Next week it will all be over. Although I do not like politics, I have come across a couple of things that have me quite perplexed.
The first is the fact that members of congress have been privy to insider trading information. How can this be right? How can this be justified? Is this what happens when one gets to Washington and begins to cater to high profiles who then pass on information about an up and coming stock that will probably take off like a rocket? Is this why their net worth is so high? I find this extremely unsettling and I would hope that others would too. Maybe it is time to let our elected know that we really can get our nose out of our phones and pay attention. But, maybe that is just a crazy thought and they know we will not take the time.
The second thing is a video I watched about the voting machines. Without going into a whole lot of technical jargon, that I would not understand anyway, I will put it into the best layman terms I can come up with. The machine was given nine votes. Seven of those were yes and the other two were nay. There is a special card that is inserted into the machine to read and count the votes. After the card was inserted, the machine printed the outcome. Seven no votes and two yays. One of the female ballot casters, who had volunteered for this, sat down and cried. She was totally in shock and disbelief that this was even possible. She said that when common people try to explain that these kind of things are really happening, they are labeled conspiracy theorist and mocked. What she had witnessed with her own eyes, left her feeling ill. I understood her pain.
A friend, I have always considered family and who now lives in Ireland, shared with me what the good Irish do for their elections. He said votes in Ireland are counted in public, in front of politically interested people, the candidates and their staff. He said it is a big deal to get involved and that it keeps citizens in contact with the democratic process. Their government tried to force voting machines on the people some years ago, but the people resisted their introduction and the machines were eventually sent to recycling. He said the government wasted millions of dollars, but in the end it had the best result. I think this is sounding like an excellent idea for things on this side of the pond.
He also shared with me that the Irish had a word they used when politics got out of hand. GUBU, it stands for grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented and it just might become a new catch phrase here in the good ole' USA.
So, to end on a lighter note, here is a new petition I thought might come in handy for the next election...."We the people, here, therefore and what the hell ever, do declare that from hither on, or this point forward from this date on, to infinity and beyond, have decided with sound mind and maybe some croutons, that all candidates for any election from this point hither on, can only state what their freaking plan is and, with out a doubt, nothing more. They cannot from now, or forfreakingever, say one nasty comment about their opponent. Therefore from this point forward, to infinity and beyond, no order of dirt or otherwise unsightly crapola can be mentioned about or thrown in the direction of, said stated above opponent."
Happy voting.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Monday, October 24, 2016
The Long Good Bye
As the work that brought us to the rolling hills of North Carolina comes to an end, the decision was made to "go where the work takes you". With this decision, came another one. One a bit more difficult, renting the house back home. With this reality staring me in the face, I knew another long road trip was resting on the horizon of my life.
I left, with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier in tow, in the early morning hours. The wispy outer remnants of Hurricane Matthew provided little comfort as it cast a heavy mist from Raleigh to the western edge of the state. It was five hours later, at about 7:30 in the morning and across the Smokey Mountains, before the sky gave the slightest hint that daylight was somewhere up ahead.
We drove straight through, again, something I said I would never do, again. Well, Runtly did not actually do any driving, but when we neared the border between Kentucky and Illinois, he thought he was brave enough to sit in the front seat, instead of his small crate. We had made one last stop for fuel and a pit stop and when we got back to the car, the front passenger seat was his choice. We discussed this idea, with me telling him I did not think it would work, but his face told a different story. We made it about one mile down the interstate when he began to shake and shiver. I glanced in the rear view mirror and calculated I had just enough time to do a "fire drill" before the approaching traffic caught up with us. I pulled to the side, grabbed the Runt, jumped out, opened the back door and stuffed him in his box.....slammed the door, jumped back into the driver's seat and away we went. At least it was some good exercise to loosen up the joints, that had become achy and stiff, from lack of movement.
Pulling into our home town, I saw the new construction for a new business coming in. It made me sad because I knew it had a very high rate of success at putting another business out of business. I turned the corner and made my way up the street that led to the house.
I had eight days to complete my mission. I spent the first two walking from one room to the next, wondering where to start and I exited each room with a heavy sigh.
By the third day, the kids showed up and the adrenaline kicked in. We went through years of items that had absolutely no real use or value. Some I kept, some I sold and most were donated. We rolled with fits of laughter when the top popped off the box of old photos and pictures of my 'big hair' era skidded across the floor.
