Category: Observations – Political and Otherwise

Whose Birthday?

Whose Birthday?

Yesterday, I was struggling to recall exactly who was having a birthday today. The reminder from Facebook said it was Joni Hobbs. I know a Joni Hough from long ago, but I was unsure of Joni Hobbs. When my memory of Ms. Hobbs came back, it was because I remembered that the woman died at a very young age (in her forties – she was young to me) several years ago. She was one of two people I knew from my Geocaching hobby who died within a few months of each other. The other cacher was a fellow named Will Neinke. He and I shared an enthusiasm for The Prisoner, a 1960’s series starring Patrick McGoohan as a former secret agent being held in a remote village in an unknown location.

My Geocaching moniker as well as my sign-off phrase at the end of my blogs come from that show.

To continue.

I am at an age where, “Death has more definable features…” to paraphrase William Holden’s character in the movie Network. I’ve lost several good friends to the grim reaper… too many in my humble opinion. But one must keep in mind that one does not live forever. Eventually everyone passes from being a living being to being a story. Something we need to be aware of when we meet with other people is to listen to their stories while they are living. Appreciate what they have to offer. Listen. Remind yourself that no one walks the same walk. Even if a walk appears to be on the same path, it is, somehow different.

Ms. Hobbs and I met briefly in person on several occasions. We would occasionally cross paths on the internet. It wasn’t until the last month or so of her life that she opened up to let the Geocaching community know of her impending demise and of her life to that point.

And she will miss another birthday.

As will Norm Shor.

Norm and I had a mutual admiration society based on the fact that we both worked in radio. For the most part, he was a gypsy, working radio stations primarily in western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio. He met and married Karen, a woman who, when Norm worked at a radio station in Erie, called him up to ask him who in the hell he was and what happened to the person who usually worked the shift he was working. They hit it off that first night they called and the rest, as they say, is history.

My first wife and I became good friends with Norm and Karen. When my first wife and I split, Karen quipped that she was glad that she got custody of me in the divorce. By the time of the split, Norm was already on his final voyage – early onset Alzheimer’s. Karen and I are still friends – she says that she has been friends with me longer than anyone else she’s known. I take that as a compliment.

I drove solo from Dallas to Pittsburgh to speak at Norm’s memorial. I had to.

The inevitability of death is always present, but at the same time, never really expected. Death of a friend can be soul crushing if we let it. I prefer thinking of death as a passage, from the living world to becoming a good story which can be told with a smile or a fond rememberance. That’s what funerals are for.

When my mother died nearly seven years ago, I made the trip to Ohio not knowing what to expect. I assisted my sibling (very little as it turned out – she did the heavy lifting) with a couple of little details about the memorial service, and for the most part hung out until the viewing and the service. It was at the viewing that I began to hear the stories. Over the few hours the funeral home was open for visitors, I came to realize just how important she was to the people outside of our family. Those stories continued before and after the service the next day. And I’ll be darned if I didn’t get more stories about my mother when I visited the home town a fortnight ago.

Good stories have a long shelf life as do memories of people we know and love.

At some point, we are all going to leave this planet behind, leaving but a memory to live on with others. It’s up to us to decide what we will leave behind – good memories, good stories, or will it be a bad taste in someone else’s mouth.

I prefer good stories.

Be Seeing You!

Irony

Irony

As a follow up to yesterday’s post – Numbers – the little red car with the 188881 odometer reading apparently didn’t care to be written about on this page. It whined in protest nearly all the way to the dealership where we were picking up the car undergoing repairs. At one point, the better half suggested leaving the thing in a parking lot and taking an Uber to the dealership.

Long story short, the little red car was replaced by an even smaller gray car with considerably fewer miles on it. Looks like I might have to monetize my blog to help pay for it.

And that, my friends, is irony.

We are surrounded by irony.

Irony is the stuff of O’Henry stories – for that matter, many short stories make their mark because of irony. Same with some novels.

