Emptying My Worry Plate

Somewhere during this day I arrived at the realization that my worry plate is too full. I've sensed the plate becoming heavier over the past week or so but piling on worries is a little like piling on the pounds. They sneak up on you until, voila!, you have weight to lose.

And so it is with my worry plate.

I am a well-known, accomplished worrier. I worry well and I worry often......frequently about things and situations over which I really have no influence or control.....but that has never deterred me from adding them to my worry plate.

I was thinking about the construction of my worry plate. In the past, I have used worry plates made from the flimsiest of paper. Put a worry or two on them and the plate would fold, dumping the worries onto the floor of life. In retrospect, that may be the best design ever. You cannot overload your worry plate when it is made from thin paper.

I have used worry plates made under the Chinet label. These worry plates will hold a considerable number of worries but, eventually they, too, give way to the weight of the worries and will collapse. Real china or stoneware plates work well......to a point. They can hold a tremendous amount of worry weight and they do not leak from all of the tears shed over them. However, they do shatter when dropped and you find yourself searching to recover the lost worries spread out through the shards of glass.

Perhaps the best/worst (depending on your perspective) worry plate is made by the Corelle Company. Corelle is practically indestructible and will allow you to carry an enormous worry weight without the fear of losing one of your worries off the plate. But being able to carry large numbers of worries is not necessarily a positive trait. Worry weight can be injurious to your health and certainly adds to sleep deprivation.

I think, perhaps, that I need to rid my internal cupboards of all my worry plates except the ones made from the thin paper. Now if I can just gather up the willpower to toss out the substantial but unwanted plates.

Maybe throwing would be therapeutic?

Ancora imparo

Will Times Get Tougher?

The economy is sluggish, fiscal reports are gloomy and the financial future looks bleak. Simply tuning in to MSNBC, for even a short time, is a downer, capable of putting the cheeriest of persons into dark and deep depressions. Conversations among friends often include accounts of lay-offs, diminished wages, and/or outright job losses. Some financial 'experts' are predicting that worse economic times may be in the near future. Where are we going and where does this morass end?

The July-August AARP bulletin includes a Special Report entitled, "99 Great Ways To SAVE". Regardless of your age or stage in life, there are some sound tips on ways to conserve your hard-earned cash. Whoever compiled the list obviously did a great deal of 'digging', listing both concrete ideas as well as web sites. This article made me think back to my childhood. My parents were married during the Great Depression and, to coin an old-fashioned phrase, people from that era could get 'blood out of a turnip'.

Here is my personal contribution, from past experiences, on how to save money when times are tough. (All were real. Nothing is a figment of my imagination. For those who know me, sharing these 'ideas' from my childhood will explain a lot.)

• Food is never to be thrown out. And I do mean, never.
  
• Stale wasn't even in their vocabulary.
  
• Mold? No problem. Cut it off or scrape it off. Penicillin comes from mold.
• Never, ever eat the fresh food first. Always eat the old food first. That way, everything is always old.
• When butchering your own chickens, remember that the feet are very tasty.
• Never throw leftover bar soap out. Those thin remnants work just fine when stuck together into one, ragged bar.
  
• Dirty face? Save water by spitting on your hand and cleaning off the face of the dirty child. Ever heard of 'spit baths'? Well, now you know.
• Save all the hair you sweep up from the floor. Enough of it makes a great pin-cushion stuffing.
• Think those dandelions in your yard are weeds? Think again. They make into a very tasty salad.
• Milk soured.....throw it out? Forget that. It makes splendid sourmilk pancakes.
• Roadkill? If it is warm it is safe to eat. This includes raccoon, muskrat, turtles, rabbits, squirrels, deer, pheasant and opossums. I was never fed snake, equine, canine, or feline.....to my knowledge.
• No food in the house? Bread and milk or crackers and milk will fill a tummy just fine.
• If it can be grown in a garden or orchard, then it can be canned or frozen.
• There is good meat on the neck of all animals. You don't want to know about other body parts.
  
• Chicken feathers make mattress and pillow stuffing.
• Windshield wipers failed? Rig up a long string or rope with two rags tied in strategic positions. Open car windows just enough to get the rope out but not let in too much rain. Pull back and forth until you reach your journey or the rain stops......whichever comes first.
• There were no expiration dates printed on food stuffs back then. Good thing. Those dates would have been ignored anyway. Frozen food keeps for decades and canned food isn't far behind.
  
• Most spoiled food can be thrown into a big soup pot. Boiling makes everything safe.

There you have my culinary childhood experiences in a nutshell. Speaking of nuts, if they were edible, I picked the nuts up and placed them into burlap bags, which then got hauled home, contents spread out over the attic floor until dried. Then I got to haul the nuts to the driveway where the car could run over the outer shell covering, exposing the actual shell. Did you know that forty-plus year old black walnuts and pecans are still edible if frozen?

If you need tips on other subjects, let me know. I'm certain my parents had solutions to those categories as well. Sometime I'll share how my family saved on dental expenses.

Happy to be of help in these tough economic times.........

Ancora imparo

Attention: Captured and Kept

There are so many thoughts and observations from my morning at church that it is difficult to know where to start.

I got to hear one of our new pastors preach today. While most of the congregation had heard him once before, it was my first. I'd only heard rave reviews and he did not disappoint. He has a fresh approach, a Biblically solid message, an engaging style and a wicked sense of humor. A fine combination for a preacher. He "had me at hello" and never let me go. Not an easy task for someone speaking to adults.

From time to time, I'd look around at the other congregants, to see if they appeared as engaged as I was. Checking out my fellow worshippers wasn't difficult as I was seated in the very back row. I observed few - if any - yawns, obviously bored faces, restless physical movement or sleepers. When he came to the point in the sermon where he utilized his props of a Coke and Pepsi bottle, I could see others straining to see what he was doing - if their line of sight was slightly obscured. A good sign, thought I to myself.

After the service, during coffee time, there was much lively conversation regarding the sermon. This left me with the impression that he left an impression on people, which meant that they were listening! Also a positive sign! He had ended his message with several verbal challenges and those were being bandied about as well.

