Sunset, December 12, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Books
Sacred Sins
By Nora Roberts
Copyright 2000
Audiobook, Abridged
Read by Carolyn McCormick
According to editorial reviews on amazon.com, this is a reissue of a 1980s book. However, if it was that old I didn't catch it, as it did not seem that dated to me. I even thought there were references to cell phones but perhaps I was mistaken.
In any event, Tess is a psychiatrist called in to help with murders. Ben is a detective on the case. They mesh, have difficulties, Tess becomes a target for the killer. Interesting twist on the killer's identity, fairly nicely rounded characters.
A good read if you're looking for some nice escapism that isn't overtly gorey and yet suspenceful enough to make you want to turn the page.
3 stars
By Nora Roberts
Copyright 2000
Audiobook, Abridged
Read by Carolyn McCormick
According to editorial reviews on amazon.com, this is a reissue of a 1980s book. However, if it was that old I didn't catch it, as it did not seem that dated to me. I even thought there were references to cell phones but perhaps I was mistaken.
In any event, Tess is a psychiatrist called in to help with murders. Ben is a detective on the case. They mesh, have difficulties, Tess becomes a target for the killer. Interesting twist on the killer's identity, fairly nicely rounded characters.
A good read if you're looking for some nice escapism that isn't overtly gorey and yet suspenceful enough to make you want to turn the page.
3 stars
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Knowing the Unknown
"It was S. S. B.!" I cried!
My husband looked up from the newspaper to where I was rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. He looked alarmed.
"What's wrong?"
"The person I saw at the market! It was S. S. B.!"
Relief washed over me. It was five hours later, but I finally remembered the name of somebody I saw at the store.
My husband returned to his paper. "I thought something was wrong," he grumbled. "You shrieking like that."
My husband looked up from the newspaper to where I was rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. He looked alarmed.
"What's wrong?"
"The person I saw at the market! It was S. S. B.!"
Relief washed over me. It was five hours later, but I finally remembered the name of somebody I saw at the store.
My husband returned to his paper. "I thought something was wrong," he grumbled. "You shrieking like that."
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Known Unknowns
It happens again.
I am in the grocery store, and a voice calls out. "Oh, hi! So nice to see you! How's your husband?"
"Oh, hello there," I respond. "He's great." Mentally my mind races, clicking through my Rolodex brain as I try to figure out who this person is. Not her, not her, oh darn.
"Everything okay with you?" I ask, hoping for a clue. "Your loved ones well?" Notice I go straight for the generic. I learned my lesson once about asking after a husband when I didn't recognize someone; her husband had recently passed away. Now I don't even take a stab at a spouse or parent or child.
"We're fantastic, just working hard. It's so great to see you! Merry Christmas! Gotta run!" Off she goes.
I am at a loss.
Unfortunately I have hit the store when the older folks are there for their senior citizen discount. I seem to know a lot of older folks. I am stopped again.
"Oh! Hey, I read your stuff in the paper, that was a great article," says another unknown shopper. "You do such a fantastic job."
"Thanks. It's been busy, lots of meetings," I say. Mind races again. Flip, flip. Not her, not her. Oh darn. "How are things with you and yours?" There's that generic again.
"Oh, we're great, you know it's always run run run this time of the year. Joe said he thinks I never sleep when the calendar hits December." Joe, I think. Who do I know with a husband named Joe... Mind races... Rolodex flips. Darn. I have no idea. I don't know anyone named Joe.
"It is a busy time," I reply. "What about this weather? Can you believe it's in the 70s?" Since I am still clueless, I move to a safe topic.
"It's so warm it's almost scary," she confides. "Well, toodles, I have to run!"
Who are these people? I recognize their faces. I *am* supposed to know them... brain, click into gear!
Next aisle. Someone else speaks my name. I know where she works, but not her name. Still, that's something.
"How are things at the library?" I ask, happy that I know something about this person.
"I work at the bank," she says.
Sigh.
I am in the grocery store, and a voice calls out. "Oh, hi! So nice to see you! How's your husband?"
"Oh, hello there," I respond. "He's great." Mentally my mind races, clicking through my Rolodex brain as I try to figure out who this person is. Not her, not her, oh darn.
"Everything okay with you?" I ask, hoping for a clue. "Your loved ones well?" Notice I go straight for the generic. I learned my lesson once about asking after a husband when I didn't recognize someone; her husband had recently passed away. Now I don't even take a stab at a spouse or parent or child.
"We're fantastic, just working hard. It's so great to see you! Merry Christmas! Gotta run!" Off she goes.
I am at a loss.
Unfortunately I have hit the store when the older folks are there for their senior citizen discount. I seem to know a lot of older folks. I am stopped again.
"Oh! Hey, I read your stuff in the paper, that was a great article," says another unknown shopper. "You do such a fantastic job."
"Thanks. It's been busy, lots of meetings," I say. Mind races again. Flip, flip. Not her, not her. Oh darn. "How are things with you and yours?" There's that generic again.
"Oh, we're great, you know it's always run run run this time of the year. Joe said he thinks I never sleep when the calendar hits December." Joe, I think. Who do I know with a husband named Joe... Mind races... Rolodex flips. Darn. I have no idea. I don't know anyone named Joe.
"It is a busy time," I reply. "What about this weather? Can you believe it's in the 70s?" Since I am still clueless, I move to a safe topic.
"It's so warm it's almost scary," she confides. "Well, toodles, I have to run!"
Who are these people? I recognize their faces. I *am* supposed to know them... brain, click into gear!
Next aisle. Someone else speaks my name. I know where she works, but not her name. Still, that's something.
"How are things at the library?" I ask, happy that I know something about this person.
"I work at the bank," she says.
Sigh.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Mrs. W.
When I entered second grade, I did so with much trepidation. My school was new to me, as we'd moved. And the school where I spent first grade had left a terrible mark.
My new teacher promptly informed my mother, when we visited prior to the beginning of the school year, that nicknames were not allowed. Thus ended the use of a name bestowed upon me by my father when I was born (I suppose he did not like my given name). I don't know if this was a school rule or a teacher rule, but in any event, it was life changing.
Mrs. W. seemed ancient to me. She also seemed mean and I remember telling my mother she'd be like some old boat captain, ordering children around. "She'll tell us to scrub the floors!" I said. I always remember that when I think of these childhood days, because I grew to love Mrs. W.
First impressions are not always correct.
Second grade was the year of learning to write "cursive", or "real writing," as I called it. I was ahead of my peers - this school moved children along more slowly than my previous one. I read better, wrote better, knew more math. I tried not to let anyone know, but they still called me names. It has never been easy being someone who can think.
A number of incidents stand out from this year, which must have had quite an impact on my character formation. Mrs. W. gave me much self esteem several times when she chose me - me! - to go over to the first grader's classroom to "babysit" and read to them for the last hour when the teacher had to leave early for the day (it was a different world then). I always read them the dinosaur book. I could even pronounce "Brontosaurus"!
But I could not make an "A" in reading. I made the best grade in reading in the class, but it wasn't an "A." Finally Mrs. W. told me - in front of the class, something she excelled at - that the reason I didn't make an "A" in reading was because I did not read with inflection in my voice. Instead I read in a monotone and gave no life to the characters.
Well, why hadn't somebody told me? After that I did better. I made the coveted "A."
Then there was the note. Egads. A boy named Jerry, who is dead now, decided I should be his girlfriend. He began passing me notes. In my mind this incident is the first time we ever passed notes but I don't know if that is so. In any event, he passed me a note that said something about he wanted to take me out back and kiss me. He drew little hearts all over the paper. I don't recall if I wrote him back but I do remember Mrs. W. towering over me.
"What do you have there?" she barked.
I handed up the note. She took it to the front of the room and pinned it to the blackboard. Then she made every student parade by the note and read it.
I was so humiliated. All I could do was sit and sob. I think I ended up sick in the bathroom.
And finally, this is the memory that comes to me almost every year in December.
Back then we put on a Christmas pageant in the school. I don't think they do such things anymore.
I was chosen to be the angel. Not just any old angel, but the angel who spoke. The angel who was also the narrator.
My father did not want me to do this, but my mother made me a costume and told me to go ahead. I'm pretty sure they had a row over it.
I wore a white sheet and had little gold flecks in my hair. It was my duty to move forward and do the speaking.
I recited Luke 2 (King James Version):
1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.
2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.
16 And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
17 And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.
18 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
19 But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
It was an hour I remember every year.
My new teacher promptly informed my mother, when we visited prior to the beginning of the school year, that nicknames were not allowed. Thus ended the use of a name bestowed upon me by my father when I was born (I suppose he did not like my given name). I don't know if this was a school rule or a teacher rule, but in any event, it was life changing.
Mrs. W. seemed ancient to me. She also seemed mean and I remember telling my mother she'd be like some old boat captain, ordering children around. "She'll tell us to scrub the floors!" I said. I always remember that when I think of these childhood days, because I grew to love Mrs. W.
First impressions are not always correct.
Second grade was the year of learning to write "cursive", or "real writing," as I called it. I was ahead of my peers - this school moved children along more slowly than my previous one. I read better, wrote better, knew more math. I tried not to let anyone know, but they still called me names. It has never been easy being someone who can think.
A number of incidents stand out from this year, which must have had quite an impact on my character formation. Mrs. W. gave me much self esteem several times when she chose me - me! - to go over to the first grader's classroom to "babysit" and read to them for the last hour when the teacher had to leave early for the day (it was a different world then). I always read them the dinosaur book. I could even pronounce "Brontosaurus"!
But I could not make an "A" in reading. I made the best grade in reading in the class, but it wasn't an "A." Finally Mrs. W. told me - in front of the class, something she excelled at - that the reason I didn't make an "A" in reading was because I did not read with inflection in my voice. Instead I read in a monotone and gave no life to the characters.
