This blog entry will be updated at the earliest point in time, relating an experience that was extremely prohibitive of performing most of the basic physical exercises of daily life.
I reserve this posting for the sole purpose of expressing my experiences of the past few months so that they can be included as what might be called a recap of 2010.
January 2, 2011, UPDATE: Okay, so I didn't update this entry as previously posted. So, I'll make it brief:
I had an accident on a dirt bike in mid-August while visiting in Michigan.
Just a couple broken ribs, both hands fractured, one finger broken (why did it have to be the index finger on my writing, typing hand?).
Weeks upon weeks of recovery. Stayed in Michigan til early November, where it was easier to recuperate than heading back to Florida where I would have had less access to assistance than with my family.
In the meantime, my laptop crashed with a message that said I had to reinstall Windows. Since it would come at a cost, and since I've been forced to pay cash rather than use credit, no action has been taken. So, I'm without my laptop to make blog entries. I use a friend's computer but for little else than checking emails and make online banking transactions. I can't blog effectively without Google searching for facts and informations which means I'd be taking advantage of (and inconviencing) my friend.
In effect, 2010 ended being one of the worst years in my life. (I actually had less of an overall 'bad' year when I had prostate surgery in 2002 due to cancer.)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Blogs on pause
Due to events of this past last summer/early fall,blog entries have been suspended. At some point in the (hopefully) near future I'll relate all the particulars but at this particular time I have no immediate access to a computer - after recovering from physical impairments that kept me in restrictive bindings for an extended period of time, and not having access to my computer, when I attempted to use my laptop after being dormant for nearly trhee months , it informed me that Windows has a programming problem that can only be resolved by re-installing Windows Vista.
Current financial conditions inhibit the spending of money but for the essentials - electric, phone/DSL, water, home/auto insurance, property taxes, medical bills,outstanding credit card balances - so... quite impatiently I await some small 'windfall' that will allow me to once again excercise discretionary spending. I will no long allow myself to be suckered into buy today and pay for it later. Cash/debit card transactions are the new norm.
Right now I'm using a friend's computer. No one likes to allow someone else to use their personal computer, including myself, because they might go to sites otherwise not visited of questionable content or install an add-ons that take up memory space. Therefore, on-line banking and the checking of email are my sole accesses on a friend's computer.
The current circumstances really suck. Full blown depression has up til now been avoided... kinda sad and melancholy about being able to write about life experiences and opinions.
My mind is bottle-necked with so many thoughts on a slew of topics. With a deep sigh, I'm resigned to the current circumstances as that's just the way it is.
Current financial conditions inhibit the spending of money but for the essentials - electric, phone/DSL, water, home/auto insurance, property taxes, medical bills,outstanding credit card balances - so... quite impatiently I await some small 'windfall' that will allow me to once again excercise discretionary spending. I will no long allow myself to be suckered into buy today and pay for it later. Cash/debit card transactions are the new norm.
Right now I'm using a friend's computer. No one likes to allow someone else to use their personal computer, including myself, because they might go to sites otherwise not visited of questionable content or install an add-ons that take up memory space. Therefore, on-line banking and the checking of email are my sole accesses on a friend's computer.
The current circumstances really suck. Full blown depression has up til now been avoided... kinda sad and melancholy about being able to write about life experiences and opinions.
My mind is bottle-necked with so many thoughts on a slew of topics. With a deep sigh, I'm resigned to the current circumstances as that's just the way it is.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Loretta and Entitlement Programs
In a random discussion on various topics related to her life, my 90-something year old step-aunt Loretta reiterated for the umpteenth time how her mother had braved the then-unacceptable prospect of seeking a divorce from an abusive husband who, during the days of prohibition, used the bathtub for the home-brewing of beer.
During the divorce, and then afterward, the man stalked mother and daughter for a period of time until the day came when he was no longer a threat to their lives. He kind of just disappeared from the face of the earth, presumably ‘bumped off’ by members of what were most likely men associated with the mafia the mafia.
Loretta’s mom tried her best to make ends meet, working long days in a sweat shop making woolen clothing. She came home with stands of wool plastered on every part of her sweat-dripping exposed skin. Nights were spent with both mother and daughter sewing labels on the finished products. In her off-hours, Loretta’s mom would wash, dry and fold clothing for families in the neighborhood.
A second husband entered the life of Loretta’s mom. From the start, he and the child did not like each other – not one bit. He constantly belittled the seven year old child, repeatedly using words such as ‘brat’ and ‘worthless’, denying her mom from spending any amount of his selfishly-earned money on the little girl. Loretta was sent to a Catholic school where, again, not only she but other children were faced with degrees of denigration by those who were entrusted to provide a sense of security and nourish them in their formative years. Loretta spent her childhood shedding tears through years of worry and despair.
As an adult, Loretta married an educated man, an engineer of some degree. Unfortunately, he was a sickly man and passed away at an early age. They had no children. She didn’t remarry. Loretta has never hinted that she was involved with women’s rights movements but, out of necessity, she was resourceful and prepared herself for a secure future in later years.
She remained in Upstate New York in the Syracuse area, securing a job with General Electric. Having no one else to rely, with determination she earned respect as a laborer and eventually promoted to a management position.
Loretta was a dedicated, workaholic. She was determined to never again ‘go without’. She not only placed investments in her employer, GE, but placed some of her earnings in other investment vehicles. She seldom took vacations, the only one of which she has ever discussed was a trip to Florida with some girlfriends; she’s never related any particular fondness of the vacation.
Jump now to the late 1986 when my Aunt Nona passed away from a massive heart attack at age 68. She and my Uncle Phil had married during WWII. He lied about his age, not only to his wife to but also the military. He served in the US Navy, after which he made a career of welding for small, private companies. He spent weeks upon weeks away from home traveling to out of town building sites, faithfully supporting his wife and two sons. He made the most of family time on the weekends but rest was a must priority.
