My Friends,
I'm forcing myself to place this here today just to reach and calm a few who care. The profound weakness in my body prevents my glib banter and more casual comments about my health. I'm also simply unable to keep up on much personal contact. And frankly I didn't want to put out any new update until it could be more positive.
Later today I am to visit UCLA Med Center to begin treatments in the more serious experimental medicine that may be able to fight off my cancer. Two preliminary infusions of a milder type have supposedly prepared me for the strong stuff. However, the second of those, received last Thursday, could be the culprit in throwing off my digestion; as of today, I cannot keep anything in my stomach and I will be surprised if my doctor doesn't send me straight to emergency to get re-hydrated at least.
This is all I can say for now. I know some folks get extremely concerned when there are such long lapses in communication, and I appreciate that concern. Trust me to get back as soon as anything can be reported.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Being Thankful
Yes, in a few weeks we will again celebrate Thanksgiving Day, and I will again be thankful - this year mostly thankful to still be here on top of the sod. It will be even better if plans stay intact and our kids come to spend the holiday with us, although it is a downer to consider how much of my loud and sloppy pain they will be forced to endure with me. But I know they care enough about me to not care about the disruptions.
Quick update: my case (as yet with no treatments begun nor big decisions made) is scheduled to be handed off to one of the top melanoma specialists on the planet. I am to meet him at UCLA Med Center on November 17 and perhaps we will soon begin an official therapy of some kind. Perhaps I will make it to Thanksgiving.
CHEERS to all,
Quick update: my case (as yet with no treatments begun nor big decisions made) is scheduled to be handed off to one of the top melanoma specialists on the planet. I am to meet him at UCLA Med Center on November 17 and perhaps we will soon begin an official therapy of some kind. Perhaps I will make it to Thanksgiving.
CHEERS to all,
Friday, October 17, 2014
Memories & Dreams
Sitting in my pick-up, waiting for my wife to come out of the store, I was suddenly imbued with a deeply rewarding memory. The parking lot was transformed to one from long ago - half my life ago - and my waiting was for several buddies to show up at the city park to start a rousing game of softball. I felt so vital!
That's how strong a memory can be. And all it took was a few moments of comfort provided by a small pain pill I had taken an hour earlier. The seat in my pick-up is comfortable anyway, and the particular position I had assumed in the seat after parking was somehow just right. Feeling no specific pain at that moment allowed me to forget all the general pains and to glory in the idea that I would soon leap from the truck and start warming up, throwing softballs around and stretching to prepare for the game.
Thirty-five years ago it was a different Ford pick-up I owned and the back end, under one of those raised "camper" covers, stored all the various sports equipment for my active life of the time. Carried also there were folding chairs to set out at the games, and along one side was a bench/bed where I often crashed during long afternoons or even over-nights at the lighted parks where 48-hour tournaments were popular. I couldn't get enough of them!
The store where I waited today was a pharmacy and my wife was thoughtfully picking up some more medication for me - the most needed, a strong cough deterrent to allow me to get some sleep or maybe even be able to hold a conversation without breaking into a "fit" of uncontrollable and unpleasant coughing. The lung, now filling up with malignant tumors, is struggling to find enough space for somewhat regular breathing. One last biopsy to go before it is determined what kind of treatment I am to get; then after a few weeks we can begin to assess any progress being made in the cancer fight.
But oh, those beautiful memories!
That's how strong a memory can be. And all it took was a few moments of comfort provided by a small pain pill I had taken an hour earlier. The seat in my pick-up is comfortable anyway, and the particular position I had assumed in the seat after parking was somehow just right. Feeling no specific pain at that moment allowed me to forget all the general pains and to glory in the idea that I would soon leap from the truck and start warming up, throwing softballs around and stretching to prepare for the game.
Thirty-five years ago it was a different Ford pick-up I owned and the back end, under one of those raised "camper" covers, stored all the various sports equipment for my active life of the time. Carried also there were folding chairs to set out at the games, and along one side was a bench/bed where I often crashed during long afternoons or even over-nights at the lighted parks where 48-hour tournaments were popular. I couldn't get enough of them!
The store where I waited today was a pharmacy and my wife was thoughtfully picking up some more medication for me - the most needed, a strong cough deterrent to allow me to get some sleep or maybe even be able to hold a conversation without breaking into a "fit" of uncontrollable and unpleasant coughing. The lung, now filling up with malignant tumors, is struggling to find enough space for somewhat regular breathing. One last biopsy to go before it is determined what kind of treatment I am to get; then after a few weeks we can begin to assess any progress being made in the cancer fight.
But oh, those beautiful memories!
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Sharing MUCH more - - -
Well, yesterday we finally found out that my various difficulties – particularly my wracking cough and a miserable lack of energy – have had good reason. Apparently I’m not through with cancer.
The rare malignancy called a desmoplastic melanoma presented as a growing tumor on my right shoulder in the first two months of 2013. By March it had been biopsied and diagnosed as cancer and had to be removed. Problems with the transitions of my Medicare coverage and various blunders (mostly mine, I’m sure) caused the actual removal of the lesion to be delayed until June 3rd, by which time it had reached about the size of a tennis ball with the upper third standing above the shoulder and the bulk of the tumor intertwined with the skeletal structure. My surgical oncologist did a remarkable job of excising the tumor and leaving no fragments that could contain cancer cells. Later tests and the cautionary use of radiation to the shoulder area gave everyone confidence that the entire cancer was eliminated. Even a sentinel node biopsy in October revealed that my lymphatic system was clear also. However, we now know a year later, that some “scout” cells had migrated into the right lung and until July of this year, did not show up on any scans. A deep and incessant cough developed in July and a chest xray was ordered, resulting in the picture of a “spot” which needed further study. A CT scan showed it to be two masses, one looking like a medium-sized egg and the other, about a third of that size, positioned above the larger one.
A first biopsy, taken while a bronchoscope was being used, was ineffective in giving any clear diagnosis. So in mid September, a PET scan was performed on one day and on the following day, a CT scan-assisted needle biopsy of the larger mass. These were finally read, studied and revealed to me yesterday, Sept. 26. The biopsied material matched the tumor that was removed last year.
Much new testing and decision making regarding my case will ensue, beginning Oct 1, with some kind of surgery and/or treatment projected to begin during October. I will continue to be my positive self, enjoying all I can manage of this good life of a pretty lucky man. I am not suffering the way billions of humans have endured and still suffer day after day. I am not (as far as I know) slated for a horrible death at the hands of fanatics. I am living a sweet and enviable life with a lovely golf course at my back gate and an even lovelier little blonde to sit with me in the patio swing to watch glorious sunsets. I will not indulge in pity parties and I suggest that anyone who relates to me at all, do so in the same old way. Laughter is always good medicine.
With the wonders of medicine and scientific advances, there is a decent chance I will yet live to watch my 8-year old grandson grow up and begin his adult life. Perhaps even some more golf will be in our future and I still look forward to the day I play a reasonably good round but he bests me in style! If none of this scenario is to be, then trust me to go in peace with the theater in my mind reeling out the great story I am confident my grandson’s life will be.
The rare malignancy called a desmoplastic melanoma presented as a growing tumor on my right shoulder in the first two months of 2013. By March it had been biopsied and diagnosed as cancer and had to be removed. Problems with the transitions of my Medicare coverage and various blunders (mostly mine, I’m sure) caused the actual removal of the lesion to be delayed until June 3rd, by which time it had reached about the size of a tennis ball with the upper third standing above the shoulder and the bulk of the tumor intertwined with the skeletal structure. My surgical oncologist did a remarkable job of excising the tumor and leaving no fragments that could contain cancer cells. Later tests and the cautionary use of radiation to the shoulder area gave everyone confidence that the entire cancer was eliminated. Even a sentinel node biopsy in October revealed that my lymphatic system was clear also. However, we now know a year later, that some “scout” cells had migrated into the right lung and until July of this year, did not show up on any scans. A deep and incessant cough developed in July and a chest xray was ordered, resulting in the picture of a “spot” which needed further study. A CT scan showed it to be two masses, one looking like a medium-sized egg and the other, about a third of that size, positioned above the larger one.
A first biopsy, taken while a bronchoscope was being used, was ineffective in giving any clear diagnosis. So in mid September, a PET scan was performed on one day and on the following day, a CT scan-assisted needle biopsy of the larger mass. These were finally read, studied and revealed to me yesterday, Sept. 26. The biopsied material matched the tumor that was removed last year.
Much new testing and decision making regarding my case will ensue, beginning Oct 1, with some kind of surgery and/or treatment projected to begin during October. I will continue to be my positive self, enjoying all I can manage of this good life of a pretty lucky man. I am not suffering the way billions of humans have endured and still suffer day after day. I am not (as far as I know) slated for a horrible death at the hands of fanatics. I am living a sweet and enviable life with a lovely golf course at my back gate and an even lovelier little blonde to sit with me in the patio swing to watch glorious sunsets. I will not indulge in pity parties and I suggest that anyone who relates to me at all, do so in the same old way. Laughter is always good medicine.
With the wonders of medicine and scientific advances, there is a decent chance I will yet live to watch my 8-year old grandson grow up and begin his adult life. Perhaps even some more golf will be in our future and I still look forward to the day I play a reasonably good round but he bests me in style! If none of this scenario is to be, then trust me to go in peace with the theater in my mind reeling out the great story I am confident my grandson’s life will be.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Sharing a Bit - Sept 9
Hmm, looks as though I missed the month of August entirely! At least, I missed on making any posts here. My friend Al mentioned this lack of posting recently and said he assumed it was due to my many ailments and dealing with yet more ailments my wife has been suffering. Then also there has been the need to keep up with business, which goes on no matter how I may feel on a given day. And this was all true.
But here's to all my friends who are concerned and have expressed desire to know what is happening. My wife (Phyllis) has finally nailed down a definite date for surgery to correct her deteriorated upper spinal column and have some fusion of bone fragments to rebuild the protection needed around her delicate spinal cord. The date is September 30 and I have high hopes for success to relieve a great deal of pain - even though she is dreading the new form her body will assume with a stiffness and lack of full motion she has always enjoyed. I've promised to patiently re-train her golf swing to match the new restricted range of motion. But we are getting there!
