home for a while. Don't get me wrong, she has seen me naked on at least two occasions that I can think of (no, maybe it was dark both times...) but with her home, the chance for happenstance visitors increases. So now I have to break my devil-may-care attitude and return the Victorian times and make sure that my outerwear covers most of my body berka like.
This really should not be a problem, after all, she spends most of her time by the pool during the day reading a good book. No, not mine. She says that she does not have to read it again.
So, What's a guy to do?
Doughnut
For a couple weeks, my style has been cramped by my brother-in-law who has been spending time with us recovering from an amputation. By style I mean I have had to put on clothes at a regular time every day. (Never mind the image, go with me...) I have not been exactly free to do my thing when I want to do it... I have felt as stifled as Edith Bunker. He moves out May 31.
But my wife is now home for a while. Don't get me wrong, she has seen me naked on at least two occasions that I can think of (no, maybe it was dark both times...) but with her home, the chance for happenstance visitors increases. So now I have to break my devil-may-care attitude and return the Victorian times and make sure that my outerwear covers most of my body berka like.
This really should not be a problem, after all, she spends most of her time by the pool during the day reading a good book. No, not mine. She says that she does not have to read it again.
So, What's a guy to do?
Doughnut
Monday, May 24, 2010
May Be Changing My Tune
Saturday afternoon I got a firsthand look at what the proposed health care might look like. A great deal of the bill demands treatment much like you will find for our veterans at VA hospitals around the nation. Some of that care is very good, but other institutions are lacking in quality and timeliness.
I took my brother-in-law to Carl Hayden VA Hospital here in Phoenix for emergency treatment for a back problem and an issue with his recently amputated leg. As we entered the small area of the waiting room, we were immediately met with a great many people either waiting for treatment, or who had just been treated and were expecting medication.
We came into ED about 1:10 and my brother-in-law went back around 1:25 and saw triage nurse. I thought that this was rather quick and proudly thought to myself that if this was how Obamacare worked, then I did not understand what the fuss was about. Jim returned at 1:45, pretty quick, huh? He was told there were 3 doctors and things were going quickly, but at 3:20, he was still sitting in waiting room to see a doctor along with about 10 other patients.
At one point, a man who had been waiting on treatment for over two hours tore his ID band off and left in anger. A member of the staff commented, "He has only been here two hours. He should consider himself lucky." He was right.
Another man waited 3 hours to get his medications; I have no idea how long he waited for his appointment.
At 1:19, an elderly man entered the Emergency Department in obvious distress; he is put in wheel chair and let sit. He complains of nausea, fatigue, chills. He has the dry heaves & trouble breathing, but it takes about 10 minutes before he is seen. Not a pleasant sight as he struggles, gags, and chokes in front of everyone in the waiting room.
1:30 he is finally called back, we do not see him again.
A staff member tells me that some days patients could wait up to six hours for help. Three hours into our wait, a call for "rapid response" brought no fewer than six health professionals. They left about five minutes later upon the death of their patient. How did I know the patient died?
A few minutes after that, staff members wheel the body through the waiting room, face uncovered, pretending they are taking the non-breathing person to a room.
Jim is called back at 4:21. He returns at 4:52. His medications finally arrive a half hour later. Almost four hours later, we are able to exit the emergency room. But wait, he does not have all his medications! According to ER rules that the VA has, some of the medications can only be for four days, so now he has to return on Monday (Today), get in line, see a patient advocate who may or may not approve the additional meds, then return again on Wednesday to pick them up. Pretty inconvenient, isn't it?
Although Jim's doctors were excellent, he says, the system is broken and a great bureaucracy. There was no room for common sense in it, and, at least in the case of the gentleman who expired, not a great deal of sensitivity.
VA care is pretty much the model that Obamacare is built upon.
After watching this exercise in social medicine at Carl Hayden Hospital, I may have to change my tune. If this is how vets are treated and IF all VA hospitals run like this, how can the general population expect better?
