Nearly 40 years ago, in 1971, there were two books that consumed much of my summer reading. Hardcover printings that had been at the top of The NY Times Bestseller List from winter to spring became paperbacks and, perhaps by mere chance, helped prepare me for the segue from rural, farm life to urban, city living.
Two years out of high school, while living at home and working as an electronics engineer at a radio station with the simplistic job of logging several meter-readings at frequent intervals and performing general maintenance, there was plenty of time to concentrate on the immediate future as the move from Michigan to Florida was destined to occur in October.
Charles A. Reich, Professor at Yale Law School, authored The Greening of America with chapters of progressive intuition on how The Corporate State would transform society into one that puts corporate successes as the perceived champion of family values and the executor of social, if not moral, prejudices. All in the name of The Company.
Reich presented the concept of levels of Consciousness I, II and III: an eagerness to comply with new traditions; materialism that originates from the manipulative greed of corporations; the populous that would come to reject decades of false promises and return to the roots of individuality and self-destiny.
Reich defined the influences that corporations would have on how workers “spend” their leisure time and instill in them the conviction that over a lifetime of employment, the accumulation of personal wealth would allow them to maintain purchasing power through years of retirement – a perpetual spending spree.
Baby boomers were the first casualties of lost identity, where the fondness of ‘a patron’ became the detachment of being price-tagged as ‘the consumer’. Yet Reich was enthralled with the counterculture revolution and repeatedly expressed his belief that the youth generation of the 60s would transform America into a socialistic communal society dressed in beads, tie-die shirts, blue jeans and sandals. At times the book became rather tedious, a fanciful idea considering the overindulgence of music and drugs, and primal sex.
Timothy Leary, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, et al, were heroes to the flower children and, in the summer of ’69, Woodstock became the monumental tribute to the excesses of the first generation to reap the benefits of economic growth of post-WWII America.
With all the hippie proclamations of living as one with nature, Yasgur’s 600-acre dairy farm was nearly demolished by an estimated 500,000 people during the 3-day music extravaganza. A year later, Max Yagur was awarded a $50,000 settlement for property destruction – $300,000 in 2009 dollars.
The primary green in the minds of the flower children were marijuana buds and the sought-after bi-products of poppy plants. I never bought into the idea that flower power was about peace, love and brotherhood.
If anything, Woodstock marked the beginning of the end of this ideology. Students returned to college, dwelled on what changes they might make for whatever new world order they could conjure, then quickly abandoned their philosophies to join the Corporate State of riding the upward tailwinds of success. Quite so, the greening of their pocketbooks.
Over these past decades there has been a progressive deterioration of the environment. America remains the largest contributor to global warming. Industry has polluted lakes and rivers with toxic runoffs of chemically enriched fertilizers that strip the earth of natural minerals and create health hazards to all living things. Overuse of pesticides may be a cause of the loss of billions of honeybees by attacking their immune systems.
Baby Boomers have also compromised their environmental concerns by endangering ecosystems as they’ve played the part of the Company Man and willed the expansion of urban sprawl.
With all the huff-huff about anti-establishmentariansism, most melded into society as if from a pre-subscribed yet post-dated prescription to materialism, as preordained by The Corporate State.
Of course, most of us Boomers were simply living our lives as presented to us by the more ambitious and presumably more intelligent. As it turned out, we became a lost generation as exemplified, also in 1971, by rock group Ten Years After:
“I’d love to change the world, but I don’t know what to do. So I leave it up to you.”
As I headed south along I-75 in October 1971, it appeared I was destined to be among the consummate nonconformists, neither a part of The Corporate State nor “in” with the In Crowd. I knew not how my life would unfold but as time has proven, there was little doubt I would do it The Rae Way.
Oh, the other book from the summer of ’71? Later…
Monday, April 6, 2009
Future Shock
Anyone who spent a part of 1971 reading ‘The Greening of America’ by Charles A. Reich probably had a copy of Alvin Toffler’s ‘Future Shock’. The two books went hand-in-hand as America was experiencing some very tumultuous times – the Cold War, the Kennedy assassination, the Viet Nam war, the hippie culture, hallucinogenic drugs. Plus race riots and student protests that led to dozens of Americans being killed.
