A Time to Listen

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You know, I encourage you all to listen to me so that I may share with you the truth, wisdom, and insight that I have. You see, I do know most everything and have an opinion on most everything I don't know.

Well, as I've been travelling these past few months, I've learned even more about listening. I've tried listening to others a few times now, and I've concluded that listening to your adult children is usually not the best thing to do as long as you still have some control of your mind.

One daughter dug out a favorite kitchen gadget to help prepare the dinner salad just the other night. The gadget is intended to spin dry the salad greens after rinsing them. A novel idea I guess, but I don't see the value of it over simply shaking the water off in a strainer. But anyway, she couldn't get the gadget to work and asked me to figure out what was wrong with it as it worked perfectly fine the last time (Who knows when that was. She doesn't even eat salad!)

Anyway, after taking a quick look at it, I noticed there was a part apparently missing that engaged the basket to a drive wheel to cause it to spin when a lever was pumped. She gave me a disgusted look, told me that I was wrong, and that simple air pressure from the lever action caused the basket to turn. Oh, well, we set the thing aside and rinsed the salad the old fashion way. A few days later, she called to say she found the missing part and the gadget works fine, but never offered an apology.

And then, as we were nearing the next place to visit, my wife's son called to give us a shorter rout. Now, keeping in mind that the GPS we had followed over the past 1263 miles from Oregon up to the last 15 miles of his place went without a glitch. But, he had a better way. One which he promised would save us 10 minutes. Ten Minutes, I thought. Geez after driving a cumulative 27 hours, you would think that I would jump on that. And I did!! Turned out to be seven miles of construction zone traffic jammed with Christmas shoppers. You gotta be kidding me!

So, I have concluded that I will never follow the advice of my kids until they begin feeding me with a spoon, and wiping my butt. Until then, I'll aways be suspicious of their advice, and not bend over when they ask.

Hope you all had a nice holiday, in whatever tradition you have. But for me it was a Wonder Christmas.

Well be home soon. So be ready!
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The Honorable Thing

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As I travel through the different states, I like to read the auto license plates to see all the different types that are available for people to buy and so they can express themselves. And, I think it's a good thing because at least some of the fees help support their chosen cause.

For me, I stick with the standard, no frills, issue. And in Oregon, that's very ugly. School bus yellow with black letters.

So yesterday, I saw a plate in Colorado that had a title below the license plate number stating, HONORABLY DISCHARGED VETERAN." Loving our Country and being a Patriot,my first thought was "How Cool."

But with further thought, I asked myself, "But isn't that what is expected of our armed forces?" Is it too much to ask that they uphold the law, maintain high standards and ethics, and do a good job for the length of time they promised?

Here is my point: What we really need is a plate reading "DISHONORABLY DISCHARGED VETERAN, which should be issued to anyone that couldn't cut the mustard. They should be forced to display it so that all the rest of us know who they are. Be a fool, coward, thief, deserter or anything else that gets one kicked out of the armed forces, we need to know about it so that we can disrespect you for disgracing our country.

Only then will we be able to truly respect and appreciate those that deserve it.
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Escape from Reality

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Visiting with my grandchildren reminded me that I don't have much of an imagination. In fact, I guess I don't have any. It's next to impossible for me to understand the fantasy stories that I read to my four year old grand daughter. Stories that I read one right after the other about magical dragons, oddly colored flying creatures, space beings, and talking plants and animals. And then taking her to the latest 3D movie about a beautiful lost princess with a head full of healing hair confused me even more.

Don't get me wrong, I love bonding with her and listening about an imaginary friend. But, I just don't understand it.

In Those Days, my interests were only in things like science, math or history. Real things, you know. When I had a dream it was never about things like flying carpets, horses with wings, or super heroes. Mine were about my family, people I knew, and visiting real places that I had read about in books. I had no fantasies, and no nightmares.

For me, things have not changed over the years. I know what is real and I have no use for that which is not. Real is reality and I respect it. At times, I fear reality but I don't hide from it. Rather than run, I confront it.

And I share it with my followers. So when you visit this site, you will only have a visit with reality. It is real here. Take it. Learn. Join in. But, if you want everything politically correct, green, or sugar coated, you'll have to go elsewhere.

Now hurry, there are still 7 shopping days left.
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Firsts

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Do you ever wonder why first time experiences in you life seem to always stand out in your memory? They were not always the best, but more that they were different that makes them unforgettable.