Well, why hadn't somebody told me? After that I did better. I made the coveted "A."
Then there was the note. Egads. A boy named Jerry, who is dead now, decided I should be his girlfriend. He began passing me notes. In my mind this incident is the first time we ever passed notes but I don't know if that is so. In any event, he passed me a note that said something about he wanted to take me out back and kiss me. He drew little hearts all over the paper. I don't recall if I wrote him back but I do remember Mrs. W. towering over me.
"What do you have there?" she barked.
I handed up the note. She took it to the front of the room and pinned it to the blackboard. Then she made every student parade by the note and read it.
I was so humiliated. All I could do was sit and sob. I think I ended up sick in the bathroom.
And finally, this is the memory that comes to me almost every year in December.
Back then we put on a Christmas pageant in the school. I don't think they do such things anymore.
I was chosen to be the angel. Not just any old angel, but the angel who spoke. The angel who was also the narrator.
My father did not want me to do this, but my mother made me a costume and told me to go ahead. I'm pretty sure they had a row over it.
I wore a white sheet and had little gold flecks in my hair. It was my duty to move forward and do the speaking.
I recited Luke 2 (King James Version):
1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.
2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.
16 And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
17 And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.
18 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
19 But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
It was an hour I remember every year.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
More Colorful Days
I have been away from my blog for almost 72 hours and I have missed it.
Now that I'm here, I don't know what to write about. I could write about someone calling me an angry white woman this week. That was in reference to remarks I made about government, federal and local, and how governing in all its forms seems to have melted into the lowest form of idiocy.
It made me feel like having an opinion was wrong.
Or I could write about a sick relative, or my visit with my great aunt, or shopping for the holidays.
It all seems boring, though, and I don't want to bore.
Maybe later I will have thought of something. Until then, here are pictures of more colorful days:
Now that I'm here, I don't know what to write about. I could write about someone calling me an angry white woman this week. That was in reference to remarks I made about government, federal and local, and how governing in all its forms seems to have melted into the lowest form of idiocy.
It made me feel like having an opinion was wrong.
Or I could write about a sick relative, or my visit with my great aunt, or shopping for the holidays.
It all seems boring, though, and I don't want to bore.
Maybe later I will have thought of something. Until then, here are pictures of more colorful days:
Thursday, December 06, 2007
A Sad Hour
(If you can, read this whole long entry. Some of it may be enlightening.)
Last night about 7:10 p.m., I received an automated phone call. Virginia 6th District Congressman Bob Goodlatte was holding a "Tele-Town Hall Meeting" - if I wanted to listen or join in, just stay on the line.
I stayed on the line. This seemed like something I shouldn't miss.
This was, I think, the second such session the congressman has held. I received a call on the first one also but I was on my way to an appointment and could not listen. I don't know how the calls went out - was it a list from folks who've written in? Random? Everybody in the phone book?
People are desperate for assistance, particularly with health care. When I joined in, Goodlatte was espousing on energy use, so I missed whatever was being said about that. In the ensuing hour, about 14 people called in. Listening to them broke my heart.
I shall paraphrase some of what was said. (And before I am berated and accused of being a leftist liberal or whatever, I will come clean and say I have voted for this congressman in the past. That was when he said he would only serve two terms. Once he broke his word, he lost my vote forever.)
From Lexington: a state employee wondered how to keep the cost of health care from eating up her retirement benefits.
Goodlatte's answer? Not my problem, call your state representative.
From Waynesboro: What can be done about the high cost of nursing care? A loved one has been in a nursing home for three years and it's taking all the remaining spouse's resources. How will she live?
Goodlatte's answer? Qualify for Medicare/Medicaid (which as I understand it means you have to use all your assets up first). Find a cheaper place (?!?) and oh yes, this is all the fault of government regulations because the states/feds require that the person in the nursing home have adequate care and don't lie there in their own feces covered in bed sores.
From Fincastle: How about the federal government mandating a Living Wage (as opposed to a minimum wage) so people can actually afford to live?
Goodlatte's answer: Oh, it's a Free Enterprise System (he mentioned "Free Enterprise System" several times) and we don't want to interfere with *that*. It's bad enough we have a minimum wage. It's "damaging to our economy" (i.e., it makes the corporate profits smaller), so of course we don't want to do that. He also, using logic that eluded me, tied this to illegal immigration. I guess he was implying that if we were all working third or fourth jobs as apple pickers things would be so much better.
From Fincastle (same person): How about tax breaks for converting homes to "green" uses.
Goodlatte: He supports tax credits for that.
From Goshen: A 32-year-old man wondered if he would ever see any payout from Social Security.
Goodlatte: Fixing Social Security requires a balanced budget (this from a leader of the party that has us billions and billions in debt?). He acknowledged that Social Security as implemented isn't broken. What *is* broken is the way the federal government has robbed the Social Security system of its funding to pay for other things (you know, unwarranted wars, bridges to nowhere, that type of thing...) . If the government had left Social Security alone, there would be plenty for everyone.
Goodlatte segued here into a one-way conversation about the Child Health Insurance program and how terrible the Democrats are for wanting to essentially raise the poverty line from barely able to eat to possibly making the house payment.
From Troutville: This poor man is a Veteran who has found that increased surcharges on his medicines and the payments he must make to the specialists he needs for heart and lung conditions are too much for him. He cannot afford his medicine anymore. I had no idea that the VA system was so broken, but apparently it's been as mismanaged as the rest of the government in the last seven years.
Goodlatte's answer: Check out the new low prices for drugs at Walmart.
From Natural Bridge: My Social Security benefits are going down and it's all the fault of the illegal immigrants. Can we put up a big electric fence on the border?
Goodlatte: Well, maybe not an electric fence, but we're putting up a fence.
From Staunton: A disabled Veteran three years ago was put in a new category that took him completely out of the VA system. Apparently he had enough private resources to pay for his health care so he could go someplace else, according to the government. I was never clear if his disability was service related but it sounded like it was.
Goodlatte's answer: Some kind of obsequious political posturing that boiled down to "tough", I think.
From Goshen: A former nurse who is now on dialysis wondered if there was any way the government could create a death benefit for the families of folks who donate organs. She's on the waiting list for a kidney and there aren't enough going around. Medicare would save a lot of money if transplant operations could actually take place because dialysis is expensive.
Goodlatte: Hospitals and insurance companies should look into that. And also we don't want people killing themselves to get the money.
From Waynesboro: Can't we do something for drug addicts so that they get the help they need for rehabilitation? It's so expensive now that only the rich can afford to get help.
Goodlatte: Um. No. (He didn't say that but after you lose the political obtuseness, that was the answer.)
From Daleville: What about this housing/mortgage crisis? I sure don't want the government paying for it like Hillary Clinton just suggested.
Goodlatte: People should talk to their bankers and it should be done case by case, and the Free Enterprise System shall reign. And he can just imagine what Hillary Clinton offered up! (I see Bush is offering up something today, but I haven't read it yet...)
From Covington: What can we do about losing jobs in our area? The industries are shutting down and people are unemployed.
Goodlatte: We'd like to help, really we would. It's the Free Enterprise System, though. Our hands are tied.
From Fincastle: In 1942 the Americans destroyed a synthetic fuel plant in Germany. I want to know why, if the Germans were making synthetic fuel in 1942, can't the US make synthetic fuel for vehicles now?
Goodlatte: I've never heard of synthetic fuel. I've heard of synthetic oil additives to make your car run better. (I can answer this myself - I've read that many of the technologies such as this were destroyed because the big corporations didn't want the competition. The US public has been snookered by its government and corporations for nigh on a 100 years now. It is all about the Free Enterprise System - i.e., the money. It ain't about you.)
From Staunton: Who are you endorsing for president?
Goodlatte: Nobody yet.
From Staunton (same person): I'm an assistant pastor and I want to stand in my pulpit and tell people who to vote for. Can I do that?
Goodlatte: I don't give legal advice.
During this hour, Goodlatte also took a survey. The question was what should Congress focus on - making your energy costs less, lowering your taxes, or cutting government spending.
The responses (keyed in on the telephone) were 18 percent wanted lower taxes, 30 percent wanted something done about energy costs, and 52 percent wanted the government to stop spending.
Note, of course, that there wasn't any suggestion as to what the government should stop spending money on, and I believe the government is currently working hard to stop spending money on the people who need it most - that would be the folks above who are desperate for health care, the elderly who need nursing homes, the fellow who is out of a job in Covington. No, it's far better to give the money to Microsoft and Exxon.
What a sad hour it was. My heart broke for all of those poor people with health problems. I wanted to reach out and hug them all.
Goodlatte just sends them to Walmart.
Last night about 7:10 p.m., I received an automated phone call. Virginia 6th District Congressman Bob Goodlatte was holding a "Tele-Town Hall Meeting" - if I wanted to listen or join in, just stay on the line.
I stayed on the line. This seemed like something I shouldn't miss.
This was, I think, the second such session the congressman has held. I received a call on the first one also but I was on my way to an appointment and could not listen. I don't know how the calls went out - was it a list from folks who've written in? Random? Everybody in the phone book?
People are desperate for assistance, particularly with health care. When I joined in, Goodlatte was espousing on energy use, so I missed whatever was being said about that. In the ensuing hour, about 14 people called in. Listening to them broke my heart.
I shall paraphrase some of what was said. (And before I am berated and accused of being a leftist liberal or whatever, I will come clean and say I have voted for this congressman in the past. That was when he said he would only serve two terms. Once he broke his word, he lost my vote forever.)
From Lexington: a state employee wondered how to keep the cost of health care from eating up her retirement benefits.