His retirement funds were limited but would still provide opportunities to travel a bit to visit his two sons – one in the Chicago area, where Nona grew up, the other in California where I also lived. I was devastated by Nona’s loss. I grew up in Michigan, a farmer’s son. Neither of our families was ‘well-to-do’ so our times together were very, very few. With her death, their vacation visits never materialized. I missed out on getting to know her with the intimacy that can only be shared in earnest with a beloved relative. I still feel robbed, but that’s life, just as the emotions that come with our earthly existence.
Uncle Phil met Loretta within months after Nona’s death. They married within a year, a shock to the two sons. The first meeting of sons and step mother was at the wedding. The contrast in the two women’s personalities was a shock of immense proportions. Nona was soft spoken. Loretta was/is a chatter box. She can carry on multiple conversations at the same time, offering input to discussions being held across a room! She is also rather loud, a result of caring for her near-deaf mom in her waning years.
There’s no doubt that Phil and Loretta met through fate. Their loves is apparent and, mainly through her investments, have lived a very comfortable life over the past 22 years – just this past week they celebrated their anniversary. For many years they maintained a home in both New York and Florida. Due to health conditions that come from the human condition of aging they made Zephyr Hills their permanent residence a number of years ago. Nowadays, the severity of their aches and pains (he with degenerative arthritis and she with severe back ailments) they sit as comfortable as possible in their cozy condominium in a retirement community.
Nowadays, the mostly they eat out (Golden Corral is a favorite) or have frozen prepared dinners at home. She can no longer fixes those delicious pot roast dinners with the many side-dishes, or make those most scrumpdillyicious lemon cakes I have lavished her with praise over the past two decades. But, she’s as upbeat and entertaining as always, giving the most loving of care to that that sometimes grumpy husband of hers. (I pause for a moment to wipe away tears that will flow unabated when they….)
Ten minutes later… composure returns.
During our most recent discussion, Loretta matter-of-factly brought up the fact that without Social Security and Medicare they would not have been able to make Florida their home. As a wise and realistic woman, she knows there are no worries that these entitlement programs will remain sustainable through the rest of their lives. And, just maybe, through the lives of us baby boomers.
If only I had been as wise as Loretta with how she took complete control of her life and her future, I would be a less secure man about to entire my sixtieth birthday.
During the divorce, and then afterward, the man stalked mother and daughter for a period of time until the day came when he was no longer a threat to their lives. He kind of just disappeared from the face of the earth, presumably ‘bumped off’ by members of what were most likely men associated with the mafia the mafia.
Loretta’s mom tried her best to make ends meet, working long days in a sweat shop making woolen clothing. She came home with stands of wool plastered on every part of her sweat-dripping exposed skin. Nights were spent with both mother and daughter sewing labels on the finished products. In her off-hours, Loretta’s mom would wash, dry and fold clothing for families in the neighborhood.
A second husband entered the life of Loretta’s mom. From the start, he and the child did not like each other – not one bit. He constantly belittled the seven year old child, repeatedly using words such as ‘brat’ and ‘worthless’, denying her mom from spending any amount of his selfishly-earned money on the little girl. Loretta was sent to a Catholic school where, again, not only she but other children were faced with degrees of denigration by those who were entrusted to provide a sense of security and nourish them in their formative years. Loretta spent her childhood shedding tears through years of worry and despair.
As an adult, Loretta married an educated man, an engineer of some degree. Unfortunately, he was a sickly man and passed away at an early age. They had no children. She didn’t remarry. Loretta has never hinted that she was involved with women’s rights movements but, out of necessity, she was resourceful and prepared herself for a secure future in later years.
She remained in Upstate New York in the Syracuse area, securing a job with General Electric. Having no one else to rely, with determination she earned respect as a laborer and eventually promoted to a management position.
Loretta was a dedicated, workaholic. She was determined to never again ‘go without’. She not only placed investments in her employer, GE, but placed some of her earnings in other investment vehicles. She seldom took vacations, the only one of which she has ever discussed was a trip to Florida with some girlfriends; she’s never related any particular fondness of the vacation.
Jump now to the late 1986 when my Aunt Nona passed away from a massive heart attack at age 68. She and my Uncle Phil had married during WWII. He lied about his age, not only to his wife to but also the military. He served in the US Navy, after which he made a career of welding for small, private companies. He spent weeks upon weeks away from home traveling to out of town building sites, faithfully supporting his wife and two sons. He made the most of family time on the weekends but rest was a must priority.
His retirement funds were limited but would still provide opportunities to travel a bit to visit his two sons – one in the Chicago area, where Nona grew up, the other in California where I also lived. I was devastated by Nona’s loss. I grew up in Michigan, a farmer’s son. Neither of our families was ‘well-to-do’ so our times together were very, very few. With her death, their vacation visits never materialized. I missed out on getting to know her with the intimacy that can only be shared in earnest with a beloved relative. I still feel robbed, but that’s life, just as the emotions that come with our earthly existence.
Uncle Phil met Loretta within months after Nona’s death. They married within a year, a shock to the two sons. The first meeting of sons and step mother was at the wedding. The contrast in the two women’s personalities was a shock of immense proportions. Nona was soft spoken. Loretta was/is a chatter box. She can carry on multiple conversations at the same time, offering input to discussions being held across a room! She is also rather loud, a result of caring for her near-deaf mom in her waning years.
There’s no doubt that Phil and Loretta met through fate. Their loves is apparent and, mainly through her investments, have lived a very comfortable life over the past 22 years – just this past week they celebrated their anniversary. For many years they maintained a home in both New York and Florida. Due to health conditions that come from the human condition of aging they made Zephyr Hills their permanent residence a number of years ago. Nowadays, the severity of their aches and pains (he with degenerative arthritis and she with severe back ailments) they sit as comfortable as possible in their cozy condominium in a retirement community.
Nowadays, the mostly they eat out (Golden Corral is a favorite) or have frozen prepared dinners at home. She can no longer fixes those delicious pot roast dinners with the many side-dishes, or make those most scrumpdillyicious lemon cakes I have lavished her with praise over the past two decades. But, she’s as upbeat and entertaining as always, giving the most loving of care to that that sometimes grumpy husband of hers. (I pause for a moment to wipe away tears that will flow unabated when they….)