The first day of school, the first day of retirement. Your first bicycle, your first kiss. Your first pair of black Levis and your first turtle neck shirt. Your first child's birth and the first time you lost a loved one. You get the picture.

Well, on the Day of Infamy, I received our first Christmas card of the Season. And it was different. Unlike I've ever received before. And I'll remember it always.

First because it was the first. December 7th. That's the earliest I've ever received a card. And second, it was a real card, with a real stamp that a post man delivered, unlike the multitude of electronic cards I get over the Internet.

On the red envelope was our address, hand written in blue ink, with a pre-printed return address label neatly placed on the top left (that's not odd). Inside the envelope was a greeting from Santa announcing Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas! from a sleigh pulled by Rudolph (That's not odd). And below the sleigh was the word "Love" hand written in black ink (That's a little odd because it was addressed in black ink, but not the bell ringer). And there was no money in it (and that is a little odd).

Here is what is odd. So odd and different that I will remember it forever. Beneath the word "Love" were two different pre-printed, self-sticking address labels; one each for the husband and wife team that sent the card!

Now that was an odd card and I just don't get it. What's with the addy stickers instead of a signature. Was it some form of being green to reuse, reclaim, or recycle sticker thus keeping them out of our landfills and reduce carbon emissions? Was it a used card that the sender received last year with the stickers attached to cover the previous sender's signature? Or was it just pure laziness on the part of the person that sent it to me?

Maybe some one out there has the answer. Maybe the sender will read this blog and leave a comment. Maybe I'll just never know. But the Card was another "First" in my life. One that I can not forget!

Thanks for the memory.
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Now Mothers (and fathers), tell your Children

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In Those Days, parents tried to pass on everything they knew to their children. You know, basic things that we seem to take for granted. Mothers taught the kids how to cook, especially foods that don't come with instructions such as toast and eggs. And fathers taught things like checking the oil level and tire pressures in the family car.

Kids were taught the value of saving for the future, to respect cops and teachers, how and when to fight, to mow the lawn and to do the laundry, and to tie their shoes. They learned how to change a diaper and feed the baby (if only on their doll), to walk the dog, to tell time on a clock with hands, and to mend their clothes. Parents taught them how to play with one another, to accept criticism, and that life was not easy nor always fair.

So, was all that necessary? Did parents waste their time? Today, most of our kids go out for breakfast or just skip it all together. And they pay a mechanic to replace their tires and fix their engines after they run them flat or out of oil.

Our kids don't save for the future but pay in the future with credit. They run from the cops and threaten their teachers. They pay illegal immigrants to do the landscaping and their laundry, and they don't even bother to tie the laces on their high-top sneakers. They hire nannies to sit their children, but never walk the dog, and they throw away their clothes if they tear. Clocks talk now and kids can only fight with guns if someone makes fun of them.

And I wonder how they even survive.
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Cowboys and Indians

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In Those Days, everyone (even girls) played war games. We built forts to launch our attacks. In the summer, the forts were hidden along trails in the woods and during the winter they were made of snow and blended into the terrain of the frozen fields. From those forts, we would pounce on our enemy. We were always the good guys; cowboys, soldiers, pirates, and sometimes even crusaders. We shot arrows, fired cap guns, had catapults to hurl big snowballs, and sometimes used slingshots or even threw rocks at one another. But no one ever got hurt, except perhaps their feelings.

There were fights at school, but seldom did they amount to anything more than a wrestling match. We called them "rumbles" but nobody ever really got hurt. The losers went home crying, but their parents never called the police. Fathers taught their kids to fight and stand fast against aggressors and for what they believed in. There were no lawsuits, or children committing suicide because they got picked on. But Those Days became taboo.

Things are different today. 30 years of peace and toleration being rammed down our throats. Love your neighbor, never argue your point, but respect his views. Stand back. Don't fight. Tell your parents about how mean you were treated. Tell the cops how your parents or teachers mistreated you. Don't pick on sissies, fat kids, ones with braces, or glasses. Be nice.

Hide in your closets rather than standing publicly for what you believe. But you can play that violent video game using phazers that disintegrate rather than wound your opponent. Make yourself invisible as you begin a nuclear attack. That seemingly innocent suitcase transforms into a creature bent on destruction. Listen to the music praising rape and murder. Give your child a pill so he can cope. Take a pill yourself. Smoke that joint and inject the chemicals deep beneath your skin. Fight the war from within.

See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. Today, we don't know what evil is, let alone how to stand for what is right. Because we've been taught that everything is alright, and our world is better.

But is it, really?
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