I have been slacking this week in my writing. You say, "This week?" I have had a bit of a hard time getting into a flow. With all the hubbub here: my kids moving and fixing my office and what not...By the way, this is the first official blog that I have written in my new home office. Kind of snazzy. I have all the amenities of an office and the commute is not that far for me to do everyday if I wish.
I offer all this information to rationalize that my busy schedule has made me a slacker. I never slacked, much...and this new found passion is one which I have to ease into. Writing burnout is not my goal here, but rather the expression of sincere ideas which someone somewhere can read and say, "Awwww, yes, I agree." or "That guy is full of horse ptuttie." But it takes time to get into a groove, and I have yet to hit my stride. If I was Alfonso Soriano, I would just swing at low outside one and walk to the dugout before going out into the field and defying all fundamental laws of baseball and hope that the next time up, I could hit a homer so people would think I earned my great big salary.
This week, in terms of rationalization, I have been entertaining a former student of mine who came to Arizona as forward scouting party for his parents. He and his family have been close to us for years, and I have watched the little round furball grow into quite a man. He came out this week, and we have covered the state from Tombstone to the Grand Canyon. In our nine hours of travel by car, we have had some great talks. Everything from coaching to parenting (he has no children, yet, but he is looking for the perfect mate, girls) to politics and religion.
On Wednesday night, we had a lovely visit with one of his classmates that lives out here in the valley, we will call her Tweedledum. I call her that because that is how her high school biology teacher referred to her in class, along with her labmate, TweedleDee. She was a great kid back when I had her in class and she is a beautiful woman now. After garnering a degree in psych, she has gone on to start a degree in nursing. She hopes to be a Nurse Practitioner some day, and I believe she will do it.
These two fine adults showed me this week that one of the reasons I had kids and went into education has been fulfilled. Someday, I wanted my students to be friends. There are many of my former students out there, and now we are friends. Back-in-the-day, we struggled to understand each other as I sometimes dragged them through the lessons berating them, making fun of them, praising them, and sometimes scolding them. The ultimate goals in life, however, were theirs, not mine. If they are not what they wanted to be, it is not my fault, it is theirs. My ultimate goal was to get them to function as an adult and be a profitable member of society. As Michael Jackson's song goes, "Start with the man in the mirror."
I love my kids, both my biological and my educational. They have all been a great part of my life and have taught me as much, hopefully, as I have taught them. Some have turned out great, others are still struggling. But I love them like a pig loves mud.
Thanks for reading.
Doughnut
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Grass Fire Burns Impression
Sunday evening, I stepped out the door to my hacienda to clean the windows on my house. In the sky was a thick, black and brown cloud. I knew immediately that there was something of enormity burning a few blocks away. Sirens had not sounded and there appeared to be no fire engines yet. Being the inquisitive old man I am, Jim and I got in the car and headed in that direction.
I was amazed that a 40 acre public park about half a mile from the family ranch was engulfed in flames! We drove to a side street to take a look see. To our astonishment, we were not the first ones on the scene, but rather had come late to the burning bushes. Unlike Moses, though, our bushes were being swallowed by flames. It took us about seven minutes to get to the fire, but the Phoenix Fire Department had not shown yet.
We stood for about three minutes and perused the landscape, and I commented that we had to go before we were unable to leave. As we hit the end of the dead end road, A PFD engine was struggling to get through because all the gawkers like ourselves had blocked the two lane street and had the engine no where to go. Finally, one guy drove upon the sidewalk, and we followed suit, allowing the firemen to do their jobs.
It was quite a neighborhood event. The fire was finally put out about three hours later, and involved over 40 firemen and a boat load of equipment.
When we got home, we sat and talked about the experience and the people that showed up from nowhere to stand around and hinder the firemen. We admonished them, scolded them, made fun of them. Then my daughter came into the room and said merely, "And you fools were right there, too!"
Puts everything into perspective. I am glad I do not live in a glass house.
