When the Freight Train takes a dirt road detour, it's time to start believing that something is really wrong with the economy, and those running the railroad. And, friends and readers, this freight train we call our nation's economy has not only taken that dirt road detour, but has run through the swamp as well!
What was a well oiled locomotive, pulling our train through the hills and valleys of the economy, sometimes straining a bit uphill, and sometimes free-wheeling and getting a good ride on better days, has been derailed by the political machine that was designed to serve the nation, not bankrupt it. That and the giant corporations that keep bleeding us dry, and filling their pockets while ours have nothing but lint left in the bottom!
For those who believe in paying more taxes, be sure to vote democrat in November. Regardless of what you think of Bush, the war or anything else, remember who has been at stoking coal into the locomotive for the past two years...the democrat controlled house and senate, and not the republicans. Ol' Bush might be the throttle man, but the train doesn't run very well unless you have good backup fire, and he sure as hell hasn't. I don't agree with some of his decisions, but it takes a consensus and that he hasn't had. In-fighting and pork-barrel spending just hurts everyone. Just look back to the Clinton years and the tax tables to see how much more your taxes will be, and get ready.
The government thinks you're an endless source of money. You paid all that money into Social Security in preparation for retirement, if you can ever afford it, and then they tax at least part of it. They constantly entreat you to save for your retirement in a 401(k) or an IRA, and if you do, they tax it when you withdraw it, no matter how little it is, or how much you have left.
If you work hard and pay taxes, you pay for those who sit on their butts and collect welfare, or who are here illegally, and have baby after baby free on your dollar, yet you can't afford to pay your medical insurance co-pays when you get sick or have to be hospitalized! The hospital writes off the care for those people but do you think they will write yours off? No way! You'll go to collections and they'll put a lien on everything you own to try and collect. All while the illegals and welfare cases go merrily on their way for free! And, for those on welfare, every free baby gets them more welfare money, WIC money, food stamps, etc. And you're paying for it. They won't admit who the baby's father is because the State might actually make the father pay, unless he is in jail, as many are. Plus, they get more on welfare if they just claim they don't know. Some women have six, eight or ten children each with a different "baby daddy"! Sure makes a case for involuntary sterilization, doesn't it! Or at least cut off welfare after one! Work or no welfare works too!
The government simply increases taxes to cover any and all shortfalls. politicians have diarrhea of the mouth and promise no new taxes but then sneak them in the back door so you won't notice them. Or at least hope you won't. Increase the sales tax by one cent seems minuscule and they tell you it's also paid by all the tourists and transients so it's a good thing. But when do tourists and transients but cars and appliances and the big ticket items that costs the most where that extra cent really hurts? Nobody tells you that, do they? Plus, the tourists go away and you're stuck the rest of the year and for many years with the tax!
Same with taxes to cover hospital districts, such as the one that was defeated narrowly this week for Tri-City Medical Center. They spent 400K on the election, 400K on TV ads, God knows how much for consultants and newspaper ads (couldn't that money have gone to repairs and modernization?) and the bond measure failed. For the third time! Here's a hospital that can't govern itself effectively, and has been whining for years about the same issues. They constantly put a proposition before the people asking them to tax themselves, using scare tactics that the hospital will close if the people don't approve a new tax. Didn't work before, and didn't work this time either. People are saying No More Taxes! Especially when you want to tax people who don't use the hospital (their insurance requires they use other facilities), tax only part of the cities covered so most of the people who use the hospital don't get taxed, the high use by illegals who pay nothing and no taxes, etc, etc.
Big business is suffering in this country, and in some cases, rightfully so. Take the auto industry. I don't drive foreign cars, so let's go from there. We took too long to catch up to the quality of the foreign imports, and we let them get too great a foothold in the US. Their pricing was more attractive, they lasted longer and didn't have to be replaced every few years. Their fuel economy was better and during the first fuel crisis we learned absolutely nothing. The US automakers didn't downsize vehicles and the public didn't really seem to want smaller cars, so as soon as it was over, we went back to burning gas and diesel like it was never-ending, and here we are again in a worse situation than ever.
And now, like then, the gas companies are raking in monumental profits,while we're standing with empty pockets wondering how to fill the tank on the behemoth in the driveway! And the US automakers are in trouble, trying to figure out how to survive in the marketplace. They're losing billions, yes billions of dollars every quarter, trying to stay alive, closing plants and laying off workers, stopping production of some SUV and truck lines and minivans, etc. Did it take this long to learn that the time was coming that gasoline and diesel would run short or too costly to fuel everything? And that fighting higher fuel mileage standards wasn't a prudent thing to do?
And, maybe some introspect is in store for some workers themselves, to see where it's actually worth the price they are paid to fit nuts and bolts onto a vehicle. Here's some amazing information and it goes to show how our own unions and workers have priced their own companies right out of the market. Sure, the buyouts are fine for them, since an autoworker worker making 60K could receive 100K and up to 81 weeks of severance pay to accept the buyout. (This varies by company, time worked, etc. Some Ford workers are offered $140K after 10 years)
Per the Center for Automotive Research: " On average, active union members cost automakers $130,000 a year, whether they are working or not, according to the Center for Automotive Research. That cost drops to $50,000 a year when someone retires early or takes a buyout, and once that retiree is old enough to move onto Medicare and Social Security, the cost drops to $20,000 annually. " Any wonder the cost for an automobile is so high?
Regardless, we're on that freight train and taxes and big business have derailed us and only government and big business are going to get those rails back in place to a healthy economy. We need to stabilize jobs in sectors where people can make a reasonable wage, have healthcare benefits, reduce taxation that is based on giving away to everyone and every nation that won't do for themselves, and start being America again. Maybe we need to reinvent the railroad and lay the tracks ourselves to assure it's done right, and use the cowcatcher to fling off the politicians who stand in the way enroute to a strong and healthy economy!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
What Doesn't Kill You, Doesn't Necessarily Make you Stronger...
As a kid, I looked out at the wide world and the years ahead of me as some sort of ocean of infinity, some huge chasm, that was never actually going to be crossed. Oh, sure, I'd swing and swim, and move forward, but I'd never really reach the point that my grandfather had or my father was at. After all, they were...ahem...older.
My father was a police officer and it always amazed me how many people he knew from all walks of life. It was the job that gave him that luxury, or vantage point on life, I suppose, but it also gave him an unusual view on death as well. Some of his friends died at an early age, much earlier than I would have guessed, but then again, when I was 10, my dad was 54, so he was getting older and many of his older friends were at, or had already met, retirement age. Plus the injuries and work took its toll on some, as police and firemen seemed to comprise most of the closest family friends.
Yet, it seemed people in that era either died early with some incurable childhood disease, died as a result of some horrible accident, from one of the wars, or lived well into their retirement years. Oh yes, there were other causes of death, but it seems like today we have more types of disease and medical problems than ever before, and more people dying of more maladies at younger ages than in the past. What's the reason?
Heart attack and stroke are major killers, but much of their lethality can be prevented by diet and exercise and the latest medicines, such as statins, can help reduce arterial plaque and reduce the potential for heart attack and stroke. Anti-platelet therapy can also help reduce the production of blood clots, and reduce the risk of cerebral thrombosis, coronary thrombosis and stroke.
But what about all the chemicals we have been exposed to that nobody ever told us about or warned us they were bad for us? The herbicides, defoliants, pesticides, sterilants, plasticizers, benzene, benzine (they are two totally different chemicals) MEK, MIBK, Acetone, Toluol, and a thousand others we've been exposed to.
How about the chemicals pregnant mothers were exposed to before the electronics industry discovered the checicals and processes from certain types of circuit board manufacturing was detrimental to the unborn fetus? Components in the manufacture of the boards, including capacitors, were often made with polychlorinated biphenyls (PCB's) which were extremely toxic . Glycol ethers caused serious health problems for women of child-bearing age. How many children were born deformed, or crippled or with a mental handicap because of those and dozens of other dangerous chemicals those women came into contact with, inhaled or otherwise absorbed into their bodies? The internet is alive with stories of those exposures!
Why didn't our own government 'fess up to the problems with Agent Orange before Vietnam Veteran's wives started having children born with Spina Bifida? And the women Vietnam Vets started having children with the same condition? And let's be honest here, spina bifida is the tip of the iceberg when you look at all the other complications that can beset babies with this issue; hydrocephalus, Chiari II malformation, tethered spinal cord, urinary tract disorders, latex allergies, learning disabilities and more. Yet nobody wanted to tell the poor soldier he was getting into this stuff. Or handling it or loading it or anything else.