Doughnut
Addendum--- I know that not all VA Hospitals are like this. The VA in Tucson is pretty good and efficient. The people are great and seem happy and eager to help. So, if that is the model, then things will be fine.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Summer's Gone By
When I was a youngster "back in the day", summer days were often spent outside. I am sure those of you who were born in the 1950s and early 60s remember what the outdoors was like. Those who graced the stage in the 70s and later have no clue about the freedom of summer.
Summer days were ours. We started early and we stayed out late. We had streetlights that came on at regular hours and Mom would always say, "Be home before the streetlights come on." She never asked where we were going, she just admonished, "Stay out of trouble."
The rest of the day was ours. We rode bikes, played ball, swam at either the local pool or a watering hole in the country. When we were hungry, we ate either at a friend's house, or we made an appearance at our own home, usually with friends in tow. Parents always had something in the frig, and Kool-aid or tea or lemonade cold. We "slept out" in tents in the back yard, and had the run of the city at night. Police did not bother us unless we were making noise. We played baseball and basketball by the streetlights; we chased fireflies and put them in jars.
Sounds like a lament, doesn't it? I guess it is.
Today, we don't let our kids go to someone's house alone without investigating the parents ten ways to Sunday. We have to sign kids up for so much activity that they are pretty much incapable of designing their own amusement. We think we have to control everything. As a result, our kids today have trouble making decisions, thinking, entertaining themselves. If someone does not plan something for them, the kids stay inside, and watch TV or play video games or sleep. We have created the apathy that permeates our society.
Young adults are not taken to patriotic events like Memorial Day observances, or Fourth of July celebrations. We have to cultivate nationalism and let it grow. So much has been said lately of America being fragmented due to immigration and other factors. The biggest reason, though, seems to be that adults have become apathetic. We have to lead the way by getting out, doing things, standing when the flag goes by and retelling the stories of our youth.
Times were simpler then, and our children and grandchildren will probably never get to know the freedom we enjoyed. Technology has not allowed us to communicate better, it has built walls between us. The local coffee shop is gone, the neighborhood bar is boarded up; people don't even get together like they used to as neighbors.
Remember the Lone Ranger? Kids don't even know the story behind him and Tonto. We need to return to "those thrilling days of yesteryear...."
Doughnut
Summer days were ours. We started early and we stayed out late. We had streetlights that came on at regular hours and Mom would always say, "Be home before the streetlights come on." She never asked where we were going, she just admonished, "Stay out of trouble."
The rest of the day was ours. We rode bikes, played ball, swam at either the local pool or a watering hole in the country. When we were hungry, we ate either at a friend's house, or we made an appearance at our own home, usually with friends in tow. Parents always had something in the frig, and Kool-aid or tea or lemonade cold. We "slept out" in tents in the back yard, and had the run of the city at night. Police did not bother us unless we were making noise. We played baseball and basketball by the streetlights; we chased fireflies and put them in jars.
Sounds like a lament, doesn't it? I guess it is.
Today, we don't let our kids go to someone's house alone without investigating the parents ten ways to Sunday. We have to sign kids up for so much activity that they are pretty much incapable of designing their own amusement. We think we have to control everything. As a result, our kids today have trouble making decisions, thinking, entertaining themselves. If someone does not plan something for them, the kids stay inside, and watch TV or play video games or sleep. We have created the apathy that permeates our society.
Young adults are not taken to patriotic events like Memorial Day observances, or Fourth of July celebrations. We have to cultivate nationalism and let it grow. So much has been said lately of America being fragmented due to immigration and other factors. The biggest reason, though, seems to be that adults have become apathetic. We have to lead the way by getting out, doing things, standing when the flag goes by and retelling the stories of our youth.
Times were simpler then, and our children and grandchildren will probably never get to know the freedom we enjoyed. Technology has not allowed us to communicate better, it has built walls between us. The local coffee shop is gone, the neighborhood bar is boarded up; people don't even get together like they used to as neighbors.
Remember the Lone Ranger? Kids don't even know the story behind him and Tonto. We need to return to "those thrilling days of yesteryear...."