My own appointment yesterday to hear the results of scans and a biopsy of last week was a "bust." In medical terms, the results were "negative." That of course is not some kind of negative outlook for my future - merely their expression for knowing no more than we did before. Had it been "positive," that would have meant probable cancer that could then be set for treatment. But "negative" merely means we start over with new tests because whatever is in my right lung is restricting my breathing and causing a horrible cough that sometimes causes other pains, not required to be described here. Point is, we don't know what is going on inside my body - yet.
Friday I will undergo a PET scan (which is supposed to unfailingly reveal any cancer formation) and there is already planned a follow-up test which is described as a "C T scan assisted needle biopsy" which should give conclusive evidence of what the mass is made of and how it should be treated. Again - we wait.
News when it happens . . .
But here's to all my friends who are concerned and have expressed desire to know what is happening. My wife (Phyllis) has finally nailed down a definite date for surgery to correct her deteriorated upper spinal column and have some fusion of bone fragments to rebuild the protection needed around her delicate spinal cord. The date is September 30 and I have high hopes for success to relieve a great deal of pain - even though she is dreading the new form her body will assume with a stiffness and lack of full motion she has always enjoyed. I've promised to patiently re-train her golf swing to match the new restricted range of motion. But we are getting there!
My own appointment yesterday to hear the results of scans and a biopsy of last week was a "bust." In medical terms, the results were "negative." That of course is not some kind of negative outlook for my future - merely their expression for knowing no more than we did before. Had it been "positive," that would have meant probable cancer that could then be set for treatment. But "negative" merely means we start over with new tests because whatever is in my right lung is restricting my breathing and causing a horrible cough that sometimes causes other pains, not required to be described here. Point is, we don't know what is going on inside my body - yet.
Friday I will undergo a PET scan (which is supposed to unfailingly reveal any cancer formation) and there is already planned a follow-up test which is described as a "C T scan assisted needle biopsy" which should give conclusive evidence of what the mass is made of and how it should be treated. Again - we wait.
News when it happens . . .
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
GIVE IT UP!!!
We in the West continue to have to work so hard and our leaders have to scramble to somehow "help out" every time another Middle East skirmish breaks out. When will the world get smart?
The Jewish state is an experiment reaching nearly 70 years now and that is at least 50 years too long! Eventually the sheer numbers of forces against them will win, even though all Jews and Christians believe that a Hebrew manifest destiny will prevail and their god will crush all foes in the end. Well, that's pure bullshit!
Consider how U.S. citizens would be reacting to anything resembling the mayhem caused by the theft by Jews of the land in Palestine. Had the axis powers won World War II, who knows what our own country would be suffering today? What if the powers of Europe, essentially rulers of the world, had been able to set up a whole state within our borders on behalf of some group who claimed they should be here "just because?" And not only setting up shop, government and all, within our borders but taking over more than half of Washington D.C. in the process? Or of New York City?
That's what a hard-charging group of Jews were able to pull off in 1948 with the backing of the U.S. and other western powers who rightfully felt compassion for the whole Jewish race. Had the compassionate westerners who jumped to the aid of the Jews been more wise and compelling, they could have talked the "chosen people" into realizing the folly of moving themselves into the middle of a militant world of Islam. The "chosen" could have chosen to better themselves instead of following traditional foolishness of making Jerusalem such a prize that simply had to be theirs. A lovely (and larger!) place somewhere in the western hemisphere could have been completely ceded to them if we were so compassionate - and they could have built a fabulous (and far more beautiful) replica of the storied "promised land" while being safe from harm among people who invited them to build and live in peace.
Today the people called "Israelis" go about their studied and practiced killing of their neighbors while enjoying the grand cheering section over here in this "compassionate" country. We should be instead telling them it's time to move into the modern world and move OUT of the Middle East where they don't stand a chance - god or no god!
The Jewish state is an experiment reaching nearly 70 years now and that is at least 50 years too long! Eventually the sheer numbers of forces against them will win, even though all Jews and Christians believe that a Hebrew manifest destiny will prevail and their god will crush all foes in the end. Well, that's pure bullshit!
Consider how U.S. citizens would be reacting to anything resembling the mayhem caused by the theft by Jews of the land in Palestine. Had the axis powers won World War II, who knows what our own country would be suffering today? What if the powers of Europe, essentially rulers of the world, had been able to set up a whole state within our borders on behalf of some group who claimed they should be here "just because?" And not only setting up shop, government and all, within our borders but taking over more than half of Washington D.C. in the process? Or of New York City?
That's what a hard-charging group of Jews were able to pull off in 1948 with the backing of the U.S. and other western powers who rightfully felt compassion for the whole Jewish race. Had the compassionate westerners who jumped to the aid of the Jews been more wise and compelling, they could have talked the "chosen people" into realizing the folly of moving themselves into the middle of a militant world of Islam. The "chosen" could have chosen to better themselves instead of following traditional foolishness of making Jerusalem such a prize that simply had to be theirs. A lovely (and larger!) place somewhere in the western hemisphere could have been completely ceded to them if we were so compassionate - and they could have built a fabulous (and far more beautiful) replica of the storied "promised land" while being safe from harm among people who invited them to build and live in peace.
Today the people called "Israelis" go about their studied and practiced killing of their neighbors while enjoying the grand cheering section over here in this "compassionate" country. We should be instead telling them it's time to move into the modern world and move OUT of the Middle East where they don't stand a chance - god or no god!
Friday, July 4, 2014
Happy 4th, and All That Stuff
Certainly the locals had to wonder why I was one of those standing in almost unpresentable casual clothing in my driveway, waving and shouting "Happy 4th" instead of having my golf cart decorated like theirs and being part of the parade. Truth is, I needed this day off! My cell phone is even staying turned off and I am enjoying one of those uncommon days of no obligations. Truth is, I'm exhausted from all the time I stay "on duty" when anyone calls because I need to be that kind of servant if I am to earn even a nominal living here in this little community over the coming years.
At least we are near to having the status of "home-owners" added to our family resume; with a little luck we will very soon sign papers and take proper possession of this property we have enjoyed for nearly nine years. Then we may just have a future, here or wherever we may choose to go if and when we sell the home. But we are nearer to a comfort zone than we have been in many years.
So HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY to one and all! I'm certainly all for independence!!!
At least we are near to having the status of "home-owners" added to our family resume; with a little luck we will very soon sign papers and take proper possession of this property we have enjoyed for nearly nine years. Then we may just have a future, here or wherever we may choose to go if and when we sell the home. But we are nearer to a comfort zone than we have been in many years.
So HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY to one and all! I'm certainly all for independence!!!
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Soccey? Or Hocker?
Awesome! and Beautiful! were a couple of words being gushed by a news reporter trying to describe his view of the big World Cup game that apparently "we" won in Brazil.
Last week, one of my local friends could hardly contain himself over the thrill of watching the Los Angeles Kings winning a game over a New York team in another "Cup" finals match. This week it was a different friend completely over-the-top with excitement about "our" team going into the big Brazilian games.
Maybe you have discerned by this point that I am neither a fan of these games nor even interested in knowing what the excitement is all about. To me, these two sports could be blended into one, called either soccey or hocker. Actually, I rather see them as the same game with some folks adding ice, skates and sticks. Both games are tedious, too long, too low scoring and too violent with the many invitations to injury of the bodies being twisted and smashed in all manner of "great plays."
Even if anyone took my suggestion and combined these to create a hybrid that may be more interesting (somehow increasing the scoring), I probably still couldn't work up any excitement over it. Certainly not enough to gush that a game was "Awesome!"
Last week, one of my local friends could hardly contain himself over the thrill of watching the Los Angeles Kings winning a game over a New York team in another "Cup" finals match. This week it was a different friend completely over-the-top with excitement about "our" team going into the big Brazilian games.
Maybe you have discerned by this point that I am neither a fan of these games nor even interested in knowing what the excitement is all about. To me, these two sports could be blended into one, called either soccey or hocker. Actually, I rather see them as the same game with some folks adding ice, skates and sticks. Both games are tedious, too long, too low scoring and too violent with the many invitations to injury of the bodies being twisted and smashed in all manner of "great plays."
Even if anyone took my suggestion and combined these to create a hybrid that may be more interesting (somehow increasing the scoring), I probably still couldn't work up any excitement over it. Certainly not enough to gush that a game was "Awesome!"
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Progress Will Prevail
People who are called "Progressives" are often thought of as "bleeding heart liberals" or other such colorful, disgusting-sounding rebels. The simple fact is, those who are NOT progressive, who cannot face progress with calm acceptance of the inevitable, will be overwhelmed and miserable excuses for citizens of this country.
The opposite of progressive is "regressive," and it appears that is exactly what the common Republican is today. I am totally fed up with all the forceful statements and sometimes actions relating to taking back our country. What that has to mean today is that for some people, the desire for the nostalgic image of America overwhelms the logic facing everyday life. It also means, in practically every case, that seeing Dwight Eisenhower in the white house would be so much more wonderful than seeing some black upstart there in his office. Truth is, the two have many similar qualities and we are very fortunate to have the strength and intelligence of President Obama in office today - but it will be half a century before history makes that very clear.
Though we all can enjoy re-watching the old film It's A Wonderful Life, there are millions of white citizens who cannot accept the changes that spell out the reality of our America of 2014. The immanently lovable Jimmy Stewart and his beautiful bride, Donna Reed, are easy to watch and adore. But the film reflects a long-gone era, not today's real world. (And by the way, things weren't perfect in Bedford Falls nor in any bygone era.) Yet that's the world Republicans want to recapture. Too bad. I have respect for history but also for change. And in our world, change always wins in the end.
And who are those who cannot invite or accept change? Old white people. That is, most of the old white people in this modern world. In age and race, I am one of them, but I'm no part of them in fundamental values. I detest regressive attitudes.
The opposite of progressive is "regressive," and it appears that is exactly what the common Republican is today. I am totally fed up with all the forceful statements and sometimes actions relating to taking back our country. What that has to mean today is that for some people, the desire for the nostalgic image of America overwhelms the logic facing everyday life. It also means, in practically every case, that seeing Dwight Eisenhower in the white house would be so much more wonderful than seeing some black upstart there in his office. Truth is, the two have many similar qualities and we are very fortunate to have the strength and intelligence of President Obama in office today - but it will be half a century before history makes that very clear.