Tell the vet the stuff was harmless when he has any of the "presumptive conditions" on the list including numerous cancers caused by Agent Orange. Yes, some of the conditions may not have been caused by the stuff, but try telling that to a 30 year old man in the late 70's and early 80's who's wasting away from a cancer he's never even heard of before! Now multiply that by the thousands who are now in their 60's and beyond where health often takes a turn for the worse just because of age, and the prognosis isn't all that good.
Has the government turned around their thinking and started telling the troops all about the "bad stuff"? Not on your life! Iraq and Afghanistan vets still have the same problems, although different compounds to deal with. However they are being hustled through the VA system faster than the older vets so at least they are receiving faster care. The downside of that is it leaves some of the vets on the back burner to deal with war injuries and illnesses from 40 years ago! It seems that's because the war in the middle east is on everyones' mind and Vietnam is old news; or at least that's what most of the older vets believe. Getting swept under the carpet again. Now PTSD is a big deal...ten, twenty, thirty years ago or more it was brushed off, and people told to suck it up. It's in the public eye so better do something about it and, oh yeah, 2008 is an election year!
Same with the farmer who grows your food. Do you think they really know every nuance of the chemical that gets sprayed on the crops? Without those chemicals, we'd be eating lots less food at a much higher price, and the yields would be much lower per acre, likely. But the chemical manufacturers pass the government labeling requirements, sometimes barely in my opinion, and sell poison to the farmer and he obeys the label directions and applies it to his crops, He's very careful to assure you won't get sick from eating those crops, but the farmer, his fieldworkers and others who handle the equipment and chemicals can, and do. Some die every year from pesticide poisoning, and some die slowly as a result of long-term exposure. Some have effects that never go away, like the cholinesterase inhibitors, where some people can never be around the chemical again their entire life after prolonged exposures, or even a single acute exposure.
So, think about what you touch and use every day. That acetone or non-acetone nail polish remover makes me laugh because it's going straight to your internal organs when you use it. It's a solvent and nobody tells you that on the label. They package it in a pretty bottle and make it sound so inviting to use! Research it on your computer and find out what the chemical compounds really are, not just the proprietary name, and what they do to your body before you slather stuff on.
Because what doesn't kill you, may really be killing you very slowly, and you just don't know it today, or tomorrow...but someday, there it will be! And, like many, you'll always wonder where did that ever come from?
Finally, I'm now 10 years beyond where my father stood back when I was a boy, looking back over that ocean and chasm, wondering how I could have swung over and swam so quickly to the other side. Like my dad, I've met so many people, and had the luxury to travel to so many more places; my job brought me to see so much good and bad in life, more good than bad, though. I realized that time, war, accidents and friendship have all played a part in taking friends and loved ones away. That the magical, mystical trip was just that, a miracle all in itself, that only I could have lived and only I could have enjoyed. That the laughter, love, tears and joy could have belonged to nobody else but me. The winning, the losing, the soaring and the heartache was mine alone, and it all wrapped up to bring me to the other side and make me what I am today. Not rich nor poor, but just someone who knows who he is and where his roots are.
That all too quickly has the time passed to cross that ocean and stand here on this side, missing some who started the journey, adding and losing some more along the way, and lamenting most those whom I started with but who didn't make it all the way. The bright shining light ahead is a beacon to enjoy the rest of the journey with those I cherish most, and to always remember that life is simply a journey and the one who gets to the end is always a winner, but getting there first isn't really a good idea!
My father was a police officer and it always amazed me how many people he knew from all walks of life. It was the job that gave him that luxury, or vantage point on life, I suppose, but it also gave him an unusual view on death as well. Some of his friends died at an early age, much earlier than I would have guessed, but then again, when I was 10, my dad was 54, so he was getting older and many of his older friends were at, or had already met, retirement age. Plus the injuries and work took its toll on some, as police and firemen seemed to comprise most of the closest family friends.
Yet, it seemed people in that era either died early with some incurable childhood disease, died as a result of some horrible accident, from one of the wars, or lived well into their retirement years. Oh yes, there were other causes of death, but it seems like today we have more types of disease and medical problems than ever before, and more people dying of more maladies at younger ages than in the past. What's the reason?
Heart attack and stroke are major killers, but much of their lethality can be prevented by diet and exercise and the latest medicines, such as statins, can help reduce arterial plaque and reduce the potential for heart attack and stroke. Anti-platelet therapy can also help reduce the production of blood clots, and reduce the risk of cerebral thrombosis, coronary thrombosis and stroke.
But what about all the chemicals we have been exposed to that nobody ever told us about or warned us they were bad for us? The herbicides, defoliants, pesticides, sterilants, plasticizers, benzene, benzine (they are two totally different chemicals) MEK, MIBK, Acetone, Toluol, and a thousand others we've been exposed to.
How about the chemicals pregnant mothers were exposed to before the electronics industry discovered the checicals and processes from certain types of circuit board manufacturing was detrimental to the unborn fetus? Components in the manufacture of the boards, including capacitors, were often made with polychlorinated biphenyls (PCB's) which were extremely toxic . Glycol ethers caused serious health problems for women of child-bearing age. How many children were born deformed, or crippled or with a mental handicap because of those and dozens of other dangerous chemicals those women came into contact with, inhaled or otherwise absorbed into their bodies? The internet is alive with stories of those exposures!
Why didn't our own government 'fess up to the problems with Agent Orange before Vietnam Veteran's wives started having children born with Spina Bifida? And the women Vietnam Vets started having children with the same condition? And let's be honest here, spina bifida is the tip of the iceberg when you look at all the other complications that can beset babies with this issue; hydrocephalus, Chiari II malformation, tethered spinal cord, urinary tract disorders, latex allergies, learning disabilities and more. Yet nobody wanted to tell the poor soldier he was getting into this stuff. Or handling it or loading it or anything else.
Tell the vet the stuff was harmless when he has any of the "presumptive conditions" on the list including numerous cancers caused by Agent Orange. Yes, some of the conditions may not have been caused by the stuff, but try telling that to a 30 year old man in the late 70's and early 80's who's wasting away from a cancer he's never even heard of before! Now multiply that by the thousands who are now in their 60's and beyond where health often takes a turn for the worse just because of age, and the prognosis isn't all that good.
Has the government turned around their thinking and started telling the troops all about the "bad stuff"? Not on your life! Iraq and Afghanistan vets still have the same problems, although different compounds to deal with. However they are being hustled through the VA system faster than the older vets so at least they are receiving faster care. The downside of that is it leaves some of the vets on the back burner to deal with war injuries and illnesses from 40 years ago! It seems that's because the war in the middle east is on everyones' mind and Vietnam is old news; or at least that's what most of the older vets believe. Getting swept under the carpet again. Now PTSD is a big deal...ten, twenty, thirty years ago or more it was brushed off, and people told to suck it up. It's in the public eye so better do something about it and, oh yeah, 2008 is an election year!
Same with the farmer who grows your food. Do you think they really know every nuance of the chemical that gets sprayed on the crops? Without those chemicals, we'd be eating lots less food at a much higher price, and the yields would be much lower per acre, likely. But the chemical manufacturers pass the government labeling requirements, sometimes barely in my opinion, and sell poison to the farmer and he obeys the label directions and applies it to his crops, He's very careful to assure you won't get sick from eating those crops, but the farmer, his fieldworkers and others who handle the equipment and chemicals can, and do. Some die every year from pesticide poisoning, and some die slowly as a result of long-term exposure. Some have effects that never go away, like the cholinesterase inhibitors, where some people can never be around the chemical again their entire life after prolonged exposures, or even a single acute exposure.
So, think about what you touch and use every day. That acetone or non-acetone nail polish remover makes me laugh because it's going straight to your internal organs when you use it. It's a solvent and nobody tells you that on the label. They package it in a pretty bottle and make it sound so inviting to use! Research it on your computer and find out what the chemical compounds really are, not just the proprietary name, and what they do to your body before you slather stuff on.
Because what doesn't kill you, may really be killing you very slowly, and you just don't know it today, or tomorrow...but someday, there it will be! And, like many, you'll always wonder where did that ever come from?