Doughnut
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Maudlin Evening
I have been reading comments from my friends on Facebook today. Like most days, these comments show the agony and the ecstasy of life and some of the insanity of the world. I rejoice in all of them. My friends constantly prove my point about life...it is wonderful and I am fortunate to still be a part of it and to have all of you.
I don't get maudlin often. But tonight as I write this, I am. Not maudlin sad, but maudlin happy. Maudlin means that I am sentimental. I have been reconnecting with friends from my childhood lately, and this has made me deeply engrossed in memories. Let's face it, I am not getting any younger, and neither are they.
We are getting to the age when more of us are going to get sick, break a hip, or sadly, go that great cornfield in the sky. (That's what Cornjerkers do!)
Funny thing, though about memories. None of us age. I remember all my female friends just as I saw them 40 years ago, and all my male friends are young virile bucks. My humor is still somewhat sophomoric and when I think, I have thoughts of an 18 year old. I AM NOT 56, ALMOST 57! I refuse to get old! I move a little slower, I ache a little more, and my stamina is not what it was. BUT I AM NOT OLD!
Remember when the slogan was "Never trust anyone over 30"? Now, it is "Don't trust anyone under 30! Especially if they happen to be doing the hiring!" My experience is now my kryptonite. My resume which used to be my cape, is now the knife that goes in my back. And the phrase, "although your resume was impressive..." Really means, "You are far too old for this job"
My friends and I are moving slowly to the back of the bus. We should not, however, go quietly. We know the value of a dollar, we know how to earn it! We remember the important things like being on time, keeping a neat desk, returning a call or an email, or a snail mail. And we can concentrate for longer than 3 minutes without medication ( in most cases).
You folks who are 50ish understand. We are buying more motorcycles, Ipods, and watercraft than anyone else. Dylan Thomas wrote Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night just for us:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right;
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Love to all of you. I miss you when we are not together...
Doughnut
I don't get maudlin often. But tonight as I write this, I am. Not maudlin sad, but maudlin happy. Maudlin means that I am sentimental. I have been reconnecting with friends from my childhood lately, and this has made me deeply engrossed in memories. Let's face it, I am not getting any younger, and neither are they.
We are getting to the age when more of us are going to get sick, break a hip, or sadly, go that great cornfield in the sky. (That's what Cornjerkers do!)
Funny thing, though about memories. None of us age. I remember all my female friends just as I saw them 40 years ago, and all my male friends are young virile bucks. My humor is still somewhat sophomoric and when I think, I have thoughts of an 18 year old. I AM NOT 56, ALMOST 57! I refuse to get old! I move a little slower, I ache a little more, and my stamina is not what it was. BUT I AM NOT OLD!
Remember when the slogan was "Never trust anyone over 30"? Now, it is "Don't trust anyone under 30! Especially if they happen to be doing the hiring!" My experience is now my kryptonite. My resume which used to be my cape, is now the knife that goes in my back. And the phrase, "although your resume was impressive..." Really means, "You are far too old for this job"
My friends and I are moving slowly to the back of the bus. We should not, however, go quietly. We know the value of a dollar, we know how to earn it! We remember the important things like being on time, keeping a neat desk, returning a call or an email, or a snail mail. And we can concentrate for longer than 3 minutes without medication ( in most cases).
You folks who are 50ish understand. We are buying more motorcycles, Ipods, and watercraft than anyone else. Dylan Thomas wrote Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night just for us:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right;
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Love to all of you. I miss you when we are not together...
Doughnut
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Time To Call the Bluff
Sunday morning already! I just looked at the last time I sent you a missive, and it was TUESDAY! Where did the week go? There has been so much happening, that the days seem to have gotten away from me. I hope your week flew by at work also.