Doughnut.
I was amazed that a 40 acre public park about half a mile from the family ranch was engulfed in flames! We drove to a side street to take a look see. To our astonishment, we were not the first ones on the scene, but rather had come late to the burning bushes. Unlike Moses, though, our bushes were being swallowed by flames. It took us about seven minutes to get to the fire, but the Phoenix Fire Department had not shown yet.
We stood for about three minutes and perused the landscape, and I commented that we had to go before we were unable to leave. As we hit the end of the dead end road, A PFD engine was struggling to get through because all the gawkers like ourselves had blocked the two lane street and had the engine no where to go. Finally, one guy drove upon the sidewalk, and we followed suit, allowing the firemen to do their jobs.
It was quite a neighborhood event. The fire was finally put out about three hours later, and involved over 40 firemen and a boat load of equipment.
When we got home, we sat and talked about the experience and the people that showed up from nowhere to stand around and hinder the firemen. We admonished them, scolded them, made fun of them. Then my daughter came into the room and said merely, "And you fools were right there, too!"
Puts everything into perspective. I am glad I do not live in a glass house.
Doughnut.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Baseball Is Life
I spent a good Friday night in the nose bleed section at Chase Ballpark last night. The game was a blowout as the Diamondbacks got killed by the Pirates 10-3. I felt sorry for the D-Backs who seemed to be outgunned from every position. From the front office to the bull pen, this poor team is going nowhere. This means that by the end of September if they are pulling in a thousand people a game, they should consider themselves lucky.
I stopped on my way in to the park and bought a program from one of those non team associated vendors on the outside for two dollars rather than paying the five dollars inside the park and getting the team propaganda. The magazine had some good articles in it which were not all pro-Diamondbacks, but the most telling item in it was a listing of yearly salaries for the Diamondbacks players. Since we got to "The Chase" early enough to get a good seat (there were only about 22,000 people there), I did some quick math in my head. (Yes, kids, it is possible to do math without a calculator.) What I discovered was that the entire starting line-up for Arizona, all nine men, did not make as much in a year as Steve Nash is going to make playing for the Phoenix Suns this year. And we wonder why Arizona cannot win? They are playing a big league schedule with a Triple A roster!
I love good baseball. Notice the adjective good...But right now AZ is not playing good baseball. They do not even have a manager with ANY managerial experience. They hired AJ hoping that his communication talents could get them inspiration. But, I feel for him. He is trying to make chicken salad without the proper ingredience, and is learning on the job, too.
In one of my favorite movies, "Field of Dreams" one of the characters says that baseball reflects life. Between the lines all things are equal, the great American game where people who work hard sometimes get the breaks and win, while others lose. There is no grey area. That is why people like sports. Sometimes it is fair and sometimes life is foul.
And like AJ Hinch, we take what we have and we try to make the best of it.
Go Dbacks! (No, I have not lost my love of the Cubs, but I need someone to root for in person!)
Doughnut
I stopped on my way in to the park and bought a program from one of those non team associated vendors on the outside for two dollars rather than paying the five dollars inside the park and getting the team propaganda. The magazine had some good articles in it which were not all pro-Diamondbacks, but the most telling item in it was a listing of yearly salaries for the Diamondbacks players. Since we got to "The Chase" early enough to get a good seat (there were only about 22,000 people there), I did some quick math in my head. (Yes, kids, it is possible to do math without a calculator.) What I discovered was that the entire starting line-up for Arizona, all nine men, did not make as much in a year as Steve Nash is going to make playing for the Phoenix Suns this year. And we wonder why Arizona cannot win? They are playing a big league schedule with a Triple A roster!
I love good baseball. Notice the adjective good...But right now AZ is not playing good baseball. They do not even have a manager with ANY managerial experience. They hired AJ hoping that his communication talents could get them inspiration. But, I feel for him. He is trying to make chicken salad without the proper ingredience, and is learning on the job, too.