‘The Greening of America’ dawdled on the pollution of individuality by the manipulative influences of the Corporate State, touted then-present day smoke-enhanced communal love-ins and proclaimed a social revolution would be forthcoming to salvage mankind from a contrived molding of society by Big Business, the Big Brother partner of Big Government.
‘Future Shock’ drew a chalk line before the reader’s eyes and before you could say, “Go!” fate would prove the checkered flag to be an illusory goal in a progressively changing world. Defined by the author, future shock is “too much change in too short a period of time”. An appropriate sub-title would have been ‘Freak Out - Get a Grip’!
A renowned futurist, Toffler foresaw the break-up of the 22 Regional Bell Operating Companies (RBOCs) under the AT&T umbrella, which became the cornerstone settlement of the 1984 antitrust case by Federal District Judge Harold Green who set up the seven “Baby Bells”.
A personal episode of drastic change occurred in the ‘80s while employed as a technician analyzing and coordinating the repair of data communications circuits leased by large corporations, such as aerospace and defense contractors Rockwell, General Dynamics, Northrup and Lockheed. In 1982, Pacific Bell, my employer, had three mega test centers in the LA area, each with over 250 employees. Due to deregulation, by 1987 each office held less than 80 positions, with company exit strategies in place for laggards-on. Now, twenty years on, telecom innovations still generate shock talk, with consumers seeking ever more wireless enhancements.
Relocation to Florida found temporary security as a service representative to consumer, then business customers. Little more than ten years later, as RBOCs like BellSouth lost long distance revenues and large shares of local service to independent providers, I was affectively nudged to early retirement as younger employees found the value of selling add-on services (too often without customer consent and other times misrepresented with misquoted charges and unspoken terms of acceptance) rather than providing customer service as had been ingrained into us old-timers. Whether addressing billing discrepancies or service outages, the goal was to Sell! Sell! Sell! Compromising integrity was never negotiable.
Toffler professed that the momentum of change accelerates until ‘information overload’ leaves individuals, social networks, businesses and governments disoriented and confused with a breakdown of decision-making. Sound familiar? Healthcare, war, drugs, terrorism, the environment, globalization, digital technologies, immigration… and banking.
Toffler has been adamant that the answer to the challenges of rampant change is through education. I quote: “The illiterate of the future are not those that cannot read or write. They are those that can not learn, unlearn, relearn."
As if to highlight the failings of education in the United States, according to ACT, a nonprofit organization that institutes college entrance exam tests, only 26% of high school students are prepared for college-level studies; 19% aren’t adequately prepared in the core areas of English, math, science and social studies. Shocking!
The New York Times reported, “A recent study by researchers at the University of California, Irvine, found that a third of students surveyed said that they expected B’s just for attending lectures, and 40 percent said they deserved a B for completing the required reading.” Sounds shockingly like future executives of institutions and their views on self-deserving bonuses despite their failures!
This entitlement of mediocrity among Americans has long been a reason for corporate recruitment of foreign intellectuals, whose visas are quickly revoked at the loss of employment, subjecting them to deportation. And yet, millions of illegal immigrants with high levels of ignorance remain willfully undocumented foreign homesteaders. Shocking!
With March unemployment figures exceeding 660,00 and with all appearances suggesting a sustainable decline of American jobs, the current 5 million jobless may double. Perhaps the March unemployment rate of 8.5% will top 10% by year’s end? A truly shocking outlook of the future.
‘The Greening of America’ was a smorgasbord of social tidbits foreseen to bring a revolution to the consciousness of the populace to such levels that there would be a reinvention of the self in society. Well, the leaves that were green have all turned brown.
‘Future Shock’ continues to provide the self a reward for having the intuition to serve up a balanced diet of constant learning. The just dessert is a future less shocking to the individual’s consciousness. Still, future shock will always be before us.
‘The Greening of America’ dawdled on the pollution of individuality by the manipulative influences of the Corporate State, touted then-present day smoke-enhanced communal love-ins and proclaimed a social revolution would be forthcoming to salvage mankind from a contrived molding of society by Big Business, the Big Brother partner of Big Government.
‘Future Shock’ drew a chalk line before the reader’s eyes and before you could say, “Go!” fate would prove the checkered flag to be an illusory goal in a progressively changing world. Defined by the author, future shock is “too much change in too short a period of time”. An appropriate sub-title would have been ‘Freak Out - Get a Grip’!