Finally, I'm now 10 years beyond where my father stood back when I was a boy, looking back over that ocean and chasm, wondering how I could have swung over and swam so quickly to the other side. Like my dad, I've met so many people, and had the luxury to travel to so many more places; my job brought me to see so much good and bad in life, more good than bad, though. I realized that time, war, accidents and friendship have all played a part in taking friends and loved ones away. That the magical, mystical trip was just that, a miracle all in itself, that only I could have lived and only I could have enjoyed. That the laughter, love, tears and joy could have belonged to nobody else but me. The winning, the losing, the soaring and the heartache was mine alone, and it all wrapped up to bring me to the other side and make me what I am today. Not rich nor poor, but just someone who knows who he is and where his roots are.
That all too quickly has the time passed to cross that ocean and stand here on this side, missing some who started the journey, adding and losing some more along the way, and lamenting most those whom I started with but who didn't make it all the way. The bright shining light ahead is a beacon to enjoy the rest of the journey with those I cherish most, and to always remember that life is simply a journey and the one who gets to the end is always a winner, but getting there first isn't really a good idea!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
WHEN A SUMMER JOB WAS FUN AND MEMORABLE
I forgot about a summertime job I had until today, when I saw a query on Ancestry.com, searching for a long lost relative. Not that the job wasn't memorable, as I have often thought and spoke of the people and places, but simply because I just didn't write about it.
I was about 14 or so. In those days, you didn't need a notarized document from the school or the state or anyone else. A phone call or a short talk with your parents was sufficient and you could start working. Nobody was going to place you in a hazardous job, and if you fell down the stairs at the store, you would be taken care of, but nobody was going to sue the store owner or the insurance company either. It was the time of a handshake and trying to give a kid a "leg up" in the world and let him or her earn a few bucks so they could enjoy their free time. Not a bad idea as it kept many of us off the streets and out of trouble, not that our parents would have let us stray too far off the straight and narrow back in the late 50's anyway!
My dad had worked for Henry Krumwiede part time picking up and delivering goods in the early 1950's and they had remained friends for many years. I think after about 1954 or so was when my dad stopped that part time work, or so it seems.
Henry always seemed a little gruff when you first met him, but that was just his facade. He was a very nice man, and I think he kept that up to avoid people thinking he was a soft touch. Mrs. Krumwiede, I believe her first name was Helene, was a very nice, jovial lady, always dressed very nicely, looked like she was ready for shopping or dining out, and she loved cats, although I never believed Henry liked cats very much. There were cats everywhere in the back of the store, but they never ventured into the customer areas. The worst extra work they ever made for us was cleaning some cat fur off a case of soda or two when pulling bottles for the display. They sure were clean animals and Mrs. Krumwiede always took good care of them.
To a kid, this was almost heaven. The dream job. Working in Henry Krumwiede's store on Sanford Avenue. Krumwiede's sold party supplies, as it later was known, but to most it was the pretzel and potato chip store. They received hundreds of large cans of pretzels of all shapes and sizes, potato chips, popcorn and even peanuts, and sold them by the large bulk can, or by the pound where they were metered out by hand into hanging scales and ever so gently slid into glassine bags, and closed with a stapler. The customer had so many choices, pretzel sticks, rings, large and small twists, nuggets, "butter bretzels", and rods. Potato chips were regular, barbecue and rippled. Popcorn was regular and that wild new cheese flavor. And, peanuts, as I recall, were just that, salted peanuts in the shell.
But wait...that was just the tip of the iceberg! There was all flavors of soda stacked on the floor in the back room and in racks in the front of the store, waiting to fill those 12 bottle cases with the 5 cent glass bottle deposit. There were Berry's Biscuits, thin mints, Rockwood chocolate wafers, assorted candy, Van Houten chocolate bars, Wylers Lemonade Mix, and lots more. Then there was Hershey's Ice Cream in quarts and those now gone Sky-Hi Cones. That was 1/8 of a quart of Neapolitan ice cream which was specially wrapped in slabs, and unwrapped and placed in a special ice cream cone that held it vertically, all for a nickel. Of course there were nickel ice cream bars, but that Sky-Hi cone held a fascination for many kids, and even in a store that sold mostly bulk items, many of those cones were sold.
A "perk" of the job was cold soda always in the refrigerator in the back room, and discounted prices on just about everything. Plus, if you didn't mind stale pretzels or popcorn or chips, you could eat all you wanted from the throw-aways. LOL. We didn't but I assure you everyone probably tried once or twice. Nothing like rancid chips, (they didn't use stabilizers and preservatives back then...the shelf life was short) stale pretzels and popcorn that seems soggy.
Empty popcorn, pretzel and potato chip cans were stored in the cellar and the only way to get there was, as usual in those days, a stairway under metal doors in the sidewalk in front of the store. The normal, if you can call it that, way of moving stock up or down was one person at top and bottom and tossing the cans up or down, since even a full potato chip can weighed only about 5 lbs or so; pretzels somewhat more. Big problem one evening was one of the BIG popcorn cans that was supposed to be EMPTY WASN'T! The tosser at the top threw it to me and it hit the edge of the cellar door support before coming the rest of the way down...without its' top. Do you have any idea what 5 lbs of popped popcorn looks like coming down on you? A freaking blizzard! Not only that, but now you have to figure out how to clean this mess up, and the tosser is telling you it's your fault because you didn't catch it, and you're yelling it's her fault because she can't throw.
The issue becomes one of who's going to catch hell for this mess? The gal or me? Honestly, neither one of us did. Mrs. Krumwiede howled with laughter and said she wished she had been there to see our faces when it happened; and that the cans were old popcorn and not for sale so nothing was really damaged anyway; someone forgot to dump them before sitting them with the other cans. A very kindly lady!
I spent most of what I made at the store on Wyler's Lemonade Mix, (I was as addicted to that pale yellow powder as anyone could get to anything, I guess, but it wore off after one summer...whew..no detox for me!) chips, pretzels and other things. It was a great summer and the one and only one I worked there. I went back there many times after to buy things and over the years nothing really changed until one day the little store was closed. I don't know whether Henry died or simply sold the store, but a piece of my Americana was gone and remained only in memory!
I was about 14 or so. In those days, you didn't need a notarized document from the school or the state or anyone else. A phone call or a short talk with your parents was sufficient and you could start working. Nobody was going to place you in a hazardous job, and if you fell down the stairs at the store, you would be taken care of, but nobody was going to sue the store owner or the insurance company either. It was the time of a handshake and trying to give a kid a "leg up" in the world and let him or her earn a few bucks so they could enjoy their free time. Not a bad idea as it kept many of us off the streets and out of trouble, not that our parents would have let us stray too far off the straight and narrow back in the late 50's anyway!
My dad had worked for Henry Krumwiede part time picking up and delivering goods in the early 1950's and they had remained friends for many years. I think after about 1954 or so was when my dad stopped that part time work, or so it seems.
Henry always seemed a little gruff when you first met him, but that was just his facade. He was a very nice man, and I think he kept that up to avoid people thinking he was a soft touch. Mrs. Krumwiede, I believe her first name was Helene, was a very nice, jovial lady, always dressed very nicely, looked like she was ready for shopping or dining out, and she loved cats, although I never believed Henry liked cats very much. There were cats everywhere in the back of the store, but they never ventured into the customer areas. The worst extra work they ever made for us was cleaning some cat fur off a case of soda or two when pulling bottles for the display. They sure were clean animals and Mrs. Krumwiede always took good care of them.
To a kid, this was almost heaven. The dream job. Working in Henry Krumwiede's store on Sanford Avenue. Krumwiede's sold party supplies, as it later was known, but to most it was the pretzel and potato chip store. They received hundreds of large cans of pretzels of all shapes and sizes, potato chips, popcorn and even peanuts, and sold them by the large bulk can, or by the pound where they were metered out by hand into hanging scales and ever so gently slid into glassine bags, and closed with a stapler. The customer had so many choices, pretzel sticks, rings, large and small twists, nuggets, "butter bretzels", and rods. Potato chips were regular, barbecue and rippled. Popcorn was regular and that wild new cheese flavor. And, peanuts, as I recall, were just that, salted peanuts in the shell.