In one of my favorite movies, "Field of Dreams" one of the characters says that baseball reflects life. Between the lines all things are equal, the great American game where people who work hard sometimes get the breaks and win, while others lose. There is no grey area. That is why people like sports. Sometimes it is fair and sometimes life is foul.
And like AJ Hinch, we take what we have and we try to make the best of it.
Go Dbacks! (No, I have not lost my love of the Cubs, but I need someone to root for in person!)
Doughnut
Friday, July 24, 2009
Small towns are super places to grow up. Most people who do not get that experience don't understand how a person can go through their adolescent life knowing everybody, and everybody knowing them. But it is an unusually rewarding experience.
I was looking at Facebook today and one of my friends from Hoopeston had put up pictures of the Class of 1969's reunion. What a group. As I looked through those pictures, I recalled what I remember to be those people. Sometimes it was hard to see them, other times, they had never aged, or had come to look like their parents. All the memories from forty years ago flooded back. And the years faded away. I was transported back to when I was sixteen and living on Penn Street in Hoopeston, IL.
My best friend growing up was Bill Gholson. His family accepted me as one of theirs and his sisters became mine. Gloria, Sheila, Nora and Brenda all were my family, and Bill's mom and dad were also mine. They treated me like it. We laughed together, and when I needed it, I was scolded.
That is the beauty of life in the small town back in the 50s-70s. Kids had respect for their elders, even if the older generation was not related. Beaver Cleaver and Wally actually lived down my street and the Brady Bunch were real neighbors. The police were respected and they understood problems of living in the small town, because they grew up there. My parents knew what I did before I got in the house.
The song goes, "Yesterday is dead and gone..." but I do have to say that I find myself longing for those simpler times. I miss Penn Street, the Gholson girls and my good buddy Bill. And John, Steve, Alan, Roger, Delmar, Ellen, Billie Sue, Linda, Debbie, Juanita, and all the rest of the Cornjerker clan.
When did the fast lane overtake me?
Doughnut
I was looking at Facebook today and one of my friends from Hoopeston had put up pictures of the Class of 1969's reunion. What a group. As I looked through those pictures, I recalled what I remember to be those people. Sometimes it was hard to see them, other times, they had never aged, or had come to look like their parents. All the memories from forty years ago flooded back. And the years faded away. I was transported back to when I was sixteen and living on Penn Street in Hoopeston, IL.
My best friend growing up was Bill Gholson. His family accepted me as one of theirs and his sisters became mine. Gloria, Sheila, Nora and Brenda all were my family, and Bill's mom and dad were also mine. They treated me like it. We laughed together, and when I needed it, I was scolded.
That is the beauty of life in the small town back in the 50s-70s. Kids had respect for their elders, even if the older generation was not related. Beaver Cleaver and Wally actually lived down my street and the Brady Bunch were real neighbors. The police were respected and they understood problems of living in the small town, because they grew up there. My parents knew what I did before I got in the house.
The song goes, "Yesterday is dead and gone..." but I do have to say that I find myself longing for those simpler times. I miss Penn Street, the Gholson girls and my good buddy Bill. And John, Steve, Alan, Roger, Delmar, Ellen, Billie Sue, Linda, Debbie, Juanita, and all the rest of the Cornjerker clan.
When did the fast lane overtake me?
Doughnut
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Directionally Challenged Reality Show
There could be a whole new reality show which entails having directionally challenged people try to get around in Phoenix or any other big city.
Driving places in Phoenix is easy, except if you are directionally challenged. I keep telling my wife that the city is a grid. A graph with specific lines that run east and west and north and south. Once you lay the grid over the valley, you can see that it is interrupted by mountains. And there are certain exceptions to the rules of street names. Therein lies the challenge.