A renowned futurist, Toffler foresaw the break-up of the 22 Regional Bell Operating Companies (RBOCs) under the AT&T umbrella, which became the cornerstone settlement of the 1984 antitrust case by Federal District Judge Harold Green who set up the seven “Baby Bells”.
A personal episode of drastic change occurred in the ‘80s while employed as a technician analyzing and coordinating the repair of data communications circuits leased by large corporations, such as aerospace and defense contractors Rockwell, General Dynamics, Northrup and Lockheed. In 1982, Pacific Bell, my employer, had three mega test centers in the LA area, each with over 250 employees. Due to deregulation, by 1987 each office held less than 80 positions, with company exit strategies in place for laggards-on. Now, twenty years on, telecom innovations still generate shock talk, with consumers seeking ever more wireless enhancements.
Relocation to Florida found temporary security as a service representative to consumer, then business customers. Little more than ten years later, as RBOCs like BellSouth lost long distance revenues and large shares of local service to independent providers, I was affectively nudged to early retirement as younger employees found the value of selling add-on services (too often without customer consent and other times misrepresented with misquoted charges and unspoken terms of acceptance) rather than providing customer service as had been ingrained into us old-timers. Whether addressing billing discrepancies or service outages, the goal was to Sell! Sell! Sell! Compromising integrity was never negotiable.
Toffler professed that the momentum of change accelerates until ‘information overload’ leaves individuals, social networks, businesses and governments disoriented and confused with a breakdown of decision-making. Sound familiar? Healthcare, war, drugs, terrorism, the environment, globalization, digital technologies, immigration… and banking.
Toffler has been adamant that the answer to the challenges of rampant change is through education. I quote: “The illiterate of the future are not those that cannot read or write. They are those that can not learn, unlearn, relearn."
As if to highlight the failings of education in the United States, according to ACT, a nonprofit organization that institutes college entrance exam tests, only 26% of high school students are prepared for college-level studies; 19% aren’t adequately prepared in the core areas of English, math, science and social studies. Shocking!
The New York Times reported, “A recent study by researchers at the University of California, Irvine, found that a third of students surveyed said that they expected B’s just for attending lectures, and 40 percent said they deserved a B for completing the required reading.” Sounds shockingly like future executives of institutions and their views on self-deserving bonuses despite their failures!
This entitlement of mediocrity among Americans has long been a reason for corporate recruitment of foreign intellectuals, whose visas are quickly revoked at the loss of employment, subjecting them to deportation. And yet, millions of illegal immigrants with high levels of ignorance remain willfully undocumented foreign homesteaders. Shocking!
With March unemployment figures exceeding 660,00 and with all appearances suggesting a sustainable decline of American jobs, the current 5 million jobless may double. Perhaps the March unemployment rate of 8.5% will top 10% by year’s end? A truly shocking outlook of the future.
‘The Greening of America’ was a smorgasbord of social tidbits foreseen to bring a revolution to the consciousness of the populace to such levels that there would be a reinvention of the self in society. Well, the leaves that were green have all turned brown.
‘Future Shock’ continues to provide the self a reward for having the intuition to serve up a balanced diet of constant learning. The just dessert is a future less shocking to the individual’s consciousness. Still, future shock will always be before us.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Don't forget the dental floss
A friend once asked, Don’t you ever run out of things to write about?, to which I smiled, chuckled and gave the simple reply, No. A current event, a discussion or a social observation might trigger a thought process that finds find my fingertips streaming along the keyboard. In this instance, a personal experience bring these words to print.
A twelve-inch piece of dental floss and the subsequent expense of one thousand, one hundred seventy five dollars and twenty-five cents have led to comments on health care.
When the veterinarian quoted the seemingly astronomical figure to save the life of my Burmese cat Elvis, the dearest of my animal friends, I barely flinched. Rather than dwell on dollar signs, my mind centered on the tragic event caused by leaving the floss on the bathroom sink and how I had cost my three year old cat two or more of his lives. The vet explained that other pet owners are frequently faced with circumstances similar to mine. The nylon thread was imbedded in the intestinal wall, thus necessitating surgery.
As I waited for x-rays to be taken, my eyes gazed upon a pamphlet that displayed the threats of periodontal disease of cats and dogs. The heart, kidneys and liver absorb toxins from the poor condition of the teeth and gums. I was already familiar with the danger to the human heart and shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that all mammals are subject to the same health dangers.