Though we all can enjoy re-watching the old film It's A Wonderful Life, there are millions of white citizens who cannot accept the changes that spell out the reality of our America of 2014. The immanently lovable Jimmy Stewart and his beautiful bride, Donna Reed, are easy to watch and adore. But the film reflects a long-gone era, not today's real world. (And by the way, things weren't perfect in Bedford Falls nor in any bygone era.) Yet that's the world Republicans want to recapture. Too bad. I have respect for history but also for change. And in our world, change always wins in the end.
And who are those who cannot invite or accept change? Old white people. That is, most of the old white people in this modern world. In age and race, I am one of them, but I'm no part of them in fundamental values. I detest regressive attitudes.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Simple Consideration
Being inconsiderate is often probably just a product of being lazy. Or maybe forgetful.
The sweet-voiced lady who called me at the end of May could have instead sent a large, ugly man to find me and hit me very hard in the solar plexus. Instead, she mentioned off-handedly that she was getting a few nibbles on her home and wanted to see whether I had any homes available in my little senior community where she could down-size after her large home sells.
She had stopped me last fall while I was passing by a home where she was visiting, here in my little community; she liked the feeling here and was hoping to move here one day soon. So we had the discussions leading to what she might do and one thing she was sure of was that "Come June of next year, I want to list my home." We arranged for an associate and me to check out her property and give her an idea of the market value, along with projections for the next eight-to-nine months leading to June. She was so very appreciative and said that when June came around, she would allow me to list her home and look for another one here in my neighborhood.
The fact that escrows have been cancelling like crazy in the last two weeks and that my income is virtually nothing other than my meager social security, surely played into my astonishment and my difficulty breathing after I had welcomed her call and said I was going to be calling her in two days to set up the listing. To find that she had listed with a happen-upon agent who came to a garage sale, having no connection whatever previously, simply knocked the breath out of me for a moment.
Simple consideration would have been to remember the guy she sought out and asked for assistance back when I was recovering from surgeries and struggling to keep going each day. But she merely "forgot."
Now she has called again in the hope I have found something for her here. If I do happen to find something, while listings in my neighborhood are almost non-existent, I might manage to make upwards of a thousand dollars. had she stayed with the promise of letting me list her home, I could easily have earned five times that amount, But, "Oh well."
The sweet-voiced lady who called me at the end of May could have instead sent a large, ugly man to find me and hit me very hard in the solar plexus. Instead, she mentioned off-handedly that she was getting a few nibbles on her home and wanted to see whether I had any homes available in my little senior community where she could down-size after her large home sells.
She had stopped me last fall while I was passing by a home where she was visiting, here in my little community; she liked the feeling here and was hoping to move here one day soon. So we had the discussions leading to what she might do and one thing she was sure of was that "Come June of next year, I want to list my home." We arranged for an associate and me to check out her property and give her an idea of the market value, along with projections for the next eight-to-nine months leading to June. She was so very appreciative and said that when June came around, she would allow me to list her home and look for another one here in my neighborhood.
The fact that escrows have been cancelling like crazy in the last two weeks and that my income is virtually nothing other than my meager social security, surely played into my astonishment and my difficulty breathing after I had welcomed her call and said I was going to be calling her in two days to set up the listing. To find that she had listed with a happen-upon agent who came to a garage sale, having no connection whatever previously, simply knocked the breath out of me for a moment.
Simple consideration would have been to remember the guy she sought out and asked for assistance back when I was recovering from surgeries and struggling to keep going each day. But she merely "forgot."
Now she has called again in the hope I have found something for her here. If I do happen to find something, while listings in my neighborhood are almost non-existent, I might manage to make upwards of a thousand dollars. had she stayed with the promise of letting me list her home, I could easily have earned five times that amount, But, "Oh well."
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Let's Move Into the Present!
Baseball purists can go ahead and hate me and my opinions, but really! Isn't it time to allow technology to play its part?
Sure, they have grudgingly moved toward allowing instant replay to help with balls near the foul poles and now with a few other parts of the close call difficulties. But the real problem with baseball? We all know. We all have been part of the age-old shouts of "Get some glasses" or "Don't take the bat out of the hitter's hands," or other such criticisms of the umpires.
Now that we have the technology to place that electronic rectangle that outlines the strike zone and pin-points the position of the pitch, it makes no sense to me at all that we have to continue using the old method of depending on a human's eyes and quick decisions to make those close calls. Plate umpires are clearly shown to be inadequate. Baseball could take a major step in a good direction by finally making it easy to know without doubt whether a pitch is a ball or a strike. Let the chief umpire be responsible for governing the game as always, but relieve him of that awful requirement of seeing clearly while in harm's way behind the catcher, and having to instantly decide how to call a pitch.
It would be delightful to see batters then try to find some invisible electronic device to berate or be able to show it that hateful face of disagreement. Come on, Purists! You KNOW we will eventually have it done this way. But how long will you fight it?
Sure, they have grudgingly moved toward allowing instant replay to help with balls near the foul poles and now with a few other parts of the close call difficulties. But the real problem with baseball? We all know. We all have been part of the age-old shouts of "Get some glasses" or "Don't take the bat out of the hitter's hands," or other such criticisms of the umpires.
Now that we have the technology to place that electronic rectangle that outlines the strike zone and pin-points the position of the pitch, it makes no sense to me at all that we have to continue using the old method of depending on a human's eyes and quick decisions to make those close calls. Plate umpires are clearly shown to be inadequate. Baseball could take a major step in a good direction by finally making it easy to know without doubt whether a pitch is a ball or a strike. Let the chief umpire be responsible for governing the game as always, but relieve him of that awful requirement of seeing clearly while in harm's way behind the catcher, and having to instantly decide how to call a pitch.
It would be delightful to see batters then try to find some invisible electronic device to berate or be able to show it that hateful face of disagreement. Come on, Purists! You KNOW we will eventually have it done this way. But how long will you fight it?
Saturday, May 24, 2014
The Triple-H Factor
Former Massachusetts Governor Jane Swift brought up the difficulty women face in gaining leadership positions in politics: Their words and capacities are simply not the focus of the general public. She says the real focus goes immediately to Hair, Hemlines and Husbands! She is undoubtedly correct in this statement.
Consider this phenomenon. There are men in major positions of respect and power in our national politics, some of them for many decades, and some have had "bad hair days" for years; others have no hair at all. Is it mentioned in any public way? Not typically. But let a woman get up to speak and see how much her hair gets discussed above the substance of her speech.
Expect Hillary to run and along with this, expect the media and general public focus to often center far more on appearance than on substance. Some candidate running against her will be just another male in the same, drab business suit we all accept by habit. He may even have an ugly comb-over that flies laughably in the breeze and he may have a wife who rarely shows herself at all for whatever reason. But it will be Hillary's hair, clothing and marital partner that will be the continual topics of discussion.
Even many who consider themselves "liberal" in today's world still trudge along in the mud of out-dated traditional attitudes toward gender.
Personally, I look forward to eight years of dramatically (and often) changed hair styles along with varieties of skirts, pants-suits or anything else, and seeing the occasional glimpse of a very public male figure now in the second-fiddle role in the white house. But my focus will be on how she handles the mammoth job of the presidency.
Consider this phenomenon. There are men in major positions of respect and power in our national politics, some of them for many decades, and some have had "bad hair days" for years; others have no hair at all. Is it mentioned in any public way? Not typically. But let a woman get up to speak and see how much her hair gets discussed above the substance of her speech.
Expect Hillary to run and along with this, expect the media and general public focus to often center far more on appearance than on substance. Some candidate running against her will be just another male in the same, drab business suit we all accept by habit. He may even have an ugly comb-over that flies laughably in the breeze and he may have a wife who rarely shows herself at all for whatever reason. But it will be Hillary's hair, clothing and marital partner that will be the continual topics of discussion.
Even many who consider themselves "liberal" in today's world still trudge along in the mud of out-dated traditional attitudes toward gender.
Personally, I look forward to eight years of dramatically (and often) changed hair styles along with varieties of skirts, pants-suits or anything else, and seeing the occasional glimpse of a very public male figure now in the second-fiddle role in the white house. But my focus will be on how she handles the mammoth job of the presidency.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Bungled Executions
Feelings about the death penalty aside, I merely have a question about the odd problems various states are having today in their execution of prisoners.
The constitutional prohibition against cruel and unusual punishments eventually brought us around to the concept of death by lethal injection. And today, because more and more manufacturers of lethal drugs are denying the state penal administrators their drugs of choice, we are seeing botched executions taking place.
What's the mystery here? When I have undergone surgeries lately, the very nice anesthesiologists have successfully (and quite painlessly) put me to sleep for the duration of the cutting into my flesh. The only pain I every experienced was the after-effect, which would never have arrived if I had not awakened. Why is it so terribly difficult for prisons to perform painless executions?
I can immediately think of two different solutions to the problem, if it's death that has been decided has to be the punishment.
1.) Allow that inmate to begin his slip into unconsciousness just as all surgery prep begins. Then wheel him in to an executioner's room - something of a small abattoir made for a single human. Open a vein and allow the blood to drain from the body, removing any possibility of life returning. This would also have the positive effect of having completed the first part of the morticians job.
2.) Even more humane might be to construct the executioner's room as a comfortable sealed space where the prisoner can begin dining on his chosen last meal as the room begins to fill with carbon monoxide. Death could be not only painless but probably rather satisfying. Adding the "guest's" favorite music, piped in with the gas, would be even more thoughtful.
Though I don't see myself committing some crime that would bring me to this end, I can hardly think of a nicer way to go. The real cruel punishment is the long, difficult manner of death so many humans suffer through sickness and deterioration. When I have reached the condition that is very likely to befall me, losing vitality and any quality of life, I would really appreciate it if someone who loves me would take me to that comfortable room, serve me a favorite meal and turn on the carbon monoxide. Of course that would mean that my loved one who at my request had performed such an act of kindness, would then be taken to a horrible place to be put through the torture of some kind of poorly administered execution.
The constitutional prohibition against cruel and unusual punishments eventually brought us around to the concept of death by lethal injection. And today, because more and more manufacturers of lethal drugs are denying the state penal administrators their drugs of choice, we are seeing botched executions taking place.
What's the mystery here? When I have undergone surgeries lately, the very nice anesthesiologists have successfully (and quite painlessly) put me to sleep for the duration of the cutting into my flesh. The only pain I every experienced was the after-effect, which would never have arrived if I had not awakened. Why is it so terribly difficult for prisons to perform painless executions?