Sorting through some of my book collection so I can make a donation to a worthy cause (An AAUW Book Sale – proceeds to help sponsor a scholarship for a young woman to attend a women’s college in Missouri) I ran across The End of the Road by Tom Bodett. The book follows people in a small Alaska fishing town at “The end of the road” with a series of vignettes which end up tying together as the reader progresses throught the novel. My favorite scenario in the book has to do with a pair of couples, very good and close friends, who are just out of town enjoying time in a sauna, and then running out of the sauna naked as jaybirds in the snow to cool off before going back in to sweat it out in the sauna again.

One of the friends inadvertently locked the door of the sauna behind them. The sauna burned down and they had no recourse other than to strap on their skis and head to town before hypothermia set in. When they got to the road, they flagged down the first car they saw – driven by the prudish preacher’s wife – piling in when she stopped.

That was, indeed, irony.

Another notable piece of irony popped up in yesterday’s news. Texas’ Attorney General reportedly ran out his back door when a process server came to his front door to deliver a subpoena. The irony there is that the state’s lead attorney would avoid being served a subpoena, seeing as how he has had issued more than his share. Add to that the fact that the same state attorney general has been under indictment for most, if not all of the time he has been the attorney general. And he’s running for reelection.

The irony just oozes. And he’s not the only official with questionable backgrounds or motives. While officials from both parties can lay claim to having been involved in skullduggery, it seems as if most of those officials have a little (R) behind their names.

And from what I have observed over the years, politicians with the little (R) behind their names seem to lack the ability to understand the concept of irony… as do many of their followers.

The January 6th Commission hearings happen live tomorrow. The hearing room will be oozing with irony.

Be Seeing You!

(In another irony, it will now be noted that we have a red, or scarlet vehicle and a gray vehicle. Scarlet and Grey being Ohio State University’s school colors. I attended Ohio University. Green and white. And there was a time when we were first married, that our vehicles were green and white!)

Numbers

Numbers

I have an obsessive/compulsive relationships with numbers.

For instance, this morning, I was almost home from a doctor’s appointment when I saw the odometer on the better half’s car reading 188880. Less than two blocks from the house. I just HAD to take a turn through the neighborhood until the odometer read 188881. Seriously. Now it does. Now I’m happy. The next goal is 199991, followed by 200002. If we can quit playing whack-a-mole with the car’s cooling system, I’ll be as happy as a pig in mud!

As for my car, the odometer read 62622 when I dropped it off at the dealership for some repair work before taking a trip later this week. I’m paying more than enough for the work to be done, and am looking forward to seeing 62626 when I pick it up later today. If the dealership’s service deparment runs it over that magic number, I’ll certainly let them know.

Car odometers aren’t the only numbers I am obsessed with. Take the trip I’m about to take. I have several entertainments lined up.

One of them – “Are we there yet?” – has to do with mileage stickers on Interstate highways. I’ll see a sign saying “East Smorgaswitch – 103”, and then look for one of the mileage stickers posted along the highway. I will then calculate what the sticker will say when I arrive at East Smorgaswitch and for fun, will guesstimate the amount of time it will take me to get there at my current speed.

Oh, and I calculate what the odometer will read when I get there.

When I’m not calculating miles to go in my head, I’m listening to old radio shows on the satellite radio station, keeping up with the body count on the mystery shows.

And as a fan of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I know the ultimate answer to the ultimate question about life, the universe and everything is 42. Problem is that no one knows the question, so, 42 remains an interesting enigma.

I suppose my obsession with numbers may have started when I was on the radio. We dealt with minutes and seconds and had to make sure that each message was accurately timed. We also worked it so that we would “hit the post” at the top of the hour to merge into network news. Disc-Jockey jargon. Hope you’ll understand.

Anyway, as I am counting it, I will be taking the dog Filbrix to “Doggie Camp” in 48 hours, 7 minutes and 18 seconds from the time I complete this sentence. (18 is another favorite number which came up while I was in college) When I head to the gym later today, I plan to be on the treadmill for 44 minutes and 44 seconds and/or just go for 45 minutes even. I’ll only be 16 seconds short of that second goal, you see.

Maybe I’ll stretch it out to 45:54 just to make things even!

Be Seeing You!

Banned Books

Banned Books

The big news this past week has been about a book published by someone no one knows which proclaims the former President is no less than the Second Coming of the Christ. Friends of mine who find the premise utterly ridiculous, have suggested that the book be banned or burned.