I’ve spent three decades attempting to preserve my teeth and gums by flossing, gargle-washing and brushing at least twice daily. Twenty years ago periodontal surgery was necessary and this past fall molars had to be extracted. Quarterly check-ups and the guidance of periodontists throughout the years hadn’t prevented the worsening of the condition.
In some cases periodontal disease is hereditary. I assume this the case in my instance since I remember how Mom flossed fastidiously, although there is no known family history to claim this as fact.
Poor tooth and gum care aren’t the only causes of periodontal disease. Since diabetics are inherently susceptible to contracting infections, gum disease is one of the acknowledged complications. If not treated, periodontal patients are also at risk of developing diabetes, which can lead to nerve damage and eye and heart diseases.
Simply put, oral bacteria enters the blood stream, becomes attached to fatty plaques in the coronary arteries and contributes to clot formation, restricting normal blood flow and robbing the nutrients and oxygen required for the heart to function properly. This may lead to a stroke or heart attack.
High levels of stress (think financial worries) increase the likelihood of gum disease two-fold. The lack of proper care during troubling episodes of adulthood can be an attributing factor as a result of a regimented routine being disrupted. Good habits can die quick.
Periodontal disease is the number one cause of tooth loss. According to a 1996 American Dental Association/Colgate survey, U.S. dentists say gum disease is a more pressing oral health concern than tooth decay by a 2-to-1 margin.
Studies have also found that rheumatoid arthritis patients are nearly eight times more likely to have periodontal disease. And although studies have found 60% of periodontal patients are twice as likely to have chronic kidney disease, more research needs to be done to link the two together.
During periods of hormonal changes, such as puberty, menstruation and menopause, women become more susceptible to gum disease. Pregnant women are said to be seven times more likely to deliver pre-term, low birth weight babies.
The first signal of gum disease, gingivitis, is sensitivity to hot and cold liquids. The build-up of plaque (tartar) along the gum line due in swollen gums and possible bleeding. Pockets develop as irreversible bone loss leads to further irritation to the gums.
This leads me to concerns about the discussion of health care reform. Unless dental care is inclusive to the dialogue, the health of millions of Americans will remain at a high-risk level. Data from 2005 shows $86.6B was spent on dental care (44% out-of-pocket, 50% private insurance and 6% paid through public programs). And yet, 70% of Americans have no dental coverage and of that figure, 35% forgo an annual dental check-up.
Universal health care isn’t likely to resolve the shortcomings of the medical necessities for the populous. Overall costs could be contained with minimal dental coverage. Without this consideration, gum disease will leave millions of Americans requiring unnecessary medical attention for deteriorating heart, kidney and liver conditions.
Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, “survival of the fittest”, specifically applies to those with periodontal disease. Dental care coverage could curb eventual medical expenses and save lives.
A twelve-inch piece of dental floss and the subsequent expense of one thousand, one hundred seventy five dollars and twenty-five cents have led to comments on health care.
When the veterinarian quoted the seemingly astronomical figure to save the life of my Burmese cat Elvis, the dearest of my animal friends, I barely flinched. Rather than dwell on dollar signs, my mind centered on the tragic event caused by leaving the floss on the bathroom sink and how I had cost my three year old cat two or more of his lives. The vet explained that other pet owners are frequently faced with circumstances similar to mine. The nylon thread was imbedded in the intestinal wall, thus necessitating surgery.
As I waited for x-rays to be taken, my eyes gazed upon a pamphlet that displayed the threats of periodontal disease of cats and dogs. The heart, kidneys and liver absorb toxins from the poor condition of the teeth and gums. I was already familiar with the danger to the human heart and shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that all mammals are subject to the same health dangers.
I’ve spent three decades attempting to preserve my teeth and gums by flossing, gargle-washing and brushing at least twice daily. Twenty years ago periodontal surgery was necessary and this past fall molars had to be extracted. Quarterly check-ups and the guidance of periodontists throughout the years hadn’t prevented the worsening of the condition.
In some cases periodontal disease is hereditary. I assume this the case in my instance since I remember how Mom flossed fastidiously, although there is no known family history to claim this as fact.
Poor tooth and gum care aren’t the only causes of periodontal disease. Since diabetics are inherently susceptible to contracting infections, gum disease is one of the acknowledged complications. If not treated, periodontal patients are also at risk of developing diabetes, which can lead to nerve damage and eye and heart diseases.
