An Old-Time Favorite

I've decided that soup is the way to go.
I am not someone who cooks things from complicated recipes producing dishes so lovely that one is reluctant to eat them and thereby destroy a masterpiece.
No, dear reader, I am more a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I like my food basic so lasagna, meat loaf, roasted chicken and spaghetti are high on my list of meals to prepare. But the first cold snap rolled in the other day and I thought it a nice day for soup.
I'm not a fan of canned soup though it will do when I need something quick. I prefer soup that is thick and gives you a meal in a bowl and yet you can eat two bowls and not feel particularly guilty; beef vegetable seemed to fit that description.
I picked up the ingredients, cut and diced everything then pitched it all into a pot and let them cook. My oh my was that good. It filled the house with the most pleasant scent, the kind that says welcome as soon as you come in from the cold outside at days end.
Next week: chicken. I can hardly wait.

Wait! Wait! What About Me?

TO: The Main Bailout Office
Washington D.C.

Subject: Where's Mine


I'd like a Bailout please and make it a large one. Here are the facts to support my case.
I have credit card bills.
I can burn through cash when I get my hands on it.
I can make promises that seem good when they're made.
I loaned a guy some money once even though I knew he had no assetts nor any prospects for getting some and he didn't pay me back.
I can, after I have my Bailout in hand, rent a dozen or so nice rooms in a great resort and wine and dine a group of people for a few days and chalk it up to doing business.
If I should come back for another Bailout, I can do the same thing over again.
I can run my business so poorly that I drive it into the ground.
I have a Golden Parachute that will lower me safely to earth and further cushion my fall with a nice thick pad of bonus money while others in the company are left to fall on the hard, cold reality of life without a job or prospects for any.
Seems to me I have all the bases covered.
M

The Paper Trail

It begins at printing presses across the country and, no doubt, in some foreign countries. It travels courtesy of train and plane and semi truck and finally the mail carrier's car to end in the mailbox at the front of our ranch. It is the rising tide of holiday catalogs.
Once a year I write something exactly like this and, every year, the paper harvest I'm allowed to make grows larger and larger; farmers should have luck this good with their crops and livestock.
There were enough in today's pile to crush a small puppy if dropped. My wife and I went through them and saved two --- the rest go to be recycled.
On a few of them there was a large red sticker warning that this would be my last catalog, that my name was being dropped from the companies mailing list because I wasn't buying anything and catalog distribution costs were rising.
Ah, if I were but so lucky. As I recall, they gave me the same warning last year.

Simple Still Has a Place

Please note the following as you begin your Christmas shopping tours for the youngsters in the family. It came over the wire today and restores my faith in the simple act of imagination and a child's gift for using it:

Toy Hall of Fame points to new addition: the stick
ROCHESTER, N.Y. (AP) - The lowly stick could be a magic wand, a knight's sword or a fishing rod.
Now the universal plaything has landed in the National Toy Hall of Fame, along with Baby Doll and the skateboard.
The three were chosen Thursday to join the lineup at the Strong National Museum in Rochester, N.Y. Previous inductees include the bicycle, Mr. Potato Head, Crayola crayons and the cardboard box. Curators say the stick is a special addition. They praised its all-purpose, all-natural, no-cost qualities. They also noted its ability to serve either as raw material or an appendage transformed
by a child's imagination.

Congratulations Folks

Well, what a day!
A huge turnout of voters across our coverage area. Where I voted a poll worker who has been there every year I've voted and before told me it was the largest crowd she'd ever seen in all the elections she's worked.
I'm a big fan of folks showing up to cast a vote and, in my mind, I would be happy if every possible voter did that for every election. There is no such thing as a small election, no such thing as a minor election for I view each as important. Each allows me to have my say no matter how small it may seem. It also allows me to voice my opinion of government for I have done my share and that gives me license to be critical if I choose.
So, I am proud of us. We showed ourselves for what we truly are. Good Job!