Eight days turned into ten and the time had come to head back east. Even though we had spent the last few days saying goodbye, it was time for the real deal. There were many tears and hugs that I did not want to end, then I sent them on their way. There was one last thing to do before I left, and I needed to do it alone. I watched as they loaded into their vehicles and drove away, knowing all of our tears were still falling.
I walked back into the house. It was so empty that my footsteps echoed against the bare walls. It was just a last minute check, to make sure I had left nothing behind. I already knew I had not, but I just needed to walk, one more time, through the rooms that had been my constant for 58 years. Then I picked up a small white box, walked out and locked the back door.
Inside the box were the ashes of a beloved pet. Pussycat. She had roamed the back yard for nearly seventeen years. It was her kingdom. Taking out the plastic bag, I let her ashes fall into all the places she had claimed as her own. Through the garden, under the hostas, where she spent many a sunny day, around the garden pond and down the long hedge, whose many birds gave her a chance to hone her feline skills.
It was a long good bye.
I left, with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier in tow, in the early morning hours. The wispy outer remnants of Hurricane Matthew provided little comfort as it cast a heavy mist from Raleigh to the western edge of the state. It was five hours later, at about 7:30 in the morning and across the Smokey Mountains, before the sky gave the slightest hint that daylight was somewhere up ahead.
We drove straight through, again, something I said I would never do, again. Well, Runtly did not actually do any driving, but when we neared the border between Kentucky and Illinois, he thought he was brave enough to sit in the front seat, instead of his small crate. We had made one last stop for fuel and a pit stop and when we got back to the car, the front passenger seat was his choice. We discussed this idea, with me telling him I did not think it would work, but his face told a different story. We made it about one mile down the interstate when he began to shake and shiver. I glanced in the rear view mirror and calculated I had just enough time to do a "fire drill" before the approaching traffic caught up with us. I pulled to the side, grabbed the Runt, jumped out, opened the back door and stuffed him in his box.....slammed the door, jumped back into the driver's seat and away we went. At least it was some good exercise to loosen up the joints, that had become achy and stiff, from lack of movement.
Pulling into our home town, I saw the new construction for a new business coming in. It made me sad because I knew it had a very high rate of success at putting another business out of business. I turned the corner and made my way up the street that led to the house.
I had eight days to complete my mission. I spent the first two walking from one room to the next, wondering where to start and I exited each room with a heavy sigh.
By the third day, the kids showed up and the adrenaline kicked in. We went through years of items that had absolutely no real use or value. Some I kept, some I sold and most were donated. We rolled with fits of laughter when the top popped off the box of old photos and pictures of my 'big hair' era skidded across the floor.
Eight days turned into ten and the time had come to head back east. Even though we had spent the last few days saying goodbye, it was time for the real deal. There were many tears and hugs that I did not want to end, then I sent them on their way. There was one last thing to do before I left, and I needed to do it alone. I watched as they loaded into their vehicles and drove away, knowing all of our tears were still falling.
I walked back into the house. It was so empty that my footsteps echoed against the bare walls. It was just a last minute check, to make sure I had left nothing behind. I already knew I had not, but I just needed to walk, one more time, through the rooms that had been my constant for 58 years. Then I picked up a small white box, walked out and locked the back door.
Inside the box were the ashes of a beloved pet. Pussycat. She had roamed the back yard for nearly seventeen years. It was her kingdom. Taking out the plastic bag, I let her ashes fall into all the places she had claimed as her own. Through the garden, under the hostas, where she spent many a sunny day, around the garden pond and down the long hedge, whose many birds gave her a chance to hone her feline skills.
It was a long good bye.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
No Going Back?
In six decades, I have seen many changes, as most people my age and above will attest to. I started out watching television on a black and white TV set. I also served as the remote control when Dad wanted to change the channel. There were only two channels to choose from, unless the atmosphere and the antenna were just right, then there were three. I played outside for as long as possible and roamed the entire neighborhood without a care, or fear, in the world. Our first telephone was a party line and my best friends' phone number was 8....please do not ask me what I had for lunch yesterday.