I hope you have been watching the "Let's Kick Arizona" game that has been going on. I hope from some recent events that you personally have done something that even the Attorney General of the Unites States has not done---read SB1070. It is only 10 pages long, and yes, it is rather legalese (after all, it is a law). But it is easy reading, and the ideas behind it are pretty well spelled out, as are the ramifications of the law and the manner in which it can be enforced. Those who are calling it a racist bill seem to have another agenda as racial profiling is strictly prohibited in the law; those afraid of people being stopped on the streets and asked to "give their papers" are nothing more than alarmists. There are, after all, about 10 million people in the US illegally from all nations of the world, not just Mexico, although that population seems to be the majority.
This week, LA joined the boycott of the Grand Canyon State. The town council there boycotted everything from AZ, except the two things that Arizona supplies to them every day... water and power. Most of Los Angeles electricity is generated here in Arizona at the Palo Verde Nuclear plant and the water that the City of no-Angeles gets comes through the Copper State via the Colorado River. If it wants to make a statement, then do something bold! Quit buying electricity from AZ!
A writer for Hotair.com had a great suggestion. He says that Arizona should challenge the cities that are "sanctuary cities" and offer to bus in all the illegal aliens that are now jailed in Arizona. Let these entities handle the undocumented population. See if LA, San Fran, and NY feel a little differently once they have to shoulder the burden. And, the Attorney General of Massachusetts says that it is NOT Illegal to be illegal in that state! I think the buses should be loading now for Bean town!
It is time to fight back and call the bluffs of these cities. So, Arizonans.... No more Rice-a-Roni....No more movies or TV, no more NY style pizza and best of all... nor more Boston Baked Beans! At least on one end something one smell.
Doughnut
I hope you have been watching the "Let's Kick Arizona" game that has been going on. I hope from some recent events that you personally have done something that even the Attorney General of the Unites States has not done---read SB1070. It is only 10 pages long, and yes, it is rather legalese (after all, it is a law). But it is easy reading, and the ideas behind it are pretty well spelled out, as are the ramifications of the law and the manner in which it can be enforced. Those who are calling it a racist bill seem to have another agenda as racial profiling is strictly prohibited in the law; those afraid of people being stopped on the streets and asked to "give their papers" are nothing more than alarmists. There are, after all, about 10 million people in the US illegally from all nations of the world, not just Mexico, although that population seems to be the majority.
This week, LA joined the boycott of the Grand Canyon State. The town council there boycotted everything from AZ, except the two things that Arizona supplies to them every day... water and power. Most of Los Angeles electricity is generated here in Arizona at the Palo Verde Nuclear plant and the water that the City of no-Angeles gets comes through the Copper State via the Colorado River. If it wants to make a statement, then do something bold! Quit buying electricity from AZ!
A writer for Hotair.com had a great suggestion. He says that Arizona should challenge the cities that are "sanctuary cities" and offer to bus in all the illegal aliens that are now jailed in Arizona. Let these entities handle the undocumented population. See if LA, San Fran, and NY feel a little differently once they have to shoulder the burden. And, the Attorney General of Massachusetts says that it is NOT Illegal to be illegal in that state! I think the buses should be loading now for Bean town!
It is time to fight back and call the bluffs of these cities. So, Arizonans.... No more Rice-a-Roni....No more movies or TV, no more NY style pizza and best of all... nor more Boston Baked Beans! At least on one end something one smell.
Doughnut
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
A Penny Out of Your Dollar
I have always been a positive person, I think. Some will tell you that I am negative and critical, but those people were usually students or athletes I coached or their parents. They will tell you that I rarely had a good thing to say to their kids. I may have criticized and I may have spoken harshly at times, but I always had the interests of the kids and the team at heart.
It is hard to be a coach or a teacher and not be critical. Sometimes that is all that people remember. And quite often, as a teacher and a coach, you never get to hear the positive. How many times has anyone said, "good job, coach" or "Thanks for beating my kid over the head with Shakespeare." Not many. So how is a coach and teacher to remain positive when their life is bombarded by people telling them that they are responsible for the problems of society and that their profession is not worth much? Let's face it, according to many parents, teachers are always wrong, and they could do a better job. But could they do more with less?
Let's take the accountant. I have a couple accountant friends and some other friends who deal with numbers on a regular basis as part of their jobs. They are good at what they do, and they get paid well for it. I don't think I can do their job, God knows I have trouble with a calculator.