Goodlatte's answer? Not my problem, call your state representative.
From Waynesboro: What can be done about the high cost of nursing care? A loved one has been in a nursing home for three years and it's taking all the remaining spouse's resources. How will she live?
Goodlatte's answer? Qualify for Medicare/Medicaid (which as I understand it means you have to use all your assets up first). Find a cheaper place (?!?) and oh yes, this is all the fault of government regulations because the states/feds require that the person in the nursing home have adequate care and don't lie there in their own feces covered in bed sores.
From Fincastle: How about the federal government mandating a Living Wage (as opposed to a minimum wage) so people can actually afford to live?
Goodlatte's answer: Oh, it's a Free Enterprise System (he mentioned "Free Enterprise System" several times) and we don't want to interfere with *that*. It's bad enough we have a minimum wage. It's "damaging to our economy" (i.e., it makes the corporate profits smaller), so of course we don't want to do that. He also, using logic that eluded me, tied this to illegal immigration. I guess he was implying that if we were all working third or fourth jobs as apple pickers things would be so much better.
From Fincastle (same person): How about tax breaks for converting homes to "green" uses.
Goodlatte: He supports tax credits for that.
From Goshen: A 32-year-old man wondered if he would ever see any payout from Social Security.
Goodlatte: Fixing Social Security requires a balanced budget (this from a leader of the party that has us billions and billions in debt?). He acknowledged that Social Security as implemented isn't broken. What *is* broken is the way the federal government has robbed the Social Security system of its funding to pay for other things (you know, unwarranted wars, bridges to nowhere, that type of thing...) . If the government had left Social Security alone, there would be plenty for everyone.
Goodlatte segued here into a one-way conversation about the Child Health Insurance program and how terrible the Democrats are for wanting to essentially raise the poverty line from barely able to eat to possibly making the house payment.
From Troutville: This poor man is a Veteran who has found that increased surcharges on his medicines and the payments he must make to the specialists he needs for heart and lung conditions are too much for him. He cannot afford his medicine anymore. I had no idea that the VA system was so broken, but apparently it's been as mismanaged as the rest of the government in the last seven years.
Goodlatte's answer: Check out the new low prices for drugs at Walmart.
From Natural Bridge: My Social Security benefits are going down and it's all the fault of the illegal immigrants. Can we put up a big electric fence on the border?
Goodlatte: Well, maybe not an electric fence, but we're putting up a fence.
From Staunton: A disabled Veteran three years ago was put in a new category that took him completely out of the VA system. Apparently he had enough private resources to pay for his health care so he could go someplace else, according to the government. I was never clear if his disability was service related but it sounded like it was.
Goodlatte's answer: Some kind of obsequious political posturing that boiled down to "tough", I think.
From Goshen: A former nurse who is now on dialysis wondered if there was any way the government could create a death benefit for the families of folks who donate organs. She's on the waiting list for a kidney and there aren't enough going around. Medicare would save a lot of money if transplant operations could actually take place because dialysis is expensive.
Goodlatte: Hospitals and insurance companies should look into that. And also we don't want people killing themselves to get the money.
From Waynesboro: Can't we do something for drug addicts so that they get the help they need for rehabilitation? It's so expensive now that only the rich can afford to get help.
Goodlatte: Um. No. (He didn't say that but after you lose the political obtuseness, that was the answer.)
From Daleville: What about this housing/mortgage crisis? I sure don't want the government paying for it like Hillary Clinton just suggested.
Goodlatte: People should talk to their bankers and it should be done case by case, and the Free Enterprise System shall reign. And he can just imagine what Hillary Clinton offered up! (I see Bush is offering up something today, but I haven't read it yet...)
From Covington: What can we do about losing jobs in our area? The industries are shutting down and people are unemployed.
Goodlatte: We'd like to help, really we would. It's the Free Enterprise System, though. Our hands are tied.
From Fincastle: In 1942 the Americans destroyed a synthetic fuel plant in Germany. I want to know why, if the Germans were making synthetic fuel in 1942, can't the US make synthetic fuel for vehicles now?
Goodlatte: I've never heard of synthetic fuel. I've heard of synthetic oil additives to make your car run better. (I can answer this myself - I've read that many of the technologies such as this were destroyed because the big corporations didn't want the competition. The US public has been snookered by its government and corporations for nigh on a 100 years now. It is all about the Free Enterprise System - i.e., the money. It ain't about you.)
From Staunton: Who are you endorsing for president?
Goodlatte: Nobody yet.
From Staunton (same person): I'm an assistant pastor and I want to stand in my pulpit and tell people who to vote for. Can I do that?
Goodlatte: I don't give legal advice.
During this hour, Goodlatte also took a survey. The question was what should Congress focus on - making your energy costs less, lowering your taxes, or cutting government spending.
The responses (keyed in on the telephone) were 18 percent wanted lower taxes, 30 percent wanted something done about energy costs, and 52 percent wanted the government to stop spending.
Note, of course, that there wasn't any suggestion as to what the government should stop spending money on, and I believe the government is currently working hard to stop spending money on the people who need it most - that would be the folks above who are desperate for health care, the elderly who need nursing homes, the fellow who is out of a job in Covington. No, it's far better to give the money to Microsoft and Exxon.
What a sad hour it was. My heart broke for all of those poor people with health problems. I wanted to reach out and hug them all.
Goodlatte just sends them to Walmart.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
First Snow 2007
The snow began to the west and north of us. I could see it blanketing the mountains, hiding the Blue Ridge from me.About 8 a.m. the first flakes began to fall here, fast and furious. Three hours later, the ground was white and looking lovely in the first petticoat of the season:
By 4 p.m., most of the snow is gone, and the gnome has returned to his hidey-hole.
The Forest and Climate Change
From a press release I received yesterday (emphasis mine):
Everyone should be interested in the forest because forest management includes water and water quality. A majority of our water resources come from federal National Forest land. You may be interested in a synopsis of the full report, which you can find here:
http://www.fs.fed.us/research/rpa/2005rpa/Key_Msg_Talk_Pts_RPA_Update_112807.doc
Personally, I found it eyebrow raising to see something coming out of the current administration that actually acknowledges climate change ...
Up until the current president took office, as a rural news writer I had unfettered access to the district rangers. I wrote about a vast range of topics related to forestry, including endangered species such as the James spinymussel and a particular bat that's found only in Craig County, land formations, tree harvesting, Smoky Bear, fire safety, hunter safety, etc.
Within two months of the current president taking office, my access to the forest rangers ended abruptly. I was told I could no longer talk to the rangers; I had to go through the PR office in Roanoke.
The stories about the forest and the U.S. Forest Service and what it was doing locally ceased overnight. In the last seven years, I've written very little about something that takes up about 20 percent of the land mass of my county. The exception has been the federal government's efforts to sell off forest land to pay some of its bills, which made the national news everywhere. (The effort failed.)
My hindered access to the Forest Service and the lack of stories coming at the local level was my first hint of how bad things would get at the federal level. I questioned the lack of access, but at the time no one knew about such things as the PATRIOT ACT and spying on citizens and asking folks what books they check out of libraries. No one thought we'd turn into a police state so quickly... and this was before September 11, 2001.
Eventually the local ranger offices closed because the government "consolidated" the Forest Service work force.
There are lessons here in what I've written, and implications for the future. But we have to be paying attention to see. Are we, I wonder?
A recent Forest Service determination finds climate change could affect the distribution and diversity of plants and animals in the United States. ...
U.S. Forests can also play a major role in reducing greenhouse gas emissions. Use of wood products in place of alternative products can reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Growing shade trees around buildings can reduce energy use. Large scale cellulosic ethanol production from wood
may become an economically viable option for offsetting fossil fuel emissions. ...
Everyone should be interested in the forest because forest management includes water and water quality. A majority of our water resources come from federal National Forest land. You may be interested in a synopsis of the full report, which you can find here:
http://www.fs.fed.us/research/rpa/2005rpa/Key_Msg_Talk_Pts_RPA_Update_112807.doc
Personally, I found it eyebrow raising to see something coming out of the current administration that actually acknowledges climate change ...
Up until the current president took office, as a rural news writer I had unfettered access to the district rangers. I wrote about a vast range of topics related to forestry, including endangered species such as the James spinymussel and a particular bat that's found only in Craig County, land formations, tree harvesting, Smoky Bear, fire safety, hunter safety, etc.
Within two months of the current president taking office, my access to the forest rangers ended abruptly. I was told I could no longer talk to the rangers; I had to go through the PR office in Roanoke.
The stories about the forest and the U.S. Forest Service and what it was doing locally ceased overnight. In the last seven years, I've written very little about something that takes up about 20 percent of the land mass of my county. The exception has been the federal government's efforts to sell off forest land to pay some of its bills, which made the national news everywhere. (The effort failed.)
My hindered access to the Forest Service and the lack of stories coming at the local level was my first hint of how bad things would get at the federal level. I questioned the lack of access, but at the time no one knew about such things as the PATRIOT ACT and spying on citizens and asking folks what books they check out of libraries. No one thought we'd turn into a police state so quickly... and this was before September 11, 2001.
Eventually the local ranger offices closed because the government "consolidated" the Forest Service work force.
There are lessons here in what I've written, and implications for the future. But we have to be paying attention to see. Are we, I wonder?
Monday, December 03, 2007
It's a Parade!
Saturday at 2 p.m. the Fincastle Christmas Parade marched through the streets!
The police led the way while deputies stood to the side making sure traffic stopped.
There were clowns!
Churches had floats in remembrance of the real reason for the season.
There was lots of waving!
The real reason I was at the parade. The above beauty queen is my niece. She is five years old and quite the ham when she spies a camera. That's my brother at the wheel and my sister-in-law beside her.