Normally, streets that run North and South have numbers: 23rd Street, 23 Avenue, 23Road, Lane, Drive, Circle...So it can be a bit confusing. Streets that run East and West have names...Bell Road, Greenway Road, Thunderbird Road, etc. There are also the exceptions to those streets and roads that were here before the grid and that run diagonally through the valley: Cave Creek Road, Grand, Tatum Boulevard, Scottsdale Road. Then there are the highways that loop around the outside of the cities: the Loop 101 which was the first loop and goes around the center; the Loop 202 which goes around the East Valley; and the soon to be Loop 303 which will go around the West side of the Valley. Those cause other problems...
The other day, we were traveling around the valley viewing the sites (which we do about two times a week) and my wife was trying to get her bearings. She asked if we were on Cactus Road and I replied that we were. A couple blocks later, we did not make a turn and we were on Thunderbird Road. She asked, "When did we turn?" I told her we had not, and she became confused. It seems that at Cave Creek Road, Cactus and Thunderbird move over a mile to go around a mountain, but there is no warning, other than a little green sign at the intersection. The GRID CHANGED WITHOUT NOTICE! A little while later, we caught up with Cactus again...Now she is totally confused.
She has often said that the main reason we moved out here is so I could send her to the store and she would get lost and wander aimlessly. I keep telling her there is no chance of that. What I have not told her, though, is that to get home she has to turn on 23rd Avenue because it becomes our street without any turns.
Maybe later,I will send her out for a Subway sandwich on 19th Avenue and Greenway Road... or is that Greenway Parkway?
Doughnut
Driving places in Phoenix is easy, except if you are directionally challenged. I keep telling my wife that the city is a grid. A graph with specific lines that run east and west and north and south. Once you lay the grid over the valley, you can see that it is interrupted by mountains. And there are certain exceptions to the rules of street names. Therein lies the challenge.
Normally, streets that run North and South have numbers: 23rd Street, 23 Avenue, 23Road, Lane, Drive, Circle...So it can be a bit confusing. Streets that run East and West have names...Bell Road, Greenway Road, Thunderbird Road, etc. There are also the exceptions to those streets and roads that were here before the grid and that run diagonally through the valley: Cave Creek Road, Grand, Tatum Boulevard, Scottsdale Road. Then there are the highways that loop around the outside of the cities: the Loop 101 which was the first loop and goes around the center; the Loop 202 which goes around the East Valley; and the soon to be Loop 303 which will go around the West side of the Valley. Those cause other problems...
The other day, we were traveling around the valley viewing the sites (which we do about two times a week) and my wife was trying to get her bearings. She asked if we were on Cactus Road and I replied that we were. A couple blocks later, we did not make a turn and we were on Thunderbird Road. She asked, "When did we turn?" I told her we had not, and she became confused. It seems that at Cave Creek Road, Cactus and Thunderbird move over a mile to go around a mountain, but there is no warning, other than a little green sign at the intersection. The GRID CHANGED WITHOUT NOTICE! A little while later, we caught up with Cactus again...Now she is totally confused.
She has often said that the main reason we moved out here is so I could send her to the store and she would get lost and wander aimlessly. I keep telling her there is no chance of that. What I have not told her, though, is that to get home she has to turn on 23rd Avenue because it becomes our street without any turns.
Maybe later,I will send her out for a Subway sandwich on 19th Avenue and Greenway Road... or is that Greenway Parkway?
Doughnut
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Life is Good
My parents were both born in 1911, before airplanes, before computers, before dial telephones. When they died (Dad in 1968, Mom in 1986), they had seen a number technological advancements. Their world changed rapidly, and they were able to keep up as best they could. But today’s world is changing so fast that keeping up could be a full time job in itself.
Take for instance, television. Back in June, all the television stations were forced to go digital by the government. Nothing was wrong with the old analog signals, but the feds thought that we all needed clearer pictures. “Back in the day” we had one TV in the house, and a rotor on our antenna that turned to capture the signal of one of the three stations we received on the dial. The pictures were black and white, lacked some contrast, but they sufficed. Now, it seems, I have to be able to see an athletic contest in a picture so crisp it “is like I am there.” Heck, I can even pause the game, or record it and watch it later. I wonder, if I tried to hit pause when my wife is talking to me, could I get what she says later?