It could be that our congregation is in good hands, both on the terra firma side and the celestial side. Only time will tell, but, at first blush, I believe this to be the case. My next time in the sanctuary will be hopefully rewarded with an inspired and energetic message. I'm certain he'll bring his "A-game" and I'll be sure to bring mine!

Ancora imparo

Forced Slow-down

I just got back from walking through a bustling and busy farmers' market in a neighboring city. Regular readers of this blog may recall that I am a 'frequent flyer' at farmers' markets and have written more than one posting about experiences gleaned from these fascinating composites of Americana.

Today's jaunt was a bit different than most of my trips to FM's, as I'll call farmers' markets from now on. My/our usual pattern is to go on the early side. This is mostly due to the heat factor but also due to the availability of a reasonable tomato selection. Sometimes our schedule is predicated on being able to purchase bagel knots from our favorite market-side restaurant but they will now create bagel knots on-the-spot, if they've run out, which is often the case if you go later. (We do love our bagel knots.) Today's trip was so late that a bagel knot did not interest me. (Fascinating thought: What if I would have said "a bagel not that did knot interest me." How I love words!)

But, I digress.

Because I arrived late morning to the FM, I felt as if I should be hurrying and scurrying. My inner spring was wound tightly and my brain kept saying, "Focus, accomplish, stay on task!" Once I moved into the area where all the vendors were displaying their wares, the walking areas were so clogged with people, strollers, dogs on and off leashes, wagons, carts, etc. that I was forced to change my foot speed to what felt like a crawl. Initially, I was highly annoyed. However, having no choice but to match the speed of the hordes of humanity around me, I slowly began to realize that my muscles were relaxing, my inner spring was loosening, and I was becoming more aware of my surroundings. Moving along with the speed of your average garden slug, my eyes took in all of the colors in the booths, the aromas of the foods being sold, the vivid array of freshly-cut flower bouquets, the wide variety of dog breeds, the wide variety of dog-handlers, and the wide variety of dog-handling skills - a topic for another posting.

In the end, I purchased everything I went to find, with the exception of cucumbers, which I forgot to look for. Another disappointment might be that I purchased Carolina peaches and not Michigan peaches........a slip-up I'm certain we'll become aware of with our first bite. Although my walking pace was more like the step-step-together shuffle of a wedding processional, I came away with a heightened awareness of my surroundings, a lowered heart rate and, probably, lower blood-pressure numbers than when I first arrived.

Can a nap be far behind?

Ancora imparo

At What Expense?

A recent, big announcement for a local high school stated that this particular school has qualified for Newsweek Magazine's 2011 list of the nation's top high schools. Schools named to this list have met a particular formula for the number of students taking AP (Advanced Placement) exams as well as including the students' scores on the exams. Yes, it is a fine feather in the cap of the school's administrators, teachers, school board, students, and community. The article in the local paper that heralded the accomplishment went on to state that this improvement has occurred over the past three years, resulting in national recognition.

But, I am going to write, "Hold on."

I'm quite certain that I will be hung and quartered in certain quarters (pun intended) but can it be argued that this academic achievement has come at the expense of other segments of the curriculum? My children graduated from this institution and they received a fine education. I taught in one of the 'feeder' schools for this district so I have first-hand knowledge of the quality of education being offered locally. One cannot dispute what is offered but one can question what is not offered as well as question the hoops that students desiring to major in anything other than 'core' subjects must jump through to simply meet graduation requirements as well as college entrance requirements. Curriculum areas, 'other than core subjects', have been squeezed to the point of arterial spray when it comes to administrative and board support.

Are we, here in the United States, so enamored with chasing Pacific Rim countries and their academic prowess that we are losing sight of educating the 'whole' student? Are we sacrificing students who wish to continue their studies in Fine Arts or technical areas? Is it possible to marry quality academic classes with Fine Arts and Tech Education? I believe it is but we, the taxpayers, need to wake up and stop voting down referendums. State governments are proving to be poor subsidizers of education so just where are districts supposed to to find money with which to not only offer well-rounded educational opportunities but basic education? We read about school districts across this nation requiring students to bring toilet paper to school as part of the traditional beginning-of-the-year school supply list. We have our priorities mixed up, somewhere.

It is only a matter of time until every school district in this nation faces the question of whether or not to put a referendum request on a local ballot. Supporting our local districts with our pocketbooks is the only way to support our youth. Let's stop nickel and diming our local districts and see to it that toilet paper is removed from all school-supply lists for next year.

Ancora imparo

Is "No" In My Vocabulary?

Actual conversation overheard at the grocery store today:

Woman One: Hey, there. Fancy finding you here today. I thought you were headed to Spa Diablo? (Fictitious name I made up.)
Woman Two: Oh, I was supposed to be there today but I canceled my appointment.
Woman One: Bummer. How come?
Woman Two: Well, the kids' soccer practice got changed to tonight, after school, and my sitter
wasn't available to take them and I said yes to baking cookies for the Girl Scouts'
meeting and....
Woman One: Hold on there, girlfriend, you've been looking forward to your get-a-way day for
weeks now.
Woman Two: I know but suddenly everything fell apart and John had to work late tonight
and....
Woman One: Hold on there, girlfriend, but this was supposed to time for you....remember?
Woman Two: I know, I know but who else was going to be me?


Woman Two looked tired, hurried, frustrated, and was on the verge of tears. Her response, "Who else was going to be me?", resonated somewhere deep within me and gave me great pause for consideration throughout the remainder of my grocery-store shopping time. Although my days of parenting younger children have long since passed, I can still empathize with her reply to her friend's reminder that the day was supposed to be hers and hers alone.

Women.....and men.....periodically fall victim to the predatory climate we humans often find ourselves in, when we feel we cannot say "no", or "not today", or "I'm really sorry but I have a previous commitment." Since when is a commitment to ourselves one that should more readily and easily be broken than that of a commitment to others?

The "me" in "Who else is supposed to be me?" is only one person, with one set of shoulders, only two hands and a finite amount of energy that can only be restored by sleep. Having said that, I realize that there are times and areas in our lives where "no" is not so easily uttered, but does that mean that we must remain 'belly-up', like a dog in a submissive posture?

There is no easy, quick, clear, or right answer to my own question. Each of us has to set boundaries for ourselves but then it is incumbent on each individual....an no one else....to determine when, for what and for whom exceptions will be made.