The Girl Scouts strut their stuff.
The Fire Department mascot marched alongside the trucks.
Bands played! "Bells are ringing children singing O What a beautiful sight" - Santa Claus is Coming to Town!
Tractors putted down Main Street.
The fellow who brought up the rear!
The police led the way while deputies stood to the side making sure traffic stopped.
There were clowns!
Churches had floats in remembrance of the real reason for the season.
There was lots of waving!
The real reason I was at the parade. The above beauty queen is my niece. She is five years old and quite the ham when she spies a camera. That's my brother at the wheel and my sister-in-law beside her.
The Girl Scouts strut their stuff.
The Fire Department mascot marched alongside the trucks.
Bands played! "Bells are ringing children singing O What a beautiful sight" - Santa Claus is Coming to Town!
Tractors putted down Main Street.
The fellow who brought up the rear!
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Humbled
A few days ago, Beth over at Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl handed me a Community Blogger Award. This award celebrates people "who reach out and make the blogger community a better one," as I understand it.
This is my first recognition ever for blogging. I am very humbled to be acknowledged because there is a lot of nice writing on the web, and a lot of people visit and offer stories and advice and friendliness.
Blogs create a nice community and I enjoy reading what people do and think and experience. I wish I had more time to spend on visiting other folks spaces so that I could "see more of the world," as it were.
The world is one big story and we're all characters in it, each important in our way to the patchwork that makes up the whole quilt. Without our individual achievements and efforts, there would be holes.
Another person whom Beth nominated was Shannon at Going Crunchy, who wrote a very nice entry about her award. I was not familiar with this blogger so I was happy to be introduced.
The award came to Beth via June at Spatter, another blogger I read. June has a lot of interesting things to say.
Beth is a gentle blogger who takes vivid pictures and has a great sense of humor. I delight in her entries.
In the spirit of moving this award along, I would like to recognize and give the award to:
Jeff at Jefferson Street Realist. Jeff writes about life with his young family. Some of his entries tickle me when he talks about his boy. Others are reverent and sad, such as when G'Diddy passed away. His writing rings true to me.
Ms. E. at Ms. Eleneaous in Roanoke. Ms. Elenaeous has an interesting take on life in Roanoke. Wait until you read about her house haunting. She's also one of two bloggers I have met in person!
Becky at Peevish Pen writes about writing and rural life. She's the other blogger I have shaken hands with!
Happy blogging, everyone!
This is my first recognition ever for blogging. I am very humbled to be acknowledged because there is a lot of nice writing on the web, and a lot of people visit and offer stories and advice and friendliness.
Blogs create a nice community and I enjoy reading what people do and think and experience. I wish I had more time to spend on visiting other folks spaces so that I could "see more of the world," as it were.
The world is one big story and we're all characters in it, each important in our way to the patchwork that makes up the whole quilt. Without our individual achievements and efforts, there would be holes.
Another person whom Beth nominated was Shannon at Going Crunchy, who wrote a very nice entry about her award. I was not familiar with this blogger so I was happy to be introduced.
The award came to Beth via June at Spatter, another blogger I read. June has a lot of interesting things to say.
Beth is a gentle blogger who takes vivid pictures and has a great sense of humor. I delight in her entries.
In the spirit of moving this award along, I would like to recognize and give the award to:
Jeff at Jefferson Street Realist. Jeff writes about life with his young family. Some of his entries tickle me when he talks about his boy. Others are reverent and sad, such as when G'Diddy passed away. His writing rings true to me.
Ms. E. at Ms. Eleneaous in Roanoke. Ms. Elenaeous has an interesting take on life in Roanoke. Wait until you read about her house haunting. She's also one of two bloggers I have met in person!
Becky at Peevish Pen writes about writing and rural life. She's the other blogger I have shaken hands with!
Happy blogging, everyone!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Thursday Thirteen
Thirteen reasons why November has left me tired:
1. A meeting on November 8 that only lasted two hours but which required another three hours of reading the file that went with it.
2. A meeting on November 13 that lasted from 6 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.
3. A meeting on November 27 that lasted from 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.
4. A meeting today which required a couple hours preparation and then several hours of attendance.
5. Thanksgiving, which required holiday stuff (and stuffing!)
6. Lots of work which required lots of thinking.
7. My husband had a cold. Every woman knows how tiring that is.
8. My husband was also home on vacation for two weeks.
9. It was deer season which meant I had men in and out of the house. They required a steady supply of lunch meat, bread and drinks.
10. I began shopping for Christmas.
11. The days grew shorter and the time changed, all of which seemed to mean I had less time than ever before.
12. Many people wanted to spend a lot of the little time I seemed to have talking on the telephone with me.
13. I hit my head on a shelf about four weeks ago and somehow damaged my neck muscles. I have been in pain ever since, despite three trips to the chiropractor, two to the massage therapist, one to the acupuncturist, and another to my primary care physician. This, in spite of everything else, has been the main reason this month has been tiring!
1. A meeting on November 8 that only lasted two hours but which required another three hours of reading the file that went with it.
2. A meeting on November 13 that lasted from 6 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.
3. A meeting on November 27 that lasted from 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.
4. A meeting today which required a couple hours preparation and then several hours of attendance.
5. Thanksgiving, which required holiday stuff (and stuffing!)
6. Lots of work which required lots of thinking.
7. My husband had a cold. Every woman knows how tiring that is.
8. My husband was also home on vacation for two weeks.
9. It was deer season which meant I had men in and out of the house. They required a steady supply of lunch meat, bread and drinks.
10. I began shopping for Christmas.
11. The days grew shorter and the time changed, all of which seemed to mean I had less time than ever before.
12. Many people wanted to spend a lot of the little time I seemed to have talking on the telephone with me.
13. I hit my head on a shelf about four weeks ago and somehow damaged my neck muscles. I have been in pain ever since, despite three trips to the chiropractor, two to the massage therapist, one to the acupuncturist, and another to my primary care physician. This, in spite of everything else, has been the main reason this month has been tiring!
Books: Legacy of Silence
Legacy of Silence
by Belva Plain
Copyright 1998
Ready by Dana Ivey
Carolyn and Lore, story opens in 1939 pre-World War II.
by Belva Plain
Copyright 1998
Ready by Dana Ivey
Carolyn and Lore, story opens in 1939 pre-World War II.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Quarry, Part II
It is hard sometimes to write about the things going on around me. Take this quarry thing, for instance, which I started writing about this morning.
A part of me wanted to testify. I wanted to say to the officials, "Don't do this to my neighbors."
I wanted to say don't make my neighbors have to run air purifiers that have filters that look like this within a day:
Don't make them worry about asthma and bronchial problems and wonder if the industry down the road is to blame.
Don't make them wonder if the red rainwater that falls around here sometimes comes from the industry down the road. It's preferable not to have red rain at all.
Don't put that quarry five miles from our historic county seat and then expect it to withstand 30 years of continuous blasting (I don't care if the blasting expert said that amounts to "only" 30 minutes of blasting. It still shakes the house.).
I wanted to say those things and more, but I did not. I could not because I write government articles for a living and it is necessary to maintain objectivity in my work with the paper.
What I did was write several articles about it, as professionally as I could. The first was what I normally write, a "hey folks, here's what's coming up before the planning commission." The second was an update with a slant that officials were doing something new - they were actually checking for endangered species. It was also news that they'd found some.
Then I wrote about the planning commission meeting and then the meeting yesterday where the proposal for a new quarry was denied.
I am fairly sure my articles were not slanted to show my opposition to the project, but I can never be sure and it is always something I watch for. I try to write objectively.
At least one person thought I was in favor of the project. But when you're writing about an emotional issue, people often think any mention of the other side means you don't favor them. It's not a situation the messenger can win in and I no longer try. I do the best I can.
My editor did write an editorial opposing the project. He opposed it when it first came about three years ago, too. I'm not sure he could have been objective about my work on this issue because he was very much against the project.
For my part, I conversed with people who lived far enough away (about five miles) from the proposed industry to think they would not be affected. I tried, and failed, to convince them that they were wrong. At least, they did not show up to voice their concerns as I'd hoped.
Fortunately this time the proposal fell through. But what about next time?
Because there will be a next time.
Actually none of this is what I originally sat down to write this morning. I wanted to write about this issue from the standpoint of business and how corporations are killing us.
I wished to point out that living near an industry, and "near" can be defined as next door or miles and miles away, is challenging. There are so many unknowns in the things people do to make money. It is all about the dollar and not the environment or quality of life for those who are already in residence.
Who cares about endangered spinymussels or historic buildings or people with asthma, anyway?
I do.
I guess that's really what I wanted to say.
A part of me wanted to testify. I wanted to say to the officials, "Don't do this to my neighbors."
I wanted to say don't make my neighbors have to run air purifiers that have filters that look like this within a day:
Don't make them worry about asthma and bronchial problems and wonder if the industry down the road is to blame.
Don't make them wonder if the red rainwater that falls around here sometimes comes from the industry down the road. It's preferable not to have red rain at all.
Don't put that quarry five miles from our historic county seat and then expect it to withstand 30 years of continuous blasting (I don't care if the blasting expert said that amounts to "only" 30 minutes of blasting. It still shakes the house.).
I wanted to say those things and more, but I did not. I could not because I write government articles for a living and it is necessary to maintain objectivity in my work with the paper.
What I did was write several articles about it, as professionally as I could. The first was what I normally write, a "hey folks, here's what's coming up before the planning commission." The second was an update with a slant that officials were doing something new - they were actually checking for endangered species. It was also news that they'd found some.
Then I wrote about the planning commission meeting and then the meeting yesterday where the proposal for a new quarry was denied.