Computers go out of date faster than they are produced, cell phones are antiques before I dial my first number, and cars are outdated before I get them paid for. (Not really on the car, I usually keep a car only about two years.) When will technology slow down and allow us to take a breath?
My dad loved beer. He would have at least one a day. Sometimes, he would save up and have a lot of them at once. I wonder what he would say about the newest beer technology, the refrigerator keg? This baby from Miller keeps beer cold in the frig in a mini keg and carbonated for thirty days! What a technological marvel. Now I can have tap beer in my house, or at a party. That, my friends, is an advancement. As a civilization have now made great strides in entertaining. No more going to the liquor store, buying a full keg, a tapper, and some ice. Now we can get this little darling home under our arm, and put it to good use the moment we get there with the handy dandy tapper it comes with!
Now, if I could figure out to get a technological advancement that would allow the Cubs to win a World Series.
Life is good!
Doughnut.
Take for instance, television. Back in June, all the television stations were forced to go digital by the government. Nothing was wrong with the old analog signals, but the feds thought that we all needed clearer pictures. “Back in the day” we had one TV in the house, and a rotor on our antenna that turned to capture the signal of one of the three stations we received on the dial. The pictures were black and white, lacked some contrast, but they sufficed. Now, it seems, I have to be able to see an athletic contest in a picture so crisp it “is like I am there.” Heck, I can even pause the game, or record it and watch it later. I wonder, if I tried to hit pause when my wife is talking to me, could I get what she says later?
Computers go out of date faster than they are produced, cell phones are antiques before I dial my first number, and cars are outdated before I get them paid for. (Not really on the car, I usually keep a car only about two years.) When will technology slow down and allow us to take a breath?
My dad loved beer. He would have at least one a day. Sometimes, he would save up and have a lot of them at once. I wonder what he would say about the newest beer technology, the refrigerator keg? This baby from Miller keeps beer cold in the frig in a mini keg and carbonated for thirty days! What a technological marvel. Now I can have tap beer in my house, or at a party. That, my friends, is an advancement. As a civilization have now made great strides in entertaining. No more going to the liquor store, buying a full keg, a tapper, and some ice. Now we can get this little darling home under our arm, and put it to good use the moment we get there with the handy dandy tapper it comes with!
Now, if I could figure out to get a technological advancement that would allow the Cubs to win a World Series.
Life is good!
Doughnut.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Late For Appointment? You Could Pay For It!
After working on the houses the past week, I now know why Jesus was a carpenter, Michaelango was a painter and Beethoven a musician. All these people had a great deal of time spent in solitude where they heard nothing but the sound of their own voice. Especially Beethoven.
My inner self and I discussed many different topics over the course of the repairs, painting, electrifying and pounding. There were two that kept rising to the surface as I took time to go to therapy. (Physical, although I could probably use the mental and emotional cleansing.) One was the younger generation and its OCD on themselves, the other was the idea that professionals seem to think they should charge me if I do not show up or am late for an appointment.
It is the latter which we will pick on today.
The irking idea that doctors, therapists, lawyers, plumbers, and many other professionals now have signs that say they "...could charge you if you do not cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance" is one that all of us should rise up against and protest!
What these people are saying is, "My time is more important than yours." I have seen signs in doctor's offices that say, "If you have been waiting 20 minutes past your appointment, please notify the desk." Twenty minutes PAST my appointment? If that is the case, why did I make an appointment? Or, my favorite, a assistant calls your name and takes you into an exam room, sits you down without any of their three month old magazines, or a clock and proceeds to tell you to disrobe, and "The doctor will be with you shortly." So, you wait, sans clothes, in a gown that is open at the back, for an indeterminate amount of time, for this god-like creature to open the door and come see you for 5-7 minutes.
