Saturday, August 9, 2014

Time Flies


 Let this serve as a warning to those of you who are going along complacently, believing this dance lasts forever.  You think you’re in the prime of life and suddenly, you look in the mirror one day and you don’t see yourself; you see your father or, if you are a female, your mother in there.  And then, without much more passage of years, that face turns into the grandparent that you maybe lost when you were just a kid.

Oh, there are some warning signals, like those aching joints and the need for a little nap just to “catch up on that sleep you lost last night.”  Sometimes you anticipate what used to be your favorite activity, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so great anymore.  Sadly, some of your best friends and relatives move away, or worse, die, and leave you to mourn their passing.

It doesn’t always happen the way I described.  For instance, I think I first noticed that I had morphed into my father when I moved to Texas in 2003 and had to get my drivers license reissued.  The picture of that guy on the new one just couldn’t be me.  He had too many wrinkles and a prominent cord down each side of the throat that looked like a bulging artery.  That person was at least 10- or 20-years older than I was. 

Then, one day when I was shaving, I looked in the mirror and there was my long dead father staring back at me.  I thought that it probably was to be expected, though I never realized the close resemblance when I was younger. I decided that I’d have to accept the inevitable, that I really had reached that age where I couldn’t refer to myself as “middle aged” anymore.

And finally, a couple of years ago I saw a person looking back at me from that mirror that I no longer recognized at all.  He was, to use the well-worn term, “older than dirt.”  I don’t know what my grandfather looked like, since he died before I was born, and the pictures from those days were those sepia tone, antique ones that made everybody look pretty much the same anyway.  But I suspect that he probably looked like I do now.

Those years do have a way of sneaking up on you and there isn’t any gradual change.  It just happens one day and there’s no turning back.  (Well, plastic surgeons make their living off convincing you that there is, but that’s another column)

In conclusion, and kind of as a footnote, have you ever noticed that those pictures that accompany the obituaries of elderly people don’t seem to match the age given at passing?
It’s probably a good idea to choose a photo/portrait you had taken when you were in your middle to late 40s that can serve as your obit picture when you go in your late 70s or early 80s.  Go out with your good side showing.

Now, in case you took this seriously, and you think maybe I’m getting senile, here is a little treat for you that will likely only be recalled by those over 50, as will the pair that sings the song, “I’m My Own Grandpa.”

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Mature Security


I'd like to propose a new fashion statement for men. It is a very simple one and doesn't detract from your appearance if you perform it properly.  My suggestion is that men wear their shirts in the casual style without tucking them into their pants.  Most polo shirts and golf shirts are made with the bottom cut and stitched to accommodate that style, but many of the Oxford-style shirts are also made for the "untucked look." 

Oh, I know it won't work for all men, and the ones I intend to target are a select group.  The present day boys and young men who already have their fashion statement, the hip-hop group with their pants pulled down to expose their boxer shorts, need not join.  Shoot, in fact, they are exactly the ones whom my new trend is aimed against.

You might have noticed that I used three inflammatory words, target, shoot and aimed, in the prior paragraph, and there is a reason for that.  My new fashion statement is going to figure prominently in curbing a lot of the violence that comes from those low-slung-jeans-wearing hipsters.  While it isn't a dead giveaway, it seems to me that those same guys are also the ones with the firepower in the form of illegal guns somewhere on their person. 

Now, it isn't a hard-and-fast, proven fact, but a lot of those gun-toting people are less likely to draw that weapon and start shooting if they even suspect that their intended victim is "carrying" too.  The person who has a concealed-carry license is probably going to have their pistol in a pancake holster at the small of their back.  And guess how they are going to conceal it. 

Okay, I'm not advocating that we all go out and purchase a pistol and apply for the conceal-carry license, but if we men were to suddenly all start sporting the "untucked look" it would give the would-be perpetrator second thoughts, wouldn't it?

Of course, there are several cities - New York, Washington, Chicago, and New Orleans. for instance - that have gun restrictions or outright bans, and they just happen to be the most dangerous ones in America.  Hmm, I wonder why that is?  I don't see that as a reason not to wear the shirt outside your belt in those cities.  It still gives the thugs pause, and the police cannot stop and search everyone they think might be packing, especially if there are hundreds or thousands of shirt-tails visible.

Ladies, I don't want to leave you out.  You too can join the crowd.  Those who do carry a concealed weapon for protection usually have it in their purse, and that is probably the worst place for it.  After all, purse snatchers are everywhere in the world, and you don't want that thief to get your gun along with your cash and credit/debit cards.  You can join the men in the "untucked look" fashion statement if you like. 