I am fairly sure my articles were not slanted to show my opposition to the project, but I can never be sure and it is always something I watch for. I try to write objectively.
At least one person thought I was in favor of the project. But when you're writing about an emotional issue, people often think any mention of the other side means you don't favor them. It's not a situation the messenger can win in and I no longer try. I do the best I can.
My editor did write an editorial opposing the project. He opposed it when it first came about three years ago, too. I'm not sure he could have been objective about my work on this issue because he was very much against the project.
For my part, I conversed with people who lived far enough away (about five miles) from the proposed industry to think they would not be affected. I tried, and failed, to convince them that they were wrong. At least, they did not show up to voice their concerns as I'd hoped.
Fortunately this time the proposal fell through. But what about next time?
Because there will be a next time.
Actually none of this is what I originally sat down to write this morning. I wanted to write about this issue from the standpoint of business and how corporations are killing us.
I wished to point out that living near an industry, and "near" can be defined as next door or miles and miles away, is challenging. There are so many unknowns in the things people do to make money. It is all about the dollar and not the environment or quality of life for those who are already in residence.
Who cares about endangered spinymussels or historic buildings or people with asthma, anyway?
I do.
I guess that's really what I wanted to say.
The Quarry, Part I
(The above photo was taken Christmas Day, 2004. The smoke is from the cement plant. When the stakes let go, I can see it from my house.)I live about four miles from a cement plant and quarry. The industry is on property that once belonged to my ancestors, who are also my husband's ancestors. His branch of the family ultimately sold parts of their farmland for this big hole in the ground.
While I can't do anything about that, since I wasn't even born, I do feel some responsibility for this environmental apocalypse.
On Monday as I worked, I was on the phone with a person who lives a similar four miles from this same industry, only in the other direction. As we spoke, there was a blast. "That was from the quarry," we both said as the sound came from all around us and also through the phone lines as we each heard it.
My house let out a resounding crack as something settled.
So over at least an 8-mile land area, that blast rattled windows. Living near such a thing has challenges. It's dusty, for one thing. Even four miles away. Fine white powder settles over the furniture within minutes of dusting. We run four air purifiers in the house to keep the dust down.
It was with horror that I saw that another quarry application was before the planning commission this month. As a writer covering government for the paper I try not to take sides on issues, but I do live here. This quarry would be about 9 miles away from me as the crow flies; about 11 by road.
I wrote my articles about this as straightforward and unbiased as I could. I am sure I did not succeed because at one point I was accused of being biased in favor of the developer.
Which of course was completely wrong. I thought this was a terrible project. Not just because I think quarries, which leave big gashes in the land, are bad. This particular quarry would be located within 100 feet of a major tributary to the James River.
The business people thought this was a fine idea and apparently were nonplussed at the idea of the stream vanishing in their quarry pit.
(I'll continue this later...)
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Book Reviews: Chopping Spree
Chopping Spree
By Diane Mott Davidson
Audio Book Read by Joyce Bean
6 hours abridged
A caterer turns sleuth in this series of books. Goldy the caterer has a murder on her hands. She has to find the killer before he decides she's a problem. While she's doing this she has to balance her work, her son, her husband, her friends...
Fun to listen to, except for the parts with the recipes. Since my cooking skills leave a lot to be desired, I haven't much interest in listening to recipes, but I suspect it is a draw for many women.
3.75 stars
The Gift
Richard Paul Evans
2007
5 stars
Agnes and the Hitman
Jennifer Cruise
2007
2.75 stars
By Diane Mott Davidson
Audio Book Read by Joyce Bean
6 hours abridged
A caterer turns sleuth in this series of books. Goldy the caterer has a murder on her hands. She has to find the killer before he decides she's a problem. While she's doing this she has to balance her work, her son, her husband, her friends...
Fun to listen to, except for the parts with the recipes. Since my cooking skills leave a lot to be desired, I haven't much interest in listening to recipes, but I suspect it is a draw for many women.
3.75 stars
The Gift
Richard Paul Evans
2007
5 stars
Agnes and the Hitman
Jennifer Cruise
2007
2.75 stars
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanksgiving Thirteen
Today I am thankful for (not in any particular order):
1. My computer, which lets me access the world.
2. My husband, which lets me access, well, him.
3. Socks, which keep my feet warm.
4. The sky, which brings me light and fills the day with soft comforting color.
5. The earth, which feeds me and supports me and offers strength.
6. The moon, which guides me during long nights and ensures I know how small humanity really is.
7. The sun, which brings heat and energy and without which the world would be completely dark.
8. Food, of which I have plenty.
9. My home, which offers me security and peace and solace from the masses.
10. Nature, which delights me every day with the scenes outside my window.
11. My friends, who love me for who I am and in spite of myself.
12. My work, which stimulates me and forces me to
act.
13. The world, which in spite of flawed humanity and the terrible destitutions and depravities that go on every minute, still offers hope, love, goodness and kindness. Until those are also snuffed out, we have a chance.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Retail Therapy
My mother was a super shopper. There was no abuse my father could heap on her, no inconsideration her children could bestow upon her, that could not be solved by buying something.
She swallowed capitalism and merchandising hook, line, sinker. She owned trinkets that, had we lined them side by side, would have stretched at least across the state. Maybe into Florida, I don't know.
Her clothes closet would have outfitted about three high schools when she died. She had blouses and pants hanging in the closet with the tags still on them, things she bought and never wore.
Goodwill is probably still selling her clothes even though it's been years since I handed my half over to them.
She shopped in shoes that made my feet hurt simply to look at them. No sneakers for her - she went in heels. Sometimes her feet ached, so she'd slip her shoes off and roam the mall barefooted, putting her shoes back on to enter stores.
She bought what I call "sitty-around" stuff and clothes, mostly. She did not buy art or things that would acquire value; she bought mass-produced beauties, glass things that would one day be broken. She had a collection of glass bells and a collection of glass birds and a collection of cheap carnival glass.
She collected things that make you blink and wonder who ever thought of creating such a thing in the first place.
When she was alive my closet was much better equipped than it is now, because she was always buying me clothes too. I confess I mostly did not appreciate the clothes and I seldom wore them. This is because, while my mother dressed exquisitely, it wasn't my style. I look very conservative but have a bohemian heart while my mother dressed flashy and had a movie star heart.
The two us rarely agreed in the dressing room, I have to say.
I hated to shop and still do. My mother dragged me after her for years when I was a child and a teen. She spent hours looking at clothes on the racks. She knew where all the sales were and where to buy practically anything in Roanoke.
I know I stood and whined pitifully when I was 10 and stood mulishly silent when I was 15. I did not understand how tightly the grip of purchasing was wrapped around her throat, er, pocketbook.
She lost me numerous times. I learned at a very young age to find a sales clerk and ask her to page my mother on the loudspeaker when my efforts to locate her set my eyes to overflowing. "There's a little girl here who's lost her mother. She says her name is ...." the voice would magically yell across Leggett's or Woolworth's.
My mother would come fetch me, her mouth set tightly. She'd grab my hand and scold me for running off and embarrassing her. I think it usually ended up in a whipping that I never thought I deserved because I didn't run off. I just turned around and she was gone, off in her shopping zone, her nose sniffing out a clearance rack.
No wonder I don't like to shop.
As Black Friday evolved into a kind of post-Thanksgiving freak show, my mother took notice. When the stores started opening early, she started driving in to town in the wee hours.
If she were alive today, she'd be marveling at the fact that she could be at J.C. Penney's at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.
I will still be in bed at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.
Capitalism is not democracy, though in this country the two seem to be as married as any old farmer and his wife. However, we don't have to buy things. Going shopping does not save the country.
In this day and age, I think my main job is to hold on to my money, while the job of everyone else is to take it away from me.
I am outnumbered by a billion to one.
My mother thought her job was to spend money.
She and the other billion got along just fine.
She swallowed capitalism and merchandising hook, line, sinker. She owned trinkets that, had we lined them side by side, would have stretched at least across the state. Maybe into Florida, I don't know.
Her clothes closet would have outfitted about three high schools when she died. She had blouses and pants hanging in the closet with the tags still on them, things she bought and never wore.
Goodwill is probably still selling her clothes even though it's been years since I handed my half over to them.
She shopped in shoes that made my feet hurt simply to look at them. No sneakers for her - she went in heels. Sometimes her feet ached, so she'd slip her shoes off and roam the mall barefooted, putting her shoes back on to enter stores.
She bought what I call "sitty-around" stuff and clothes, mostly. She did not buy art or things that would acquire value; she bought mass-produced beauties, glass things that would one day be broken. She had a collection of glass bells and a collection of glass birds and a collection of cheap carnival glass.
She collected things that make you blink and wonder who ever thought of creating such a thing in the first place.
When she was alive my closet was much better equipped than it is now, because she was always buying me clothes too. I confess I mostly did not appreciate the clothes and I seldom wore them. This is because, while my mother dressed exquisitely, it wasn't my style. I look very conservative but have a bohemian heart while my mother dressed flashy and had a movie star heart.
The two us rarely agreed in the dressing room, I have to say.
I hated to shop and still do. My mother dragged me after her for years when I was a child and a teen. She spent hours looking at clothes on the racks. She knew where all the sales were and where to buy practically anything in Roanoke.
I know I stood and whined pitifully when I was 10 and stood mulishly silent when I was 15. I did not understand how tightly the grip of purchasing was wrapped around her throat, er, pocketbook.
She lost me numerous times. I learned at a very young age to find a sales clerk and ask her to page my mother on the loudspeaker when my efforts to locate her set my eyes to overflowing. "There's a little girl here who's lost her mother. She says her name is ...." the voice would magically yell across Leggett's or Woolworth's.