I understand that emergencies come up. But, surely someone could come tell me, instead of leaving me there with my Shields hanging out of the gown. If the doctor was not going to see me at my appointed time, why require me to make an appointment at all? A little civility goes a long way. How many times have you sat in that room, looked at all the posters of the human body and wondered where your pain is at and tried to diagnose yourself?
Me pay for not showing up on time or at all? They should be paying me, then, if they are late. I saw an ad the other day on the television for a plumber that promised to be on time, or the call is free. Now, there is a concept. Why do I have to stay at home and be there between 12-4? Why can't the people tell me they will be there at 2? If they are going to be late, call. I love the plumber's idea. I applaud it! Imagine what would happen to the medical industry if it would make the same promise. "We will see you on time, or your treatment is free!" Talk about a medical miracle!
Ever called the Cable TV guy? They will usually give you a four hour window instead of a certain time...what a concept...being on time. These companies overwork their people, when they could be putting on more help and spurring the economy. They expect me to pay my bill on time. What would happen if I sent them a notice that said, "The bill for these services will be paid sometime within the next four months, and the owner of the company must be present to sign for it when the bill gets there."
From now on, when you go to the doctor, hand the receptionist a card that says, "The doctor will see me on time, or I may not pay for this visit."
To make our time worth something, we must stand up and make it worth something. If you want to comment on this article, I could read your comment between Monday and Friday...
Doughnut.
My inner self and I discussed many different topics over the course of the repairs, painting, electrifying and pounding. There were two that kept rising to the surface as I took time to go to therapy. (Physical, although I could probably use the mental and emotional cleansing.) One was the younger generation and its OCD on themselves, the other was the idea that professionals seem to think they should charge me if I do not show up or am late for an appointment.
It is the latter which we will pick on today.
The irking idea that doctors, therapists, lawyers, plumbers, and many other professionals now have signs that say they "...could charge you if you do not cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance" is one that all of us should rise up against and protest!
What these people are saying is, "My time is more important than yours." I have seen signs in doctor's offices that say, "If you have been waiting 20 minutes past your appointment, please notify the desk." Twenty minutes PAST my appointment? If that is the case, why did I make an appointment? Or, my favorite, a assistant calls your name and takes you into an exam room, sits you down without any of their three month old magazines, or a clock and proceeds to tell you to disrobe, and "The doctor will be with you shortly." So, you wait, sans clothes, in a gown that is open at the back, for an indeterminate amount of time, for this god-like creature to open the door and come see you for 5-7 minutes.
I understand that emergencies come up. But, surely someone could come tell me, instead of leaving me there with my Shields hanging out of the gown. If the doctor was not going to see me at my appointed time, why require me to make an appointment at all? A little civility goes a long way. How many times have you sat in that room, looked at all the posters of the human body and wondered where your pain is at and tried to diagnose yourself?
Me pay for not showing up on time or at all? They should be paying me, then, if they are late. I saw an ad the other day on the television for a plumber that promised to be on time, or the call is free. Now, there is a concept. Why do I have to stay at home and be there between 12-4? Why can't the people tell me they will be there at 2? If they are going to be late, call. I love the plumber's idea. I applaud it! Imagine what would happen to the medical industry if it would make the same promise. "We will see you on time, or your treatment is free!" Talk about a medical miracle!
Ever called the Cable TV guy? They will usually give you a four hour window instead of a certain time...what a concept...being on time. These companies overwork their people, when they could be putting on more help and spurring the economy. They expect me to pay my bill on time. What would happen if I sent them a notice that said, "The bill for these services will be paid sometime within the next four months, and the owner of the company must be present to sign for it when the bill gets there."
From now on, when you go to the doctor, hand the receptionist a card that says, "The doctor will see me on time, or I may not pay for this visit."
To make our time worth something, we must stand up and make it worth something. If you want to comment on this article, I could read your comment between Monday and Friday...
Doughnut.
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