I can immediately think of two different solutions to the problem, if it's death that has been decided has to be the punishment.
1.) Allow that inmate to begin his slip into unconsciousness just as all surgery prep begins. Then wheel him in to an executioner's room - something of a small abattoir made for a single human. Open a vein and allow the blood to drain from the body, removing any possibility of life returning. This would also have the positive effect of having completed the first part of the morticians job.
2.) Even more humane might be to construct the executioner's room as a comfortable sealed space where the prisoner can begin dining on his chosen last meal as the room begins to fill with carbon monoxide. Death could be not only painless but probably rather satisfying. Adding the "guest's" favorite music, piped in with the gas, would be even more thoughtful.
Though I don't see myself committing some crime that would bring me to this end, I can hardly think of a nicer way to go. The real cruel punishment is the long, difficult manner of death so many humans suffer through sickness and deterioration. When I have reached the condition that is very likely to befall me, losing vitality and any quality of life, I would really appreciate it if someone who loves me would take me to that comfortable room, serve me a favorite meal and turn on the carbon monoxide. Of course that would mean that my loved one who at my request had performed such an act of kindness, would then be taken to a horrible place to be put through the torture of some kind of poorly administered execution.
Friday, May 9, 2014
A Little Justice
Strictly personal justice, that is.
Tournament organizers accepted my entry fee and stuck me with two other golfers who are often avoided by many in our local men's golf club. Then they put with us (in our fivesome as the number of entrants required) two fellows from the neighboring club who are not well known, one of them much older who questioned whether he could go the whole day. It was a "2-Club Tournament" which we do every year, socializing with the men's club of the senior community nearest to ours, each of us having our own 9-hole executive golf course. This annual tourney is very enjoyable for many of us simply because we get to play an actual 18 different holes instead of our weekly method of creating a "back-9" by hitting from slightly different tee locations.
This is an event I look forward to each year, spending more money on the entry than is comfortable for me but feeling it is worth the cost. Having missed this tournament last year, I was very excited to jump back in. Then the teams were posted and the starting holes assigned. It was a bitter pill for me, having just returned to the game after my year lost to cancer and three surgeries, to be dropped into the "nondescript" group - fellows who get to play because they pay the fee and can't be denied a place but who are not thought of as viable contenders in the "money round."
I ruminated a bit over it for a couple of days, thinking it was unkind of someone in the organizational structure to place me in such a group and using my fairly low handicap to make me the representative "A" player of a group of not-very-capable golfers. Particularly stinging to me was the fact that my game suffered quite a lot with a year off and my recent scores are not yet reflecting anything close to the prowess my formerly-established handicap would indicate. (My handicap will climb slowly through months of high scores until my strength and adjusted swing methods bring me back to a deserved position in the "A" flight.)
Therefore, my attitude need adjusting for a day or so and I got it under control by yesterday morning as I met the two men from the visiting group and greeted the two fellows I know pretty well from my own club - all of us standing on the tee box of the toughest starting position on the whole two-course tournament structure.
My misfit team with "no respect" started the scramble format by snatching a par on that first long par-3 (it feels like a birdie whenever one pars that hole). Then on the next hole, stepping to the ball position the struggling older man had hit fairly near the green, I popped a wedge shot into the hole. Actual birdie! One-under after two holes with the toughest hole of the entire 18 coming next. The weakest team member (a huge fellow who began trying to golf after retiring here about three years ago and whose decent shots are still quite rare) smacked his ball to a spot where we could all feel comfortable hitting a second shot (each team was required to use two tee-shots by each player during the round), so we chose that drive and all hit to the green. One of the team put it within five feet on the undulating green and a good putter (that older fellow whose drive we had used on the previous hole), stepped up first and dropped one of the most difficult short putts on our course. One-under after three holes - the three that comprised the most difficult short stretch in the tournament.
Next hole - birdie! And the next! From there on, we were real believers in our ability to make this our tournament. At the lunch afterward, the scores were announced and money prizes handed out. First place - my little team of misfits, at a score of 9-under par; second place - a team of respected players who scored well at 6-under; third place - a tie between two groups of more of the most respected players with the lowest handicaps and some of them all teamed up specially by the organizers to be the likely winners.
I'm sure most of them will look at all this as a fluke, a single day of water running uphill and pigs flying backward, but I think a few will show a little more respect to some of us who didn't stand a chance! Teamwork really worked and attitude played a big part. We went out to have fun, and winning it all was also good fun.
Tournament organizers accepted my entry fee and stuck me with two other golfers who are often avoided by many in our local men's golf club. Then they put with us (in our fivesome as the number of entrants required) two fellows from the neighboring club who are not well known, one of them much older who questioned whether he could go the whole day. It was a "2-Club Tournament" which we do every year, socializing with the men's club of the senior community nearest to ours, each of us having our own 9-hole executive golf course. This annual tourney is very enjoyable for many of us simply because we get to play an actual 18 different holes instead of our weekly method of creating a "back-9" by hitting from slightly different tee locations.
This is an event I look forward to each year, spending more money on the entry than is comfortable for me but feeling it is worth the cost. Having missed this tournament last year, I was very excited to jump back in. Then the teams were posted and the starting holes assigned. It was a bitter pill for me, having just returned to the game after my year lost to cancer and three surgeries, to be dropped into the "nondescript" group - fellows who get to play because they pay the fee and can't be denied a place but who are not thought of as viable contenders in the "money round."
I ruminated a bit over it for a couple of days, thinking it was unkind of someone in the organizational structure to place me in such a group and using my fairly low handicap to make me the representative "A" player of a group of not-very-capable golfers. Particularly stinging to me was the fact that my game suffered quite a lot with a year off and my recent scores are not yet reflecting anything close to the prowess my formerly-established handicap would indicate. (My handicap will climb slowly through months of high scores until my strength and adjusted swing methods bring me back to a deserved position in the "A" flight.)
Therefore, my attitude need adjusting for a day or so and I got it under control by yesterday morning as I met the two men from the visiting group and greeted the two fellows I know pretty well from my own club - all of us standing on the tee box of the toughest starting position on the whole two-course tournament structure.
My misfit team with "no respect" started the scramble format by snatching a par on that first long par-3 (it feels like a birdie whenever one pars that hole). Then on the next hole, stepping to the ball position the struggling older man had hit fairly near the green, I popped a wedge shot into the hole. Actual birdie! One-under after two holes with the toughest hole of the entire 18 coming next. The weakest team member (a huge fellow who began trying to golf after retiring here about three years ago and whose decent shots are still quite rare) smacked his ball to a spot where we could all feel comfortable hitting a second shot (each team was required to use two tee-shots by each player during the round), so we chose that drive and all hit to the green. One of the team put it within five feet on the undulating green and a good putter (that older fellow whose drive we had used on the previous hole), stepped up first and dropped one of the most difficult short putts on our course. One-under after three holes - the three that comprised the most difficult short stretch in the tournament.
Next hole - birdie! And the next! From there on, we were real believers in our ability to make this our tournament. At the lunch afterward, the scores were announced and money prizes handed out. First place - my little team of misfits, at a score of 9-under par; second place - a team of respected players who scored well at 6-under; third place - a tie between two groups of more of the most respected players with the lowest handicaps and some of them all teamed up specially by the organizers to be the likely winners.
I'm sure most of them will look at all this as a fluke, a single day of water running uphill and pigs flying backward, but I think a few will show a little more respect to some of us who didn't stand a chance! Teamwork really worked and attitude played a big part. We went out to have fun, and winning it all was also good fun.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Misplaced MINDS
Two new SAINTS were added today. Wow! Big day for so many people in this crazy world!
The news covering the event sparked a surprising comment from my sweet wife who grew up Catholic but has been essentially irreligious most of her life. She was openly critical of the goings-on in Rome, asking me, "What gives the Pope the right to judge some former popes of deserving the rank of 'Saint'?" Naturally my retort had to do with exactly that term - RANK!
I had to explain again how foolish the whole system of the Catholic church has always been, but that within that foolish belief system, the sitting Pope, with his team of cardinals (and whatever extended church governmental advisors he taps) has the perfect right to make that delineation. And can do it for anyone he chooses. After all, the whole business is simply that - a business set in the mental concrete of a madness accepted and solidified through the ages. If I thought millions of people were going to see my words here and if I cared what they thought of me personally, I would need to avoid saying how abjectly foolish the whole concept is. Not too many years back, I would also be putting myself in danger of some vindictive action on the part of fanatical believers of any ilk. And please understand again, they are ALL THE SAME, in my estimation. "They" meaning all believers in any supreme being of any name or slant. None of it makes sense or has proven to be good for humanity.
My wife's point was that if someone actually dies and deserves to be called a "saint" then it should be "God" who makes the call. Trying not to laugh, I had to point out the obvious - that none of the whole concept of belief in a supreme being has anything to do really with what a supreme being directs. It is ALL simply what human beings, fearful of the unknown, conceived and foisted upon other ignorant humans.
The same power of the Pope over sainthood even extends to millennia gone by! At some point around forty years ago, the sitting Pope apparently decided that old St Chris really wasn't all he had been cracked up to be. He got demoted, even after all the centuries of "hearing the prayers" of travelers. I Googled St Christopher to check my minimal knowledge of the matter and got into reading some of the website that is proudly educating the public about all things Catholic. Their sub-head is "Inform - Inspire - Ignite." Well, a brief reading of that home page did ignite some laughter for me. Those very pompous folks who made the decision to demote old Chris, along with Ursula and apparently many other traditional saints, made the call because the basis of the early proclamations of sainthood had been in "legend" and in "Pagan mythology!" Hey, you there, with the power of almost infinite information available here on the Web, read ANY of the information relating to the foundations of religious belief itself. It is ALL based in legend and "Pagan mythology." That's all there is, folks!!
So good luck, Catholics. Now you have a couple more saints who apparently are ready and waiting to hear your prayers. In my view, if a human wants to get on his or her knees and suffer the degradation of actually praying, it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference what name of god or saint is called upon. Why not try Tinkerbell!
The news covering the event sparked a surprising comment from my sweet wife who grew up Catholic but has been essentially irreligious most of her life. She was openly critical of the goings-on in Rome, asking me, "What gives the Pope the right to judge some former popes of deserving the rank of 'Saint'?" Naturally my retort had to do with exactly that term - RANK!