My mother would come fetch me, her mouth set tightly. She'd grab my hand and scold me for running off and embarrassing her. I think it usually ended up in a whipping that I never thought I deserved because I didn't run off. I just turned around and she was gone, off in her shopping zone, her nose sniffing out a clearance rack.
No wonder I don't like to shop.
As Black Friday evolved into a kind of post-Thanksgiving freak show, my mother took notice. When the stores started opening early, she started driving in to town in the wee hours.
If she were alive today, she'd be marveling at the fact that she could be at J.C. Penney's at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.
I will still be in bed at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.
Capitalism is not democracy, though in this country the two seem to be as married as any old farmer and his wife. However, we don't have to buy things. Going shopping does not save the country.
In this day and age, I think my main job is to hold on to my money, while the job of everyone else is to take it away from me.
I am outnumbered by a billion to one.
My mother thought her job was to spend money.
She and the other billion got along just fine.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Up Close and Personal
This little fellow - I think it's a "he" because of the bumps on his head, indicating horns, but I can't be certain - came visiting yesterday. I think it is the same young deer I've been seeing for several months.
I spied him first from the window in the room I use for my office. I grabbed the camera and followed him to the other side of the house. The above picture was taken through the garage window.
He was in the front door.
I slipped out the garage door at the rear and moved cautiously to the front of the house. I expected to scare him and not get a shot.
Instead, I slipped around the corner and he posed:
I am a little concerned because this deer is much too socialized. He never ran from me, and I think if I'd had an apple he'd have let me pet him. We do not try to make pets of the deer. This one certainly seems to feel at home.
Monday, November 19, 2007
November Scenes
With new Nikon lens in hand, I wandered the yard and took photos yesterday afternoon. It was balmy and rather pleasant for November.
The shots above are the Blue Ridge Mountains as I see them from the backyard, if I walk about 50 feet from the back door so I can look past the trees I normally see. I think one of those ridges is the Peaks of Otter, but wouldn't swear to it.
The trees above are poplars we planted in 1987. They are now a good 50 feet tall and are beginning to die. They were had 20-year lifespan, I recall. In 1987 that seemed like *such* a long time.
Below are autumn shots.
The shots above are the Blue Ridge Mountains as I see them from the backyard, if I walk about 50 feet from the back door so I can look past the trees I normally see. I think one of those ridges is the Peaks of Otter, but wouldn't swear to it.
The trees above are poplars we planted in 1987. They are now a good 50 feet tall and are beginning to die. They were had 20-year lifespan, I recall. In 1987 that seemed like *such* a long time.
Below are autumn shots.
The Hat
This is the hat I bought my husband.
It is bright orange on top for hunting.
It also converts into a regular ol' hat.
It is bright orange on top for hunting.
It also converts into a regular ol' hat.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
24 Years (and counting)
Today is my 24th wedding anniversary.
On a cold and snowy Friday night in 1983, I stood before the altar in my wedding gown and a hat. My husband was dressed in silver tuxedo.
We married in front of a church full of people and attended a reception at the Country Club. We dashed off to a weekend honeymoon at a B&B in Bath County.
A funny addendum to our new life together happened two days later. We returned home on Sunday. That evening we went to Burger King, which I think was relatively newly opened at that time and one of the few restaurants open then.
Something made us both sick. This was our first illness together. My husband was really more ill than I and he didn't want me around him. He was really missing his mother, as I recall. We had no medicine because, well, we'd just joined our households and we each came from our parents' house. I trotted out to a 24-hour convenience store for some very expensive Pepto. Upon my return he told me he couldn't sleep with me in the bed.
Our first night in our new home, I ended up sleeping on the couch!
Now when he gets sick, which is seldom, he wants me to take care of him. Which I do, although I try to do it from far away because I am very susceptible.
Last year I made a list of 23 reasons I love my husband. I won't repeat it but here's reason number 24:
24. He is considerate.
It could be a very long list because he's a great fellow. He's not without his faults, but who isn't?
We weren't supposed to exchange gifts this year. The dishwasher went clunk a while back and we replaced it and then I bought him an expensive gun safe because the lock on his other (cheap) one went bad.
However, I bought him several pairs of jeans and a very expensive hat because I couldn't help myself. The hat cost $50, which for us is a phenomenal amount of money to spend on a hat. We just don't make such purchases. But he'd been looking for a new "go to hell" hat to hunt in, one with blaze orange. I ran across this hat while shopping yesterday and, knowing he'd been seeking just such a thing (only for like, $3.99), I made the purchase. I haven't told him what it cost.
So I wasn't expecting anything, but when he came in from work this morning he handed me a bag.
He bought me a new Nikon lens for my D40. This is a 200mm lens for shooting shots of animals around the house, he said. It's something I've been wanting and thought I might get for Christmas so this was unexpected.
I am very anxious to get outside and shoot some pictures!
On a cold and snowy Friday night in 1983, I stood before the altar in my wedding gown and a hat. My husband was dressed in silver tuxedo.
We married in front of a church full of people and attended a reception at the Country Club. We dashed off to a weekend honeymoon at a B&B in Bath County.
A funny addendum to our new life together happened two days later. We returned home on Sunday. That evening we went to Burger King, which I think was relatively newly opened at that time and one of the few restaurants open then.
Something made us both sick. This was our first illness together. My husband was really more ill than I and he didn't want me around him. He was really missing his mother, as I recall. We had no medicine because, well, we'd just joined our households and we each came from our parents' house. I trotted out to a 24-hour convenience store for some very expensive Pepto. Upon my return he told me he couldn't sleep with me in the bed.
Our first night in our new home, I ended up sleeping on the couch!
Now when he gets sick, which is seldom, he wants me to take care of him. Which I do, although I try to do it from far away because I am very susceptible.
Last year I made a list of 23 reasons I love my husband. I won't repeat it but here's reason number 24:
24. He is considerate.
It could be a very long list because he's a great fellow. He's not without his faults, but who isn't?
We weren't supposed to exchange gifts this year. The dishwasher went clunk a while back and we replaced it and then I bought him an expensive gun safe because the lock on his other (cheap) one went bad.
However, I bought him several pairs of jeans and a very expensive hat because I couldn't help myself. The hat cost $50, which for us is a phenomenal amount of money to spend on a hat. We just don't make such purchases. But he'd been looking for a new "go to hell" hat to hunt in, one with blaze orange. I ran across this hat while shopping yesterday and, knowing he'd been seeking just such a thing (only for like, $3.99), I made the purchase. I haven't told him what it cost.
So I wasn't expecting anything, but when he came in from work this morning he handed me a bag.
He bought me a new Nikon lens for my D40. This is a 200mm lens for shooting shots of animals around the house, he said. It's something I've been wanting and thought I might get for Christmas so this was unexpected.
I am very anxious to get outside and shoot some pictures!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Forgive Me
Wednesday afternoon around 5 p.m., I pulled in the driveway and spied this:
We haven't seen very many nice bucks this year. I rolled down the car window and took a couple of pictures.
Alas, I showed them to my husband. It is hunting season. Today is the first day of rifle season but yesterday hunting with a muzzle loader was legal.
My husband lay in wait for this animal yesterday, and now the spirit of the majestic deer seeks fodder in the heavens.
I feel quite guilty because the deer is dead, even though I did not shoot it. I had a role in his demise simply because I saw him.
I am hoping the great spirit will forgive me. I hate that I played a part in this.
I honor the deer that gave his life so that we may eat. The meat will not go wasted.
I will spare you the obligatory and gory "mighty hunter with dead deer" photos. It is far better to remember the animal in his glory, free and alive and prancing through the field.
We haven't seen very many nice bucks this year. I rolled down the car window and took a couple of pictures.
Alas, I showed them to my husband. It is hunting season. Today is the first day of rifle season but yesterday hunting with a muzzle loader was legal.
My husband lay in wait for this animal yesterday, and now the spirit of the majestic deer seeks fodder in the heavens.
I feel quite guilty because the deer is dead, even though I did not shoot it. I had a role in his demise simply because I saw him.
I am hoping the great spirit will forgive me. I hate that I played a part in this.
I honor the deer that gave his life so that we may eat. The meat will not go wasted.
I will spare you the obligatory and gory "mighty hunter with dead deer" photos. It is far better to remember the animal in his glory, free and alive and prancing through the field.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Weather Changes
Yesterday it went from this:
to this:
all in a matter of hours!
The temperature dropped, too, of course, since we had snow showers.
This past weeks seems to have been the peak for fall colors, finally. It's the latest I think I've ever seen it. The oak trees on the farm, as you can see, are just now turning.
Unfortunately we still need rain very badly.
Also, the governor last night released the state wide burn ban. It remains in effect in my county, though, as far as I know. Be sure to check your local laws and use common sense if you burn outside. The ground is still really dry.
to this:
all in a matter of hours!
The temperature dropped, too, of course, since we had snow showers.
This past weeks seems to have been the peak for fall colors, finally. It's the latest I think I've ever seen it. The oak trees on the farm, as you can see, are just now turning.
Unfortunately we still need rain very badly.