This in spite of the fact that one of the bigger topics these days is the banning of books by certain right-wing advocacy groups. The question comes up in my mind about the proverbial “Slippery Slope.” Have we started down that slope, or what?

We all have something in the back of our minds which we really don’t want to know about. Things like how candy corn is made, or how the economy of some Pacific Islands is based on bird poop. We are wired in such a way that we are easily “curated” to think in ways we are told to think. Heaven forbid that we read something which may be foreign, yet challenging to the way we are told to think.

In a discussion I had this morning, I recalled the time when the Harry Potter books were first published. Cries of “Witchcraft!” or “Wizardry” were heard far and wide, mostly from people who probably hadn’t read the books. I read them out loud, to my children. I saw nothing wrong with the stories, nor did most of the other people in my circle at that time.

Classics, like Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn” are on some contemporary banned books lists – probably because the black character in that story was humanized.

Books are not necessarily pretty. Just looking at my bookshelf now, I’m looking at a couple – “The Devil All The Time” and “The Heavenly Table” – both of which would be considered “Depraved” by some. My mother turned me on to author, Donald Ray Pollock, after she read his first book, “Knockemstiff.” I’ve met the man. Quiet, unassuming. But what he wrote was entertaining and filled with incidents which makes one wonder what’s really going on in the author’s mind. In contrast, my Pollyannish attempts to come up with a decent, saleable novel don’t hold a candle to what Mr. Pollock has already written.

I may have strayed a bit.

Part of my point is that there is plenty of literature out there which is offensive to one group or another. Just because I don’t like something, I don’t have the right to keep you from enjoying something I don’t care for. For that matter, there is plenty of other media out there which can be deemed offensive. Almost daily, I catch bits and pieces of people who don’t like Fox News, or who complain that the big three networks are biased and need to go away. Sometimes I agree with a particular opinion, other times I don’t.

Agree or disagree, it’s important that various viewpoints are out there. Maybe there are times when someone will cross a line and find that the viewpoint they once held in contempt really isn’t that bad after all.

Minds can change, if you let them.

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The Jesus Thing

(Foreword: Some may find this post not to be of their liking. Be advised that I respect all beliefs, although I find some of those beliefs more interesting than others.)

On July 15th, 1838, Ralph Waldo Emerson delivered an address to the Harvard School of Divinity, discounting Biblical miracles and declaring that while Jesus was a great man, but he wasn’t God.

                I’m inclined to believe the same thing.

                I’m also sure that, like Emerson, I might ruffle a few feathers.

I belong to a group which has been on three-year (so far) journey into the “Christian Religion,” I have had my eyes opened to a number of truths which have radically changed my view of the “Christian Religion.”

                Let me state from the outset that I believe in God. The presence of something greater than we are is evident in the observable universe and in the universe we cannot see with our human eyes. I see God not as a person, but as more of a spirit which lives in each of us, envelopes each of us, and envelops all that we can observe.

                God is universal. There is but one God. Although different cultures appear to have different Gods, those Gods are the same God (the one God) seen through different lenses or different filters.

It was in the third year of this journey that a few things began to click in my mind, dealing mostly with the pre-history of Christianity – that is, the build up of the religion prior to the birth of “Jesus (Joshua) of Nazareth.” The pieces, including the ethos of Christianity were all present prior to Jesus’ birth, but the pieces were not all tied together (so to speak) until roughly 50 years after his death. Some pieces were added in later to “Seal the deal.”

                What I have extrapolated from my readings is that Jesus/Joshua was likely a charismatic preacher familiar with the teachings of Hillel the Elder (110 BCE – 10 CE). Jesus/Joshua was likely a thorn in the side of the establishment and was handed over to death in the hands of the Romans.

                Tales of miracles done in Jesus/Joshua’s name were lifted from previous sources in other traditions – including stories of resurrection and ascension. While I doubt the veracity of the miracle/ascension stories (no matter which group tells it), I do see them as important to spreading the basic message of Christianity: “Love God, Love your neighbor.”

                Somewhere along the line, though, things got messed up. Looking through some of last year’s notes, I came across some of the musings from our reading of The Dream of God. It was noted that the big problem has been with the institutional church as opposed to the teachings of Jesus or Hillel (take yer pick). The institutional church loves to moralize – a direct contradiction to the teachings of both rabbis. Doesn’t matter the church… the hand-wringing over the new figurehead of the Anglican communion, Charles the Third is an excellent, and recent example.