Do you think we can start a trend?  Let me know.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Leaving the House

Whenever Judy and I leave our house, which we do almost daily for shopping or other errands, there is one thing we always do without fail.  We unplug the coffee maker.

We've lived in this town home for over five years, and we have never unplugged any other appliance upon exiting, so it must be ingrained in both of us that coffee makers are dangerous when left unattended.  Oh, we can both go about our daily routines, me in my home office/computer room and she in her sun room at the back of the house.  I know that neither one of us ever gives a second's thought to that dangerous appliance sitting out there in the kitchen plotting our demise.  But, let us even consider going out for a ride, and the last thing we do before leaving is unplug the coffee maker.

I ask you, is this paranoid behavior?  Do we really have OCD about that coffee maker?  After all, we've never unplugged the stove or the refrigerator when we go away, and they would seem to have a greater potential for destruction.  And even if the coffee maker did some day go berserk and start a fire, if we're not in the house, we won't be injured.

Okay, I know we're being silly, but about thirty years or so ago, one of those ancient Mr Coffee™ machines started a kitchen fire in someone's house in the city where we were then living, and we never got that incident out of our minds.  It stuck like glue, and we've made it our life's goal to never let that happen in our house.

Now, either you're laughing about the crazy custom we practice, or you're thinking that maybe we need to see an analyst about our problem.  Even I think it's goofy to unplug that machine just because we're leaving the house, yet we still do it every single time.

Oh, by the way, we've never had one of our coffee makers explode or start a fire, and they do make excellent coffee.  In fact, I cannot recall hearing or reading any news report about anyone else's coffee maker causing a fire in decades.  I guess old habits are really hard to break.

Have a nice day and enjoy your coffee.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Valet Key


I had one of those "Oh s**t!" incidents happen to me a few days ago, but I was able to undo the problem very quickly.

I had phoned my wife from my car after arriving at my barber shop, and I inadvertently put the car keys on my lap while I talked with her on the cell phone.  When I got out of the car and locked it, I didn't give a second's thought to my keys; out of sight, out of mind, you know.

When my haircut was finished and paid for, I headed for the car only to discover that I didn't have my keys in my pocket.  This is summertime, so I didn't have but two pockets to search for the keys, and they definitely weren't there. 

I looked in the car windows, thinking that maybe I had left the keys in the ignition. But no, they weren't there either.  So I retraced my steps to the barbershop with no joy there, and even went inside to inquire whether they had found them on the floor.  Nope, those keys had probably fallen off my lap onto the floor between the seat and the door.

At this point most of us would be either phoning Triple-A for road service, or calling home to have the wife come to the rescue with her keys - if she has a set.  Without AAA membership, and failing the spouse option, you're looking at a locksmith service call and a hefty bill.

Well, thanks to a tip I was given by a buddy of mine who is a locksmith, I had a quick and ready solution to the problem.  You see, I keep a valet key, one that will only open doors but is unusable in the ignition, in a hidden niche that is accessible with a coin. It is under my rear license plate, and all I have to do to get to it is use a coin to loosen the screw holding the plate (and the key) to the trunk lid.

It took me less than a minute to get the key, open the driver-side door and locate the keys right where I suspected them to be, on the floor between the door and the driver seat.

I wrote this column in the hope that you will take action (if you haven't already taken measures) to find a place similar to mine to secure a valet key.  Of course, if you have one of those keyless ignitions like the one I had on my recent rental car, you don't have to concern yourself about locking keys in the car; your key fob stays in your pocket or purse anyway. Lucky you!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Infant and Toddler Car Safety


While I was on my road trip in Oregon, two incidents occurred back here in Georgia that I didn't learn about until my return, and that's why this column is delayed in the writing and posting.

On June 18 in Atlanta a toddler died from heat exhaustion after being left in his carseat  in the back seat of his father's car while the father went to work.  The details of the death are still being uncovered, and the father has been charged with murder.

One day later, here in Augusta a woman left her infant in her car while she went into a college to take final exams.  Fortunately, someone discovered the child and called 911.  Thanks to the alertness and quick action of that other student, the baby was rescued and suffered only minor dehydration.  The mother has been charged with willful neglect with more serious charges still pending.

Regardless of the grisly implications of these cases, it is not unusual for several infant and toddler deaths to occur every year during our summer months due to their being inadvertently left in the back of a car by a preoccupied parent who intended to drop the child off at a day care center on the way to work.  The results are most often fatal.