Also, the governor last night released the state wide burn ban. It remains in effect in my county, though, as far as I know. Be sure to check your local laws and use common sense if you burn outside. The ground is still really dry.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Thursday Thirteen
13 things I love about my husband:
1. He calls me several times a day.
2. The way he likes to hold hands when we watch TV together.
3. The look in his eye when he sees me.
4. The way he trusts me to pay all the bills.
5. The fact that's he 6' 2" and he towers over me.
6. His patience with me when I'm all excited about some silly something or another.
7. The way he lets me find my own way.
8. His tolerance for my cooking (or lack thereof).
9. His willingness to do home repairs.
10. His willingness to help sometimes with the housework.
11. His intelligence about issues great and small.
12. His passion when he gets on a roll about some particular incident about which he has an opinion.
13. The fact that he loves me back!
1. He calls me several times a day.
2. The way he likes to hold hands when we watch TV together.
3. The look in his eye when he sees me.
4. The way he trusts me to pay all the bills.
5. The fact that's he 6' 2" and he towers over me.
6. His patience with me when I'm all excited about some silly something or another.
7. The way he lets me find my own way.
8. His tolerance for my cooking (or lack thereof).
9. His willingness to do home repairs.
10. His willingness to help sometimes with the housework.
11. His intelligence about issues great and small.
12. His passion when he gets on a roll about some particular incident about which he has an opinion.
13. The fact that he loves me back!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Mad Gasser
Around Christmas 1933, in my county, not far from where I live, actually, reports began trickling in of an intruder who entered people's homes and then left a noxious gas that made people ill.
After the first incident, more appeared. The intruder made the rounds of the county, apparently sickening first one household and then the next.
Police couldn't catch him.
The phantom gasser was never identified. Nor was the gas he allegedly used identified.
This was during the Great Depression. Times were hard. Folks were facing a new year without knowing if they'd be able to eat.
Local media, which consisted of newspapers at the time, wrote about the story for months. Then it went away.
In 1944, similar events took place in Mattoon, Illinois. People panicked.
The media picked up that story, too.
This last incident occurred during World War II. Times were hard.
Both incidents have been attributed to mass hysteria.
Mass hysteria is a condition where unexplained physical symptoms arise in many people in a region. It's a collective delusion with visible symptoms.
Incidents involving mass hysteria are catalogued throughout history. There's the Salem Witch Trials, , possessed nuns in France, poisoning scares, the War of the Worlds incident with Orsen Well's radio show.
It's not unheard of at all.
Why do I bring this up?
I am wondering if the incidents at a local high school, where students are experiencing "twitching" and other unusual symptoms for which there are no explanations, might indeed be a case of mass hysteria.
I have heard a few news organizations wonder if it is a hoax, but I think that mass hysteria better describes it. It likely is a reaction to the state of the world today.
Think about it. On April 16 there were multiple murders at Virginia Tech. Combine that with the recent reports of MRSA that have had everyone scrambling to wash every surface with bleach.
Add to that the constant fear mongering from the federal government (war with Iran, flu pandemic, Orange alerts, etc.), religion (it's the end-time, after all), and concerns about drought and forest fires and who is bullying whom via text messaging, and you can see how everyone might be suffering from a bit of PTSD or hysteria.
According to Wikepedia, here are six things that must be in place for mass hysteria:
I think we can make a case for every one of those six conditions. First we had the Tech shootings and then MRSA (1). Both were widely reported ad nauseum (2). We have high gas prices, and the price of food is skyrocketing; it's going to be a lean Christmas for a lot of people this year. Nobody is expecting the government to do anything to help the lower classes (3). We're looking for the "other explanations" right now - toxins, in particular, are thought to be the problem at the moment (4). As best I can tell, it started with one report among the students and then spiraled (5). The officials so far aren't able to figure out what is happening, and as for other societal breakdowns, well, take a look around at invasions of privacy, the police state atmosphere at airports, the inability to attend a sporting event without being searched, etc. See if that doesn't make (6) sound likely.
I am not making light of the symptoms or what is going on at this local high school. I think it is every bit as real as any labeled disorder and these children are indeed sick.
Parents certainly have a right and a responsibility to do what they think they must to protect their children. The reactions from everyone appears to be warranted.
But we often discount how stress can manifest itself and how the psyche deals with issues that people, especially young people, cannot easily assimilate.
It has to come out somewhere.
What I'm wondering is if we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe it's not a sick building.
Maybe it's a sick society. Maybe these children are like the canaries in the coal mine.
Maybe we should listen to them chirp.
After the first incident, more appeared. The intruder made the rounds of the county, apparently sickening first one household and then the next.
Police couldn't catch him.
The phantom gasser was never identified. Nor was the gas he allegedly used identified.
This was during the Great Depression. Times were hard. Folks were facing a new year without knowing if they'd be able to eat.
Local media, which consisted of newspapers at the time, wrote about the story for months. Then it went away.
In 1944, similar events took place in Mattoon, Illinois. People panicked.
The media picked up that story, too.
This last incident occurred during World War II. Times were hard.
Both incidents have been attributed to mass hysteria.
Mass hysteria is a condition where unexplained physical symptoms arise in many people in a region. It's a collective delusion with visible symptoms.
Incidents involving mass hysteria are catalogued throughout history. There's the Salem Witch Trials, , possessed nuns in France, poisoning scares, the War of the Worlds incident with Orsen Well's radio show.
It's not unheard of at all.
Why do I bring this up?
I am wondering if the incidents at a local high school, where students are experiencing "twitching" and other unusual symptoms for which there are no explanations, might indeed be a case of mass hysteria.
I have heard a few news organizations wonder if it is a hoax, but I think that mass hysteria better describes it. It likely is a reaction to the state of the world today.
Think about it. On April 16 there were multiple murders at Virginia Tech. Combine that with the recent reports of MRSA that have had everyone scrambling to wash every surface with bleach.
Add to that the constant fear mongering from the federal government (war with Iran, flu pandemic, Orange alerts, etc.), religion (it's the end-time, after all), and concerns about drought and forest fires and who is bullying whom via text messaging, and you can see how everyone might be suffering from a bit of PTSD or hysteria.
According to Wikepedia, here are six things that must be in place for mass hysteria:
1. "Regional conditions must be conducive" to the mass hysteria's plausibility.
2. "Channels of communication must be available for the reports to spread."
3. "Social and economic stress, as well as a lack of faith in the authorities,predispose people to embrace unconventional interpretations."
4. "[E]very culture has marginal traditions that offer alternative explanations."
5. "A triggering episode often serves as the pebble that commences an avalanche of reports."
6. "[O]utbreaks of unusual manifestations are aided by breakdowns in official control."
I think we can make a case for every one of those six conditions. First we had the Tech shootings and then MRSA (1). Both were widely reported ad nauseum (2). We have high gas prices, and the price of food is skyrocketing; it's going to be a lean Christmas for a lot of people this year. Nobody is expecting the government to do anything to help the lower classes (3). We're looking for the "other explanations" right now - toxins, in particular, are thought to be the problem at the moment (4). As best I can tell, it started with one report among the students and then spiraled (5). The officials so far aren't able to figure out what is happening, and as for other societal breakdowns, well, take a look around at invasions of privacy, the police state atmosphere at airports, the inability to attend a sporting event without being searched, etc. See if that doesn't make (6) sound likely.
I am not making light of the symptoms or what is going on at this local high school. I think it is every bit as real as any labeled disorder and these children are indeed sick.
Parents certainly have a right and a responsibility to do what they think they must to protect their children. The reactions from everyone appears to be warranted.
But we often discount how stress can manifest itself and how the psyche deals with issues that people, especially young people, cannot easily assimilate.
It has to come out somewhere.
What I'm wondering is if we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe it's not a sick building.
Maybe it's a sick society. Maybe these children are like the canaries in the coal mine.
Maybe we should listen to them chirp.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Idiot Award
I gave myself an Idiot Award today.
Here's what happened.
My husband phoned before 9 a.m., mad as a hornet because a hot air balloon had drifted over the farm while he was trying to round up cattle to take to market.
The cattle stampeded and ran all over the place, causing him untold misery while he huffed and puffed and chased them every which a way. Hot air ballooning can be a problem sometimes for farmers.
He was not a happy camper.
When he called, he wanted the number of the county administrator's office so he could lodge a complaint.
"They're probably not in, today is a holiday," I told him. (This is very important to note for my Idiot Award.)
After listening to much muttering and fussing from him, I hung up the phone. I had to be at a ground-breaking ceremony for an article for the newspaper at 10 a.m. It was about a quarter to nine.
I decided to hustle to the newspaper office, which is five miles away (and in the other direction) to quickly take care of some business.
I breezed in the office just after 9 a.m. The editor was not yet in and I needed a word with him. I made some copies, bothered the typesetter, and then decided to leave.
I thought I'd go to the library and get a new book on tape.
I pulled in the library lot. Silly me. The library was closed.
Of course! It's a HOLIDAY.
What to do, what to do. I had 45 minutes to kill until I had someplace to be.
I know, I thought, I'll go to the grocery store and just not buy anything that needs refrigeration. So I sped down the road.
A few miles passed and I thought, Oh! I forgot the checks I need to put in the bank! I'd better do that.
So I turned down a road that would take me back towards my house, and off I went to home. I had just enough time, I thought.
I raced in the house and began filling out the bank deposit slips. As soon as I dated the form, I realized ... the banks are closed.
IT IS A HOLIDAY.
(I realize I could have used the ATM but I am old fashioned in that way. Don't use the ATM, don't pay the bills online. Hard to change my ways.)
So. By this time I was pretty sure I had the Idiot Award sewed up.
I hustled off to my ground-breaking, took my pictures, talked to the folks. Headed back home, stopped by the grocery, ran through there quickly.
I was home by lunch time.
My husband came in, still muttering about the hot air balloon. He asked about my morning and I told him, somewhat exasperated, about my forgetting about the holiday.
Then, as he was leaving, I reminded him to check the mail.
He looked at me funny. "The mail doesn't run today," he reminded me.
IT IS A HOLIDAY.
At that point, I gave myself the Idiot Award, and he laughed at me.
I laughed too. What else was there to do?
Here's what happened.
My husband phoned before 9 a.m., mad as a hornet because a hot air balloon had drifted over the farm while he was trying to round up cattle to take to market.