                But the basic message is the same. “Love God, Love your neighbor.” This year’s group theme, Living in a Multicultural World, will hopefully pull the “Love your neighbor” part into sharp focus… giving us direction as to how we are to live from this point forward.

                I started this essay as part of a class exercise. I may have strayed from the intent of the exercise. From my point of view, though, what I see as important going forward is not who we believe, but what we believe. How do we lead our lives to have a positive impact on the people around us. Jesus may not be God… but he sure did give us a lot to live up to.

Be Seeing You!

The Penguin – A Prophet

The Penguin – A Prophet

I have a Saturday night routine which leads down strange paths. I watch “Me-TV” for a string of shows, starting with The Three Stooges and ending with the first few moments of Star Trek. In between are Svengoolie (a direct descendent of Ghoulardi), the horror movie host, and Batman (In Color!). I have reasons (mostly nostalgic) for watching this Saturday night block, but I won’t get into those reasons for the moment.

What struck me was the Batman episodes run this past Saturday: Hizzonner the Penguin, followed by Dizzoner the Penguin from the second season. Burgess Meredith does an excellent job of portraying a costumed criminal with a bird fetish. In the pair of episodes shown on Me-TV this past Saturday, The Penguin stages an event enabling him to run for Mayor of Gotham City. Since it looks like he will win the election, Batman is asked to run against the “Fowl Fiend,” vowing to concentrate on the issues while Penguin works on making the Mayoral race into a popularity contest.

Included in Penguin’s bag of tricks are twists of logic (“I’m always seen in the newspapers with the police, while Batman is seen in the newspapers with criminals… therefore, I am more trustworthy.”) Hints of ballot manipulation, and finally, when the ballot counting shows Penguin losing, there are demands of a recount, accusations of fraud, and a kidnapping of the Board of Elections.

Sounds vaguely familiar. Like what transpired fifty and fifty-four years later in a pair of certain Presidential elections involving someone wearing a red hat.

A few major points stood out.

Penguin first threw his hat in the ring with a staged event. The man in the red hat descended an escalator in a staged event where he threw his hat in the ring.

Instead of building up his own qualifications, both preferred to take pot shots at their opponents.

Both called the election process to be stacked against them, especially when they were losing; both taking to subverting the process and demanding that no more votes be counted when it became obvious that the tide had turned.

One other takeaway from the pair of Batman episodes – Penguin declared that when he won, he would place a variety of costumed criminals in places where they could essentially pillage Gotham City. Judging from the number of indictments stemming from the election when the fellow in the red hat won, he was able to do what Penguin never did.

Sixty-Six years later, the parallel continues.

Some of it from a piece of literature from a long-dead British author – J.R.R. Tolkien.

There was a piece I read Monday where it seems that the man in the red hat was sounding conciliatory in something he said over the weekend. My mind jumped to Chapter 10 of the second book from Professor Tolkien’s epic trilogy of Lord of the Rings. Titled, “The Voice of Saruman,” it essentially says that the evil wizard’s voice sounded just like listener wanted to hear it. To some, his words were harsh and unforgiving. To others, he sounded like he was apologetic – his words flowing like honey over his tongue. Much the same can be said about the man in the red hat and those around who still support him. His words flow like honey, but reek of revenge.

Note that both were able to get a measure of revenge. Note also that Saruman’s end came from the knife of a once-trusted advisor.

Art imitates life and life imitates art. Or so it is said. Sometimes that old saw can be alarmingly true!

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Treadmill

Treadmill

Well, it had to happen sometime. The better half and I finally decided that laying around and avoiding the heat all summer had to stop, so, we joined a gym. We are in the second week of going to a small gym in Princeton three times a week to hit the treadmill and one or two similar machines to improve our stamina, lose some weight and do something about our heart health.

To the point at which we started getting three digit temperatures, I would get out at least three times a day with the dog Filbrix on walks varying from one to five miles, depending on a number of factors. Obviously, three digit temperatures led to two walks per day of around a mile each, before sunrise and after sunset.