The laws for child restraint seats vary widely by state, and many do not require that the child be placed in the rear seat of the vehicle, but recommend rear seat if available.  It is common for the child to go to sleep while riding in the car.  If the parent takes a cell phone call or becomes otherwise distracted, it is all too easy to forget about the child;
out of sight-out of mind when there is no interaction between the adult and the child.

The "rear seat restraint," whether required or only recommended, is a problematic when the child is not yet old enough to speak or when it goes peacefully to sleep out of sight of the adult.  We live in a busy world and we try to multi-task, often unsuccessfully.  There has to be some way to set an alarm that prevents us from neglecting that quiet munchkin in the back seat. 

Well, I'm please to say that there is such an alarm, and it is very easy to arm it.

First of all, never go anywhere with a child in the back seat without placing some object that you MUST RETRIEVE when you get to your ultimate destination in the rear seating area.  For most women, that will be a purse, which you always carry with you.  Men are more likely to have tools, a uniform hat, a briefcase, or some other essential item they cannot do without.  Whatever it is that you designate as your 'alarm', make sure that you place that in the back seat out of the child's reach.  If you get in the habit of alarming the car in this fashion, the chance of disaster is reduced to zero.  There might be that day when you get to work late, because you had to turn around and go back to drop the kid off, but that beats the alternative.

I know that many, if not most of you to whom I send this weekly column are not in the child-rearing years.  You don't have infants or toddlers, but I'll bet you have some grand children who you love very much.  That means that you must share this column with your own children and anyone else you know who has children of that  age.  Let's make this summer one that is disaster-free on the car seat tragedy news.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

America in Decline


Note: I originally wrote this column two years ago, but I didn't publish it at the time due to its political content.  However, since that time I've decided that I do believe in that sage advice that, "If you don't speak out on a problem, then you are part of that problem."
I'm getting tired of sitting on the sidelines watching my country torn asunder by fools and incompetents in Washington and elsewhere.  Now I'm going to start speaking out on our problems and, if you don't like it, at least I've done my part. Welcome to the debate.

******************************

We just celebrated one of our most important holidays, Independence Day, but some of us only know it as “The 4th of July” and its significance has lost all meaning.  It has become an excuse to buy and set off fireworks and fire up the grill for a picnic. Some people wish that it would become another of those holidays that is always celebrated on Monday so that we get an extended weekend.  To too many, those are the only benefits they see in this celebration.  That is truly sad.     

I again watched a very disturbing video this week.  It featured radio talk-show host Dennis Prager on a panel discussing American exceptionalism.  His take of it was that America is no longer exceptional, but not because of current politics and policies, not because of the controversial actions of Barack Obama, and not because of our dependence on imports to fuel our stagnant economy.

No, the reason Dennis Prager gave for our decline is that we have not passed on what it means to be an American.  The greatest generation did not teach this generation what Americanism is.  It goes back a hundred years to the age of “modern” education.  We have incrementally changed our teaching from the three-Rs to a social hodgepodge that doesn’t even include history anymore.

Exceptionalism has been replaced by humanism, equality of birth—when we allow birth to take place—has been replaced by equality of result, charity has been replaced by entitlement and morality has been replaced by civility. None of these changes has improved us as a nation, they have only leveled the playing field so that everyone is less than they can be or should be.

The melting pot that was once America has slowly but surely become a nation of many camps.  They are not physically at war with one another, but they define themselves in exclusive terms by ethnicity, skin color, politics and ancestral nationality.  The hyphen has taken on a new significance in America.  Everyone is now a hyphenated being. Even I have a hyphenated appellation; Red-State-Conservative.

No one is just an American anymore.  We are African-Americans, Italian-Americans, Irish-Americans, etc, etc, etc. We are gun-toting, pro-life and anti-establishment ...  and that is only a partial designation for my side. 

The late Rodney King was famous for his saying, “Can’t we all just get along?”  Well, I hate to break it to you, but no, we cannot all just get along.  Too much is at stake, even if America has begun to fade into the scrap heap of history.  There are still a lot of people who want to restore America to its best years, and they are more than willing to fight to achieve that end.

I am glad that I won’t be around to see or participate in the civil war that is coming. This will be a true civil war, not a North/South conflict like we fought 150-years ago that was not really a “civil” war at all.  It had clearly defined boundaries.  This one will be a street-to-street, house-to-house combat that well might destroy whatever is left of our once-great nation.  I hope you’re prepared for it, because I fear that it is coming and coming soon.