I had to explain again how foolish the whole system of the Catholic church has always been, but that within that foolish belief system, the sitting Pope, with his team of cardinals (and whatever extended church governmental advisors he taps) has the perfect right to make that delineation. And can do it for anyone he chooses. After all, the whole business is simply that - a business set in the mental concrete of a madness accepted and solidified through the ages. If I thought millions of people were going to see my words here and if I cared what they thought of me personally, I would need to avoid saying how abjectly foolish the whole concept is. Not too many years back, I would also be putting myself in danger of some vindictive action on the part of fanatical believers of any ilk. And please understand again, they are ALL THE SAME, in my estimation. "They" meaning all believers in any supreme being of any name or slant. None of it makes sense or has proven to be good for humanity.
My wife's point was that if someone actually dies and deserves to be called a "saint" then it should be "God" who makes the call. Trying not to laugh, I had to point out the obvious - that none of the whole concept of belief in a supreme being has anything to do really with what a supreme being directs. It is ALL simply what human beings, fearful of the unknown, conceived and foisted upon other ignorant humans.
The same power of the Pope over sainthood even extends to millennia gone by! At some point around forty years ago, the sitting Pope apparently decided that old St Chris really wasn't all he had been cracked up to be. He got demoted, even after all the centuries of "hearing the prayers" of travelers. I Googled St Christopher to check my minimal knowledge of the matter and got into reading some of the website that is proudly educating the public about all things Catholic. Their sub-head is "Inform - Inspire - Ignite." Well, a brief reading of that home page did ignite some laughter for me. Those very pompous folks who made the decision to demote old Chris, along with Ursula and apparently many other traditional saints, made the call because the basis of the early proclamations of sainthood had been in "legend" and in "Pagan mythology!" Hey, you there, with the power of almost infinite information available here on the Web, read ANY of the information relating to the foundations of religious belief itself. It is ALL based in legend and "Pagan mythology." That's all there is, folks!!
So good luck, Catholics. Now you have a couple more saints who apparently are ready and waiting to hear your prayers. In my view, if a human wants to get on his or her knees and suffer the degradation of actually praying, it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference what name of god or saint is called upon. Why not try Tinkerbell!
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Misplaced Modifiers
A morning television reporter told us that Prince William "almost accidentally beaned Kate" when throwing (bowling?) during their cricket fun in New Zealand.
What was actually told to us by this sentence construction? Well, the real meaning of the wording, taken literally, was that Kate got hit on the head (bean) by the ball William threw and it was questionable as to whether he meant to hit her. We could hope it was an accident, but the report was that it was "almost" an accident. So subliminally, William must have wanted to hit Kate on the head. It would have been so simple to say it correctly by merely placing the "almost" just after the word "accidentally" rather than before it.
Misplaced modifiers are rife within the English language. In fact, in one case - the use of the word "only" - the norm is to place it in a sentence completely incorrectly and to confuse the meaning of what is being communicated. Oddly enough, the traditional misplacement of the word "only" is so ingrained in our daily conversation that any attempt to correct the malady would probably cause more confusion than would the continuation of the abuse! (James Thurber advised to leave it alone!)
Consider this construction of the lyric of an old favorite song: "I only have eyes for you." What that wants to say is that "my eyes won't wander to the ogling of others" (or something similar), but what is actually being said is that "my lips are not for you; my nose is not for you; my thoughts even, are not for you. No, it's only my eyes that are for you!" We would hate to see the lyric line changed to properly express that "I have eyes for only you" because that would require a total adjustment of the musical phrasing. But wouldn't it be nicer if our intended communications were literally saying what we feel?
Here's another popular one. A more recent musical offering, this one from Fleetwood Mac, features this "hook" line in two phrases: "Thunder only happens when it's rainin'; players only love you when they're playin'." Of course, poetic license allows the completely erroneous statement that thunder has to have rain along with it. That's patently false, but we allow it easily as a musical notion. And in that sense, no music that becomes popular can be terribly criticized; it did, in the face of terrible odds, become popular! Now, that first phrase, while having the "only" modifier misplaced, doesn't cause a notable change in the meaning (which is still the totally false statement anyway!) But the second phrase, with the "only" placed where it is, purposely mirroring its placement in the first phrase, totally destroys the meaning the writer wished to convey.
"Players only love you when they're playin'." - Wrong! Sidestepping any extensive philosophical discussion of the meaning of "love," it is still just a badly worded statement. A "player" (insincere, get-what-you-can-get-at-any-expense kind of person) will not "only" love you; he will also hate you, and hurt you, disrespect you, abuse you, deceive you, etc., etc. What the words actually mean to convey is that a "player" will "love" you only when he's playing. Then he will move on and it won't surprise anyone if both parties know going in that he is a "player."
What I find fascinating about this particular song lyric is that unlike the first song example above, this is one of those that COULD have been written with absolutely proper arrangement of the modifier and still have been very singable. In fact, I enjoy singing it that way in my head, and I think it might have improved the original to have placed the words in the correct alignment for clear meaning. Try it in your own head (if you can recall the tune at all): "Thunder happens only when it's rainin'; players love you only when they're playin." The word "only" in this arrangement actually can become much more of a tilting point in each phrase - a fun word to emphasize twice - not to mention (which I am going a lo - o - ng way to mention) the words now clearly state the idea the song was meant to get across.
I could go on and on, but then, I already have! Check out more if interested.
What was actually told to us by this sentence construction? Well, the real meaning of the wording, taken literally, was that Kate got hit on the head (bean) by the ball William threw and it was questionable as to whether he meant to hit her. We could hope it was an accident, but the report was that it was "almost" an accident. So subliminally, William must have wanted to hit Kate on the head. It would have been so simple to say it correctly by merely placing the "almost" just after the word "accidentally" rather than before it.
Misplaced modifiers are rife within the English language. In fact, in one case - the use of the word "only" - the norm is to place it in a sentence completely incorrectly and to confuse the meaning of what is being communicated. Oddly enough, the traditional misplacement of the word "only" is so ingrained in our daily conversation that any attempt to correct the malady would probably cause more confusion than would the continuation of the abuse! (James Thurber advised to leave it alone!)
Consider this construction of the lyric of an old favorite song: "I only have eyes for you." What that wants to say is that "my eyes won't wander to the ogling of others" (or something similar), but what is actually being said is that "my lips are not for you; my nose is not for you; my thoughts even, are not for you. No, it's only my eyes that are for you!" We would hate to see the lyric line changed to properly express that "I have eyes for only you" because that would require a total adjustment of the musical phrasing. But wouldn't it be nicer if our intended communications were literally saying what we feel?
Here's another popular one. A more recent musical offering, this one from Fleetwood Mac, features this "hook" line in two phrases: "Thunder only happens when it's rainin'; players only love you when they're playin'." Of course, poetic license allows the completely erroneous statement that thunder has to have rain along with it. That's patently false, but we allow it easily as a musical notion. And in that sense, no music that becomes popular can be terribly criticized; it did, in the face of terrible odds, become popular! Now, that first phrase, while having the "only" modifier misplaced, doesn't cause a notable change in the meaning (which is still the totally false statement anyway!) But the second phrase, with the "only" placed where it is, purposely mirroring its placement in the first phrase, totally destroys the meaning the writer wished to convey.
"Players only love you when they're playin'." - Wrong! Sidestepping any extensive philosophical discussion of the meaning of "love," it is still just a badly worded statement. A "player" (insincere, get-what-you-can-get-at-any-expense kind of person) will not "only" love you; he will also hate you, and hurt you, disrespect you, abuse you, deceive you, etc., etc. What the words actually mean to convey is that a "player" will "love" you only when he's playing. Then he will move on and it won't surprise anyone if both parties know going in that he is a "player."
What I find fascinating about this particular song lyric is that unlike the first song example above, this is one of those that COULD have been written with absolutely proper arrangement of the modifier and still have been very singable. In fact, I enjoy singing it that way in my head, and I think it might have improved the original to have placed the words in the correct alignment for clear meaning. Try it in your own head (if you can recall the tune at all): "Thunder happens only when it's rainin'; players love you only when they're playin." The word "only" in this arrangement actually can become much more of a tilting point in each phrase - a fun word to emphasize twice - not to mention (which I am going a lo - o - ng way to mention) the words now clearly state the idea the song was meant to get across.
I could go on and on, but then, I already have! Check out more if interested.
Good Morning Good Sense!
Good Morning America featured a story about "Fight Church" which I found both sickening and amusing. Even satisfying! Those goofy preachers need to be knocked in the head by someone - why not each other?!
As I have long mused about boxers (or fighters of any ilk), if enough of them finally knock each other senseless (and in one sense, they have already attained that status), then the rest of us would be free of their foolishness. How delightful it would be to awake to the realization that massive numbers of religious fools have beaten one another to oblivion! Then there might be Peace on Earth!!!
As I have long mused about boxers (or fighters of any ilk), if enough of them finally knock each other senseless (and in one sense, they have already attained that status), then the rest of us would be free of their foolishness. How delightful it would be to awake to the realization that massive numbers of religious fools have beaten one another to oblivion! Then there might be Peace on Earth!!!
Saturday, March 29, 2014
The Pain of Being
Some have experienced the "lightness of being" - apparently even an unbearable lightness, whatever that could be. I, on the other hand, experience more pain.
Yours truly will be heading out in an hour or so to again try my hand at golf, which has gone better than expected in the first three rounds after a full year away from the clubs to play a round of surgeries. And I know just what pains to expect as I make my consciously slower and gentle swings. Naturally I will walk much of the course, trying desperately to rebuild my physical strength; however by the last three or four fairways, I will give in to the need to ride along with a playing companion who will have his EZ-Go and will nicely have hauled my clubs for me the whole round.
From experience I know to stay upright and erect as possible to avoid some of the pain in my back. No, this is not related to my cancer or surgeries - it's simply some of the familiar pain I have lived with for decades. During the first part of the golf match, while forcing myself to walk as straight and tall as my back will allow, I am forced by time considerations to "hop" into the cart at four of the longer sections of concrete and asphalt (street) crossings between greens & tees. Each time I then need to exit the cart for the next shot, my back screams at me for the change of position and I usually have to grab the cart to hand-over-hand pull myself back to the fully upright stance for walking. My playing buddies, when noticing this, always ask whether I am going to be able to finish the round, to which I have to answer, "I wish I knew."