Life is complicated, isn't it?

Ancora imparo

When Plans Change

This morning, I had breakfast with a group of people I used to work with. This group meets on an intermittent basis throughout the school year. A highly diverse group, we are all bound by one single characteristic - the same school district. Getting together is akin to a high school class reunion where you get to 'check' everyone else out, to see who is still recognizable and who has morphed so much that they are no longer recognizable. Conversation always flows easily, punctuated constantly by the question, "What are you up to these days?"

It is fascinating that, even in retirement, whatever personality traits we displayed 'then', are still present - if not magnified - now. The cut-ups are still funny, the curmudgeons are still curmudgeonly, the smilers are still smilin' and the unhappys are still unhappy. Some are still 'plugged into' the grapevine and are fonts of information - both useful and useless - regarding what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen AND who is doing what, who did what, and who will do what. I always come away from these breakfasts feeling as if I'm up to speed on most everything and everyone.....to the point where it feels as if I never left!

To the point of the title of today's posting: It is not uncommon for several of the breakfast attendees to announce that they have had major changes in their lives. These changes almost always involve a medical/health status and, rarely, are these changes insignificant in nature. I am reminded that there are no guarantees in life and, I beg your pardon, God never promised us a rose garden. Plans can change in a heartbeat, can't they? Perhaps I should re-title this posting:

One Day At A Time

I think I'll change my afternoon plans and read a book.

Ancora imparo

Now That's Funny!

Canceling my newspaper subscription for a few weeks has been akin to a painful withdrawal program from some recovery process. It is not too hard to stay up on national and international news because the airwaves are full of news briefs, email notifications and periodical headlines. Recently I was whining about missing my daily dose of "Get Fuzzy", a comic strip created by Darby Conley. A friend mentioned that I could probably read the strip online every day but I forgot about that suggestion until this afternoon.

I should have known that comic strips would have their own web 'home' and discovered it was easy to find "Get Fuzzy" online. I've just scrolled through three weeks of the strip that chronicles the life of "Rob" - the human, "Satchel" - his dog, and "Bucky" - his Siamese cat. Darby Conley's ability to take every day words, phrases, or concepts and re-create them into some nonsensical form is brilliant. "Bucky", the cat, is usually the cunning and dominant character, riding rough-shod over the poor, defenseless and dimwitted dog, "Satchel", BUT every now and then, "Satchel" has had 'enough' and "Bucky" gets his comeuppance. Recent strips have had the cat convincing the dog that alligators lived in the sink.....all because Rob used the word "allegory". Satchel then begins pouring salsa, black beans, and other canned goods down the drain, trying to rid the sink of alligators. Somewhere in the mayhem, the cat gets the idea that "fiction" is a country and that we should rid the country of illegal 'ignorants' who are from the country of "Fiction".

You really have to read the comic strip for a while to appreciate Darby Conley's gift for the absurdity of what his cat and dog characters 'say'. I'd love to meet Darby and I'm not even sure Darby is a 'him'. All I know is that the strip is always tongue-in-cheek, witty, wacky, and often makes me chortle aloud. "Get Fuzzy" is one of my life's small pleasures - cheaper than liquor, calorie- free, and goes well with coffee.

It doesn't get any better than that.

Ancora imparo

A CSI's Dream

Among my many bad habits is the one where I eat when I am using my laptop. It is so convenient (and relaxing) to eat breakfast or lunch and check email or stop by Facebook and see who said what. I am careful not to keep liquids near the laptop because I know that one spill could be a death knell for my beloved computer.

Crumbs, on the other hand, are another matter. Not crumbs from eating over the keyboard - I know better than that. I've discovered that tiny, minute food particles must stick to my fingers even when I think none are present.

Just the other day I was using my laptop without my mouse, and the mouse-pad area of the keyboard was kind of sticky. I kept thinking there must be something wrong with the mouse-pad area when I suddenly realized that the problem was between my skin and the surface. Upon careful visual and tactile inspection, I discovered that there was 'crud' on the pad. Looking even more carefully, I saw many little crumb particles between the keys. Granted, these are not chunks of food and they are small enough to make it hard to see them with the naked eye, but never-the-less, they are there.

My laptop would be a CSI's dream for collecting evidence. The trace evidence would show every food known to mankind with the exception of ice cream, which would be disgusting on a computer. Now a bowl, that would be another matter!

When January first comes around, I'll make a resolution to stop eating while I'm around my laptop.

Well, maybe..........

Ancora imparo

Storm Watchers

Several major storms muscled their way through our area early last evening. During the latter part of the afternoon the skies began to make it clear (pun intended) that the National Weather Service's forecast might actually be accurate. We watched with fascination as the clouds gathered, the skies darkened and the wind picked up. What we thought was impressive then turned out to be child's play for what came a short time later.

Capt. SO and I decided to spend as much time as possible out on the upper deck of our Aqua RV. After asking me if I thought he should, he put up the aft curtain, which mostly seals us in and the elements out. Later, this would prove to be a genius move, as the howling wind would have swept the wind and rain right up into the cockpit area, drenching us and making the seats so wet that we would not have been able to stay up above and observe Mother Nature's theatrics.

Feeling safe and sound, we ate a healthy salad followed by not-so-healthy peanut butter ice cream and watched as three storm fronts blew their way through the area. The skies would darken to the point that little could be seen except for the waves out behind us in the channel and the waves in the marina! Our dockmate is a very large sailboat with a significant mast and the wind kept tipping the sailboat in our direction. At one point I asked Capt. SO if the sailboat was going to tip over......and I was directly in line with the mast. He laughed (he could laugh.....the mast would miss him) and said that is what a sailboat is supposed to do.

As an aside, this morning everybody was out talking storm trash and our dockmate said that throughout the storms, she was watching the boat level (didn't know that boats had levels) and that her greatest list was ten degrees. Looked like more to me!

The storms were spectacular with their lightning, thunder, extreme wind and gushing rain. City streets flooded and we could see cars planing through the water, creating great plumes as they charged through.

We weren't worried about flooding.........