And understanding tax laws? Hardly. So what makes them think they can teach Shakespeare, or even get their kid to read it and understand it? In most cases, these same accountants have trouble motivating their child to take out the garbage. But it is my job to help them become well rounded, to understand life, and its intricacies; to see the beauty of the spoken and written word and to maybe be able to string to thoughts together and raise their social awareness at the same time.
What if, I said to that accountant, " You are going to do my taxes this year, but you are not going to get paid anymore, you have to use only a pencil and paper, and I expect you to get me more money back. If you don't, then you get no more money." Or better yet, "I am going to cut what I pay you by one percent regardless of what you get me back." Would that person work hard for me? I doubt it, he or she might even tell me to take my business elsewhere.
But that is what we are asking teachers to do. We want them to get us more, but with less. Fewer money for books, poor facilities, outdated technology and, on top of this, we cut their pay and tell them that they have to take days off without pay.
But, you say, the test results are not good, we are not getting our money's worth. And as you say this, I want you to look and see if your garbage is getting taken out, if your lawn is mowed by your kids, if the car is washed, their rooms cleaned. You can't even get them to do simple tasks even with all the technology and incentives you can give them.
And teachers and public education are the problem with society?
I often praise the days gone by. Why? Because kids did not rule the world, parents did. Until parents get back into control and offer guidance to their kids and SUPPORT to teachers, education in America is going to continue its downward spiral.
Pass Proposition 100. Surely education is worth a penny out of your dollar.
Doughnut
It is hard to be a coach or a teacher and not be critical. Sometimes that is all that people remember. And quite often, as a teacher and a coach, you never get to hear the positive. How many times has anyone said, "good job, coach" or "Thanks for beating my kid over the head with Shakespeare." Not many. So how is a coach and teacher to remain positive when their life is bombarded by people telling them that they are responsible for the problems of society and that their profession is not worth much? Let's face it, according to many parents, teachers are always wrong, and they could do a better job. But could they do more with less?
Let's take the accountant. I have a couple accountant friends and some other friends who deal with numbers on a regular basis as part of their jobs. They are good at what they do, and they get paid well for it. I don't think I can do their job, God knows I have trouble with a calculator.
And understanding tax laws? Hardly. So what makes them think they can teach Shakespeare, or even get their kid to read it and understand it? In most cases, these same accountants have trouble motivating their child to take out the garbage. But it is my job to help them become well rounded, to understand life, and its intricacies; to see the beauty of the spoken and written word and to maybe be able to string to thoughts together and raise their social awareness at the same time.
What if, I said to that accountant, " You are going to do my taxes this year, but you are not going to get paid anymore, you have to use only a pencil and paper, and I expect you to get me more money back. If you don't, then you get no more money." Or better yet, "I am going to cut what I pay you by one percent regardless of what you get me back." Would that person work hard for me? I doubt it, he or she might even tell me to take my business elsewhere.
But that is what we are asking teachers to do. We want them to get us more, but with less. Fewer money for books, poor facilities, outdated technology and, on top of this, we cut their pay and tell them that they have to take days off without pay.
But, you say, the test results are not good, we are not getting our money's worth. And as you say this, I want you to look and see if your garbage is getting taken out, if your lawn is mowed by your kids, if the car is washed, their rooms cleaned. You can't even get them to do simple tasks even with all the technology and incentives you can give them.
And teachers and public education are the problem with society?
I often praise the days gone by. Why? Because kids did not rule the world, parents did. Until parents get back into control and offer guidance to their kids and SUPPORT to teachers, education in America is going to continue its downward spiral.
Pass Proposition 100. Surely education is worth a penny out of your dollar.
Doughnut
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Mother's Day
Ok, if you don't want to read about mothers, it's time to stop reading now.
I have been blessed through out my life to have had a mother who was loving, kind, gentle, and trusting. Many of you folks who read this blog know of my mom Alta, and how super she was. I use the past tense here, because she is gone. But I really should use the present tense, because she is still with me. All our mothers are. We cannot escape them.