But wait...that was just the tip of the iceberg! There was all flavors of soda stacked on the floor in the back room and in racks in the front of the store, waiting to fill those 12 bottle cases with the 5 cent glass bottle deposit. There were Berry's Biscuits, thin mints, Rockwood chocolate wafers, assorted candy, Van Houten chocolate bars, Wylers Lemonade Mix, and lots more. Then there was Hershey's Ice Cream in quarts and those now gone Sky-Hi Cones. That was 1/8 of a quart of Neapolitan ice cream which was specially wrapped in slabs, and unwrapped and placed in a special ice cream cone that held it vertically, all for a nickel. Of course there were nickel ice cream bars, but that Sky-Hi cone held a fascination for many kids, and even in a store that sold mostly bulk items, many of those cones were sold.
A "perk" of the job was cold soda always in the refrigerator in the back room, and discounted prices on just about everything. Plus, if you didn't mind stale pretzels or popcorn or chips, you could eat all you wanted from the throw-aways. LOL. We didn't but I assure you everyone probably tried once or twice. Nothing like rancid chips, (they didn't use stabilizers and preservatives back then...the shelf life was short) stale pretzels and popcorn that seems soggy.
Empty popcorn, pretzel and potato chip cans were stored in the cellar and the only way to get there was, as usual in those days, a stairway under metal doors in the sidewalk in front of the store. The normal, if you can call it that, way of moving stock up or down was one person at top and bottom and tossing the cans up or down, since even a full potato chip can weighed only about 5 lbs or so; pretzels somewhat more. Big problem one evening was one of the BIG popcorn cans that was supposed to be EMPTY WASN'T! The tosser at the top threw it to me and it hit the edge of the cellar door support before coming the rest of the way down...without its' top. Do you have any idea what 5 lbs of popped popcorn looks like coming down on you? A freaking blizzard! Not only that, but now you have to figure out how to clean this mess up, and the tosser is telling you it's your fault because you didn't catch it, and you're yelling it's her fault because she can't throw.
The issue becomes one of who's going to catch hell for this mess? The gal or me? Honestly, neither one of us did. Mrs. Krumwiede howled with laughter and said she wished she had been there to see our faces when it happened; and that the cans were old popcorn and not for sale so nothing was really damaged anyway; someone forgot to dump them before sitting them with the other cans. A very kindly lady!
I spent most of what I made at the store on Wyler's Lemonade Mix, (I was as addicted to that pale yellow powder as anyone could get to anything, I guess, but it wore off after one summer...whew..no detox for me!) chips, pretzels and other things. It was a great summer and the one and only one I worked there. I went back there many times after to buy things and over the years nothing really changed until one day the little store was closed. I don't know whether Henry died or simply sold the store, but a piece of my Americana was gone and remained only in memory!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
When Everything Goes Wrong....
Sometimes, no matter what you do, everything just goes wrong. It's one of those Murphy's Law things that haunts the human race, and has since the beginning of time. I believe the adage is "What can go wrong, will go wrong, at the worst possible moment."
It's like the time I had a marine engine apart in the bilge of a boat. Here I was contorted and bent over like one of those straws they sell, that propels the milk through loops to entertain your kid before they dribble it all over the floor, trying to check the cylinders of a 454 Mercruiser Blue Water Marine engine. Man, it was hot and if only I could get this one cylinder loose, I could get the engine back together and not have to have it pulled from the boat at great expense. But, as you know by now, Murphy's Law prevailed. The one cylinder didn't come loose; I spent about an hour fishing a wayward plastic "straw" from a can of WD-40 that dropped through the hole in the block (if I had known the engine had to come out, this would have not even been cared about!) and cut and scraped and feeling about a hundred years old climbed out on deck to curse the engine gods.
What made matters worse is that I had bought the used boat about 60 days earlier and the seller had a boat yard attend to the matter. They thought it was fixed, I thought it was fixed, and the boat ran well, so there was no extended warranty on the engine. That was an $8000 lesson in marine economics. But that was lesson three.
Lesson one in Murphy's law is that you have no idea how expensive and complicated things will be until the government gets involved.
Suffice it to say I had a fuel leak on a boat and fortunately, being a safety freak, did not have a fire or explosion. A good friend came down and assisted me in removing the fuel from the damaged tank, the boat bilge and even the local fire department were good guys in helping spray some foam to keep the vapors down while we cleaned it up. Then the proverbial crap hit the fans....
The Coast Guard who declined to respond, and the Harbor Patrol, who also declined to respond, decided to contact the Hazardous Materials people who decided to respond almost 24 hours later, while there was about a quart of fuel still left in the vessel. They were rude, unpleasant and, frankly, damned ugly toward us, giving us orders and acting like the Gestapo. In the end, it cost me hundreds of dollars to take the tainted fuel to a disposal facility (we were going to give it to a guy who could have burned it in an old truck but the HazMat people insisted it had to go to a certain place where it could be traced) and to add insult to injury, they tried to fine me and charge me for their unwanted and unneeded response. Even the OSC (on-scene commander) which was the local fire department agreed they were not needed. I fought both and won, since my background covers their field pretty thoroughly, but it goes to show that when you're up to your butt in alligators and trying to drain the swamp, someone will decide to kick you in the butt and shove you deeper in the swamp and add more alligators!
Lesson two was another fuel tank leak on another vessel (I don't have good luck with fuel tanks...is God trying to tell me something? Hell, I had better luck with Napalm canisters..or..maybe not as I remember all those leakers I had to wrap with det cord...ahh...that was in another world far away) But I digress here. This tank was installed incorrectly by the manufacturer and failed all required specifications, but they refused to accept a claim for repair. Their stance was that the warranty had expired and even though there was property damage, the statute of limitations had run out, so I couldn't collect anything. However, had the boat exploded and I been maimed or killed, the statute of limitations would still be running and I or my survivors would have a case. Isn't that nice? It cost me $5000 to pull the engine and replace the entire tank with a new one.
So, I don't get mad; I get even. Through my contacts I found that about half the workforce at their plant was illegal alien workers. So, a few phone calls to the right people and somehow they were raided by the INS and approximately 300 people were arrested. My understanding is that the shutdown and slowdown in production cost them about a million bucks! In my mind, Murphy's Law worked just right that time. At the worst possible moment..payback is a bit*h!
It's like the time I had a marine engine apart in the bilge of a boat. Here I was contorted and bent over like one of those straws they sell, that propels the milk through loops to entertain your kid before they dribble it all over the floor, trying to check the cylinders of a 454 Mercruiser Blue Water Marine engine. Man, it was hot and if only I could get this one cylinder loose, I could get the engine back together and not have to have it pulled from the boat at great expense. But, as you know by now, Murphy's Law prevailed. The one cylinder didn't come loose; I spent about an hour fishing a wayward plastic "straw" from a can of WD-40 that dropped through the hole in the block (if I had known the engine had to come out, this would have not even been cared about!) and cut and scraped and feeling about a hundred years old climbed out on deck to curse the engine gods.
What made matters worse is that I had bought the used boat about 60 days earlier and the seller had a boat yard attend to the matter. They thought it was fixed, I thought it was fixed, and the boat ran well, so there was no extended warranty on the engine. That was an $8000 lesson in marine economics. But that was lesson three.
Lesson one in Murphy's law is that you have no idea how expensive and complicated things will be until the government gets involved.
Suffice it to say I had a fuel leak on a boat and fortunately, being a safety freak, did not have a fire or explosion. A good friend came down and assisted me in removing the fuel from the damaged tank, the boat bilge and even the local fire department were good guys in helping spray some foam to keep the vapors down while we cleaned it up. Then the proverbial crap hit the fans....
The Coast Guard who declined to respond, and the Harbor Patrol, who also declined to respond, decided to contact the Hazardous Materials people who decided to respond almost 24 hours later, while there was about a quart of fuel still left in the vessel. They were rude, unpleasant and, frankly, damned ugly toward us, giving us orders and acting like the Gestapo. In the end, it cost me hundreds of dollars to take the tainted fuel to a disposal facility (we were going to give it to a guy who could have burned it in an old truck but the HazMat people insisted it had to go to a certain place where it could be traced) and to add insult to injury, they tried to fine me and charge me for their unwanted and unneeded response. Even the OSC (on-scene commander) which was the local fire department agreed they were not needed. I fought both and won, since my background covers their field pretty thoroughly, but it goes to show that when you're up to your butt in alligators and trying to drain the swamp, someone will decide to kick you in the butt and shove you deeper in the swamp and add more alligators!