Simply put, oral bacteria enters the blood stream, becomes attached to fatty plaques in the coronary arteries and contributes to clot formation, restricting normal blood flow and robbing the nutrients and oxygen required for the heart to function properly. This may lead to a stroke or heart attack.
High levels of stress (think financial worries) increase the likelihood of gum disease two-fold. The lack of proper care during troubling episodes of adulthood can be an attributing factor as a result of a regimented routine being disrupted. Good habits can die quick.
Periodontal disease is the number one cause of tooth loss. According to a 1996 American Dental Association/Colgate survey, U.S. dentists say gum disease is a more pressing oral health concern than tooth decay by a 2-to-1 margin.
Studies have also found that rheumatoid arthritis patients are nearly eight times more likely to have periodontal disease. And although studies have found 60% of periodontal patients are twice as likely to have chronic kidney disease, more research needs to be done to link the two together.
During periods of hormonal changes, such as puberty, menstruation and menopause, women become more susceptible to gum disease. Pregnant women are said to be seven times more likely to deliver pre-term, low birth weight babies.
The first signal of gum disease, gingivitis, is sensitivity to hot and cold liquids. The build-up of plaque (tartar) along the gum line due in swollen gums and possible bleeding. Pockets develop as irreversible bone loss leads to further irritation to the gums.
This leads me to concerns about the discussion of health care reform. Unless dental care is inclusive to the dialogue, the health of millions of Americans will remain at a high-risk level. Data from 2005 shows $86.6B was spent on dental care (44% out-of-pocket, 50% private insurance and 6% paid through public programs). And yet, 70% of Americans have no dental coverage and of that figure, 35% forgo an annual dental check-up.
Universal health care isn’t likely to resolve the shortcomings of the medical necessities for the populous. Overall costs could be contained with minimal dental coverage. Without this consideration, gum disease will leave millions of Americans requiring unnecessary medical attention for deteriorating heart, kidney and liver conditions.
Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, “survival of the fittest”, specifically applies to those with periodontal disease. Dental care coverage could curb eventual medical expenses and save lives.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Life of the P-a-r-t-e-e!!!!!!!!!!!
Went to my neice's wedding on VALENTINES DAY when Heather and Phil tied the knot. After the reception dinner (wasn't very good but the open bar made up for it!)the dancin' began!!!!!
And there I was justa hip-hoppin' and boolie-boppin' to e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e-s shock and surprise!!!
I was cooooooooooooooler than all those 20-somethings!!!
Even my 16-year old neice, Taylor, and her two cousins, Rachel and Hannah, were bugged-eyed at my smooth moooooooooves and flashy grooooooooves!
Then.... the DJ got everyone in a circle, chose 4 in the middle to get everybody else dancin'.......... he played Y M C A!!! It was a hoot!!! Couldnta been better if I'd had a toot!!!!!!
Yep, I was in my element and, yet, I haven't been out dancin' in a club for... I don't know for sure... must be over FIVE years!!!!! I had so much fun.
I'll probably be reminded when the event comes out on video!
And there I was justa hip-hoppin' and boolie-boppin' to e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e-s shock and surprise!!!
I was cooooooooooooooler than all those 20-somethings!!!
Even my 16-year old neice, Taylor, and her two cousins, Rachel and Hannah, were bugged-eyed at my smooth moooooooooves and flashy grooooooooves!
Then.... the DJ got everyone in a circle, chose 4 in the middle to get everybody else dancin'.......... he played Y M C A!!! It was a hoot!!! Couldnta been better if I'd had a toot!!!!!!
Yep, I was in my element and, yet, I haven't been out dancin' in a club for... I don't know for sure... must be over FIVE years!!!!! I had so much fun.
I'll probably be reminded when the event comes out on video!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Conservative Me
When I purchased my first home at age 40, I took the conservative route imbedded in my rational thought process from childhood. Farmers don’t lead extravagant life styles and, as was the case with my family, vacations are few and far between so money is very precious.
If it weren’t for weekend trips “up north” Cranberry Lake near Houghton, MI, which was a mere two hour ride, and if not for the cabin built by Uncle Jerry, there would have been no vacations. Fortunately, Jerry and Ethelyn gave us four kids many summer trips to the cabin while dad and mom enjoyed a few peaceful days alone.