Mom was a real sweetie. She had a hard life, yet she always wore a smile and tried her best to please everyone. Her smile and laugh was infectious and she did both easily. I messed up a lot when I first started driving, and all she would say was, "Are you all right? I can replace a car, but not you." Mom was always there when my heart got broken and she always reminded me that the woman that would love me was just around the corner. She was right.
The night I brought my wife Dorothy home to meet her, Mom took me aside before we went out to dinner and said, "She's a keeper. You better not let this one get away." I didn't.
When we are looking for a mate, we either find one that is just like our mom or dad, or we find one that is the antithesis. I didn't really mean to, but I found the woman that was like my mom.
Dorothy has always been the best mom. She raised the James and Debi, I was just there for the beginning. She has wiped noses and butts, cleaned scraped knees, and healed bruised egos that Dad fractured.
Mother's Day is especially nice to celebrate because I have had two wonderful women in my life to raise me.
Doughnut
I have been blessed through out my life to have had a mother who was loving, kind, gentle, and trusting. Many of you folks who read this blog know of my mom Alta, and how super she was. I use the past tense here, because she is gone. But I really should use the present tense, because she is still with me. All our mothers are. We cannot escape them.
Mom was a real sweetie. She had a hard life, yet she always wore a smile and tried her best to please everyone. Her smile and laugh was infectious and she did both easily. I messed up a lot when I first started driving, and all she would say was, "Are you all right? I can replace a car, but not you." Mom was always there when my heart got broken and she always reminded me that the woman that would love me was just around the corner. She was right.
The night I brought my wife Dorothy home to meet her, Mom took me aside before we went out to dinner and said, "She's a keeper. You better not let this one get away." I didn't.
When we are looking for a mate, we either find one that is just like our mom or dad, or we find one that is the antithesis. I didn't really mean to, but I found the woman that was like my mom.
Dorothy has always been the best mom. She raised the James and Debi, I was just there for the beginning. She has wiped noses and butts, cleaned scraped knees, and healed bruised egos that Dad fractured.
Mother's Day is especially nice to celebrate because I have had two wonderful women in my life to raise me.
Doughnut
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Illinois Weighs In
An Illinois state senator has weighed in on the Arizona Immigration Bill, calling for the White Sox to move out of Glendale because of the law. State Senator Mark Sandoval says that Illinois taxpayers should not spend money in Arizona if that state is going to ask state law officers to enforce federal immigration law. Something, apparently, that Illinois law officers do not do.
In the Chicago Tribune yesterday, Sandoval said that he thinks the Sox should quit training there, and even went so far as to suggest that Illinois should not continue to fund US Cellular Field if they do not. The White Sox are two years into a long term lease that would require them to pay millions of dollars should they pull out of Glendale, AZ.
This comes from a state that has difficulty putting a someone in the governorship who is not a crook. And who also has trouble funding its own educational system according to the state constitution and paying its bills on time.
I do give the Tribune credit for using the line, "...requiring local police to enforce federal law." That is what this controversy is really all about. The law is nothing more than federal law already, but it now requires AZ officers to enforce it, something that EVERY LAW ENFORCEMENT ENTITY should be doing already.
In the meanwhile, I wish Al Sharpton would go home. Nothing good comes when he shows up somewhere.
Keep your eyes upon the doughnut, my friends.
Doughnut
In the Chicago Tribune yesterday, Sandoval said that he thinks the Sox should quit training there, and even went so far as to suggest that Illinois should not continue to fund US Cellular Field if they do not. The White Sox are two years into a long term lease that would require them to pay millions of dollars should they pull out of Glendale, AZ.
This comes from a state that has difficulty putting a someone in the governorship who is not a crook. And who also has trouble funding its own educational system according to the state constitution and paying its bills on time.
I do give the Tribune credit for using the line, "...requiring local police to enforce federal law." That is what this controversy is really all about. The law is nothing more than federal law already, but it now requires AZ officers to enforce it, something that EVERY LAW ENFORCEMENT ENTITY should be doing already.