Ancora imparo

Trouble Attached

Do you even wonder why trouble follows some individuals? By trouble I mean angst, misfortune, etc. These individuals are not bad people, on the contrary, most of them are wonderful and caring, often smart and/or brilliant, but it seems that trouble is firmly attached to their backsides and won't let go.

Again, I ask why?

Is it from lack of planning, lack of innate 'smarts', laziness, ego, ineptitude, disorganization or all of the aforementioned? Is their karma out of order?

This phenomenon of constant misfortune fascinates me. Sure, we all have our bouts of misfortune from time to time but those life-wrinkles eventually smooth out and we are on our way, once again, for a relatively bump-free ride for however long we can master and muster. We know that there are no guarantees in life and more Jonah-like experiences will come along.

So why do some people spend most of their lives in the belly of the whale?

I have no answers and, perhaps, there are no answers to life's perplexing problems. This will continue to keep the philosophers busy for more centuries as well as me. There is no shortage of mental, emotional, and spiritual food for thought.

As this blog's title implies, still I am learning.

Ancora imparo

Crosswalk Chicken

There are many parts of our great country where the pedestrian and the pedestrian crosswalk are king. In the 'king' areas of the United States, there are cameras to protect the rights of the pedestrian in the unfortunate instances where man meets machine. Man is no match for machine and even though man has the 'right-of-way', right does not make might. The cameras provide the legal proof of machine operators' infractions and tickets are issued to drivers who proceed through crosswalks even though pedestrians had their feet there first. But, I will repeat myself, right does not make might and it is foolish to believe that every driver will automatically give way to the fool who charges into the crosswalk without looking.

Then there are other parts of the country where the pedestrian and the pedestrian crosswalk are simply 'queen'. I am in a part of the country where this is the case. The crosswalks are clearly marked and cars are supposed to stop when a pedestrian enters the crossing zone but not all drivers respect or respond to the presence of a pedestrian who is about to cross the street. In fact, it is my observation that many drivers perceive the crosswalk law as just one more impedance in their daily work commutes and further perceive the unlucky pedestrian as just another obstacle to veer around, through, or over.

It is almost a sport that could have the name Crosswalk Chicken, as this posting titles indicates. Many a driver looks right at the pedestrian and continues forward or turns, regardless of the proximity of a human or group of humans. Groups are a bit harder to ignore because the point system acts as a deterrent and drivers, in general, dislike being sent to prison because they mowed down a group of people. Single pedestrians, on the other hand, provide a greater challenge. The driver must automatically size up the situation and think, to him or herself, "Will that person give or not?" It is not unusual to hear or see verbal or hand-signaled altercations occur between drivers and pedestrians. I find this type of driver to be rude and dangerous, but I am not stupid enough to feel comfortable testing the driver's willingness to give way - albeit legally in my favor - to me, the walking target posing the probability that the driver will have to slow down or stop momentarily.......heaven forbid.

I know this game has been going on for decades since the evolution of the Tin Lizzie. I am just thankful that I do not reside in a city like Chicago, for instance, where both drivers and pedestrians take their lives into their own hands just to move a short distance. At least here the rule is clear: Walker beware.

Every day I go for my morning perambulation and wonder if I'll win at Crosswalk Chicken or will it be my unlucky day.

Wish me luck!

Ancora imparo

So Many New Studies

Recent conversations have me interested in the suffix ology. This suffix has been around for centuries and we all are familiar with the common ologies: Zoology, biology, radiology etc. I discovered the web site

http://chemistry.about.com/od/mathsciencefundamentals/a/ologylist.htm

that obligingly lists a myriad of ologies, most of which I I was unaware of. (The suffix ology literally means " a discipline of study, as indicated by having the suffix ology".) A brief perusal of the list was fascinating and I found a few, in the beginning of the alphabet, that I'll share here.

Acarology: The study of ticks and mites (Imagine being an acarologist! You'd scratch
constantly.)
Aerobiology: A branch of biology that studies organic particles that are transported by the
air. (Riveting.)
Apiology: The study of bees (This job would create a buzz among my friends.)
Cynology: The study of dogs (And here I thought I already had a head-start on this field
with my intense interest in cynicism.
Dipterology: The study of flies (My family will tell you that I could never make it in this field
because I'd have swatted all of the empirical evidence.)

Last Sunday evening found myself, Capt. SO and our Aqua RV guests dining at an outdoor restaurant. Our server was completing his first day on the job. He was very talkative and quite funny, regaling us with tales of his stand-up comedy experience and sharing with us that he was a mixologist - i.e. bartender. This little bit of trivia activated my imagination and I've been thinking of other nonsensical ologies that should be added to the list.

Dustology
Clutterology
Spousology
Ornerology
Blabology
Facebookology
Textology
Gossipology
Sharpology
Cluelessology
Ignorology
Moronlogy
Rudology

Ah, the list could be so long, which could then be called borology, which would not be a goal of this blog site.

I'll end with this tongue-in-cheek ology: Terminatology

Ancora imparo

Changing Times

Change is coming.

We felt it in the wind on Sunday. This morning's temperature tells me I am correct. The geese are starting to behave differently. Facebook chatter (from both the student and parental perspective) is all about preparing to go back to school, or, in many cases, preparing to go off to college for the first time. My teacher-friends are returning to their classrooms in droves this week - either because the contract decrees it or their self-initiative demands it in order to prepare for the inevitable contractual decree.

Any way you slice it, change is coming.

In the community where I am currently staying, the local football team is doing two-a-day practices and city shops and businesses have posted the fall football schedule. Local big-box stores are jammed with back-to-school shoppers. In almost every aisle you see harried-looking moms - sometimes dads - accompanied by at least one child. The scenario is a bit different depending on the grade level of the kids and the number of offspring that have come along for the shopping trip. If the children are elementary, they are excited and asking the question, "Can I have this?" The parental response varies from "We'll see." to "No", to "We can't afford that." If the children are middle-school age or older, it is often the parent who is selecting the items and asking the child (or children) the question: "Is this OK?" The response often comes in the form of either eye-rolling or "Whatever."........my least favorite response EVER in the history of parenting.