In the early 60’s the tranquility of rowboat fishing and dog-paddling around the dock, which Jerry had also built, gave me the best of summers. Coleman lanterns, a gas stove, a grill and a flashlight for those frightful tip-tow nighttime trips to that god-awful, spider-infested, gross-smelling outhouse were exciting experiences. They give me happy-heart memories. I’m still grateful for the simple things in my life.
I couldn’t have wanted for more. Having food a-plenty and a safe, secure and loving home life with a brother and sisters to play with were sufficient. My best friend, Chucky, whose dad worked at the Oldsmobile factory in Lansing, went on vacations to such places as Yellowstone. I was invited to go along but no one, not even Chucky, felt the degree of dismay as myself. It had nothing to do with me personally; it was asthma that kept me feeling down on the farm.
What was initially a bit of jealousy was quickly replaced with the sad fact that I would miss a significant part of the summer without bike riding, playing ball and the little adventures a couple of buddies have as kids. Those two weeks were among the worst of my life.
I’m liberal with some of my thoughts, but for the most part I lay in a stagnant pool of conservatism. Since I didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Jones, thus having no one to keep up with, and a non-player of the social games that people play, when I sought the help of what’s-his-name, who was more a realtor than a friend, my goal was to take on a home loan that would leave me secure in a castle but well within my financial means.
I ignored words that told me that told me I could afford a home of such-and-such a value. I ignored the suggestion that an adjustable rate mortgage would be right for me but I feared it would cost me an arm and a leg if/when rates went up. After a couple of years I refinanced, not only reducing the monthly payments but also narrowing the freedom of owning the home outright from 25 to 15 years and still chipping away until it was paid off a year earlier.
I followed the same course of reasoning when I moved from Orlando to Spring Hill. I got more home for less money with cash left over that was spent on upgrading carpeting and kitchen appliances, painting the interior with semi-gloss for longer lasting, more easily maintained walls and buying a 48” plasma TV. For the most part, these were true investments. Although there’s too much credit card debt thanks to home insurance, property taxes and “the unexpecteds” of life, I’m still a mortgage-free homeowner, guaranteed to have a roof over my head.
I had the same philosophy of survival when I left home at the age of 20 with all my belongings stacked in a wholly-owned ’69 Gremlin with enough saved for a year’s rent paid in advance. No one could understand my reasoning but, since I was all alone and insecure in foreign surroundings, I could fill my tummy with many nights of macaroni and cheese, which is healthy gourmet food at that age, without the worry of living on the street or, heaven forbid, giving up and retreating to the given security of living in someone else’s home, namely my parents. I was young, free, determined and responsible enough to make it on my own. Living conservatively has always fit like a glove to my needs.
If it weren’t for weekend trips “up north” Cranberry Lake near Houghton, MI, which was a mere two hour ride, and if not for the cabin built by Uncle Jerry, there would have been no vacations. Fortunately, Jerry and Ethelyn gave us four kids many summer trips to the cabin while dad and mom enjoyed a few peaceful days alone.
In the early 60’s the tranquility of rowboat fishing and dog-paddling around the dock, which Jerry had also built, gave me the best of summers. Coleman lanterns, a gas stove, a grill and a flashlight for those frightful tip-tow nighttime trips to that god-awful, spider-infested, gross-smelling outhouse were exciting experiences. They give me happy-heart memories. I’m still grateful for the simple things in my life.
I couldn’t have wanted for more. Having food a-plenty and a safe, secure and loving home life with a brother and sisters to play with were sufficient. My best friend, Chucky, whose dad worked at the Oldsmobile factory in Lansing, went on vacations to such places as Yellowstone. I was invited to go along but no one, not even Chucky, felt the degree of dismay as myself. It had nothing to do with me personally; it was asthma that kept me feeling down on the farm.
What was initially a bit of jealousy was quickly replaced with the sad fact that I would miss a significant part of the summer without bike riding, playing ball and the little adventures a couple of buddies have as kids. Those two weeks were among the worst of my life.
I’m liberal with some of my thoughts, but for the most part I lay in a stagnant pool of conservatism. Since I didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Jones, thus having no one to keep up with, and a non-player of the social games that people play, when I sought the help of what’s-his-name, who was more a realtor than a friend, my goal was to take on a home loan that would leave me secure in a castle but well within my financial means.