The local walks with the dog Filbrix led to a familiarity with certain features along the route. There are people who notice me and my canine companion; one of them stopped me at the local grocery store – hailing me as “The dog walker.” There’s a gentleman I’ve seen before who has had problems with his knees – he walks a Pitty (much to the dog Filbrix’s interest) on a regular basis. He gets around much better these days.

Other people on the route include the Asian woman with the two “Yappy Dogs” who somehow manage to be out at the same time as we are – the truck driver up the street who has the grown daughter who visits and rollerskates when she is visiting – the waver who always tells me to have a blessed day (and blesses the “doggy” while he’s at it – and Joe, the work at home guy who is good for a general conversation now and then.

Filbrix’s doggy pals include a trio I’ve nicknamed Larry, Curly and Moe, a dog I refer to as “Snarly” because all she used to do was snarl as we went by, and another “Yappy Dog” I’ve nicknamed as “Lit-tle Flearanch.” Dad always referred to unfamiliar dogs as “Flearanch.” If the people living with me at the time the dog Filbrix came to live with us had a slightly different sense of humour, I might have named her Flearanch. Just to be different.

Hmmm… strayed a bit from the theme I began with. No matter. Walking a treadmill is different than walking around a block or on a rail to trail, trail. The scenery doesn’t change much. There’s a gas station across the street. There’s some entertainment value in checking out the price of gasoline on the markee. Not much, but some. Since we go to the gym at rush hour (we get there by going the back way), I get to watch traffic get jammed up on US 380. Seen one traffic jam, you’ve seen them all. And then there are the occasional younger women who turn my head – but just a little, since the better half is usually on one of the adjacent machines.

And I really don’t mind talking with my wife. We exchange notes, figure out what we’ll eat once we get home, and discuss other topics which need to be discussed without my being on the computer keeping up with the peeps, writing on my latest project(s) or working on other non-writing projects.

Results? Well, it’s really too early to tell if this habit I’m trying to establish is doing me any good. Other than the occasional twinge, the routine hasn’t been detrimental. If the doctor is impressed with my efforts, he will let me know next month. I hope that the cholesterol numbers will be down (again), as well as the weight (which has been slowly creeping up due to the inaction caused by the triple digit temperatures).

Time will tell.

During the meanwhilst, I have an appointment with a treadmill three times a week.

Be Seeing You!

Some Words Have None of the Luck

Some Words Have None of the Luck

I had a conversation with a naturist correspondent about the word(s) “Lifestyle(s)”. My correspondent was bemoaning that the word(s) had different meanings depending on the audience within the naturist community. To some, “Iiving the naturist lifestyle” means living as much of one’s life as possible without the burden of having to wear clothing. To others, “living the naturist lifestyle” means being a “swinger,” or someone willing to sleep with another’s spouse, while their spouse sleeps with your spouse.

Wife swapping, if you will.

Living a “Lifestyle” has had a broader meaning over the years. Most of us of a certain age remember a fellow named Robin Leach – a presenter of the show Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. It would be a safe bet to say that none of the people on that program were shown running around in their birthday suits. As to marital stability, well, that’s another matter.

I have encountered the term “Lifestyle(s) in a couple of other situations.

In the mid to late seventies, the National Lampoon published a parody of the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The politically incorrect (a Lampoon specialty) conclusion came about when it was noted that the owner of the local hardware store had come up with a “Lifestyles” section. The protagonists in the story came to discover that the local townspeople had become Jewish (see what I mean by being politically incorrect?) after eating an alien deli sandwich (with a schmear, I mean, a dab of mustard).

A few years later, I worked at a radio station which moved their offices and studios into a building a few doors down from a gay nightclub. The club closed suddenly – with a notice posted on the door telling patrons that there was a new “Lifestyles” bar just down the road.

So, the term(s) “Lifestyle(s)” has taken a bit of a beating over time.

Another word with the misfortune of shifting meanings has been “Liberal.” At one time it was meant to indicate someone with an open mind – with characteristics we all strive to emulate. These days, the word has become a slur, especially in heavily “Red” areas. Come to think of it, wasn’t there a time when calling someone a “Red” indicated that the person in question was or is a communist?