And, my final clue that change is coming, is my still-annual feeling of restlessness, knowing that school is about to be in session and I am not. My SO sensed my disquieted state last night and asked me about it. You would think, since this is my fifth season of not returning to the classroom, that I would be over this but that is not yet the case. After our conversation, I began internally brainstorming, seeking personal ideas about what 'session' I could go into. My ideas ran from the sublime to the ridiculous. I do have another children's book steeping in my head like a good pot of tea. I'll enjoy creating it and the Three Musketeers will enjoy reading it or having it read to them. A win-win situation.

I'd better hurry and get going on my book idea. The times are changing and the Three Musketeers are growing up before my very eyes. If I tarry too long I'll need to writing college textbooks for them.

Ancora imparo

Lots of Looking, No Buying

Today I did lots of window shopping with a friend. Strolling trough three stores in two hours, we took our time, looking, examining, laughing, dreaming, and imagining. The stores and sidewalks were rather devoid of shoppers, other than my friend and me.

Yesterday four of us traveled up and down the highways of a popular resort area and the roads were sparsely traveled as were the stores and shopping centers we visited. Multiple times we commented to each other, wondering where all the people were that should have been crowding the roadways and shops. Instead of shopping where we had to step around others and inch our way through hordes of people, we had boutiques and restaurants to ourselves. Several restaurants we investigated had zero people in them. Zero......unbelievable for this time of year.

When my friend and I did more window shopping this morning than buying, I almost felt guilty and sorry for the proprietors. It is no wonder that many stores and restaurants that once were teeming with customers last year are now shuttered and have 'closed' signs in their front windows.

Sad, disturbing, eye-opening.....all at once. The economy is obviously still in trouble. Despite the best efforts of the Great Illusionist and his Minions, all the rhetoric in the world cannot jump-start our economy.

I wonder when 'things' will turn around?

Ancora imparo

Tribute

This posting is a tribute to a former Michigan State University band director of mine, Dr. Harry Begian, who died recently. Dr. Begian must have been close to ninety years of age at the time of his death. I played under his baton for only one year, my freshman year, but it was a highly influential and memorable year for me.

Dr. Begian was an 'old-school' band director. On second thought, perhaps he was just the way band directors need to be. There can only be one chief in a band and Dr. Begian was clearly the chief......far and away the best. In his band, you were constantly attentive. Anyone seen yawning during a rehearsal was reminded that "the night time is for sleeping". If you made a mistake, you would become the recipient of the index finger waggle, accompanied by his signature remark, "Ta ta and tish tish". You didn't want to make mistakes in Dr. Begian's bands. You just didn't want to make a mistake and receive any disapproval at all. He made you want to do your very best.

To this day, I can still remember his announcement to the MSU bands that he was leaving, going to the state of Indiana. It was MSU's loss and Indiana's gain. His players were devastated. We knew someone very good would replace him, physically, because a university such as MSU would attract only the very best. But, we also knew that he was irreplaceable on a certain level. Somehow the band room was never the same even though his successor was the consummate musician, director and human being.

Dr. Begian, I know you are directing one fabulous band in heaven. Your indelible mark was left on the thousands of students whose lives you touched, either musically, personally, or both. Every player who ever went on to direct bands carries with him or her your influence and legacy. I hope you can feel the love with each performance that one of your former students helps create.

Your heavenly musicians sit, instruments in hand, waiting for the downbeat.

Ancora imparo

Consistent Inconsistency

I suspect there are many things I do in my life and I should give up but are just too tasty, or fun. My body speaks to me, more and more, when something I eat is something I should not have eaten. I should remember that for every tasty bite of some food that is verboten, I will live to regret the choice......sooner than later.

Last night, for instance, we went out to eat with another couple who have an Aqua RV near ours. The meal was excellent - superbly seasoned pan-fried walleye. Not too much breading and seemingly not too much oil used in its preparation. Also included was a piece of dark rye bread and onion slices, one of my weaknesses. Apparently, some people like to make a fish sandwich with the bread, onion and walleye fillets. I just like the bread and onion......but my body does not.

I paid for this dietary indiscretion later.

I selected sweet potato fries which were tasty and not very greasy at all.......or so I thought.

I paid for this dietary indiscretion later.

Capt. SO and I had a great time with this other couple. We discovered we have some mutual acquaintances from our Green Bay, Wisconsin days and they both have a quick sense of humor so the conversation flowed easily, with lots of laughter. The restaurant was busy and we cleared out table as quickly as we could, not wanting to tie up the table for the waitress' sake.

We headed back to the marina, stood outside a bit while we chatted more, then headed in to our respective Aqua RV's. I should have walked about for a bit, just to let the food settle, but I was lulled into a fall sense of gastronomic security.

I paid for this later.

I learn the hard way.......over and over and over. As a former college band director would say to someone who made a mistake: "You are very consistent in your inconsistency!"

Ancora imparo

In All, Thirteen

How fitting that, on a Friday, the thirteenth, I would choose to write about thirteen tall ships that graced our channel yesterday. Called "The Parade of Sail", thirteen tall ships spent a little time in the channel of our fair city, on their way to a Tall Ship Festival in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Impressive and magnificent, each in its own way, they motored through the channel, traveling from Lake Michigan to the Bay of Green Bay. Five ships arrived on Wednesday evening, spending the night in order to take on passengers the next morning. Most of the ships would carry passengers, who each elected to spend $250.00 dollars to experience the three hour sail to Green Bay. There was no shortage of people eager to take part in this exciting and historic sail.

The other eight ships arrived in waves on Thursday morning, purposefully timed apart to minimize the traffic disruption in a city that depends on two bridges to carry vehicles across the city's channel. The city's residents didn't seem to mind as hordes of well-wishers lined both sides of the channel to welcome the ships as they passed through. Boat horns, bridge horns, and cannons fired from some of the ships echoed throughout the morning as the nautical pageant played out.

"What is a tall ship? A tall ship is a traditionally rigged sailing vessel, rigged to replicate the sailing traditions of the seventeen and eighteen hundreds. Popular modern tall ship rigs include topsail schooners, brigantines, brigs and barques. Traditional rigging may include square rigs and gaff rigs, with separate topmasts and topsails. It is generally more complex than modern rigging, which utilizes newer materials such as aluminum and steel to construct taller, lightweight masts with fewer, more versatile sails." (Courtesy of the Door County Advocate, July 31, 2010 edition)

As an observer, unfamiliar with sailing in general, I can verify that these ships were highly complicated and intricate to operate. Many of the ships waited to hoist their sails until they were in the more populated part of the channel and it was fascinating to watch the sailors. Sailors, both female and male, scaled impossibly high, rope-ladders to skinny up to the top of the VERY HIGH masts, where they labored to undo the sails. Secured by safety harnesses, they made it look easy. All I can say is that if any of the sailors lost their footing and fell it would be one heck of a bungy-jump.