I ignored words that told me that told me I could afford a home of such-and-such a value. I ignored the suggestion that an adjustable rate mortgage would be right for me but I feared it would cost me an arm and a leg if/when rates went up. After a couple of years I refinanced, not only reducing the monthly payments but also narrowing the freedom of owning the home outright from 25 to 15 years and still chipping away until it was paid off a year earlier.
I followed the same course of reasoning when I moved from Orlando to Spring Hill. I got more home for less money with cash left over that was spent on upgrading carpeting and kitchen appliances, painting the interior with semi-gloss for longer lasting, more easily maintained walls and buying a 48” plasma TV. For the most part, these were true investments. Although there’s too much credit card debt thanks to home insurance, property taxes and “the unexpecteds” of life, I’m still a mortgage-free homeowner, guaranteed to have a roof over my head.
I had the same philosophy of survival when I left home at the age of 20 with all my belongings stacked in a wholly-owned ’69 Gremlin with enough saved for a year’s rent paid in advance. No one could understand my reasoning but, since I was all alone and insecure in foreign surroundings, I could fill my tummy with many nights of macaroni and cheese, which is healthy gourmet food at that age, without the worry of living on the street or, heaven forbid, giving up and retreating to the given security of living in someone else’s home, namely my parents. I was young, free, determined and responsible enough to make it on my own. Living conservatively has always fit like a glove to my needs.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Birthday Cheers and Jeers
On this, my Day of Days, I ask myself, What is the importance of a birthday? I think of my 21,185 days of living (including Leap Year days) in the context of the wide variety of people I’ve met who have, to one degree or another, influenced my decisions and actions.
This is not a day of melancholy any more than I allow it to be on Holidays. I reserve those thoughts for every other day of the year for, if I should lump them all in one huge bundle of sorrow, floodgates might open and, as with most aspects of life, I prefer not to go with the flow. Which is not to say there are no periods of waterfalls. I might reflect on a few moments of the past but looking through the rearview mirror of time I’m assured that what is left behind is thoughtfully preserved for clearer visions of the future.
To whose standards are my “successes” put to judgment? Opportunists would discount my accomplishments for a single chance to claim their own perceived successes that they may gain from my materialism. In contrast, others would think of my life an insignificant existence as compared to theirs. But it is I who ultimately assesses my degree of worth.
Disappointments? People. Among those I’ve met, there are many whom I hadn’t the opportunity to really know - sometimes an acquaintance who was intended to be a friend remains a stranger. But I don’t regret having crossed paths with people who may have done me emotional and/or physical harm, without which I would have learned fewer lessons and taught me less about my inner-selves. Adversaries play a part in the development of a person’s attitudes just as much as those who have proven to be of positive influences.
I am who I am. I will be whoever I allow myself to become. I will continue to have experiences instead of dreams, fulfillment rather than regrets. If I were a different person, I might mistakenly regret that I have fewer “things” than others. That which I encounter, I cherish as lessons learned in the school of life, from which graduation comes in the form of a death certificate, not a certification of life.
Many of life’s instructors, including Guilt and Jealousy, have taught me that I have much more to learn. I’m so grateful that community players of my childhood implanted in me values whereby my subconscious dictates my actions.
Music has also molded many of my emotions and enhanced my awareness. It continues to take my mind where I would otherwise not visit; melodies give me rhythm, lyrics give me insight to philosophical dilemmas. I am not a singer. I am not a songwriter. I am an accompanist.
Regardless of my biological age, my spirit remains as youthful in mind as in the past. Wrinkles mark my age to others, but the reflection I see in the mirror discounts their importance for I accept the genetic footprints that have structured the wear and tear that life has dealt to my mind and body, if not my soul.
What’s the importance of my birthday? That I shall live on for an unknown period of time. That I am more a statistic than the person I am, have been or will be. That within a pre-subscribed number of years I will be on Social Security and given whatever benefits Medicare will afford my health. That the count of candles on the cake seems more indicative of my age than the two-digit numerical figure.
What of the future? I fear not the unknown because today is indeed the first day of the rest of my life. I accept that which I have no control over, yet take control and thoughtfully consider the challenges I may encounter that will change the course of my remaining years.