In school, the curriculum included such subjects as how to address an envelope, how to introduce yourself, or someone else, to another person, how to write in cursive and how to be polite. When it was time for P.E., we actually changed our clothes and exercised our bodies with great gusto, running races, touching our toes or doing somersaults on a mat.
When I was old enough to get a job, I was taught by the owner of the establishment, what was expected of me and how to perform whatever duty I was assigned. If the job, and there were many, included working with the public, I learned early on the cardinal rule was, "the customer is always right"....even if they were not.
Fast forwarding to the present, there are few people who do not have a television, most of which are the new flat screen models, and they have over 300 channels to choose from on just about any topic the mind can fathom. If you happen to have a TV that is shaped like a large square and weighs a ton, no one wants it, even if it's placed out on the curb with a "free" sign taped to the screen.
Few, if any, people have a land line phone and most young children would not even know what one was, let alone how to use it. The cell phone has become an extension of ourselves and many believe it is as valuable as two arms and ten fingers. It has literally become a new body part. I still cannot get used to the people who use the headsets for their phone. When I grew up, anytime you saw someone standing around talking to themselves, it was a good idea to go in the opposite direction. Then there are the drivers on their phones. I thought it was scary, back in my rural area I call home, to meet cars on the road with the driver looking down at their lap. Here in the city, it is rare to find someone who is actually looking at the road.
Standing in the checkout line at a super big box store, I scanned over the rows of people waiting. If there were 50 people, 45 of them were on their phone. Many of whom stayed on their phone while placing their items on the counter and continued to chat while the cashier rang up the total. I watched the young mother and her daughter, who was probably about 7 years old, in front of me. The mother was in a conversation with some unseen entity with the use of her headset. She talked the entire time, even when the clerk tried to engage her in a conversation about her shopping experience. She was oblivious to the clerk and to her daughter. My first thought was how rude she was being and my second thought was the example she was setting.
The other day, I walked into a small business to purchase two items. I was the only person in the store except for the young man behind the counter. He was on his phone, with the speakerphone turned on. As I stood at the counter, he continued to talk. He finally walked over to me, smiled, informed me he was talking to his brother and asked what I needed. I told him what I wanted and as he apologized for being on his phone, he went to grab my items. I stood patiently, listening to his brother drone on about how his ex had shown up and caused a scene. The young clerk placed my two items on the counter, apologized again about talking on the phone, stating he did not get to talk to his brother very often, and rang up my items. I paid, took my goods and left the store while he continued on with his brother. I guess I should have stomped my feet and demanded his attention. I should have explained to him what 'customer service' actually meant and lectured him on how lucky he was to have a job, but I did not. I drove back home with thoughts of what kind of society are we becoming, swirling in my head.
No, I do not believe we can go back to a time when technology did not rule our lives and most people would not want to. But, I do have to go back to the store because when I got home, one of my items was the wrong thing.
In school, the curriculum included such subjects as how to address an envelope, how to introduce yourself, or someone else, to another person, how to write in cursive and how to be polite. When it was time for P.E., we actually changed our clothes and exercised our bodies with great gusto, running races, touching our toes or doing somersaults on a mat.
When I was old enough to get a job, I was taught by the owner of the establishment, what was expected of me and how to perform whatever duty I was assigned. If the job, and there were many, included working with the public, I learned early on the cardinal rule was, "the customer is always right"....even if they were not.
Fast forwarding to the present, there are few people who do not have a television, most of which are the new flat screen models, and they have over 300 channels to choose from on just about any topic the mind can fathom. If you happen to have a TV that is shaped like a large square and weighs a ton, no one wants it, even if it's placed out on the curb with a "free" sign taped to the screen.
Few, if any, people have a land line phone and most young children would not even know what one was, let alone how to use it. The cell phone has become an extension of ourselves and many believe it is as valuable as two arms and ten fingers. It has literally become a new body part. I still cannot get used to the people who use the headsets for their phone. When I grew up, anytime you saw someone standing around talking to themselves, it was a good idea to go in the opposite direction. Then there are the drivers on their phones. I thought it was scary, back in my rural area I call home, to meet cars on the road with the driver looking down at their lap. Here in the city, it is rare to find someone who is actually looking at the road.