Most of the ships were from American ports, both Atlantic and Pacific, others from as far as Germany, The Netherlands, and the US Virgin Islands. These regal beauties were working vessels, many as nautical, historical, math, science and social science teaching classrooms. Crews were mostly volunteer and all were highly enthusiastic about their participation.

My two favorite ships were the ones that blasted their cannons and guns, adding to the authenticism of the parade. The Pride of Baltimore, an impressive 157 foot-long beauty, promotes the historical education of the War of 1812. As her cannons reverberated through the channel, one could almost imagine being fired upon in battle. The other ship that delighted the crowds with its artillery was the feisty little Royaliste, hailing from her home port of San Francisco, California. Only 68 feet in length, her visible crew of three men kept the replica of a mid-1700's sailing vessel busy with the sounds of a mock-sea battle, complete with the smell of gunpowder wafting across the bulwarks from her four cannonades. Because of her small size, Royaliste is able to be transported overland by trailer. She has traveled more than 6,000 miles by highway and has navigated four of the five Great Lakes as well as both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

Thank you for allowing me to give a first-person account of seeing the Tall Ships Parade of Sail. My SO took fabulous pictures but the best pictures are those that are etched into my memory.

Sail on, Tall Ships.

Ancora imparo

Where Did Those Years Go?

Google has done it again.....supplied me with a bit of trivia that I would not have otherwise realized: Today is the seventy-first anniversary of "The Wizard of Oz". I can remember the first time I saw "The Wizard of Oz". I was scared, mesmerized, and enchanted......all at once.

Children who see the original will be gripped with fear when the tornado comes, but will be put at ease when Dorothy emerges, complete with her pooch and the red shoes. Adults, and children as well, are taken with the incomparable voice of Judy Garland who sings her way to even greater stardom. And, who can forget the supporting cast of characters like the witches, Scarecrow, Tin Man, The Cowardly Lion, little green people running about and the now, immortal Yellow Brick Road? So many spin-off musicals, books, and songs have sprung from "The Wizard of Oz" that it would be time-consuming to compile a list.

I once had a school district administer a personality test to all its employees based on the personality profiles of "Wizard of Oz" characters. It was both fascinating and mind-boggling that a school district would utilize such a test. Fortunately the results were SUPPOSED to be simply for personal use.......or that is what the employees were told. Did any teacher really want to be described as a Tin Man, devoid of a heart?

Then there is the now-famous line, "You're not in Kansas any more." which is used to describe a situation similar (in my humble opinion) to "Will it play in Peoria?" The yin and yang of life. Wanting to do something different - think outside the box, but realize that you are held in parameters that may not welcome your different-ness or independent thinking.

Thank you, "Wizard of Oz" for bringing so much pop-psychology to all of us. Where would be be today without the now-familiar characters, story line and music?

Perhaps in Peoria or Kansas?

Ancora imparo

Cynicism Fodder

Any regular reader of Ancora imparo knows my feelings about health insurance. Being one of the lucky-unlucky holders of an individual policy, I still feel that my 'group' was left at the watering hole under the Great Illusionist's health-care reform bill. That being said, I understand that nothing will change, except perhaps for the worse, when the Great Illusionist and his minions are finished with their promises, platitudes and penchants for pork.

Recent events have raised my cynicism level from orange to red.

My health-care insurance company has been sent into receivership by the state in which its corporate offices are headquartered. All policy holders received letters regarding this matter and were informed that policy holders could transfer to Company X, with no interruption in coverage and no application process to undergo. Printed material from Company X has been informative and the phone representatives have been helpful. Receivership Company, on the other hand, has been less than forthcoming with information on how to exact the termination procedure from its end. Neither company has had readily available information on how to begin or navigate the termination process. Oh, you can get answers...........if you know the questions to ask or if you are lucky enough to think of the right questions to ask. If you do not ask the right questions, you can end up in the situation that I now find myself in. Both companies have been guilty of the "You will have to call the other company." syndrome. To be succinct, I am lucky that I did not end up with a five-day gap in which I have no coverage, but to avoid that scenario, I have now unwittingly, unknowingly, and without permission paid for thirty more days with Receivership Company than necessary. I was assured this morning that I will be due a refund check, the arrival date uncertain. Right.

Hmmm, an insurance company involuntarily placed in state-government financial rehabilitation. Does my refund have what is known as a snow-ball's-chance-in-Hades?

I know.......my cynicism is showing.

Ancora imparo

Night Vision

Sleep was elusive last night. Perhaps because yoga had been particularly intense, holding positions foreeeever. Whatever the reason, I spent much of the night awake, alert to every quake, creak, and groan the Aqua RV made. Somewhere in the wee hours I heard the unmistakable sound of diesel engines, which here, can only mean one thing: boat - singular or plural. Boats moving in the night are not the norm so I got up to investigate.

The night was still, close, and steamy. If the temperature had dropped, it had not lowered by much. The docks were quiet, almost eerily so, except for the sound of the diesels. I stood motionless, waiting for my ears to locate the direction that the sound was coming from. When I realized it was not in a marina channel, I turned my attention to the big channel. At first I saw nothing but the blackness of the night, then a slowly moving red light, to my left, caught my attention. It meant I was looking at port side of a moving vessel. Suddenly, way off in my right peripheral vision, I saw the multiple lights of a large vessel and realized that the night visitor was a giant moving 'something', but I wasn't sure what. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the night, I was able to study the ghost-like, moving apparition and I realized that I was watching a very long barge being pushed by an equally large tugboat. Progressing slowly and almost silently, the two floating objects were propelled along, under the quiet yet powerful thrust of the diesels, creating little noise other than their unmistakable low, steady rumble that almost resembles a hum. I watched in fascination as the duo processed through the channel, on their way to the big lake and open water and who-knows-where. My visual sighting ended long before the sound of the diesels died away in the still of the night. Returning to bed, my curiosity satisfied, I finally cooled off in the comfort of the air conditioning and found my all-too-elusive sleep, where I dozed off wondering where the night vision's destination would be.