Lesson two was another fuel tank leak on another vessel (I don't have good luck with fuel tanks...is God trying to tell me something? Hell, I had better luck with Napalm canisters..or..maybe not as I remember all those leakers I had to wrap with det cord...ahh...that was in another world far away) But I digress here. This tank was installed incorrectly by the manufacturer and failed all required specifications, but they refused to accept a claim for repair. Their stance was that the warranty had expired and even though there was property damage, the statute of limitations had run out, so I couldn't collect anything. However, had the boat exploded and I been maimed or killed, the statute of limitations would still be running and I or my survivors would have a case. Isn't that nice? It cost me $5000 to pull the engine and replace the entire tank with a new one.
So, I don't get mad; I get even. Through my contacts I found that about half the workforce at their plant was illegal alien workers. So, a few phone calls to the right people and somehow they were raided by the INS and approximately 300 people were arrested. My understanding is that the shutdown and slowdown in production cost them about a million bucks! In my mind, Murphy's Law worked just right that time. At the worst possible moment..payback is a bit*h!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
BILLY MAYS...CAN YOU HEAR US???
BUY IT NOW. RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR I'LL BUST YOUR EARDRUMS! AND I'LL REPEAT MYSELF UNTIL YOUR TV SPEAKER FALLS OFF!
Is it just me, or is this guy just the most obnoxious and most irritating person to step foot in front of a television screen in the past decade? No, it isn't just me, since I've seen a petition asking people to sign to get this person off the airwaves. Obviously there are others who think this grinning buffoon is irritating, obnoxious and less than a joy to watch.
Every time I turn around, there he is. And no, it's not effective advertising, since I can't tell you what he's selling, but I do remember his name. That's called self promotion since he tells you his name at the start of every commercial, and always wears the same color outfit so you know it's him. That's my signal to get up and pee, or go to the fridge and see what's leftover, whether I want to or have to do either of those two things! . Hell, I'd eat some old food and chance poisoning rather than sit through one of his tirades on some useless product or service!
Not that Billy Mays is likely a bad person. He's probably a very nice guy, but he yells. And yelling is impolite and assails the senses of propriety. And a person who screams and yells with a huge grin sounds like they are talking to an audience of hearing impaired chimps, waiting for him to throw a banana or other morsel at the end of the tirade. That morsel never comes, unless it's some product he's hawking that the mute button has effectively cancelled out.
If you too are sick of the high volume yelling this guy vomits at your television screen on a constant basis, tell whomever he sells for you won't buy their products. Boycott the product and sent them an e-mail telling them why you're doing so. That's the most effective way to get that voice off your screen. Otherwise you're in for what seems like an eternity of high volume sales pitches for a lot of products that you haven't even heard of yet, and lots of reruns of those you luckily may have forgotten already!
Long Live the Mute Button!
Update: Sadly, and I truly mean that, Billy Mays has passed on. From all accounts, he was a very nice human being and a good man. That doesn't change the fact that most people simply hated his commercials, and had to put up with them between segments of their favorite TV shows. Maybe it's a tribute to his salesmanship or style or whatever, because all sorts of similar pitchmen have spawned from his genre, and even his infomercials continue to sail the airwaves long after his passing. So, Billy Mays lives on, if not in the flesh, in spirit and sound on your local TV and cable, and satellite.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Driving as if your life depended on it..because it does.
Every day we see the results of careless vehicle operation. The moment of inattention, the cell phone call that's not an emergency, the aggressive driving habits of some, and the poorly maintained vehicles of others. Add these factors together and a catastrophe is about to happen, and frequently does. All too frequently. Most of the situations that result in accidents can be avoided rather easily. Since the greatest number of accidents are not a result of mechanical failure, but driver error, lets start there to see what can be done to make your drive safer.
Inattention: This is probably the most common driving error that is made. From drinking coffee or soft drinks, to eating, to applying make-up, shaving, talking on the cell phone to daydreaming, all are reasons accidents happen. Your number one responsibility when you enter a motor vehicle is to drive safely. Give your full attention to driving, not to anything else. No matter how important it seems at the moment, nothing is as important as your safety and the safety of those around you. Anything that is not an immediate safety concern can wait, until you stop in a safe place and can attend to other matters without jeopardizing your life, or that of others. Having an accident, perhaps fatal, while talking on a cell phone, even with the requisite hands-free device, seems to make the call very unimportant.
Aggressive Driving: Aggressive driving has spawned a new term in this country...Road Rage. It emanates from some drivers illogical need to control the road, and "teach a lesson" to those who get in their way, or thwart their maneuvers. And, all too frequently, the anger that starts out as a finger gesture, or an obscenity yelled at another driver, ends up in violence, even death. The first line of defense is to keep your cool. No matter what another driver does or does not do is worth risking life and property for. So what if he or she cuts you off. Let the anger go and just leave more space. I know it's hard to do, but chasing the person, bumping them with your car or escalating the situation is a sure-fire way to get hurt. And, when its all over, it does not matter who started the confrontation. If you are seriously injured or dead...what did it prove?
"A tip...if a driver is aggressive, shouts insults or makes gestures, don't trade looks or shouts or anything else. Simply slow down or move out of the way and go on with your business."
If the driver damages your vehicle, or makes threatening moves, if you can, write the license number down and turn it over to the local police or Highway Patrol. They may ask you to sign a complaint, but most jurisdictions cannot issue citations unless they personally see the infraction. The simple rule is to avoid confrontation and continue on your way safely. I know it goes against the grain of most of us, but I would rather have a dented fender than lose my life. I've been to scenes where a very silly driver has tried to maintain his pride by trading blows with a road rager, and almost bled to death on the highway as a result. It just isn't worth it!
Alcohol and Drug Impaired Driving: Alcohol and drug policies are the law of the land. But many people don’t seem to understand the absolute necessity of a driver behind the wheel, who is not impaired by any substance. When you’re traveling at 70 to 90 feet per second down the highway, you simply cannot allow any substance to cloud your thinking, nor your reaction time. But, in all too many cases, we find alcohol and/or drugs related to the accident. Alcohol can act as both a stimulant and a depressant. It stimulates the psyche into doing things that might not otherwise be considered, and it depresses common sense, that usually overrules foolish and dangerous acts. And, that is frequently where the problem starts. Many people believe they can use alcohol or drugs and drive safely. That’s because they have lost much of their cognitive sense when they are impaired, and believe they can do nothing wrong. Some even believe they are invincible. Believe me, I have been at enough wrecks in my career to assure you there is no such thing as an invincible driver. Serious injury, and often death, does occur in virtually every alcohol or drug related accident. And, unfortunately, it often happens to the innocent victims of an impaired driver. Some people believe coffee can ward off the effects of alcohol. Not so. Drinking lots of coffee after you drink, or take drugs, creates a wide awake impaired person. Just as dangerous, but usually more determined than ever, that he or she is okay to drive.
What are the consequences for drinking and driving? Well, that depends upon how much you have had to drink, state laws where you are caught, and how much damage or injury you cause. Recent studies have found it can cost up to $10,000 for a first offense conviction of driving while impaired or drunk driving. Much of that money goes to an attorney to keep you out of jail, if they can. You’ll lose your license, perhaps for good! And wait until you get your insurance bill, if you can even get insurance. Nobody wants a drunk or drugged driver on their policy. NOBODY!. Then, let’s look at your livelihood. Even if you get your license reinstated, if you drive for a living or have to drive a company vehicle at any time, NOBODY wants a drunk driver on their payroll. How can you expect a company to trust you with a $75,000 truck and trailer, and a $100,000 load, when you drink or take drugs? You can’t, and they won’t! Face it, you can really ruin your life by drinking, or taking drugs, and driving. Add to the economic impact the injury and misery an accident causes, and it’s a pretty dismal picture.
About 40 years ago, I knew a man who used to drink and drive. Although it’s not his real name, in deference to his family, I’ll call him Bill. He was in his early twenties, the prime of life. He had a new job, a new car and a good family life. One night, Bill stopped off for “just a few” drinks, then proceeded to get in his car and drive on the freeway. He hit a bridge abutment at an estimated speed of 75 miles per hour. Bill became an instant statistic. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, having his family feed him through a tube, wiping the drool from his chin, and changing his diapers. He remained that way, unable to communicate with the outside world, a prisoner of his deteriorating body, until he died 25 years later. Imagine that, if you can. The anguish of a family over having their husband, and father, vegetate in front of them for 25 years. If that’s not enough, think about Bill’s mind, if it was even the least bit functional. The anguish of living every second, every minute and every hour trapped in that horrible situation, unable to get out. Wanting to tell his family how sorry he was, and how he wanted to go back and live that day over again. No, he wouldn't take a drink, ever again. And, this was a single car accident. Bill didn’t injure an innocent family in another car. Bill just destroyed his life, and with it, devastated the lives of his family, forever.
