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
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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
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