Ten minutes later… composure returns.
During our most recent discussion, Loretta matter-of-factly brought up the fact that without Social Security and Medicare they would not have been able to make Florida their home. As a wise and realistic woman, she knows there are no worries that these entitlement programs will remain sustainable through the rest of their lives. And, just maybe, through the lives of us baby boomers.
If only I had been as wise as Loretta with how she took complete control of her life and her future, I would be a less secure man about to entire my sixtieth birthday.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
I Needed A Compliment!
Ha! Ha! I got what I wanted. At no cost to me! And it came with no consideration from the editor of Hernando Today.
When the subscription renewal notice came due from The Tampa Tribune I set it aside while I pondered when I’d have the funds available to submit payment without adding to my credit card debt. Heck, on top of that concern, there’s always those lurking expenses that hang over my head at every turn of the new year like dark clouds of dismal misfortune – property taxes, home insurance and auto insurance, amounts that come due at times that are always inconvenient to my financial situation. Therefore, credit card balance increases give me no recourse but to cut spending… discretionary spending that might otherwise contribute to spurring economic recovery. Admittedly, I don’t like spending money but for necessities.
I had little choice but to place the renewal notice at the back of a stack of other bills that were either due upon receipt or within a two week period. Having provided months of columns of The Rae Way chock full of (too many?) words for what were two ‘contributions’ per week to the editorial pages of Hernando Today and, after dwelling for days as to whether it would be appropriate to do so, I shot off an email to the editor of Hernando Today titled “I need a compliment!” and sheepishly suggested that perhaps the newspaper could help me out with a complimentary subscription. The account number was provided.
Perhaps my mistake was sending the email to Tim Howsare, apparently a subordinate to top dog editor Chris Wessel. I typically sent my columns to both, plus Karen Raimondi, whatever position she holds in the organization. Tim shot off a quick acknowledgement to the request, explaining the decision had to be made by Mr. Wessel. A bit of confusion on my part ensued because Tim’s reply made me realize I had failed to send the request to both men.
The resulting no reply/no acknowledgement to my request meant there was ‘no way’ I would be given what must have been interpreted as an arrogant requisition. Once the deadline for payment for renewal had passed and the Tampa Tribune continued to be delivered, I contacted the newspaper’s circulation department to verify the expiration date and advised the representative I was discontinuing the subscription. I gave the rep a quick rundown on the gratis columns I had provided for Hernando Today and how I had been denied a response to my request of assistance to continue my readership of the Tribune. I expressed no animosity. I followed the general rule of expressing ‘just the facts’ with the attitude ‘that’s the way it is', i.e., whatever...
The representative gave me an offer to discount the regular yearly subscription rate from $118 to $58 but still I declined the attempt to salvage my readership. My decision was just one more hit against the paper’s circulation figures, a major selling point to prospective advertisers. I subsequently discontinued submitting column entries to Hernando Today a week after the subscription was terminated. The final The Rae Way column appeared in the August 1st edition. Good, bad, evil, virtuous – in the words of George Harrison, All Things Must Pass, the most excellent of all after-the-Beatles albums.
Still, I continued to read the Tribune but restricted it to a month of Sunday editions. Actually, it was only three Sunday editions for which I paid a premium price at my local convenience store.
Lo and behold! Just this past week I found myself securing a FREE 7-day non-subscription to the Tampa Tribune. Hot damn! Do I feel like a lucky man! And I didn’t even have to ask; circumstances of their own accord put the daily printed edition of the Tribune once again before my eyes with the resultant additional blackening of my little fingers added to the print from the other newspapers to which I subscribe. (I limit smudge marks around the house with frequent hand-washing.)
There’s no apparent explanation why my request was denied or why there was no response to my request of Hernando Today to provide to me a paid-for subscription to the Tribune. Perhaps contributing reasons were frequent references in my columns to what I had read in The New York Times, The Economist, The Wall Street Journal, plus other periodicals. Free on-line news sources provided filler comments. Perhaps assumptions were made that, since I subscribe to these publications, and surely must pay for the delivery of each, that I have the means to pay-up for The Tampa Tribune as well.
How does the saying go? Something to the effect that only asses make assumptions? Regardless, the means by which I can ‘afford’ to subscribe to numerous newspapers and a couple of magazines is through ‘contributions’ from friends and family members. They know me very well and my habitual fascination with newspapers; it goes back to the days of my youth when the Sunday edition of the Detroit Free Press consumed much of those mornings. I would get upset when sections of the paper were left in disarray by other family members.
Therefore, folks who know me are accustomed to accommodate my request that, rather than give me a birthday or Christmas present, cash in hand allows me to continue my various subscriptions. I can’t even guess the number of near-to-nothing introductory offers for magazines (examples: Time, Bloomberg/Business Week, The New Yorker, Discover) that were never intended to be maintained after the trial period.
Newspapers are my cherished source of current events, the variety of which to some may seem redundant but each newspaper provides an array of different reporting techniques and unique takes on all the news I care to read. The content of multiple sources of editorial pages from these purveyors of news provide me diversified and sundry points of view.
The variety of newspapers has a great, positive effect on my interpretation and understanding of what’s going in the country and the impact of world involvement will have on our national destiny. Unfortunately, what I read quite often leads me to doubt the prospects of protracted American influence in world affairs in the coming decades. Positive takes on economic indicators are most often nullified with facts and figures that reflect the reality of the alarming confrontations to our economy recovery – scary prospects that will forever mold our society into a fashion unlike that of today.
For me, to a large part the importance of local area newspapers has diminished in recent months. The Tampa Tribune lacks the degree of investigative reporting that The St. Petersburg Times provides to its readers – it wasn’t always so. But, Hernando Today by far outshines the pages of Hernando Times. Whereby Hernando Times might have two, sometimes three, pages of news with an occasional commentary from the editorial staff and a few Letters to the Editor, Hernando Today typically has a half dozen pages of news and opinions, although those opinions are quite often repetitive and tilted one-sided in their views – conservative is the descriptive word.