In my career, I’ve seen too many Bills. I’ve helped extricate and resuscitate people, after alcohol or drug impaired drivers have struck them. It’s not a pretty sight. It’s heart breaking to notify a family their loved one has been killed, or maimed, in an accident. It’s even harder to tell them their loved one, or the other driver, was impaired. Law enforcement and insurance carriers will continue to make, and support, every effort, to get the drunk, or drug impaired driver, off the street. But, as a human being, a father and a grandfather, I ask each and every driver to think of the consequences of taking that drink, or those drugs, and getting behind the wheel. It’s a chance we both cannot afford for you to take.
Please Drive Safe, Sober and Sensibly. Thank you and be safe out there!
Inattention: This is probably the most common driving error that is made. From drinking coffee or soft drinks, to eating, to applying make-up, shaving, talking on the cell phone to daydreaming, all are reasons accidents happen. Your number one responsibility when you enter a motor vehicle is to drive safely. Give your full attention to driving, not to anything else. No matter how important it seems at the moment, nothing is as important as your safety and the safety of those around you. Anything that is not an immediate safety concern can wait, until you stop in a safe place and can attend to other matters without jeopardizing your life, or that of others. Having an accident, perhaps fatal, while talking on a cell phone, even with the requisite hands-free device, seems to make the call very unimportant.
Aggressive Driving: Aggressive driving has spawned a new term in this country...Road Rage. It emanates from some drivers illogical need to control the road, and "teach a lesson" to those who get in their way, or thwart their maneuvers. And, all too frequently, the anger that starts out as a finger gesture, or an obscenity yelled at another driver, ends up in violence, even death. The first line of defense is to keep your cool. No matter what another driver does or does not do is worth risking life and property for. So what if he or she cuts you off. Let the anger go and just leave more space. I know it's hard to do, but chasing the person, bumping them with your car or escalating the situation is a sure-fire way to get hurt. And, when its all over, it does not matter who started the confrontation. If you are seriously injured or dead...what did it prove?
"A tip...if a driver is aggressive, shouts insults or makes gestures, don't trade looks or shouts or anything else. Simply slow down or move out of the way and go on with your business."
If the driver damages your vehicle, or makes threatening moves, if you can, write the license number down and turn it over to the local police or Highway Patrol. They may ask you to sign a complaint, but most jurisdictions cannot issue citations unless they personally see the infraction. The simple rule is to avoid confrontation and continue on your way safely. I know it goes against the grain of most of us, but I would rather have a dented fender than lose my life. I've been to scenes where a very silly driver has tried to maintain his pride by trading blows with a road rager, and almost bled to death on the highway as a result. It just isn't worth it!
Alcohol and Drug Impaired Driving: Alcohol and drug policies are the law of the land. But many people don’t seem to understand the absolute necessity of a driver behind the wheel, who is not impaired by any substance. When you’re traveling at 70 to 90 feet per second down the highway, you simply cannot allow any substance to cloud your thinking, nor your reaction time. But, in all too many cases, we find alcohol and/or drugs related to the accident. Alcohol can act as both a stimulant and a depressant. It stimulates the psyche into doing things that might not otherwise be considered, and it depresses common sense, that usually overrules foolish and dangerous acts. And, that is frequently where the problem starts. Many people believe they can use alcohol or drugs and drive safely. That’s because they have lost much of their cognitive sense when they are impaired, and believe they can do nothing wrong. Some even believe they are invincible. Believe me, I have been at enough wrecks in my career to assure you there is no such thing as an invincible driver. Serious injury, and often death, does occur in virtually every alcohol or drug related accident. And, unfortunately, it often happens to the innocent victims of an impaired driver. Some people believe coffee can ward off the effects of alcohol. Not so. Drinking lots of coffee after you drink, or take drugs, creates a wide awake impaired person. Just as dangerous, but usually more determined than ever, that he or she is okay to drive.
What are the consequences for drinking and driving? Well, that depends upon how much you have had to drink, state laws where you are caught, and how much damage or injury you cause. Recent studies have found it can cost up to $10,000 for a first offense conviction of driving while impaired or drunk driving. Much of that money goes to an attorney to keep you out of jail, if they can. You’ll lose your license, perhaps for good! And wait until you get your insurance bill, if you can even get insurance. Nobody wants a drunk or drugged driver on their policy. NOBODY!. Then, let’s look at your livelihood. Even if you get your license reinstated, if you drive for a living or have to drive a company vehicle at any time, NOBODY wants a drunk driver on their payroll. How can you expect a company to trust you with a $75,000 truck and trailer, and a $100,000 load, when you drink or take drugs? You can’t, and they won’t! Face it, you can really ruin your life by drinking, or taking drugs, and driving. Add to the economic impact the injury and misery an accident causes, and it’s a pretty dismal picture.
About 40 years ago, I knew a man who used to drink and drive. Although it’s not his real name, in deference to his family, I’ll call him Bill. He was in his early twenties, the prime of life. He had a new job, a new car and a good family life. One night, Bill stopped off for “just a few” drinks, then proceeded to get in his car and drive on the freeway. He hit a bridge abutment at an estimated speed of 75 miles per hour. Bill became an instant statistic. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, having his family feed him through a tube, wiping the drool from his chin, and changing his diapers. He remained that way, unable to communicate with the outside world, a prisoner of his deteriorating body, until he died 25 years later. Imagine that, if you can. The anguish of a family over having their husband, and father, vegetate in front of them for 25 years. If that’s not enough, think about Bill’s mind, if it was even the least bit functional. The anguish of living every second, every minute and every hour trapped in that horrible situation, unable to get out. Wanting to tell his family how sorry he was, and how he wanted to go back and live that day over again. No, he wouldn't take a drink, ever again. And, this was a single car accident. Bill didn’t injure an innocent family in another car. Bill just destroyed his life, and with it, devastated the lives of his family, forever.
In my career, I’ve seen too many Bills. I’ve helped extricate and resuscitate people, after alcohol or drug impaired drivers have struck them. It’s not a pretty sight. It’s heart breaking to notify a family their loved one has been killed, or maimed, in an accident. It’s even harder to tell them their loved one, or the other driver, was impaired. Law enforcement and insurance carriers will continue to make, and support, every effort, to get the drunk, or drug impaired driver, off the street. But, as a human being, a father and a grandfather, I ask each and every driver to think of the consequences of taking that drink, or those drugs, and getting behind the wheel. It’s a chance we both cannot afford for you to take.
Please Drive Safe, Sober and Sensibly. Thank you and be safe out there!
Friday, August 15, 2008
The Second Amendment....
This will be a short blog, just long enough to be sure to introduce a lady who needs no introduction and a link to her testimony before the Texas Legislature. She is a Texas State Representative, a member of that legislative body and ashamed of their actions in restricting the rights of ordinary citizens to carry weapons freely, while criminals wield weapons with deadly consequences. This is not a new video, but one that should never be forgotten.
Her testimony is gripping and compelling and gives you a glimpse into the horrors she witnessed during one of the worst mass shootings in our country's' history; a carnage that could have been stopped by one finger...hers...if only....
Click here: Suzanna Gratia-Hupp: What the Second Amendment is REALLY For
After watching this, take a moment to think about what your right to bear arms really means. Let her last sentence sink in. The right to bear arms to protect ourselves from tyranny from our own government if need be. As the world gets a bit crazier every day, we don't need to become survivalists or cavemen, but every person needs to remember our freedoms and rights are not to be taken lightly. You, and you alone, are responsible for preserving your rights and freedom and not allowing it to be taken from you. Politicians with too much power who decide what gun you can have, what size ammunition clip you are allowed, the type bullet you can own, can soon decide what type car you can drive, where you can live, how many children you can have and what you can eat. Think not? It's happened and is happening all over the world. It's like a cancer that starts out as a small invasion of cells and multiplies until it destroys everything that's good, and replaces it with what's not so good, but by then you accept what's left as being okay, as it's the only choice you have.