This morning's round is already in question as I practically collapsed on my first step from the bed. But since I walked for the length of my home and started the coffee brewing, I have been able to manage a convincing uprightness. Now the next problem is leaving this chair I have occupied for over half an hour. The challenge is a bit daunting!
But life, as I know it, is still worth while.
Yours truly will be heading out in an hour or so to again try my hand at golf, which has gone better than expected in the first three rounds after a full year away from the clubs to play a round of surgeries. And I know just what pains to expect as I make my consciously slower and gentle swings. Naturally I will walk much of the course, trying desperately to rebuild my physical strength; however by the last three or four fairways, I will give in to the need to ride along with a playing companion who will have his EZ-Go and will nicely have hauled my clubs for me the whole round.
From experience I know to stay upright and erect as possible to avoid some of the pain in my back. No, this is not related to my cancer or surgeries - it's simply some of the familiar pain I have lived with for decades. During the first part of the golf match, while forcing myself to walk as straight and tall as my back will allow, I am forced by time considerations to "hop" into the cart at four of the longer sections of concrete and asphalt (street) crossings between greens & tees. Each time I then need to exit the cart for the next shot, my back screams at me for the change of position and I usually have to grab the cart to hand-over-hand pull myself back to the fully upright stance for walking. My playing buddies, when noticing this, always ask whether I am going to be able to finish the round, to which I have to answer, "I wish I knew."
This morning's round is already in question as I practically collapsed on my first step from the bed. But since I walked for the length of my home and started the coffee brewing, I have been able to manage a convincing uprightness. Now the next problem is leaving this chair I have occupied for over half an hour. The challenge is a bit daunting!
But life, as I know it, is still worth while.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Punctuation is Still a Good Thing?
One fellow who contributes often to a forum I read is guilty of this manner of ending sentences with question marks - hardly ever meaning it is an actual question. I use it here just to highlight the fact that punctuation is important.
The comma is the feisty little punctuation mark that I have always found helpful in writing. Yet over the last few dacades, critics of "good writing" have tried to limit the use of commas, thinking that people have fallen into an over-use of this punctuation. But a comma, properly placed, can clarify meaning. Commas can aid in allowing a reader to virtually hear the little nuances in the spoken word.
I was startled this morning when I happened to read again a post of mine from two years ago - startled because in my effort to limit my use of commas in that writing, I left myself misunderstanding my own sentence. Had to laugh out loud.
An early line of my post was: "My sweet wife found out back in December that the awesome child prodigy was to perform . . ."
When I began to read it this time, the meaning was lost after the first few words, in the comical idea that "my wife was found in December - out back." Out back of what? Or maybe at the Outback Steakhouse? So now I wish that I had used, more freely and correctly, the commas I am prone to employ. Meaning, the sentence would be more properly read as: "My sweet wife found out, back in December, that the awesome child prodigy . . ." That is much to be preferred over the humorous misread of: "My sweet wife, found (out back) in December, . . ."
My sweet wife can be found right here, right out front in my daily life; the need for commas was found out, back in December! (Actually, found out just today, but - you get my drift.)
The comma is the feisty little punctuation mark that I have always found helpful in writing. Yet over the last few dacades, critics of "good writing" have tried to limit the use of commas, thinking that people have fallen into an over-use of this punctuation. But a comma, properly placed, can clarify meaning. Commas can aid in allowing a reader to virtually hear the little nuances in the spoken word.
I was startled this morning when I happened to read again a post of mine from two years ago - startled because in my effort to limit my use of commas in that writing, I left myself misunderstanding my own sentence. Had to laugh out loud.
An early line of my post was: "My sweet wife found out back in December that the awesome child prodigy was to perform . . ."
When I began to read it this time, the meaning was lost after the first few words, in the comical idea that "my wife was found in December - out back." Out back of what? Or maybe at the Outback Steakhouse? So now I wish that I had used, more freely and correctly, the commas I am prone to employ. Meaning, the sentence would be more properly read as: "My sweet wife found out, back in December, that the awesome child prodigy . . ." That is much to be preferred over the humorous misread of: "My sweet wife, found (out back) in December, . . ."
My sweet wife can be found right here, right out front in my daily life; the need for commas was found out, back in December! (Actually, found out just today, but - you get my drift.)
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Pretty Happy
Would have been perhaps a bit happier if when I went online at 4:00 this morning I had seen my Lotto numbers lined up in last night's drawing. But I can wish myself a "Happy Birthday" anyway, and Google seemed to be doing that as well, with their name spelled out in celebratory pastries this morning. I assume this is for everyone to see, so who knows what other birthday is being toasted on this date - other than the late Liz Taylor and the far "later" Henry Longfellow. So far, I haven't seen any explanation for Google's sweet offerings.
Sleep during the night was minimal and fitfull for me due to too much on my mind and too many sore muscles from hard work on the patio refurbishing we've been doing the last two weeks. Got the new gazebo up yesterday and stablized against potentially high winds; now it's raining lightly on our unfinished raw ground where I need to get a stronger fellow to put down some flagstone. We're likely to have a down-pour that will halt all progress on the work for days. Looks as though we will be entertaining guests in less-than-lovely conditions.
One of the closest friends of my youth is due to arrive here tomorrow, along with her new guy I haven't met. In fact, I haven't even seen Anita since 1968, and it's only through the Internet that we have reconnected recently. Now I know she has been twice widowed and is a retired law enforcement veteran of many years in Wisconsin. They have driven out to Arizona for visiting & sight-seeing and now are heading here and all around California to visit friends and family. I'm glad our long friendship can have this brief re-visit over this one weekend, and that "'Niter" will help me celebrate turning 69 - which happened officially a few hours ago.
Happy Birthday to us, including Liz, Hank and all other Google friends!
Sleep during the night was minimal and fitfull for me due to too much on my mind and too many sore muscles from hard work on the patio refurbishing we've been doing the last two weeks. Got the new gazebo up yesterday and stablized against potentially high winds; now it's raining lightly on our unfinished raw ground where I need to get a stronger fellow to put down some flagstone. We're likely to have a down-pour that will halt all progress on the work for days. Looks as though we will be entertaining guests in less-than-lovely conditions.
One of the closest friends of my youth is due to arrive here tomorrow, along with her new guy I haven't met. In fact, I haven't even seen Anita since 1968, and it's only through the Internet that we have reconnected recently. Now I know she has been twice widowed and is a retired law enforcement veteran of many years in Wisconsin. They have driven out to Arizona for visiting & sight-seeing and now are heading here and all around California to visit friends and family. I'm glad our long friendship can have this brief re-visit over this one weekend, and that "'Niter" will help me celebrate turning 69 - which happened officially a few hours ago.
Happy Birthday to us, including Liz, Hank and all other Google friends!
Friday, February 21, 2014
Impressions
"End Session" That's what it says at the end of my online banking activity. This morning's session ended after the successful transfer of $29 to assure that yesterday's $75 check will clear. But I still have an available savings balance of 83 cents if another situation should occur.
Okay, sure, we do have another account for most household expenses and personal needs. That account will still have upwards of $100 remaining at the end of the month if we are careful for the next week. Might blow part of that fortune on my birthday "celebration" on the 27th.
From 2:25 until around 4:30 this morning, I struggled with many matters, including the above, and forced myself to stay above DEpression. The result of all that thinking brought me to this topic of IMpressions when I re-awakened at 6:15.
People here in my little senior village see me as successful in real estate and readily stop me on the street or at the golf pro shop, etc., just to comment or ask advice about properties and such. It's very nice to have that respect. And in general, my wife and I have always carried ourselves with an air of success. Friends and acquaintances simply assume that we do quite well, befitting our residence here on the golf course among many fairly wealthy neighbors. Hardly any of them could guess that our nice-looking clothing once belonged to someone else. I often wonder if some golfing buddy here who is my size has figured out that the sweater he dropped off at the thrift store last week is the one I am now proudly wearing. He may not as easily identify the shoes - my most recent find is a pair of top-of-the-line golf shoes that cost me $3! I have to assume that these came from a widow who didn't want to see her deceased husband's new shoes gathering dust in the closet.
My constant activity around our village, listing and selling properties, has really given folks the most ludicrous (and a bit frustrating) impression: Big money!
Here's a tiny look inside the reality of my realty success. Home sales are not brisk but we had a dozen escrows here that involved me last year. These manufactured homes are selling now for above $100,000 but only last spring, we were finding it hard to sell for more than $85,000. My sales over-all just barely averaged the 100k level for the year. People think of a 6% commission as part of most sales, so they tend to think I earn $6,000 every time I'm part of a home sale. Don't I wish! Truth is, that $6,000 is typically split between my agency (if I listed or sold the property) and some other agency (whose agent listed or sold). The $3,000 on my side is then split between my broker (40%) and me (60%) - so I would earn $1800 on a 100k sale.
That amount isn't bad for having struggled through many small responsibilities and paperwork over an average of three months to complete the sale, all the while handling problems and concerns with an "at your service" attitude and smile.
But the real truth for me is that when I began suffering with cancer and had to rely on pain meds, then worked through three surgeries and down time, I was aware that I couldn't trust myself to be on top of every situation. So I began co-listing all my new business with another associate, splitting the work - and the commissions. Now take that $1800 and see where it ends up. $80 goes out first for Errors & Omissions insurance. Then the remaining $1720 is split evenly with that associate who helps me avoid most of the errors and omissions I would probably commit on my own.
So the folks who see me as getting rich from local home sales would be shocked to learn that my net income from real estate last year was less than their social security income. And I dare not tell them. I'm better served by their incorrect impressions because "nothing succeeds like success!"
Okay, sure, we do have another account for most household expenses and personal needs. That account will still have upwards of $100 remaining at the end of the month if we are careful for the next week. Might blow part of that fortune on my birthday "celebration" on the 27th.
From 2:25 until around 4:30 this morning, I struggled with many matters, including the above, and forced myself to stay above DEpression. The result of all that thinking brought me to this topic of IMpressions when I re-awakened at 6:15.