The one saving factor of Hernando Times is the prowess, and importance, of Dan DeWitt’s columns. Many times I’m at a loss at relating to his musings of family, personal experiences and the history of Hernando County. Still, when Dan writes about his nature outings with his son, there’s a bit of envy on my part. Unfortunately, I don’t have social connections who share my love of going places away from congestive communities. But… Dan has quite the ability and a rather impressive technique to write a column that slam-dunks local political figures and their lack of responsible insightful governance; neither do local business figures escape his in-your-face vitriols.
So, I don’t pay for The Tampa Tribune but I’m once again reading its daily printings. Neither do I pay for The St. Petersburg Times but it too finds its way to my home with my neighbor placing the paper against my garage door at the end of each day. Although not quite in the same timely manner, and understandably so, the Sunday edition of The Tennessean is sent by postal service from a friend who lives where I will eventually relocate – Nashville.
When the subscription renewal notice came due from The Tampa Tribune I set it aside while I pondered when I’d have the funds available to submit payment without adding to my credit card debt. Heck, on top of that concern, there’s always those lurking expenses that hang over my head at every turn of the new year like dark clouds of dismal misfortune – property taxes, home insurance and auto insurance, amounts that come due at times that are always inconvenient to my financial situation. Therefore, credit card balance increases give me no recourse but to cut spending… discretionary spending that might otherwise contribute to spurring economic recovery. Admittedly, I don’t like spending money but for necessities.
I had little choice but to place the renewal notice at the back of a stack of other bills that were either due upon receipt or within a two week period. Having provided months of columns of The Rae Way chock full of (too many?) words for what were two ‘contributions’ per week to the editorial pages of Hernando Today and, after dwelling for days as to whether it would be appropriate to do so, I shot off an email to the editor of Hernando Today titled “I need a compliment!” and sheepishly suggested that perhaps the newspaper could help me out with a complimentary subscription. The account number was provided.
Perhaps my mistake was sending the email to Tim Howsare, apparently a subordinate to top dog editor Chris Wessel. I typically sent my columns to both, plus Karen Raimondi, whatever position she holds in the organization. Tim shot off a quick acknowledgement to the request, explaining the decision had to be made by Mr. Wessel. A bit of confusion on my part ensued because Tim’s reply made me realize I had failed to send the request to both men.
The resulting no reply/no acknowledgement to my request meant there was ‘no way’ I would be given what must have been interpreted as an arrogant requisition. Once the deadline for payment for renewal had passed and the Tampa Tribune continued to be delivered, I contacted the newspaper’s circulation department to verify the expiration date and advised the representative I was discontinuing the subscription. I gave the rep a quick rundown on the gratis columns I had provided for Hernando Today and how I had been denied a response to my request of assistance to continue my readership of the Tribune. I expressed no animosity. I followed the general rule of expressing ‘just the facts’ with the attitude ‘that’s the way it is', i.e., whatever...
The representative gave me an offer to discount the regular yearly subscription rate from $118 to $58 but still I declined the attempt to salvage my readership. My decision was just one more hit against the paper’s circulation figures, a major selling point to prospective advertisers. I subsequently discontinued submitting column entries to Hernando Today a week after the subscription was terminated. The final The Rae Way column appeared in the August 1st edition. Good, bad, evil, virtuous – in the words of George Harrison, All Things Must Pass, the most excellent of all after-the-Beatles albums.
Still, I continued to read the Tribune but restricted it to a month of Sunday editions. Actually, it was only three Sunday editions for which I paid a premium price at my local convenience store.
Lo and behold! Just this past week I found myself securing a FREE 7-day non-subscription to the Tampa Tribune. Hot damn! Do I feel like a lucky man! And I didn’t even have to ask; circumstances of their own accord put the daily printed edition of the Tribune once again before my eyes with the resultant additional blackening of my little fingers added to the print from the other newspapers to which I subscribe. (I limit smudge marks around the house with frequent hand-washing.)
There’s no apparent explanation why my request was denied or why there was no response to my request of Hernando Today to provide to me a paid-for subscription to the Tribune. Perhaps contributing reasons were frequent references in my columns to what I had read in The New York Times, The Economist, The Wall Street Journal, plus other periodicals. Free on-line news sources provided filler comments. Perhaps assumptions were made that, since I subscribe to these publications, and surely must pay for the delivery of each, that I have the means to pay-up for The Tampa Tribune as well.
How does the saying go? Something to the effect that only asses make assumptions? Regardless, the means by which I can ‘afford’ to subscribe to numerous newspapers and a couple of magazines is through ‘contributions’ from friends and family members. They know me very well and my habitual fascination with newspapers; it goes back to the days of my youth when the Sunday edition of the Detroit Free Press consumed much of those mornings. I would get upset when sections of the paper were left in disarray by other family members.
Therefore, folks who know me are accustomed to accommodate my request that, rather than give me a birthday or Christmas present, cash in hand allows me to continue my various subscriptions. I can’t even guess the number of near-to-nothing introductory offers for magazines (examples: Time, Bloomberg/Business Week, The New Yorker, Discover) that were never intended to be maintained after the trial period.
Newspapers are my cherished source of current events, the variety of which to some may seem redundant but each newspaper provides an array of different reporting techniques and unique takes on all the news I care to read. The content of multiple sources of editorial pages from these purveyors of news provide me diversified and sundry points of view.
The variety of newspapers has a great, positive effect on my interpretation and understanding of what’s going in the country and the impact of world involvement will have on our national destiny. Unfortunately, what I read quite often leads me to doubt the prospects of protracted American influence in world affairs in the coming decades. Positive takes on economic indicators are most often nullified with facts and figures that reflect the reality of the alarming confrontations to our economy recovery – scary prospects that will forever mold our society into a fashion unlike that of today.