Freedom isn't free. People die for it every day, both here and on some foreign battlefield, wearing different color uniforms, some camouflage, some blue or brown, fighting different enemies. But for the same basic reasons. Respect it, enjoy it and never give it up, not one inch. If you think you're freedom is being trounced upon, stand up and fight! Make a difference!
Her testimony is gripping and compelling and gives you a glimpse into the horrors she witnessed during one of the worst mass shootings in our country's' history; a carnage that could have been stopped by one finger...hers...if only....
Click here: Suzanna Gratia-Hupp: What the Second Amendment is REALLY For
After watching this, take a moment to think about what your right to bear arms really means. Let her last sentence sink in. The right to bear arms to protect ourselves from tyranny from our own government if need be. As the world gets a bit crazier every day, we don't need to become survivalists or cavemen, but every person needs to remember our freedoms and rights are not to be taken lightly. You, and you alone, are responsible for preserving your rights and freedom and not allowing it to be taken from you. Politicians with too much power who decide what gun you can have, what size ammunition clip you are allowed, the type bullet you can own, can soon decide what type car you can drive, where you can live, how many children you can have and what you can eat. Think not? It's happened and is happening all over the world. It's like a cancer that starts out as a small invasion of cells and multiplies until it destroys everything that's good, and replaces it with what's not so good, but by then you accept what's left as being okay, as it's the only choice you have.
Freedom isn't free. People die for it every day, both here and on some foreign battlefield, wearing different color uniforms, some camouflage, some blue or brown, fighting different enemies. But for the same basic reasons. Respect it, enjoy it and never give it up, not one inch. If you think you're freedom is being trounced upon, stand up and fight! Make a difference!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
The Drums of War....
The year was 1964 and I recall it as if it were yesterday. The winter of 63-64 was a pretty harsh one in Northern New Jersey with more snow than I could recall for many previous years. Between my job at the Post Office and work at The Rescue Squad, I kept pretty busy day and night, save for the occasional nights of dating, and time to gather with friends to have a cold refreshment and a sandwich at a local establishment run by a couple of great Irishmen.
I had graduated high school a year earlier and dabbled in several jobs, including selling electronic parts and delivering automotive parts, which, honestly, was a job I really loved, but there was no future in it. I took the civil service test for, and went to work for the post office, where I was promptly placed on Tour 3, which comprised nights from 6PM to 2:30 AM five to 7 days a week, depending on the volume of mail. The one bright spot was a transfer to the Parcel Post Annex for about a month during Christmas, as I had a car, and several people who wanted to go were much closer to the boss than I...thus I got to work days and go because they needed someone to be the driver. No matter the reason; it was days and it was Christmas.
That year was a good one because I got to buy my mother a lightweight stick vacuum cleaner so she wouldn't have to sweep the floors of sand at the shore, and bought my dad a custom spinning rod and reel with his name on it from Bernie's Sport Shop. I received a loden green suede car coat from my parents, that was the most comfortable warm coat I'd ever had.
On New Years Eve, on the way to a party, we came across a severe traffic collision that sombered the mood for the night. Without going into detail, it was in large part of what changed the direction of my life into the safety and law enforcement fields, in seeing what happens in a split second when a drunk driver is at the wheel, and a beautiful human being is not beautiful any more. On New years Day 1964, only several hours after that accident occurred, a severe ice storm hit the area, and all of us at the Rescue Squad responded continually to accidents; it was a non-stop fiasco for 24 hours as we exchanged supplies, gurneys and rigs simply to keep moving from one response to another.
As winter wore on, I spent more time with my buddies, more duty hours at the Rescue Squad, and played hooky away from work when I could, having already signed the papers to join the military, and looking forward to May when I would enter and go to boot camp. One benefit would be that my government job would be waiting when I returned, and this was peacetime, so there wasn't much to be concerned about anyway. Four years of duty in the Coast Guard, a sea service I had always dreamed of joining, something I had almost been born with in my soul and bones, having come from a heritage of seafarers and ship builders, was close to becoming a reality.
I entered the US Coast Guard Receiving Station Boot Camp in Cape May, NJ on May 4, 1964 and spent the next 13 weeks in rigorous training for what was to be quite an adventure over the next four years. Although we were primarily a lifesaving service, every "Coastie" was as well prepared as any other military combatant and proficient in the use of weaponry and tactics. Our boot camp was longer than most, due to requirements in swimming and lifesaving as well as small boat handling, first aid, seamanship, weaponry, and of course the obligatory galley week.
Less than a week before graduation in August, 1964, on the radio in the Mess Hall, came the news of the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which would be the precursor to the Vietnam War. Little did any of us know it at the time, but the music playing on that radio later on was simply the harbinger to the drums of war, but none of us heard it in those tunes. It was just music, not the sound of the methodical drums that would be sounding as many left en route to Southeast Asia for Operation Market Time and other operations in the months ahead. The Drums of War were sounding, but falling on deaf ears.
I had graduated high school a year earlier and dabbled in several jobs, including selling electronic parts and delivering automotive parts, which, honestly, was a job I really loved, but there was no future in it. I took the civil service test for, and went to work for the post office, where I was promptly placed on Tour 3, which comprised nights from 6PM to 2:30 AM five to 7 days a week, depending on the volume of mail. The one bright spot was a transfer to the Parcel Post Annex for about a month during Christmas, as I had a car, and several people who wanted to go were much closer to the boss than I...thus I got to work days and go because they needed someone to be the driver. No matter the reason; it was days and it was Christmas.
That year was a good one because I got to buy my mother a lightweight stick vacuum cleaner so she wouldn't have to sweep the floors of sand at the shore, and bought my dad a custom spinning rod and reel with his name on it from Bernie's Sport Shop. I received a loden green suede car coat from my parents, that was the most comfortable warm coat I'd ever had.
On New Years Eve, on the way to a party, we came across a severe traffic collision that sombered the mood for the night. Without going into detail, it was in large part of what changed the direction of my life into the safety and law enforcement fields, in seeing what happens in a split second when a drunk driver is at the wheel, and a beautiful human being is not beautiful any more. On New years Day 1964, only several hours after that accident occurred, a severe ice storm hit the area, and all of us at the Rescue Squad responded continually to accidents; it was a non-stop fiasco for 24 hours as we exchanged supplies, gurneys and rigs simply to keep moving from one response to another.
As winter wore on, I spent more time with my buddies, more duty hours at the Rescue Squad, and played hooky away from work when I could, having already signed the papers to join the military, and looking forward to May when I would enter and go to boot camp. One benefit would be that my government job would be waiting when I returned, and this was peacetime, so there wasn't much to be concerned about anyway. Four years of duty in the Coast Guard, a sea service I had always dreamed of joining, something I had almost been born with in my soul and bones, having come from a heritage of seafarers and ship builders, was close to becoming a reality.
I entered the US Coast Guard Receiving Station Boot Camp in Cape May, NJ on May 4, 1964 and spent the next 13 weeks in rigorous training for what was to be quite an adventure over the next four years. Although we were primarily a lifesaving service, every "Coastie" was as well prepared as any other military combatant and proficient in the use of weaponry and tactics. Our boot camp was longer than most, due to requirements in swimming and lifesaving as well as small boat handling, first aid, seamanship, weaponry, and of course the obligatory galley week.
Less than a week before graduation in August, 1964, on the radio in the Mess Hall, came the news of the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which would be the precursor to the Vietnam War. Little did any of us know it at the time, but the music playing on that radio later on was simply the harbinger to the drums of war, but none of us heard it in those tunes. It was just music, not the sound of the methodical drums that would be sounding as many left en route to Southeast Asia for Operation Market Time and other operations in the months ahead. The Drums of War were sounding, but falling on deaf ears.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Whatever Happened to...Gulftane?
Ahhh, nostalgia. The balmy days of August and as the summer heat and humidity fill the air, thoughts turn to summer days past, of cruising down the streets in a '53 Chevy with the windows rolled down, breeze blowing through the cowl vents and the wing windows (remember those?) with the only worry being how long that few gallons of twenty-five cent Gulftane gasoline would last.
Maybe another worry if you were not cruising solo was if your buddies had any money to chip in to buy a few more gallons if you ran out? (If you were smart, you did the "chip-in" thing before you went cruising so you knew you had enough fuel...although some didn't; thus harried phone calls to friends and parents to bring gas or tow/push them home at various and sundry hours from all sorts of places. I suppose whether you called parents or friends depended a lot on where you ran out of gas or broke down, because there were places you just would be embarrassed to have your father tow your car home from, such as the drive-in theatre, car hop, or god forbid, you and your date at the local lovers' lane where any such appearance by a parent would mean being ridiculed forever by everyone in the entire world, or at least by anyone who would ever recognize you or your car.