I travel along a road named Ronald Alan Rae – by design, a one-way dead end street. There have been no detours. I have traveled along many side streets, some mired with hazards, and made many stops to get my bearings on which direction to proceed so as to keep me on a journey filled with adventures. Compromises are made out of brotherly love. Sacrifices are mine to make.
Death has the right of way. My Creator has eminent domain. I have the rest of my life to travel along whatever avenues that fate will allow. I am alive, so I shall live and reserve the future past tense for others to acknowledge.
Excuse me, but my birthdays are but momentary landmarks in time. I’ve gotta move on…. I’ve still gotta lot of livin’ to do!
This is not a day of melancholy any more than I allow it to be on Holidays. I reserve those thoughts for every other day of the year for, if I should lump them all in one huge bundle of sorrow, floodgates might open and, as with most aspects of life, I prefer not to go with the flow. Which is not to say there are no periods of waterfalls. I might reflect on a few moments of the past but looking through the rearview mirror of time I’m assured that what is left behind is thoughtfully preserved for clearer visions of the future.
To whose standards are my “successes” put to judgment? Opportunists would discount my accomplishments for a single chance to claim their own perceived successes that they may gain from my materialism. In contrast, others would think of my life an insignificant existence as compared to theirs. But it is I who ultimately assesses my degree of worth.
Disappointments? People. Among those I’ve met, there are many whom I hadn’t the opportunity to really know - sometimes an acquaintance who was intended to be a friend remains a stranger. But I don’t regret having crossed paths with people who may have done me emotional and/or physical harm, without which I would have learned fewer lessons and taught me less about my inner-selves. Adversaries play a part in the development of a person’s attitudes just as much as those who have proven to be of positive influences.
I am who I am. I will be whoever I allow myself to become. I will continue to have experiences instead of dreams, fulfillment rather than regrets. If I were a different person, I might mistakenly regret that I have fewer “things” than others. That which I encounter, I cherish as lessons learned in the school of life, from which graduation comes in the form of a death certificate, not a certification of life.
Many of life’s instructors, including Guilt and Jealousy, have taught me that I have much more to learn. I’m so grateful that community players of my childhood implanted in me values whereby my subconscious dictates my actions.
Music has also molded many of my emotions and enhanced my awareness. It continues to take my mind where I would otherwise not visit; melodies give me rhythm, lyrics give me insight to philosophical dilemmas. I am not a singer. I am not a songwriter. I am an accompanist.
Regardless of my biological age, my spirit remains as youthful in mind as in the past. Wrinkles mark my age to others, but the reflection I see in the mirror discounts their importance for I accept the genetic footprints that have structured the wear and tear that life has dealt to my mind and body, if not my soul.
What’s the importance of my birthday? That I shall live on for an unknown period of time. That I am more a statistic than the person I am, have been or will be. That within a pre-subscribed number of years I will be on Social Security and given whatever benefits Medicare will afford my health. That the count of candles on the cake seems more indicative of my age than the two-digit numerical figure.
What of the future? I fear not the unknown because today is indeed the first day of the rest of my life. I accept that which I have no control over, yet take control and thoughtfully consider the challenges I may encounter that will change the course of my remaining years.
I travel along a road named Ronald Alan Rae – by design, a one-way dead end street. There have been no detours. I have traveled along many side streets, some mired with hazards, and made many stops to get my bearings on which direction to proceed so as to keep me on a journey filled with adventures. Compromises are made out of brotherly love. Sacrifices are mine to make.
Death has the right of way. My Creator has eminent domain. I have the rest of my life to travel along whatever avenues that fate will allow. I am alive, so I shall live and reserve the future past tense for others to acknowledge.
Excuse me, but my birthdays are but momentary landmarks in time. I’ve gotta move on…. I’ve still gotta lot of livin’ to do!
Monday, January 5, 2009
And The Blogs Just Keep On Comin'
The 2008 tally of my blogs is 128, which includes Parcel Post 08, Florida Menagerie 08, Hernando Hews 08, and The Rae Way.
Over all, it's a relatively small number as compared to many other blog sites but I do my best with the time I spend writing.
Besides, I can't sit at the computer all day long.... I'd have a flat ass sooner than I would otherwise!
Over all, it's a relatively small number as compared to many other blog sites but I do my best with the time I spend writing.
Besides, I can't sit at the computer all day long.... I'd have a flat ass sooner than I would otherwise!
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