For me, to a large part the importance of local area newspapers has diminished in recent months. The Tampa Tribune lacks the degree of investigative reporting that The St. Petersburg Times provides to its readers – it wasn’t always so. But, Hernando Today by far outshines the pages of Hernando Times. Whereby Hernando Times might have two, sometimes three, pages of news with an occasional commentary from the editorial staff and a few Letters to the Editor, Hernando Today typically has a half dozen pages of news and opinions, although those opinions are quite often repetitive and tilted one-sided in their views – conservative is the descriptive word.
The one saving factor of Hernando Times is the prowess, and importance, of Dan DeWitt’s columns. Many times I’m at a loss at relating to his musings of family, personal experiences and the history of Hernando County. Still, when Dan writes about his nature outings with his son, there’s a bit of envy on my part. Unfortunately, I don’t have social connections who share my love of going places away from congestive communities. But… Dan has quite the ability and a rather impressive technique to write a column that slam-dunks local political figures and their lack of responsible insightful governance; neither do local business figures escape his in-your-face vitriols.
So, I don’t pay for The Tampa Tribune but I’m once again reading its daily printings. Neither do I pay for The St. Petersburg Times but it too finds its way to my home with my neighbor placing the paper against my garage door at the end of each day. Although not quite in the same timely manner, and understandably so, the Sunday edition of The Tennessean is sent by postal service from a friend who lives where I will eventually relocate – Nashville.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Finger Pruning
I have a set routine that, upon completion of a column, of donning a worn out pair of shorts and a dirt-caked, nearly treadless pair of old sneakers for a few hours of yard work. It’s my time of leisure when I dwell on what level of accomplishment I feel about my finished product and to mull over what topic I might choose to write about for the next installment.
First comes the tag-along behind the self-propelled John Deere lawnmower purchased three years ago at a 12-month 0% interest rate. Paid off within the designated period, it paid for itself in less than a year and saved me hundreds of dollars since then as compared to the expense of having a lawn service do the job.
Next, I weed-whack along the edges of the driveway and the adjoining sidewalk leading up the front door step. Quick and simple, I move on to the back yard, a much smaller area but filled with a variety of bushes and flowering greenery, a pleasant view from the back porch.
Such were the beginnings of my activities last week after completing the column ‘Step-momma freight train brash but good-hearted’. It was also on this day that I finally decided to uproot a number of plants left dead from the hard freezes of this past winter, taking careful notice of the slightest bit of green that indicated they might still survive with a bit of special attention, like spot-watering.
Finalizing the day’s work, I began clipping and trimming barren branches on other surviving foliage, such as a little shaping of the East Palatka holly tree just now showing all kinds of new, green leaves after two years of struggling to reach its potential. Well, I’m right-handed but for some reason, which I’ve come assume was the position of the branch the angle of approach, I did a left-hand snip that resulted in a very audible “Ouch!”
More out of shock than actual pain, I had snipped my right forefinger and a bit of blood spurted to the ground. Lapping up a few tasty drops and rinsing it off with the garden hose but still dripping, it seemed no big deal. I was pretty much done for the day so I gathered the garden tools and took a quick shower with tinges of pink splattering through the webbing of the slip-proof bath mat. There was also a visible piece of skin that flapped a bit when I attempted to bend the finger.
By this time, the hurt was upon me, worsened because the cut was right there, on the underside of the second joint of the finger. So, on went an oversized Band-aid with a bit of Neosporin and a piece of gauze to absorb the excess flow.
So here I was with my forefinger temporarily fixed in a straight-out, stationary position. Of course, friends made comments like, “It’s not nice to point your finger at someone.” And, “What are you going to do, pick your nose?” And my retort, “See my finger, see my thumb, they’re shaped like a gun – your life is done!” Haha!
The unintentionally self-inflicted laceration was of course temporary, healed enough within a few days so I could get back to writing, during which time Sheriff Richard Nugent and his band of undercover agents brought to an end the workings of a network of felonious drug dealers. Way to go, guys! for the success of ‘Operation Oxy-Blues’. Hernando County’s top cop justly called this peddling of pain killers of “epidemic” proportions.
Also during those few days of restricted finger mobility, I came upon a (another) couple of people who had just become entrepreneurs of legitimately prescribed oxycodones – validated by means of MRIs consistent with the need of pain medications – with the sole intention of profiteering at the expense of habitual users and possibly at the cost of their lives.
As for myself, the ‘boo-boo’ wouldn’t have warranted an oxy script, but an MRI done this past year, when I had such pains in my lower back I feared my kidneys were failing, showed I have osteoporosis, not from taking hormones as my doctor had questioned, but as a long-term medical side effect from the radical prostatectomy performed eight years ago.
I could, if I should so desire, seek the assistance of a pain management doctor to supplement my monthly income with a fool’s monthly profit of a thousand dollar or more. But my aches are so few that to this day I wouldn’t know I have a back problem if not for the doctor’s diagnosis. And my conscience is clear, unlike that of others.
(There, this blog entry is complete. So out to the yard I go, the Cutco finger-snipping ‘ratchet pruner’ safely placed in the tool box.)
First comes the tag-along behind the self-propelled John Deere lawnmower purchased three years ago at a 12-month 0% interest rate. Paid off within the designated period, it paid for itself in less than a year and saved me hundreds of dollars since then as compared to the expense of having a lawn service do the job.
Next, I weed-whack along the edges of the driveway and the adjoining sidewalk leading up the front door step. Quick and simple, I move on to the back yard, a much smaller area but filled with a variety of bushes and flowering greenery, a pleasant view from the back porch.
Such were the beginnings of my activities last week after completing the column ‘Step-momma freight train brash but good-hearted’. It was also on this day that I finally decided to uproot a number of plants left dead from the hard freezes of this past winter, taking careful notice of the slightest bit of green that indicated they might still survive with a bit of special attention, like spot-watering.