Then, back to “Swinger.” Could be a kid enjoying a piece of playground equipment – or a “Hep Cat” dancing to what was once called swinging music – or a name given to a Polaroid camera, selling for “Nineteen dollars and ninety-five!”

It’s all a matter of understanding between people in a conversation. And sometimes the lines of understanding don’t easily cross between generations or other subsets of people. The phrase “Cut a rug” comes to my mind.

For some of us, the phrase “Cut a rug” is a phrase used to describe a pair of people dancing… a term not everyone is aware of.

I worked for a few years on an offshore oil drilling rig, two weeks on and two weeks off. Several of my co-workers concluded that it would be cheaper to fly back and forth to Costa Rica, stay in a hotel and enjoy the services of hot and cold running prostitutes. One of the older workers asked the pair running back and forth to Central America, “What do you do with these girls? Do you cut a rug?” Neither of the pair knew the phrase… I smiled and translated, “He wants to know if you install carpeting!”

The quip brought down the house!

English is a complex and sometimes difficult language to comprehend. It can sometimes be like a loaded gun. Just gotta be careful where you aim it!

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ERCOT – You’re Welcome – NOT!!!

ERCOT – You’re Welcome – NOT!!!

This morning we recieved notice from our electric provider and the Electricity Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT) that we are going to be in a pickle this afternoon because of the expected high demand for electricity due to our overly hot weather. Sorry to hear that, ERCOT, but there’s an old saying out there which states, “Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.” I have done some prior planning by having an array of solar panels installed on my house. Doing my part, you see. Heck, I even “donated” 846 Kilowatts into the system between May 15th and June 15th. “Donated” is not quite what happened – I was not given credit for what I generated above and beyond my own needs during that billing cycle.

It’s a long story. The short and skinny is that I have done ERCOT a favor by generating excess electricity and sending it into the grid at what amounts to my expense.

And it ain’t the first time it happened.

Before the power grid fiasco in February, 2021, the better half and I contracted to have solar panels put on top of the house. We got the go-ahead and had a start date which incidentally came in the middle of the time ERCOT had their power hiccup. Not a problem. We waited another fortnight for the installation and had everything up and running by the first part of March.

When the panels were up, I called Reliant to get on a solar buyback program. It is important to know that Reliant is nothing more than a billing agent – a middleman. The electricity we use comes from an entity known as Texas New Mexico Power (TNMP). Reliant gave me the information on a solar buy-back program. I told them I’d go for it. They came back and told me that I needed to pay a contract termination fee before they would switch me over to the new plan.

Uh, no.

It took me several phone calls and the better part of an hour in hold hell to finally convince someone that I was not terminating service, but moving on to a new plan. That was the good news. The bad news was that it took them one (if not two) billing cycles for Reliant to catch up to the fact that I was sending them (and by extension TNMP) electricity at no cost.

After that, no problem – at least until last February.

I got a notice from Reliant that the solar plan was going away and that I would be slammed onto a month-to-month plan in the very near future. I called Reliant to ask what was going on. They told me that TNMP was no longer buying electricity from those of us with solar panels. After scratching my head for a short while, I called Reliant again, specifically asking if I was going to be credited for the power I was sending back in the grid. Their answer was that I most assuredly would be credited for the power I was sending into the system under the plan I was being slammed onto.

That assurance went away on June 24th when I opened my electric bill and noted that the line item crediting me for the electricity sent into the grid was missing.

Tried contacting their chat and had a totally unsatisfactory “conversation” with an agent who told me that I needed to call their “Solar Solutions” team. While the “Solar Solutions” agent got the issue resolved (I’m back on a solar program retroactive to June 16th), I am still more than a bit miffed that Reliant led me to believe that there would be no change in the way I would be compensated for sending power into the grid. I am also miffed that the agent told me that if I was to terminate the two-year contract I was about to enter into, there would be a termination fee attached to that termination.

So here I am. Sitting at the computer on a Monday afternoon, wondering if there will be rolling blackouts because of a lack of electricity in the grid here in the Lone Star State. On their part, they have an emergency. Still should not be counted as an emergency on my part.

Thanks for letting me unload. I feel a little better now. I’ll feel a lot better when I get my 846 kilowatt hours back.

Be Seeing You!