The cattle stampeded and ran all over the place, causing him untold misery while he huffed and puffed and chased them every which a way. Hot air ballooning can be a problem sometimes for farmers.
He was not a happy camper.
When he called, he wanted the number of the county administrator's office so he could lodge a complaint.
"They're probably not in, today is a holiday," I told him. (This is very important to note for my Idiot Award.)
After listening to much muttering and fussing from him, I hung up the phone. I had to be at a ground-breaking ceremony for an article for the newspaper at 10 a.m. It was about a quarter to nine.
I decided to hustle to the newspaper office, which is five miles away (and in the other direction) to quickly take care of some business.
I breezed in the office just after 9 a.m. The editor was not yet in and I needed a word with him. I made some copies, bothered the typesetter, and then decided to leave.
I thought I'd go to the library and get a new book on tape.
I pulled in the library lot. Silly me. The library was closed.
Of course! It's a HOLIDAY.
What to do, what to do. I had 45 minutes to kill until I had someplace to be.
I know, I thought, I'll go to the grocery store and just not buy anything that needs refrigeration. So I sped down the road.
A few miles passed and I thought, Oh! I forgot the checks I need to put in the bank! I'd better do that.
So I turned down a road that would take me back towards my house, and off I went to home. I had just enough time, I thought.
I raced in the house and began filling out the bank deposit slips. As soon as I dated the form, I realized ... the banks are closed.
IT IS A HOLIDAY.
(I realize I could have used the ATM but I am old fashioned in that way. Don't use the ATM, don't pay the bills online. Hard to change my ways.)
So. By this time I was pretty sure I had the Idiot Award sewed up.
I hustled off to my ground-breaking, took my pictures, talked to the folks. Headed back home, stopped by the grocery, ran through there quickly.
I was home by lunch time.
My husband came in, still muttering about the hot air balloon. He asked about my morning and I told him, somewhat exasperated, about my forgetting about the holiday.
Then, as he was leaving, I reminded him to check the mail.
He looked at me funny. "The mail doesn't run today," he reminded me.
IT IS A HOLIDAY.
At that point, I gave myself the Idiot Award, and he laughed at me.
I laughed too. What else was there to do?
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Veteran's Day
My father is a veteran of the Korean War. He served in the U.S. Army. He used to tell a story about serving meals somewhere far away from home. As he dished out potatoes, he spied his older brother, a higher ranking officer, coming down the chow line. When Jerry reached him, my father put just a dab of 'taters on his plate. When Jerry started to bark out the order for more potatoes, he looked up and found himself bellowing at his brother.
He jumped over the serving line to hug him.
Two of my uncles on my mother's side served in the Air Force. One served in the Gulf War; the other did his duty in Germany. I do not know either of them very well.
My grandfather on my father's side served in World War II. Grandpa died in 1989. He had black lung from working in the West Virginia coal mines in his younger days.
My grandfather had hopes of being a writer but never published. Prior to his death he sent me about 100 pages of writings and asked me not to share them with anyone else until he died. I respected his wishes and eventually made a little book which I gave to my father and other relatives. He told me just before he died that he had more things to send me but I never received them and I don't know what happened to them. He lived in California when he died.
In my grandfather's writings, the only pieces he wrote in third person were those he wrote about the war. I think it was too difficult for him to use first person because he didn't want to acknowledge what he had been through.
He served in France and was part of the push into Germany in 1945.
So in honor of those who fought to defend a better way of life, I present to you a small piece of my grandfather's memories about what it was like to have served in World War II. His name is Joe.
Warning: Some of this is a little gruesome, but then, war is.
The War
On February 7, 1945, a young man of about twenty six was ushered before an army captain in Hatviller, France, a small town west of the German border. He had been in the army approximately six months, going through infantry basic training, and had been sent over seas. As an infantry soldier he had left behind a wife and three small boys. After proper salutes and the briefing, he was sent to the front lines, where he joined two other guys in a muddy foxhole.
Tony Stokes and John Grindle looked him over, and decided they liked what they saw. He was sort of a quiet fellow, about medium height with gray eyes and a shock of brown hair. John was a regular army guy with about eight years and he had been on the line for about three months. Prior to that he had been in the transportation department, but had got butted from a staff sergeant to a private and sent to the front because of a drunken brawl, where he had sent a first sergeant to the hospital with a broken nose. Tony, like Joe, had been in the army about six months and also left a wife and two daughters at home. All three men were from the south, and all had strong feelings about America.
Joe had been a coal miner from West Virginia. Tony had been a warehouse long shore man from Mobile, Alabama. John had been a peanut farmer from Georgia, and all were prejudiced toward yankees and black men. After being together about three days and exchanging information about each other, they were beginning to form a friendship that would last the rest of their lives.
They were in the 100th Die 3971 of Regiment, 3rd battalion. COK third platoon and third squad. When Joe had arrived the third squad had been dug in on a small hill overlooking a valley. The foxhole had been enlarged enough to accommodate a 30 caliber machine gun with a field telephone. The hole had about eight inches of water in it from the melting snow and rain.
John and Tony was sleeping outside in raincoats and shelters houses, only using the hole when the artillery started. Joe took one look at the water, took out his shovel and dug a small ditch at the bottom of the hole and drained the water out. He then, with his bayonet, cut several armloads of pine boughs, laid them in the hole, spread out his shelter house and made a dry bed. In the meantime, John and Tony was watching all of this. Tony said to John, "why in the hell didn't we think of that?"
Joe, in his West Virginia hillbilly way, replied, "You all didn't have sense enough." They didn't know Joe had been wrote up in this camp Joseph T. Robinson team camp news as being the best camouflage fox hole expert in the camp.
On about the third day, about 4 a.m., Joe was standing guard at the machine gun. The phone clicked and Joe lifted the receiver. The low voice of Lt. Nolon came over the wire telling Joe to be on the alert, as there was some kind of commotion down by the river. Joe strained his eyes trying to see through the fog and mist, but could see no movement of any kind. Suddenly a flare shot up from the other end of the line, and a gun opened fire, staffing along the riverfront.
Then all hell broke loose as the whole platoon opened fire, showering the valley with a wall of fire. The command came down to stop firing. When daylight came and the fog lifted, you could see a flock of sheep had drifted down from the hills, and that was what was making the noise. After that the third platoon was called the sheep brigade.
The water the men had been drinking came from a small mountain stream that was flowing approximately 20 foot from their hole. The snow had started to melt, and John had went upstream to relieve himself. Joe and Tony heard a loud yell from John. Grabbing their weapons, they started up to see what the matter was.
John was sitting down throwing up and at his feet laying in the water was a dead German soldier with the top of his head blown off. The small stream of water the men had been drinking from was flowing overtop of his half blown off head. The thought of drinking that water was just too much for John.
The next morning orders came down to get ready to move out, as a push was starting to crack the ziefreig line after loading up the machine gun and a weapons carrier, we had removed the phone and everyone mustered up.
The push started about 8 a.m. Joe and Tony had discarded everything but their shelter houses and raincoats. John had decided he was going to wear his heavy overcoat. As they proceeded up the muddy road, balls of mud would accumulate on John's overcoat, and he would cut off about six inches of the bottom. After a while it was cut off up to his waist, which left him with a good heavy top jacket.
That started a trend, and it wasn't long before the whole platoon was wearing the top half of their army overcoats. They named them after John and called them Johncoats.
D&E: Week 1
So, a week after lamenting my lack of weight loss, let's see how I'm doing.
I exercised six of the last seven days. Every morning at 7 a.m. during the weekdays I kept an appointment with Denise Austin and her Lifetime TV exercise show, and I have done the exercises to the best of my ability.
Then the next half hour I have either lifted weights, laid in the floor or on the exercise ball for various exercises, rode the exercise bike, or walked on the treadmill.
I missed Saturday morning. This morning I lifted weights, used the exercise ball, and did 10 minutes on the bike. I need to do more on the bike and with walking.
I made minimal changes to my diet all week. This is where I am hurting. To my credit, most of the things I put in my mouth are healthy so at least I am fat on healthy food. If that makes a difference. It probably doesn't.
My feet are still a bit sore. I saw the podiatrist Wednesday and she urged me to take an anti-inflammatory medicine. She had given me a sample of Celexa which I had refused to take, but I gave in and started it Thursday night. It does seem to help, and so far no stomach upset like I get with ibuprofen.
I also want to note for my own reminder that I have read that the medicine I take for asthma can cause weight gain. I need to ask my doctor about this next time I am in.
Weight loss: 0 ZERO, NADA, NOTHING. (At least I didn't gain anything.)
I exercised six of the last seven days. Every morning at 7 a.m. during the weekdays I kept an appointment with Denise Austin and her Lifetime TV exercise show, and I have done the exercises to the best of my ability.
Then the next half hour I have either lifted weights, laid in the floor or on the exercise ball for various exercises, rode the exercise bike, or walked on the treadmill.
I missed Saturday morning. This morning I lifted weights, used the exercise ball, and did 10 minutes on the bike. I need to do more on the bike and with walking.
I made minimal changes to my diet all week. This is where I am hurting. To my credit, most of the things I put in my mouth are healthy so at least I am fat on healthy food. If that makes a difference. It probably doesn't.
My feet are still a bit sore. I saw the podiatrist Wednesday and she urged me to take an anti-inflammatory medicine. She had given me a sample of Celexa which I had refused to take, but I gave in and started it Thursday night. It does seem to help, and so far no stomach upset like I get with ibuprofen.
I also want to note for my own reminder that I have read that the medicine I take for asthma can cause weight gain. I need to ask my doctor about this next time I am in.
Weight loss: 0 ZERO, NADA, NOTHING. (At least I didn't gain anything.)
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