Finalizing the day’s work, I began clipping and trimming barren branches on other surviving foliage, such as a little shaping of the East Palatka holly tree just now showing all kinds of new, green leaves after two years of struggling to reach its potential. Well, I’m right-handed but for some reason, which I’ve come assume was the position of the branch the angle of approach, I did a left-hand snip that resulted in a very audible “Ouch!”
More out of shock than actual pain, I had snipped my right forefinger and a bit of blood spurted to the ground. Lapping up a few tasty drops and rinsing it off with the garden hose but still dripping, it seemed no big deal. I was pretty much done for the day so I gathered the garden tools and took a quick shower with tinges of pink splattering through the webbing of the slip-proof bath mat. There was also a visible piece of skin that flapped a bit when I attempted to bend the finger.
By this time, the hurt was upon me, worsened because the cut was right there, on the underside of the second joint of the finger. So, on went an oversized Band-aid with a bit of Neosporin and a piece of gauze to absorb the excess flow.
So here I was with my forefinger temporarily fixed in a straight-out, stationary position. Of course, friends made comments like, “It’s not nice to point your finger at someone.” And, “What are you going to do, pick your nose?” And my retort, “See my finger, see my thumb, they’re shaped like a gun – your life is done!” Haha!
The unintentionally self-inflicted laceration was of course temporary, healed enough within a few days so I could get back to writing, during which time Sheriff Richard Nugent and his band of undercover agents brought to an end the workings of a network of felonious drug dealers. Way to go, guys! for the success of ‘Operation Oxy-Blues’. Hernando County’s top cop justly called this peddling of pain killers of “epidemic” proportions.
Also during those few days of restricted finger mobility, I came upon a (another) couple of people who had just become entrepreneurs of legitimately prescribed oxycodones – validated by means of MRIs consistent with the need of pain medications – with the sole intention of profiteering at the expense of habitual users and possibly at the cost of their lives.
As for myself, the ‘boo-boo’ wouldn’t have warranted an oxy script, but an MRI done this past year, when I had such pains in my lower back I feared my kidneys were failing, showed I have osteoporosis, not from taking hormones as my doctor had questioned, but as a long-term medical side effect from the radical prostatectomy performed eight years ago.
I could, if I should so desire, seek the assistance of a pain management doctor to supplement my monthly income with a fool’s monthly profit of a thousand dollar or more. But my aches are so few that to this day I wouldn’t know I have a back problem if not for the doctor’s diagnosis. And my conscience is clear, unlike that of others.
(There, this blog entry is complete. So out to the yard I go, the Cutco finger-snipping ‘ratchet pruner’ safely placed in the tool box.)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Summer Me
To paraphrase a line from William Shakespeare’s Richard the Third, Act 1, scene 1, “[Then was] the winter of our discontent.”
Gone are weeks upon weeks of unseasonably cold days and freezing nighttime temperatures, testing the wills of people with the mindset that the Sunshine State should always and forever provide weather conditions conducive to wearing shorts, T-shirts, tank tops and sandals as they bask in the sun beneath the shade of beach umbrellas on sandy beaches or lounging on open air pool decks with coolers filled with such thirst quenchers as bottled water and cans of beer.
Whew! We sure missed out on a lot this past winter! The proof of the matter came with a report from the National Weather Service that the average temperatures in the Tampa Bay area were about seven degrees below normal, the coldest winter since 1914 when data were first kept.
Surely, these past months have led to many a conversation that reinforced some people’s beliefs that the global warming scenario is more a contrived script of fiction than it is a fact of scientific research. Never mind international government assessments to the contrary – a statement released last fall from the G-20 Summit read, “We underscore anew our resolve to take strong action to address the threat of dangerous climate change.”
The few reprieves from global warming chitter-chatter were worrisome exchanges on health care reform, the unwavering disdain between Republicans and Democrats, and the squabble mongering from Tea Party enthusiasts. The unknowns of the health care bill are so numerous that the debate will go on and on for years, as will the daily droll about the weather.
And yet, some of us truly appreciated the brisk, fresh air that provided a respite from using no-drip 12-hour pump pray mists for temporary relief from constant bouts of inflammation of the nasal passages. Too soon, airborne pollen put an end to those free-breathing days; colorful patches of yellow still lay in contrast to the gray-painted floor on my back porch.
People who may have suffered most of all are those stricken with hypothyroidism. Layers upon layers of clothes, including sweatshirts and insulated coats, still left some in bone-rattling shivers. Even prescribed medications were unable to overcome the symptoms of the disease. Since I couldn’t imagine the discomfort, empathy was replaced with sympathy by turning up the thermostat a few degrees.
Fortunately, spring is now securely upon us with daytime temps hovering around eight degrees and, finally, the opportunity to get a little burned while soaking up the warmth of the sun. Caution: melanoma can be safely treated in its early stages – otherwise the cancer can be a life-threatening disease. But, oh, isn’t it so worth it to wear upon the face and body a deep, dark tan?
Within weeks, sunshine supermen will be mowing, trimming, landscaping and sweating under the blazing hot sun through twelve-hour days of sunlight. Soon, a growing number of pickup trucks will be on the roads hauling lawn equipment and loads of debris on trailer-beds. As they add to traffic congestion, and annoy the heck out of aggressive drivers and scare the pants off timid slowpokes, get over yourself and be grateful that hundreds of your fellow citizens will spend a few months making money that hasn’t been there since last fall.
In this economic climate, the added flow of currency will lead to an increase in consumer spending, thus bringing income to local businesses that will need to replace inventory and perhaps add to their payrolls. Anyway, that’s the way capitalism is supposed to work as a means to get us out of our economic doldrums. Most of us have a relative, friend or neighbor who will benefit from what will hopefully be a work-filled rainy season.
We’re also just a few weeks away from hurricane season. It’s an unknown equation but meteorologists foresee increased activity, quite different from the past few years. If El Nino weakens this year as predicted, Florida may see its first named hurricane hit landfall since Wilma crossed over the southern part of the state in October 2005.
That said, a heavy rainfall might also shake and shimmy your home and bodies as layers of limestone crumble beneath the sandy surface and create the dreaded sinkhole.