People here in my little senior village see me as successful in real estate and readily stop me on the street or at the golf pro shop, etc., just to comment or ask advice about properties and such. It's very nice to have that respect. And in general, my wife and I have always carried ourselves with an air of success. Friends and acquaintances simply assume that we do quite well, befitting our residence here on the golf course among many fairly wealthy neighbors. Hardly any of them could guess that our nice-looking clothing once belonged to someone else. I often wonder if some golfing buddy here who is my size has figured out that the sweater he dropped off at the thrift store last week is the one I am now proudly wearing. He may not as easily identify the shoes - my most recent find is a pair of top-of-the-line golf shoes that cost me $3! I have to assume that these came from a widow who didn't want to see her deceased husband's new shoes gathering dust in the closet.
My constant activity around our village, listing and selling properties, has really given folks the most ludicrous (and a bit frustrating) impression: Big money!
Here's a tiny look inside the reality of my realty success. Home sales are not brisk but we had a dozen escrows here that involved me last year. These manufactured homes are selling now for above $100,000 but only last spring, we were finding it hard to sell for more than $85,000. My sales over-all just barely averaged the 100k level for the year. People think of a 6% commission as part of most sales, so they tend to think I earn $6,000 every time I'm part of a home sale. Don't I wish! Truth is, that $6,000 is typically split between my agency (if I listed or sold the property) and some other agency (whose agent listed or sold). The $3,000 on my side is then split between my broker (40%) and me (60%) - so I would earn $1800 on a 100k sale.
That amount isn't bad for having struggled through many small responsibilities and paperwork over an average of three months to complete the sale, all the while handling problems and concerns with an "at your service" attitude and smile.
But the real truth for me is that when I began suffering with cancer and had to rely on pain meds, then worked through three surgeries and down time, I was aware that I couldn't trust myself to be on top of every situation. So I began co-listing all my new business with another associate, splitting the work - and the commissions. Now take that $1800 and see where it ends up. $80 goes out first for Errors & Omissions insurance. Then the remaining $1720 is split evenly with that associate who helps me avoid most of the errors and omissions I would probably commit on my own.
So the folks who see me as getting rich from local home sales would be shocked to learn that my net income from real estate last year was less than their social security income. And I dare not tell them. I'm better served by their incorrect impressions because "nothing succeeds like success!"
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Prayer Breakfast
A little after 6:00 this morning, as usual, I started the coffee and flipped on the TV. CNN was showing our president being introduced at a prayer breakfast. A PRAYER breakfast!! How absolutely embarrassing!
I have no idea what President Obama believes deep in his own mind. But that is really beside the point in our society. He is bound and gagged, completely incapable of extrication from the bonds of traditional ignorance. Supreme intelligence in a human being is still overwhelmed by the need to bow and scrape to show humble acceptance of (and "obedience" to) a phantom being that supposedly exists somewhere out there!
I am personally and profoundly offended. The TV is now on the Golf Channel.
I have no idea what President Obama believes deep in his own mind. But that is really beside the point in our society. He is bound and gagged, completely incapable of extrication from the bonds of traditional ignorance. Supreme intelligence in a human being is still overwhelmed by the need to bow and scrape to show humble acceptance of (and "obedience" to) a phantom being that supposedly exists somewhere out there!
I am personally and profoundly offended. The TV is now on the Golf Channel.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Left/Right, Human Plight
"When nothing goes right,............ go left."
The above quote drifted my way as part of an unrelated email topic. Upon reading it, I mused that this could (and should?) be a political axiom. Makes good sense in so many ways.
I also have oft repeated my own line of: "Two wrongs don't make a right - - - but three lefts will do it."
Think about it. It applied first to driving around city blocks, but now I'm seeing this could be applied politically as well!
And while on the general subject, I love reminding folks of my favorite slam against the hawk attitudes among us: "War never proves who is right - only who is left!"
The above quote drifted my way as part of an unrelated email topic. Upon reading it, I mused that this could (and should?) be a political axiom. Makes good sense in so many ways.
I also have oft repeated my own line of: "Two wrongs don't make a right - - - but three lefts will do it."
Think about it. It applied first to driving around city blocks, but now I'm seeing this could be applied politically as well!
And while on the general subject, I love reminding folks of my favorite slam against the hawk attitudes among us: "War never proves who is right - only who is left!"
Monday, February 3, 2014
SUPER(?) BOWL
Well, at least for you folks in Seattle area and your national fans, it was super. Congrats!
"Cousin" Peyton had never seen such a swarming, smothering defense. I hope he wasn't hurt other than in his pride. Funny that I had entered the game with a compassion for the Seahawks and fans, thinking there could be an embarrassing blow-out.
Oh, well - the 5-time MVP will survive and do just fine. Now onward to spring training baseball!
"Cousin" Peyton had never seen such a swarming, smothering defense. I hope he wasn't hurt other than in his pride. Funny that I had entered the game with a compassion for the Seahawks and fans, thinking there could be an embarrassing blow-out.
Oh, well - the 5-time MVP will survive and do just fine. Now onward to spring training baseball!
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
State of Reality
Fifty years from now, I don't expect to be here. I certainly expect my grandson will be here, nearing 60 years of age.
It would not be logical to expect Barack Obama to still be here, but it is possible he will surpass the century mark and enjoy many years of post-presidency productivity.
What I DO expect to occur at some point while they both still occupy space on this planet, is that these two and millions of others will read historical accounts of this presidential administration that was one of the very most successful in our national history. And the honesty and devotion to fact that historians are known to possess will make them also point out that no president ever had to work so hard to accomplish what citizens wanted and needed, simply because the other elected politicians of his day comprised the most worthless congress on record. And the problem wasn't just that they were lacking in any practical ability to perform their job, they were instead devoted to an effort to impede the president's and the nation's steps forward.
With a huge stroke of luck, the 2014 elections may return control of the congress to people who want to help an amazingly capable chief executive to do an even greater job of building our country.
The view back from the future will surely prove what I assert today. I so wish I could be around to witness the written words of historians.
It would not be logical to expect Barack Obama to still be here, but it is possible he will surpass the century mark and enjoy many years of post-presidency productivity.
What I DO expect to occur at some point while they both still occupy space on this planet, is that these two and millions of others will read historical accounts of this presidential administration that was one of the very most successful in our national history. And the honesty and devotion to fact that historians are known to possess will make them also point out that no president ever had to work so hard to accomplish what citizens wanted and needed, simply because the other elected politicians of his day comprised the most worthless congress on record. And the problem wasn't just that they were lacking in any practical ability to perform their job, they were instead devoted to an effort to impede the president's and the nation's steps forward.
With a huge stroke of luck, the 2014 elections may return control of the congress to people who want to help an amazingly capable chief executive to do an even greater job of building our country.
The view back from the future will surely prove what I assert today. I so wish I could be around to witness the written words of historians.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Music Fulfills
Kudos to organizers of the Grammy Awards this year. Someone came to the realization that a great many old farts in the country might tune in (at least for some of the show) if it would yield a glimpse of Paul and Ringo. I caught part of it, then recorded the bulk of the show and sorted through it the next evening, naturally backing up the recording a time or two to more clearly see the oldies perform. It was deeply satisfying to see the remaining half of the Beatles, up there knocking out melodies as senior citizens. I even enjoyed watching Yoko bopping out to the music.
Much of the beat causing Yoko, Paul, Ringo and scores of others in the crowd to show lots of movement and pleasure, was provided by new young artists. Carole King also performed and she blended her rich old tones with those sharper new sounds of a recent arrival on the music scene. The youngster (name I can't recall) gushed later about the privilege of actually joining one of her greatest icons on the stage and Ms. King returned the comment that she was so glad to see the future of music in good hands. Quite a successful and entertaining duet, I felt personally.
And a successful awards program! No, I cannot say graciously that I enjoyed all of the show but I certainly appreciated a job well done and much of the output of new artists impressed me. Another youngster whose name I didn't know or remember, sang a powerful song with a message that all kids around the age of puberty should hear and heed. Amazing stuff coming out of young musicians - along with "stuff" that I cannot call amazing but certainly seems to turn on the youth of today. Hope "...it's all good."
Much of the beat causing Yoko, Paul, Ringo and scores of others in the crowd to show lots of movement and pleasure, was provided by new young artists. Carole King also performed and she blended her rich old tones with those sharper new sounds of a recent arrival on the music scene. The youngster (name I can't recall) gushed later about the privilege of actually joining one of her greatest icons on the stage and Ms. King returned the comment that she was so glad to see the future of music in good hands. Quite a successful and entertaining duet, I felt personally.
And a successful awards program! No, I cannot say graciously that I enjoyed all of the show but I certainly appreciated a job well done and much of the output of new artists impressed me. Another youngster whose name I didn't know or remember, sang a powerful song with a message that all kids around the age of puberty should hear and heed. Amazing stuff coming out of young musicians - along with "stuff" that I cannot call amazing but certainly seems to turn on the youth of today. Hope "...it's all good."
Monday, January 27, 2014
WTF Moment
A member of my own extended family - an otherwise intelligent lady - actually said to me yesterday that she would vote for Scott Walker as a presidential candidate.
Scott Walker! The man who is completely in the grasp of the Koch brothers and has turned Wisconsin into a tiny dictatorship; a man who angered his states citizens so much that they managed to set up a recall election but got thwarted by dirty-money politics.
Leading up to the state-of-the-union speech on Tuesday, people in television news are asking, "What IS the state of our union?" Apparently it's all fucked up!
If more of those idiot right wingnuts aren't ousted (the way Vagina Governor Bob McDonnell was) and maybe find justice coming down hard on them (the way FORMER Vagina Governor Bob McDonnell has), then much of our "union" will continue to be unified behind powerful madmen who want to see democracy destroyed.
Scott Walker! The man who is completely in the grasp of the Koch brothers and has turned Wisconsin into a tiny dictatorship; a man who angered his states citizens so much that they managed to set up a recall election but got thwarted by dirty-money politics.
Leading up to the state-of-the-union speech on Tuesday, people in television news are asking, "What IS the state of our union?" Apparently it's all fucked up!
If more of those idiot right wingnuts aren't ousted (the way Vagina Governor Bob McDonnell was) and maybe find justice coming down hard on them (the way FORMER Vagina Governor Bob McDonnell has), then much of our "union" will continue to be unified behind powerful madmen who want to see democracy destroyed.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
ATTITUDE
The word means so much - in many differing usages - but is so frequently tossed out in flippant or accusatory ways that the word itself is diminished in importance.