In the meanwhile, I wish Al Sharpton would go home. Nothing good comes when he shows up somewhere.
Keep your eyes upon the doughnut, my friends.
Doughnut
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
BE THE BALL!
Yesterday, I went golfing for the first time this year. Not a pretty sight, I must say. Two things happened as Jim, my son, and I went along our merry way on the golf course. (1) We saw the whole course and (2) I was able to hold my temper.
The second is more important than the first, because I have not been able to do that in the past. I have been known to throw around a couple of deleted-expletives when a shot goes errant or a putt does not go down. Sometimes people would mistake me for an old time drunken sailor. ( I say "old time" because our modern Navy is trying to redo its image as a kinder, gentler navy that allows females on submarines...) The new me, however, is taking it all in stride realizing that my golf skills are not as good as Tiger's, but my personal life is much better. I have restrictions on my abilities: an arm that won't work right, and the inability to concentrate while outdoors where the flora and the fauna constantly inundate me with beauty. Yesterday, the sky was so blue, I did not want to pollute it with my ball. The grass was so green, I did not want to take that ever-so-slight skinning one should take when hitting an iron. I enjoyed the company of my son, even though we did not say much on the deep life issues, but rather talked of the mundane "what is wrong with my shot" type of conversations. I do have to admit though, he did give me some advice that really hit the spot.
One time I hit a ball that went almost 45 degrees to the tee to the left. ( I am a left hand golfer, so it was a really bad slice.) and he said to me, "Slow down, you're trying to do things too fast." When I hit the ball following his instructions, it went straight. It was then I realized he was right, I was trying too hard and doing things too fast. I needed to slow down.
How, you ask, can an old retired guy do things too fast? Simple, I get impatient. We all do. But I vowed to follow his advice more and take it down a notch.
Once I did that, then (2) holding my temper, was a natural. By the end of the round, I played horribly, but I was not stressed as I usually am. And, it took a tie breaking putt competition for him to win the last hole.
Mark Twain said that golf, "...is nothing more than a good walk spoiled." I didn't walk yesterday, and my day was not spoiled. My day was exactly what it should have been...enjoyable and relaxing.
Be the Ball....
Doughnut
The second is more important than the first, because I have not been able to do that in the past. I have been known to throw around a couple of deleted-expletives when a shot goes errant or a putt does not go down. Sometimes people would mistake me for an old time drunken sailor. ( I say "old time" because our modern Navy is trying to redo its image as a kinder, gentler navy that allows females on submarines...) The new me, however, is taking it all in stride realizing that my golf skills are not as good as Tiger's, but my personal life is much better. I have restrictions on my abilities: an arm that won't work right, and the inability to concentrate while outdoors where the flora and the fauna constantly inundate me with beauty. Yesterday, the sky was so blue, I did not want to pollute it with my ball. The grass was so green, I did not want to take that ever-so-slight skinning one should take when hitting an iron. I enjoyed the company of my son, even though we did not say much on the deep life issues, but rather talked of the mundane "what is wrong with my shot" type of conversations. I do have to admit though, he did give me some advice that really hit the spot.
One time I hit a ball that went almost 45 degrees to the tee to the left. ( I am a left hand golfer, so it was a really bad slice.) and he said to me, "Slow down, you're trying to do things too fast." When I hit the ball following his instructions, it went straight. It was then I realized he was right, I was trying too hard and doing things too fast. I needed to slow down.
How, you ask, can an old retired guy do things too fast? Simple, I get impatient. We all do. But I vowed to follow his advice more and take it down a notch.
Once I did that, then (2) holding my temper, was a natural. By the end of the round, I played horribly, but I was not stressed as I usually am. And, it took a tie breaking putt competition for him to win the last hole.
Mark Twain said that golf, "...is nothing more than a good walk spoiled." I didn't walk yesterday, and my day was not spoiled. My day was exactly what it should have been...enjoyable and relaxing.
Be the Ball....
Doughnut
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)