This was the summer of 1962 and the last before my final 5 months of high school. (I graduated mid-year, as schools then had what were known as "A" and "B" classes, with the "B" classes half a year ahead or behind the other classes, depending on how you looked at it. So, the Class of 1963 had half graduating in February and half in June.
Working part-time in a gas station, where more times than not, payment was in a few gallons of gasoline in return for picking up needed repair parts from the supplier, and a few trips in a day meant a full tank of Gulf gas. And, if the boss was paying to put gas in, I used the "good stuff" and not the cheap gas, which, honestly, the old Chevy couldn't tell the difference. Plus, often customers would tip us for extra services like checking the oil, tires and air filter and cleaning the filter with compressed air to prolong its' life a bit rather than try and sell them a new one. Plus, doing an extra good cleaning job on some extra dirty windows sometimes garnered a few cents tip. Credit cards were common, but you never had the possibility of a tip on a credit card; the beginnings of the downfall of full service in gas stations perhaps?
A big benefit of working at the station was being able to use the lifts and equipment to work on my own car. Again, when the boss was short of cash, which was most of the time, (he was a gambler and played the horses, and unfortunately didn't usually pick winners!) payment was in free oil and filters, etc. I had the cleanest oil and internal engine in the country, I believe!
Gasoline delivery was, of course by tank truck, and had to be paid for in cash or by the credit card receipts, which the driver tallied up and used against the total owed for the delivery. I believe some times we received a short delivery as the boss had gambled all the money away and we hadn't enough to pay for a full delivery, so the driver counted up the credit card receipts, and that's all the gasoline we received, split between Gulftane, Good Gulf Regular and Premium. I know there was almost never any cash in the register, other than what I took in selling gas and oil changes, and sometimes that would disappear if "track money" was needed.
In the end, the business failed, but by then the summer was over, and school was back in session, so cruising became less frequent, and that tank of cheap Gulftane lasted lots longer as winter approached. It wasn't free anymore either, and as time went on, it wasn't twenty-five cents a gallon either!
Maybe another worry if you were not cruising solo was if your buddies had any money to chip in to buy a few more gallons if you ran out? (If you were smart, you did the "chip-in" thing before you went cruising so you knew you had enough fuel...although some didn't; thus harried phone calls to friends and parents to bring gas or tow/push them home at various and sundry hours from all sorts of places. I suppose whether you called parents or friends depended a lot on where you ran out of gas or broke down, because there were places you just would be embarrassed to have your father tow your car home from, such as the drive-in theatre, car hop, or god forbid, you and your date at the local lovers' lane where any such appearance by a parent would mean being ridiculed forever by everyone in the entire world, or at least by anyone who would ever recognize you or your car.
This was the summer of 1962 and the last before my final 5 months of high school. (I graduated mid-year, as schools then had what were known as "A" and "B" classes, with the "B" classes half a year ahead or behind the other classes, depending on how you looked at it. So, the Class of 1963 had half graduating in February and half in June.
Working part-time in a gas station, where more times than not, payment was in a few gallons of gasoline in return for picking up needed repair parts from the supplier, and a few trips in a day meant a full tank of Gulf gas. And, if the boss was paying to put gas in, I used the "good stuff" and not the cheap gas, which, honestly, the old Chevy couldn't tell the difference. Plus, often customers would tip us for extra services like checking the oil, tires and air filter and cleaning the filter with compressed air to prolong its' life a bit rather than try and sell them a new one. Plus, doing an extra good cleaning job on some extra dirty windows sometimes garnered a few cents tip. Credit cards were common, but you never had the possibility of a tip on a credit card; the beginnings of the downfall of full service in gas stations perhaps?
A big benefit of working at the station was being able to use the lifts and equipment to work on my own car. Again, when the boss was short of cash, which was most of the time, (he was a gambler and played the horses, and unfortunately didn't usually pick winners!) payment was in free oil and filters, etc. I had the cleanest oil and internal engine in the country, I believe!
Gasoline delivery was, of course by tank truck, and had to be paid for in cash or by the credit card receipts, which the driver tallied up and used against the total owed for the delivery. I believe some times we received a short delivery as the boss had gambled all the money away and we hadn't enough to pay for a full delivery, so the driver counted up the credit card receipts, and that's all the gasoline we received, split between Gulftane, Good Gulf Regular and Premium. I know there was almost never any cash in the register, other than what I took in selling gas and oil changes, and sometimes that would disappear if "track money" was needed.
In the end, the business failed, but by then the summer was over, and school was back in session, so cruising became less frequent, and that tank of cheap Gulftane lasted lots longer as winter approached. It wasn't free anymore either, and as time went on, it wasn't twenty-five cents a gallon either!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Leaving Comments, Passing the Blog, and Doing the Right Thing
Just a short reminder that comments are welcome, and I'd very much appreciate it if you pass my blog along to others! Lots of people tell me they read the blog yet don't take the time to comment. I'd like the feedback and comments, good, bad or indifferent. I know I'm not always 100% right, although I'd like to think I'm mostly in the right direction. (You know, like driving along without the road map when your spouse says "don't you think you should stop and ask directions, and you're too proud-stubborn-or whatever to admit you don't have a clue where the hell you're at, but you're not going to ask anyone for directions anyway!) Yup, it's that kind of blog, and it comes from the heart and the gut and from one who's been there and done that for the most part.
Also, not everything is wrong in America. There is lots right about this marvelous country, enough right that many of us were, and are, willing to lay down life and limb to protect life as we knew, and know, it was and should be for ourselves and our families. But it takes guts and determination to stand up and say what you think, and more than that, to do the right thing, even when it's not the popular thing to do.
Running with a bad crowd because they're "cool" or seem like the greatest people at the moment won't seem so great when you're sitting in a cell doing time, because those great guys pulled a liquor store robbery, or a drive-by shooting, or a car-jacking and you just happened to be hanging with them at the time. You'll be guilty by association, or an "accomplice" as it's known in the legal system. Then those "cool" guys or gals aren't going to do your time, or pay your fines, or lawyers fees, and the one word they'll have for you is "sucker" since they've likely been down that road before. You'll be the newbie that hasn't and you'll have one hard lesson to learn, along with an even harder lesson for your family.
So, stand up and do the right thing. Be a positive influence on others and don't fall into the pack simply because they're available, and you're also just hanging around. You have talent, so put it to use in productive ways before it, and you, are wasted. Because you only have one time to go through this life and no matter your age, this day only comes by once. Live, love and learn each day, and give to someone that which they cannot receive without you giving it to them...respect and love.
Finally, remember, as you give respect, you will be respected. And to be loved, you must give love in return. Life is a two way street and you can't walk the middle of the road without being hit by traffic coming both ways. You have to take a stand......
Also, not everything is wrong in America. There is lots right about this marvelous country, enough right that many of us were, and are, willing to lay down life and limb to protect life as we knew, and know, it was and should be for ourselves and our families. But it takes guts and determination to stand up and say what you think, and more than that, to do the right thing, even when it's not the popular thing to do.
Running with a bad crowd because they're "cool" or seem like the greatest people at the moment won't seem so great when you're sitting in a cell doing time, because those great guys pulled a liquor store robbery, or a drive-by shooting, or a car-jacking and you just happened to be hanging with them at the time. You'll be guilty by association, or an "accomplice" as it's known in the legal system. Then those "cool" guys or gals aren't going to do your time, or pay your fines, or lawyers fees, and the one word they'll have for you is "sucker" since they've likely been down that road before. You'll be the newbie that hasn't and you'll have one hard lesson to learn, along with an even harder lesson for your family.
So, stand up and do the right thing. Be a positive influence on others and don't fall into the pack simply because they're available, and you're also just hanging around. You have talent, so put it to use in productive ways before it, and you, are wasted. Because you only have one time to go through this life and no matter your age, this day only comes by once. Live, love and learn each day, and give to someone that which they cannot receive without you giving it to them...respect and love.
Finally, remember, as you give respect, you will be respected. And to be loved, you must give love in return. Life is a two way street and you can't walk the middle of the road without being hit by traffic coming both ways. You have to take a stand......
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