Ah, sleep. Vastly underrated.

Ancora imparo

High Humidity, Ozone, Fresh Salmon

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but inside it's so delightful!"

Does that lyric sound familiar? It is from the 1945 winter holiday classic, "Let It Snow", by lyricist Sammy Cahn and composer Jule Styne. While the tune is normally associated with snow, the line above fits our current meteorological conditions. All of the adjectives normally used to describe summer weather now apply: Hot, humid, still, close, sticky. It's hot, baby, hot.

The ozone level is stratospheric, the dew point level is way off, and the heat index is out of the ball park. If you do not have air conditioning, I can feel your pain, or rather, your perspiration. People are keeping a low profile, doing as little outside as possible.......except for salmon fishing, which is apparently hot during hot weather. We were the lucky recipients of left-over salmon caught early today. The fishermen caught so many salmon they were going to discard the rest of the CLEANED AND FILLETED salmon steaks. ( A true crime, for sure!)

Tonight we'll be dining on freshly caught salmon, some lemon drizzled over it, combined with a little EVO, salt, and ground pepper. Ooh, tasty, tasty, tasty. Of course, you have to like fish and it is one of the few foods that I have craved recently. I'm in fish heaven.

Stay cool today, readers. Iced tea, mint juleps, and water over ice!

Ancora imparo

Sign Of Things To Come?

I've received the same troubling email twice now. The subject line is "A Place For Mom". Not being entirely internet ignorant, I have not, and will not, open up either email. After completing this posting, I will send the sender to the permanent File 13 in the internet sky.

As I indicated, I find this subject to be of a disquieting nature, wondering if my family is now plotting and planning on where to put 'dear-old-mom' in her twilight years. Furthermore, I wonder if my family thinks I might actually be either in or approaching my twilight years. Neither scenario is comforting and has made me examine my behavior, searching for clues for any declining mental acuity.

Not wanting to focus on what is slipping, I have instead decided to compile a list of ways I can prove to myself and others that I am as sharp as ever.

• I can still count to eight, as all good band directors are able.
• I can still spel.
• I can still recite all 23 letters of the alphabet.
• Fortunately, I still know the difference between bear and bare.
• I can still tell what the skirt and legs difference means on public bathroom doors.
• I still know the useless lyrics to 50's, 60's, 70's and 80's pop songs.
• I still know trombone positions and oboe fingerings.
• I still know that saluting with my middle finger is unacceptable.
• I still know that red chicken meat should not be served at the dinner table.
• Lastly, I still bake one mean cookie.
  

So, no place for good ole' mom, yet. When I begin roaming the streets in a sweater, but with no slacks, it will be time for different accommodations. Preferably something with grandchildren and puppies.

Ancora imparo

Reversal of Situation

Yesterday's blog was a whiny one about having nothing that (I could or should eat) I was interested in consuming. I freely admit I was whining when I wrote that blog. After finishing the blog I chose gluten-free crackers - made from mostly air - with some peanut butter and dried cranberries. The coffee was the deal-sealer. Doesn't most everything go better with coffee?

Today is a total turn-around. Capt. SO wanted to do what was supposed to be a quick wash job on the Aqua RV. It had been spotless but there were dozens of colonies of tiny bugs that descended on her over night and she wasn't spotless this morning. Thus, the quick wash job turned into an almost two-hour cleaning session. I schlepped over to the farmers' market and am happy to announce that, temporarily at least, my food disinterest is gone.

The tiny galley's counters are covered with farm-fresh cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, ears of sweet corn, baby beets and, the coup de grace - tomatoes. As soon as I returned to the Aqua RV, I quickly tore open the plastic bag containing the tomatoes, found the juiciest one possible, grabbed my salt shaker and went to the sink where I savored each and every morsel of that splendid tomato.

Can a tomato be described as splendid? Absolutely! I only purchased five because I knew that I was reaching my weight-carrying limit, but those five tomatoes will be lucky to last the day. After all, there are only four at this writing. So........there will be another walk to the market yet this a.m. to buy more tomatoes.

I am now in food nirvana. Can there be such a place?

Oh, I forgot to mention that, somehow, a fresh peach pie ended up with my purchases. I don't know how this happened.

Ancora imparo

What's To Eat?

Have you ever been stuck on what to eat? I mean, absolutely stuck, without a clue as to what you feel like eating?

Lately, I've been uninspired to cook....unfortunately not uninspired to eat, but completely without cooking inspiration. Print media and television segments are filled with summer cooking and grilling ideas. All you need are good cuts of meat, lots of fresh vegetables from a garden, and, quite possibly, cheese slices. If you have access to blenders and food processors, there are recipes a-plenty to whip up tasty and fat-laden sauces which can be basted or pasted on the meat or veggies. Of course, there are numerous recipes for turning fresh vegetables into salads and main dishes as well as recipes for all kinds desserts utilizing in-season fruits.

So why can't I figure out what to eat? There is no logical reason for this dilemma. My mind is stuck on a limited number of foods that appeal to me: Peanut butter, tuna fish, raspberries, blueberries and turkey brats. I wonder what delectable concoction can be prepared using those ingredients?

I'll go through my cupboards one more time, searching for culinary inspiration, hoping to find some. I suspect that peanut butter mixed with tuna would be considered 'yucky'.....I'm not even sure I would eat that and I eat most anything. Grilled turkey brats with raspberries, now that is sounding better.

Blueberries? For breakfast, lunch and dinner? That sounds gastronomically risky to me.

Bon appetite is but a pipe dream right now. There's always tomorrow.

Ancora imparo

Conflict Resolution

This morning, I went to my yoga class because......well, because I enjoy it and I know it is good for me. The instructor, Erika, is patient, knowledgeable, and willing to work with any body, at any stage. The names of the yoga poses are of particular fascination to me. Some, like the cobra, make perfect sense because I can imagine the head of the cobra coming up, just as my head comes up. Others, such as the half pigeon are senseless to me. The position is a comfortable one for my body and gives a great stretch for my gluts and hamstrings, but what the position has to do with a pigeon is beyond my ken. The rag doll is a position that gives a great stretch - perhaps all over when I think about it. It feels really good to hang from my waist. I called it perversely comfortable. And, I can mostly imagine why the position resembles a rag doll.