You may well ask,  “Do I love my country?”  My response is, "Yes, I do," and I am appalled by what I see happening in all my travels.  But I am especially appalled by what I see happening in Washington, D.C.  We are no longer a nation of laws because the laws on which this country was founded are scoffed at and overridden daily. 

I know that some of my friends and even some of my family will be offended by this column.  I understand that, but I pity you as well.  You are lied to, misled and yes, even brainwashed into ignoring those who present the facts that our media-mavens cover up.
Example – Andrea Mitchell’s out-of-context, edited clip of Mitt Romney prior to the 2012 election that made it seem like he was “amazed” at the technology that enables him to order food at an ATM-type screen, and then her refusal to admit the truth in the unedited video that showed Romney was “amazed” not by the technology, but that government cannot adopt private sector innovations like the touch screen and instead relies on old and failed devices and policies that are inefficient and expensive.  Ms. Mitchell didn’t even apologize for her too-clever ruse to belittle Romney and never played the entire clip for her audience.


More up-to-date, the New York Times published an article this week under the byline of one Monica Almeida about the protest at Murrieta, California.  Her lead paragraph reads:

When the three busloads of immigrant mothers and children rolled into town for processing at a Border Patrol station this week, they were met by protesters carrying American flags and signs proclaiming “return to sender” as they screamed “go home” and chanted “U.S.A.” Fearing for the safety of the migrants and federal officers, immigration officials decided to reroute the buses to San Diego, an hour south.

This is patently false, as those were not "immigrant mothers and children."  The women  were escorts for and with unaccompanied minors, hired earlier this year by the Federal Government, and were not even related to the children they were with.  And those "mothers" were not any immigrants, either. They are all most likely United States citizens.  Leave it to the NYT to let a Hispanic writer lie for them.

I regret that I am throwing water on your fireworks and barbeque grill, but I hope I can inspire you to spend some time post-Independence Day thinking about, and maybe even reading about what has made America great and exceptional.  Maybe we can become that nation once again if enough of us care.
 
Oh, and one more thing.  I hope they never move Independence Day to a Monday holiday.  It is a special day like Cinco de Mayo is to the Mexicans or Canada Day (formerly Dominion Day) is to the Canadians, that cannot and should not ever be used as an excuse for a three-day weekend. 

Saturday, June 28, 2014

The Star Spangled Banner


Some columns are good enough to repeat from time to time, and this is one that I last published almost seven years ago.  Since Independence Day is coming up next Friday, I think it appropriate to revisit this topic today.

Unless you know all four stanzas of the Star Spangled Banner you may find this most interesting.  Perhaps most of you didn't realize what Francis Scott Key's profession was or what he was doing on a ship.  This is a good brush-up on your history.

Near the end of his life, the great science fiction author Isaac Asimov wrote a short story about the four stanzas of our national anthem. However brief, this well-circulated piece is an eye opener from the dearly departed doctor.  In Azimov’s own words, "I have a weakness—I‘m crazy, absolutely nuts, about our national anthem. The words are difficult and the tune is almost impossible, but frequently when I'm taking a shower I sing it with as much power and emotion as I can. It shakes me up every time."
 
 NO REFUGE COULD SAVE:  
BY DR. ISAAC ASIMOV

I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I announced I was going to sing our national anthem -- all four stanzas. This was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. "Thanks, Herb," I said.

"That's all right," he said. "It was at the request of the kitchen staff"

I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas. Let me tell you, those people had never heard it before -- or had never really listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem.

More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me.

So now let me tell you how it came to be written.

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.

At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message, "We have met the enemy and they are ours." However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.

Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack.

The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England.

The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west.

The central prong was to head for the Mid-Atlantic States and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.

The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, D.C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1,000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.

On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release.

The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.

As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell.  Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.

As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, "Can you see the flag?"

After it was all finished, Key wrote a four-stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called "The Defense of Fort McHenry," it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called, "To Anacreon in Heaven"—a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key's work became known as "The Star Spangled Banner," and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.

Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key:

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.
Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?


("Ramparts," in case you don't know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort.) The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer:

On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep.
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream
'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!


"The towering steep" is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure.
In the third stanza I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise?  During World War I when the British were our Staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is:

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.


(The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling):

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,
Blest with victory and peace, may the Heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto --"In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.


I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes.   Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears.   Pay attention to the words.   And don't let them ever take it away ... not even one word of it.

AND IT'S SUNG IN ENGLISH!!!

I cannot add a thing to that stirring recitation by Dr. Azimov.