Never mind the falderal. It's all iffy stuff anyway. Duke ended March Madness winning the 2010 NCAA Tournament Championship. Tiger Woods is back in the swinger’s circuit in the Masters. The Red Sox won the MLB season opener. There you have it – baseball, the quintessential sign of summer. Water parks, barbeques and vacation trips are just a flip of the calendar away.
Winter has passed. Spring is here. But to quote Henry James, “Summer afternoon, Summer afternoon… the two most beautiful words in the English language.”
Gone are weeks upon weeks of unseasonably cold days and freezing nighttime temperatures, testing the wills of people with the mindset that the Sunshine State should always and forever provide weather conditions conducive to wearing shorts, T-shirts, tank tops and sandals as they bask in the sun beneath the shade of beach umbrellas on sandy beaches or lounging on open air pool decks with coolers filled with such thirst quenchers as bottled water and cans of beer.
Whew! We sure missed out on a lot this past winter! The proof of the matter came with a report from the National Weather Service that the average temperatures in the Tampa Bay area were about seven degrees below normal, the coldest winter since 1914 when data were first kept.
Surely, these past months have led to many a conversation that reinforced some people’s beliefs that the global warming scenario is more a contrived script of fiction than it is a fact of scientific research. Never mind international government assessments to the contrary – a statement released last fall from the G-20 Summit read, “We underscore anew our resolve to take strong action to address the threat of dangerous climate change.”
The few reprieves from global warming chitter-chatter were worrisome exchanges on health care reform, the unwavering disdain between Republicans and Democrats, and the squabble mongering from Tea Party enthusiasts. The unknowns of the health care bill are so numerous that the debate will go on and on for years, as will the daily droll about the weather.
And yet, some of us truly appreciated the brisk, fresh air that provided a respite from using no-drip 12-hour pump pray mists for temporary relief from constant bouts of inflammation of the nasal passages. Too soon, airborne pollen put an end to those free-breathing days; colorful patches of yellow still lay in contrast to the gray-painted floor on my back porch.
People who may have suffered most of all are those stricken with hypothyroidism. Layers upon layers of clothes, including sweatshirts and insulated coats, still left some in bone-rattling shivers. Even prescribed medications were unable to overcome the symptoms of the disease. Since I couldn’t imagine the discomfort, empathy was replaced with sympathy by turning up the thermostat a few degrees.
Fortunately, spring is now securely upon us with daytime temps hovering around eight degrees and, finally, the opportunity to get a little burned while soaking up the warmth of the sun. Caution: melanoma can be safely treated in its early stages – otherwise the cancer can be a life-threatening disease. But, oh, isn’t it so worth it to wear upon the face and body a deep, dark tan?
Within weeks, sunshine supermen will be mowing, trimming, landscaping and sweating under the blazing hot sun through twelve-hour days of sunlight. Soon, a growing number of pickup trucks will be on the roads hauling lawn equipment and loads of debris on trailer-beds. As they add to traffic congestion, and annoy the heck out of aggressive drivers and scare the pants off timid slowpokes, get over yourself and be grateful that hundreds of your fellow citizens will spend a few months making money that hasn’t been there since last fall.
In this economic climate, the added flow of currency will lead to an increase in consumer spending, thus bringing income to local businesses that will need to replace inventory and perhaps add to their payrolls. Anyway, that’s the way capitalism is supposed to work as a means to get us out of our economic doldrums. Most of us have a relative, friend or neighbor who will benefit from what will hopefully be a work-filled rainy season.
We’re also just a few weeks away from hurricane season. It’s an unknown equation but meteorologists foresee increased activity, quite different from the past few years. If El Nino weakens this year as predicted, Florida may see its first named hurricane hit landfall since Wilma crossed over the southern part of the state in October 2005.
That said, a heavy rainfall might also shake and shimmy your home and bodies as layers of limestone crumble beneath the sandy surface and create the dreaded sinkhole.
Never mind the falderal. It's all iffy stuff anyway. Duke ended March Madness winning the 2010 NCAA Tournament Championship. Tiger Woods is back in the swinger’s circuit in the Masters. The Red Sox won the MLB season opener. There you have it – baseball, the quintessential sign of summer. Water parks, barbeques and vacation trips are just a flip of the calendar away.
Winter has passed. Spring is here. But to quote Henry James, “Summer afternoon, Summer afternoon… the two most beautiful words in the English language.”
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Hurricane Job Market
Here we are just a few weeks away from the first of June and if you care to put any degree of validity to the experts, for a full six months, through November 30, our concerns and fears will be heightened with predictions that the 2010 Atlantic hurricane season will be active and very possibly severe.
AccuWeather meteorologist Joe Bastardi forecasts 16-18 tropical storms, 15 of which will hit the Atlantic coastline or the Gulf of Mexico. Of seven landfalls, five will be hurricanes and two or three will be major threats to the U.S.
As Bastardi had predicted, the 2009 hurricane season brought 11 tropical depressions and only nine developed into tropical storms, the lowest number since 1997.
Dr. William Gray of Colorado State University, who has made seasonal hurricane predictions since 1984, foresees a 64% chance of landfall along the Atlantic coastline, and a 40% likelihood that Florida will be affected. Respectively, historical averages are 52%, 31% and 30%.
The forecast release this past December concludes there will be 11-16 named tropical storms, 6-8 hurricanes and 3-5 major hurricanes, all of which are considerably higher than statistical data would indicate. Updates will be issued April 8, June 2 and August 4.
During a discussion with a new acquaintance, Linda and I touched upon the affects that a major hurricane would have on the Florida economy. I made reference to the $4.5 billion in assets in the Florida Hurricane Catastrophe Fund, which, by its own analysis, will be seriously short of covering potential claims that could exceed $28 billion in a severe season. Since she’s not a homeowner, I discounted the importance of mentioning to Linda the additional ‘assessments’ that would be placed on insurance policies. She had other thoughts on her mind.