It was while we were in our extended rag doll positions that Erika announced to us that this position was good for resolving conflict. "Hmmm", I thought to myself, "And how is this?"

She proceeded to explain to us that if we were having a disagreement with our spouses or SOs, we should stand, back-to-back, and each go into a rag doll position. (This now puts you behind-to-behind.) Because your feet are a shoulder-width apart, you can see the other person's face - between your legs - only upside down. You then can continue the disagreeable conversation with the other person.

I can see why this would be useful in conflict resolution. Imagine trying to remain angry or upset with another human when you are looking at his or her face - upside down- and behind-to-behind. I'm quite certain I would end up laughing hysterically and completely forget why I was angry in the first place.

I'm just picturing a corporate board room.......or a Presidential Cabinet meeting.......or a church council meeting.

Could be very interesting. I think that Erika is on to something! Do you want to be the first to suggest it or should I?

Ancora imparo

Slivers

Slivers are highly annoying, aren't they? You can try to ignore them, but they catch on everything, and by catching on fabric, they seem to become more uncomfortable, perhaps for good reason, until you get fed up and decide to either pull them out with tweezers or dig - oops, lift - them out with a needle.

A sliver of wood became embedded in my finger this afternoon. OK, no big deal there. I've had lots of slivers before. I found my favorite sliver needle, sterilized it, and started the task of removing the sliver, except that I discovered the sliver was embedded a bit farther into my skin than I realized. I persisted in my effort to remove the sliver but I came to my threshold of personal-pain-infliction tolerance.

Have you ever been there? Sometimes it seems that I find it is easier for me to tolerate someone else inflicting pain on me than me; i.e. letting my SO digging out my slivers. While I did not request sliver-removal assistance from my trusty SO today, I certainly thought about it. I also thought of all of the old-fashioned ways that people have dealt with pain in past centuries. A big clump of rag clenched in the teeth, liquor, drugs, and plain old 'grit your teeth and withstand the pain'. My personal favorite would have been the liquor, which I thought was a bit of overkill for simply removing a sliver from my finger.

Yes, I 'dug deep' and removed the sliver, which turned out to be somewhat metaphoric for this day. Digging deep and removing uncomfortable foreign objects.......now there is a topic for another day's posting!

Remember the old saying: Blood is thicker but liquor is quicker.

Ancora imparo

Absence of Sound

My home is quiet. It is the quiet that two older adults live in. There is the occasional sound of the television and radio, conversation - when my SO and I are in the same room, footsteps going up and down the stairs as we put all of the toys away, plates/bowls/pans being removed from the dishwasher, the washing machine doing its job, the coffee grinder as it prepares the substance which will provide artificial energy as we deal with our they-came-and-took-them-away funk, the clunk and clatter of toys being put back into the storage bins. Too quiet.

Gone are the sounds that accompany a visit from our grandchildren. My SO and I look at each other, trying to remember what our regular voices sound like, instead of the higher-pitched and happy voices that we use to talk with our granddaughter - the sentences that all end with the voice pitch going up. (I can hear myself saying 'up' in a higher, squeaky-type voice.) Or the sound of our voices when we chat with the boyz, (intentional misspelling), ages three and four.

With the boyz, our voices are closer to 'regular', but the chatter is so vastly different. With the boyz, especially TLV, the four-year old, most of our conversation would go like this:

TLV: Why did that dog lay down on the ground?
Gramps: Because the owner told him to.
TLV: Why?
Gramps: Because having a dog lie down is way to get the dog to obey.
TLV: Why?
Gramps: Because then the dog doesn't bother other people eating their ice cream.
TLV: Why?
Gramps: Because some people are not comfortable around dogs.
TLV: Like David?
Gramps: Yes
TLV: Why?
Gramps: Why do YOU think?
TLV: I do not know.

Talking with three and four-year olds can be like walking into a conversational mine-field. You never know when the body-parts topic will come up, but when it does, it is not a topic that is easily nor quickly put to rest. The hardest part of being in a body-parts conversation is not laughing because then the whole world is a stage and three and four-year olds instinctively know when they have a captive audience. And who is a better captive audience than grandparents? Grandparents laugh (mostly) at the antics of their grandchildren, sometimes even becoming goofier than the grandchildren, which is always popular with the 'short' set.

That is what is missing here, at Quiet Central........Laughter. I haven't been silly for about sixteen hours. Silly is more fun. Quiet may be more adult but there is nothing like reading book after book, using your voice to illustrate the different book characters. I haven't heard Donald Duck's voice coming from Gramps since late yesterday afternoon.

I suppose it would be a little odd to read "Duck Soup" to my SO. Then again, maybe not.

Ancora imparo

Answers VS Questions

A few days ago, I caught part of an interview on Public Radio. Unfortunately, I did not hear the name of the person being interviewed, nor do I remember the show that I was listening to, so I cannot give credit, where credit is due, for the seed of my idea that grew from one, short comment made on the air.

The comment, that captured my attention, went something like this: Answers give us permission to stop wondering, to stop being inquisitive and to stop investigating.

In my car, at the time of the program, I heard the comment and immediately turned off the radio, in order to remember and to reflect upon what I had just listened to. The longer I pondered, the greater the impact of profundity became to me.

Aren't we always looking for 'answers'? Aren't we taught, from very early on, to question almost EVERYTHING and to search for 'the answer'? Many times, do we not DEMAND answers and then feel more reassured when we receive them? In circumstances of extreme danger, confusion, and tragedy do we humans not pursue answers with all the technology and manpower that can be summoned? Wouldn't our leaders be criticized for not seeking 'answers'?

Perhaps the concept is more along the lines of there is not one answer but many. Can a human really be content with the concept that there might be more than one right answer?

I do not have an answer to my own question, and it just might be better if I do not. This may be an opportunity to just keep thinking......and thinking......and thinking. Now if I can just prevent a headache from coming.......

Ancora imparo