Standing in the checkout line at a super big box store, I scanned over the rows of people waiting. If there were 50 people, 45 of them were on their phone. Many of whom stayed on their phone while placing their items on the counter and continued to chat while the cashier rang up the total. I watched the young mother and her daughter, who was probably about 7 years old, in front of me. The mother was in a conversation with some unseen entity with the use of her headset. She talked the entire time, even when the clerk tried to engage her in a conversation about her shopping experience. She was oblivious to the clerk and to her daughter. My first thought was how rude she was being and my second thought was the example she was setting.
The other day, I walked into a small business to purchase two items. I was the only person in the store except for the young man behind the counter. He was on his phone, with the speakerphone turned on. As I stood at the counter, he continued to talk. He finally walked over to me, smiled, informed me he was talking to his brother and asked what I needed. I told him what I wanted and as he apologized for being on his phone, he went to grab my items. I stood patiently, listening to his brother drone on about how his ex had shown up and caused a scene. The young clerk placed my two items on the counter, apologized again about talking on the phone, stating he did not get to talk to his brother very often, and rang up my items. I paid, took my goods and left the store while he continued on with his brother. I guess I should have stomped my feet and demanded his attention. I should have explained to him what 'customer service' actually meant and lectured him on how lucky he was to have a job, but I did not. I drove back home with thoughts of what kind of society are we becoming, swirling in my head.
No, I do not believe we can go back to a time when technology did not rule our lives and most people would not want to. But, I do have to go back to the store because when I got home, one of my items was the wrong thing.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Letting Go
There are times in life that seem like there is no where left to go. These can be in the form of many things. Most often they are in the form of a relationship. It can be a relationship with a person, that no matter how hard you try, just isn't going anywhere. It can be a relationship with a job, finances, a home, neighborhood or even a car.
When you get to the bottom of the black hole of a relationship, there are two options; stay there and wallow, thinking that it will magically get better, or climb out.
If we choose the latter, we will discover something that never occurred to us before. When the decision is made that there is no way but up, we begin to climb. As we climb, we find hand holds and foot holds to help us. They have always been there, just waiting to be put to good use. Why didn't we see them before and how did they get there? We ponder only briefly on this and keep our focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.
When we finally emerge into the bright sunlight of life, there to the side of the hole is a large pile of debris. It is full of all the things we thought we could not do, dreams we let slide by, arguments that were not worth the time, guilt we carried for no reason, tears from being afraid and other people's opinions of ourselves. But, how did all that stuff get there?
That is when we take a moment and look back into the hole. The hand holds and foot holds were made by the very shovel we used to dig with. We left a way out and did not even realize it. We face the cold hard truth that we put ourselves in there by our own hand, our own thoughts, our own actions and reactions.
If you feel like you are at the bottom, start climbing. If you are at the end of your rope, let go and you may find you were just a couple of inches from the ground. Don't be afraid, don't let fear rule your life. Don't take the time to put the debris back in the hole, just walk off, let it go and keep looking forward. You have no idea what you are capable of, keep dreaming and dream big.
When you get to the bottom of the black hole of a relationship, there are two options; stay there and wallow, thinking that it will magically get better, or climb out.
If we choose the latter, we will discover something that never occurred to us before. When the decision is made that there is no way but up, we begin to climb. As we climb, we find hand holds and foot holds to help us. They have always been there, just waiting to be put to good use. Why didn't we see them before and how did they get there? We ponder only briefly on this and keep our focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.
When we finally emerge into the bright sunlight of life, there to the side of the hole is a large pile of debris. It is full of all the things we thought we could not do, dreams we let slide by, arguments that were not worth the time, guilt we carried for no reason, tears from being afraid and other people's opinions of ourselves. But, how did all that stuff get there?
That is when we take a moment and look back into the hole. The hand holds and foot holds were made by the very shovel we used to dig with. We left a way out and did not even realize it. We face the cold hard truth that we put ourselves in there by our own hand, our own thoughts, our own actions and reactions.
If you feel like you are at the bottom, start climbing. If you are at the end of your rope, let go and you may find you were just a couple of inches from the ground. Don't be afraid, don't let fear rule your life. Don't take the time to put the debris back in the hole, just walk off, let it go and keep looking forward. You have no idea what you are capable of, keep dreaming and dream big.
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