To go back a couple of steps, the conversation actually began with Linda relating events in her life that began shortly after graduating from high school, where she had been an academically excellent student, an accomplished athlete and socially popular.
Linda had intentions to attend the University of Florida but an unplanned pregnancy left her an unwed mother and kept her from joining her friends on the path to higher education. She vacated her home when she realized the live-in boyfriend/father was smoking crack. This was the first of three homes her well-to-do father would buy for her over the next ten years.
As Linda explained other circumstances in her life, I had to agree with her self-appraisal that she’s a smart person who doesn’t make smart decisions. Her second relationship began with a hopeful marriage but her bipolar condition contributed to her filing for divorce from a husband who had become a successful businessman. She had full custody of the two boys and a third son who was fathered by a second husband – another bad choice with drugs again the cause for divorce.
Nearly 30 years old now, her three boys are 4, 9 and 11 years old. She no longer has custody of any. The oldest lives with Lisa’s mother. The middle child lives with the successful ex-husband. The youngest one is in a foster home in Wisconsin.
After first being under-employed then eventually unemployed for the past three years, Linda and her current husband, Jacob, moved to Wisconsin with a guaranteed job making minimum wage. They regretted the move – she was jailed for beating the crap out of Jacob when he blocked her ability to access all banking and credit card accounts as a result of a heated exchange of words that were incited by her sister-in-law, whose call to 911 placed Linda in police custody. Jacob surrendered the baby to foster care because he wasn’t able to hold on to the job.
Things worsened when they moved back to Florida. Still with no job, Jacob was forced sell his prescribed painkillers just to make ends meet. Still not enough for the two of them to get by on, he’s now faced with three to five years in prison for drug trafficking with a fraudulent prescription. Linda now works in an out-of-the-way strip club. Just to accumulate enough cash to post bail, I assure you.
Chances are none of these events would have taken place if construction work hadn’t bottomed out as a result of the recession. Jacob had been earning nearly $20/hour as a roofer. Even though Jacob hadn’t fathered any of the boys, the family of five had been very happy. They called him “daddy”.
Thinking of the situations Lisa and Jacob endured, I suggested that even a mild hurricane season could put thousands, of construction laborers back to work. The 15.1% unemployment rate in Hernando County would decrease, if only temporarily.
Linda agreed. Neither of us liked the idea but…
[Note: The events are factual. The names are fictional.]
AccuWeather meteorologist Joe Bastardi forecasts 16-18 tropical storms, 15 of which will hit the Atlantic coastline or the Gulf of Mexico. Of seven landfalls, five will be hurricanes and two or three will be major threats to the U.S.
As Bastardi had predicted, the 2009 hurricane season brought 11 tropical depressions and only nine developed into tropical storms, the lowest number since 1997.
Dr. William Gray of Colorado State University, who has made seasonal hurricane predictions since 1984, foresees a 64% chance of landfall along the Atlantic coastline, and a 40% likelihood that Florida will be affected. Respectively, historical averages are 52%, 31% and 30%.
The forecast release this past December concludes there will be 11-16 named tropical storms, 6-8 hurricanes and 3-5 major hurricanes, all of which are considerably higher than statistical data would indicate. Updates will be issued April 8, June 2 and August 4.
During a discussion with a new acquaintance, Linda and I touched upon the affects that a major hurricane would have on the Florida economy. I made reference to the $4.5 billion in assets in the Florida Hurricane Catastrophe Fund, which, by its own analysis, will be seriously short of covering potential claims that could exceed $28 billion in a severe season. Since she’s not a homeowner, I discounted the importance of mentioning to Linda the additional ‘assessments’ that would be placed on insurance policies. She had other thoughts on her mind.
To go back a couple of steps, the conversation actually began with Linda relating events in her life that began shortly after graduating from high school, where she had been an academically excellent student, an accomplished athlete and socially popular.
Linda had intentions to attend the University of Florida but an unplanned pregnancy left her an unwed mother and kept her from joining her friends on the path to higher education. She vacated her home when she realized the live-in boyfriend/father was smoking crack. This was the first of three homes her well-to-do father would buy for her over the next ten years.
As Linda explained other circumstances in her life, I had to agree with her self-appraisal that she’s a smart person who doesn’t make smart decisions. Her second relationship began with a hopeful marriage but her bipolar condition contributed to her filing for divorce from a husband who had become a successful businessman. She had full custody of the two boys and a third son who was fathered by a second husband – another bad choice with drugs again the cause for divorce.
Nearly 30 years old now, her three boys are 4, 9 and 11 years old. She no longer has custody of any. The oldest lives with Lisa’s mother. The middle child lives with the successful ex-husband. The youngest one is in a foster home in Wisconsin.
After first being under-employed then eventually unemployed for the past three years, Linda and her current husband, Jacob, moved to Wisconsin with a guaranteed job making minimum wage. They regretted the move – she was jailed for beating the crap out of Jacob when he blocked her ability to access all banking and credit card accounts as a result of a heated exchange of words that were incited by her sister-in-law, whose call to 911 placed Linda in police custody. Jacob surrendered the baby to foster care because he wasn’t able to hold on to the job.
Things worsened when they moved back to Florida. Still with no job, Jacob was forced sell his prescribed painkillers just to make ends meet. Still not enough for the two of them to get by on, he’s now faced with three to five years in prison for drug trafficking with a fraudulent prescription. Linda now works in an out-of-the-way strip club. Just to accumulate enough cash to post bail, I assure you.
Chances are none of these events would have taken place if construction work hadn’t bottomed out as a result of the recession. Jacob had been earning nearly $20/hour as a roofer. Even though Jacob hadn’t fathered any of the boys, the family of five had been very happy. They called him “daddy”.
Thinking of the situations Lisa and Jacob endured, I suggested that even a mild hurricane season could put thousands, of construction laborers back to work. The 15.1% unemployment rate in Hernando County would decrease, if only temporarily.
Linda agreed. Neither of us liked the idea but…
[Note: The events are factual. The names are fictional.]
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