While in college, I was often told I had a "bad attitude," which was a criticism easily and very readily leveled at a rambunctious student in a church school where everyone was expected to be courting perfection. It occurs to me that even "close to perfect" attitudes are still subject to down-time and sometimes at the most unexpected moments, surprising everyone.
The (seemingly) considerate and "nice" fellow who was recently shot to death in a theater while texting, may not have been the slightest bit concerned about his "attitude" leading up to the split second of his death. The retired police captain who shot the young father for texting and not responding to warnings to stop, certainly could have better maintained a "good attitude" and refrained from drawing his gun in the situation. Perhaps this was a "nice guy" also, but one who had been through something frustrating or devastating prior to the event in the theater.
It's too bad that attitude isn't more consistently balanced and controlled by humans.
The ordinarily nice young man could have simply recognized that his use of the cell phone in a theater might be a nuisance to others and he could have stepped out to the lobby or outdoors to phone the day-care center to check on his little daughter. But for that short time when his mind was completely on making sure his two-year-old was okay, he wasn't quite completely in control of his "attitude."
The former police captain who still carried his side-arm everywhere certainly could have done any one of a number of things short of drawing his weapon to confront another human who was there as a short-term near neighbor to enjoy some entertainment. But he drew the gun because at that moment, his "attitude" was not at all under control. He somehow felt he had the right to react the way he did and that deadly force was acceptable.
It wasn't acceptable. It rarely is. But then, any use of deadly force EVER - by ANY human or trained army of shooters - should be considered unacceptable. Humans as a species don't see it this way. The very reason guns are everywhere present in our world is that humans would often rather kill someone than to keep their own attitudes in control.
People have laughed at me for saying a gun has no place in my home. The reason I make that statement is simple: a gun in my possession would be completely unused until the unfortunate time when it would be MISused. I could never shoot another human, so a gun in my possession would be completely foolish.
My simpler statement: guns are foolish! That's my attitude.
While in college, I was often told I had a "bad attitude," which was a criticism easily and very readily leveled at a rambunctious student in a church school where everyone was expected to be courting perfection. It occurs to me that even "close to perfect" attitudes are still subject to down-time and sometimes at the most unexpected moments, surprising everyone.
The (seemingly) considerate and "nice" fellow who was recently shot to death in a theater while texting, may not have been the slightest bit concerned about his "attitude" leading up to the split second of his death. The retired police captain who shot the young father for texting and not responding to warnings to stop, certainly could have better maintained a "good attitude" and refrained from drawing his gun in the situation. Perhaps this was a "nice guy" also, but one who had been through something frustrating or devastating prior to the event in the theater.
It's too bad that attitude isn't more consistently balanced and controlled by humans.
The ordinarily nice young man could have simply recognized that his use of the cell phone in a theater might be a nuisance to others and he could have stepped out to the lobby or outdoors to phone the day-care center to check on his little daughter. But for that short time when his mind was completely on making sure his two-year-old was okay, he wasn't quite completely in control of his "attitude."
The former police captain who still carried his side-arm everywhere certainly could have done any one of a number of things short of drawing his weapon to confront another human who was there as a short-term near neighbor to enjoy some entertainment. But he drew the gun because at that moment, his "attitude" was not at all under control. He somehow felt he had the right to react the way he did and that deadly force was acceptable.
It wasn't acceptable. It rarely is. But then, any use of deadly force EVER - by ANY human or trained army of shooters - should be considered unacceptable. Humans as a species don't see it this way. The very reason guns are everywhere present in our world is that humans would often rather kill someone than to keep their own attitudes in control.
People have laughed at me for saying a gun has no place in my home. The reason I make that statement is simple: a gun in my possession would be completely unused until the unfortunate time when it would be MISused. I could never shoot another human, so a gun in my possession would be completely foolish.
My simpler statement: guns are foolish! That's my attitude.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Tiny Bubbles . . .
Actually, that old song must have been praising the effects of a sparkling wine that ..."makes me feel fine." I don't think we are supposed to see bubbles in a regular wine - or any that are being advertised.
Sparkling wines I've tried so far are just okay with me; Champagne is quite nice, especially the dry type. There are laws now preventing the use of the name "Champagne" to denote any product not fermented in the specific area of France where it originated, hence the more recent proliferation of "sparkling wines" produced in the U.S. So if I were to sample a number of these, I might find some that I would enjoy as much as the original "bubbly."
Today, I am simply going to indulge in the tasting of several as-yet-unreleased wine products of the South Coast Winery in Temecula, CA. Well, to be honest, my wife and I will probably sample a few offerings at another tasting room or three, easily visited as part of the amazing array of wineries along the major road through the south side of Temecula. Our southern wine country is rapidly becoming a true competitor to Napa and Sonoma valleys, up north of San Francisco. The likely new wines we will be tasting are not the sparkling types but Cabernets, Merlots, Chardonnays and Zinfandels. No doubt, I will love several of them and almost certainly will bring home a bottle or two of some especially tasty product.
Bear in mind, I am no connoisseur of the fruit of the vine. More likely, I would come across the way Walter Matthau did in the movie, "Grumpy Old Men." There is almost always a box of wine in my refrigerator, and the bottles I "invest" in are used as gifts taken to dinners when invited by friends. My tastes in wine were never cultivated. My earliest experiences with wine tasting were in my pre-teens, but the "vintner" was my dad who produced home-made delights such as watermellon wine, elderberry wine, currant wine and dandelion wine. I'm not at all sure he ever got around to trying grapes!
Come to think of it, I had the perfect foundation to become that connoisseur, but as with many of my early awakenings in this life, the wine connection was left behind and almost forgotten. I wonder what my dad might think if he could visit the opulent settings we will enjoy today. We don't go often, but since the pleasurable adventure is less than an hour's drive from home, we treat ourselves now and then to the taste of some really fine wines. No sour grapes here!
Next Day: So what did we bring home? Three bottles of FLAVORED SPARKLING wine! There's no explanation except to say I try to keep an open mind.
Sparkling wines I've tried so far are just okay with me; Champagne is quite nice, especially the dry type. There are laws now preventing the use of the name "Champagne" to denote any product not fermented in the specific area of France where it originated, hence the more recent proliferation of "sparkling wines" produced in the U.S. So if I were to sample a number of these, I might find some that I would enjoy as much as the original "bubbly."
Today, I am simply going to indulge in the tasting of several as-yet-unreleased wine products of the South Coast Winery in Temecula, CA. Well, to be honest, my wife and I will probably sample a few offerings at another tasting room or three, easily visited as part of the amazing array of wineries along the major road through the south side of Temecula. Our southern wine country is rapidly becoming a true competitor to Napa and Sonoma valleys, up north of San Francisco. The likely new wines we will be tasting are not the sparkling types but Cabernets, Merlots, Chardonnays and Zinfandels. No doubt, I will love several of them and almost certainly will bring home a bottle or two of some especially tasty product.
Bear in mind, I am no connoisseur of the fruit of the vine. More likely, I would come across the way Walter Matthau did in the movie, "Grumpy Old Men." There is almost always a box of wine in my refrigerator, and the bottles I "invest" in are used as gifts taken to dinners when invited by friends. My tastes in wine were never cultivated. My earliest experiences with wine tasting were in my pre-teens, but the "vintner" was my dad who produced home-made delights such as watermellon wine, elderberry wine, currant wine and dandelion wine. I'm not at all sure he ever got around to trying grapes!
Come to think of it, I had the perfect foundation to become that connoisseur, but as with many of my early awakenings in this life, the wine connection was left behind and almost forgotten. I wonder what my dad might think if he could visit the opulent settings we will enjoy today. We don't go often, but since the pleasurable adventure is less than an hour's drive from home, we treat ourselves now and then to the taste of some really fine wines. No sour grapes here!
Next Day: So what did we bring home? Three bottles of FLAVORED SPARKLING wine! There's no explanation except to say I try to keep an open mind.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
HAIRY TICK
Over at The Age of Reason blog, Al gives an excellent light touch to the heavy matter of FEAR and its choke-hold on humanity. In this piece, he also mentions that one of the most horrendous words ever to be coined is "heretic." I so agree!
Often in my zany attempts at being humorous, I have changed the word to "hairy tick." But it's a poor reference indeed. We don't want ticks on our bodies, hairy ones or smooth ones; they're blood-suckers either way and they carry diseases. But the idea that a person can be labeled a HERETIC and therefore a human unworthy of life itself - well that is beyond words. It's certainly beyond humor!
And as Al so clearly points out, that whole labeling thing began due to fear.
Often in my zany attempts at being humorous, I have changed the word to "hairy tick." But it's a poor reference indeed. We don't want ticks on our bodies, hairy ones or smooth ones; they're blood-suckers either way and they carry diseases. But the idea that a person can be labeled a HERETIC and therefore a human unworthy of life itself - well that is beyond words. It's certainly beyond humor!
And as Al so clearly points out, that whole labeling thing began due to fear.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
WELCOME # 2 - 2014
Wow - here it is, first morning of the new year. So glad to still be here!
Thanks to the continuous font of interest provided by my friend Al Dexter over at THE AGE OF REASON - - 21st CENTURY, I always get to enjoy some good reading and sometimes a little wry humor for the rough days; thanks to several thoughtful friends who send along simply humorous or simply beautiful forwards of many kinds, I have suffered less than I might have on the worst days of the doldrums; thanks to so many friends, both dear and casual from my college days who contribute now and then to a forum at A C Big Sandy website; and thanks most of all to my wife who has tirelessly maintained the most comfortable and loving home for me to appreciate and wallow in at all times during my terrible 2013, I am still here and smiling.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Thanks to the continuous font of interest provided by my friend Al Dexter over at THE AGE OF REASON - - 21st CENTURY, I always get to enjoy some good reading and sometimes a little wry humor for the rough days; thanks to several thoughtful friends who send along simply humorous or simply beautiful forwards of many kinds, I have suffered less than I might have on the worst days of the doldrums; thanks to so many friends, both dear and casual from my college days who contribute now and then to a forum at A C Big Sandy website; and thanks most of all to my wife who has tirelessly maintained the most comfortable and loving home for me to appreciate and wallow in at all times during my terrible 2013, I am still here and smiling.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
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