He Heard Well

Studs Terkel passed away the other day and we are the lesser for it. One obituary I read described him as "the ageless master of listening and speaking" and I must agree. His book, Working, was a classic celebration of working people across America written in their own words. He heard what they said and passed it along to those of us who weren't able to hear them for ourselves. It ought to be mandatory reading for those who take leadership positions in government or large companies for the book gives the other side of the story, as it were.
The books Studs wrote were often seen as targets of banning from school libraries and even public ones. Once, as I recall, he went to a city in western Pa. to personally make his case to keep the book available. I couldn't help but admire that. I thought his books an opportunity to sample parts of America I would likely never see and to visit them using the eyes of someone actually living and working there. I follow in his footsteps, in a very small way, when I go on vacation or travel on business seeking those who live and work where I happen to be; I get the real picture of an area that way not the one in the tourism brochures.
So, my hat's off to Studs for the life he lived and the work he did. He indeed knew how to listen to America.

Tricked and Treated

A Q-Tip came to my door last night; so did a leaf blower. Behind them were gypsies, cheerleaders, doctors, nurses, witches and goblins. What else could I expect on Halloween night?
The numbers were down but that merely continues a decline I've seen in recent years: trick or treaters don't come around like they used to.
At its peak the street in front of our ranch had a parade of creatures that might have been from a John Carpenter movie. Each kid carried a searchlight so it looked something like a bunch of scary fireflies moving through the dark. But, as they say, that was then and this is now.
When I thought about it I realized that there were lots of kids in the neighborhood when we moved in. All those kids who provided so much amusement are grown and gone, some with their own kids now to take out trick or treating. We have few youngsters to keep up the tradition locally.
Still, the doorbell rang last night and those few faces came calling, sometimes having a short rhyme or a brief song to sing, perhaps a little joke, one I've heard at least six dozen times over the years. It was good and pleasant and not too spooky. It was a chance to see some up and coming talent, a chance to see some kids who, if we're lucky, might some day in the future come knocking at our door leading yet another generation of kids who go bump in the night.

Just What Do You Do With It All?

So, I see that Exxon Mobil corporation broke a record for profits among U. S. corporations in the third quarter, nearly 15 billion dollars. This leads me to wonder what you do with all that money.
If I have a few extra bucks I go on down to the bank and put it into a savings account and get a few pennies of interest. See what I mean.
Does an armored car pull up to a bank and drop off, say, half a billion? Can you imagine that happening? The manager at my local bank would fall over in a faint. I'd like to know, I'm curious.
Maybe they could send a few billion to some of those businesses we taxpayers are sending our money to. Just a thought.

It's all in what you say.

I happened to catch a movie called "Mermaids Chair" the other evening. Good movie, I thought, but one I can't recall hearing anything about. The movie was finely acted, well photographed and the script was done by someone who knew how to use the language to tell a story. As proof there was not one bit of vulgarity throughout the entire movie. How about that!
Now, I'll tell you up front I've used some words I wish I hadn't over the years; I'm not proud of it but that's what happened. These days I find the English language capable of providing me with enough material to verbally slam anybody I choose and still be able to use the sentence on television if I need to.
It's hard to go to a movie and not notice the foul language used almost always without justification. See, I allow for it in a movie or a book if it fits the character and the location but when the stuff is thrown in almost at random I see it as coming from a lazy, untalented writer who isn't capable of doing better. This seemed not to be a problem for the writer of the movie I watched.
I like good movies and good books; I like them more if their writers can get along without using a four letter word for a crutch.

Don't Vote? Don't Complain

I noticed a line of Talkback posts arguing back and forth about the priveledge of voting enjoyed by all of us who are legal residents of the United States. Every four years we decide on a president with no military takeovers, no riots in the streets, no one going door-to-door dragging out members of the opposition party. We just get a new president or we keep the old one for four more years.
Between the times given over to those historic national moments we vote for candidates to lesser offices: council, school director, senator, etc. It all comes down to us needing to go to the polls nearly every year though, in truth, some years are more interesting and exciting than others.
Be that as it may, the importance of voting for whoever you want is something that can't be understated.
There are a lot of reasons to go to the polls whenever you possibly can and I won't go into them because you've probably already heard them a hundred times. I will say, though, that it some times boils down to one small reason for me and it is enough to keep me going to vote even when the election that season is equally obscure. It is the fact that if I don't vote then I don't have the right to gripe about anything government on any level does. That, dear reader, is a right I will never give up.

Oh Those Crazy Kids

I grew up in a much different era but I refer to it when I need some grounding to judge the present by.
My era taught that going to college was a priveledge and that it will be viewed that way. You didn't get into trouble, you didn't do any damage, you paid for the extras you wanted by working at a job and, above all, you never forgot that you were in college to study so that you could make something of yourself later on.
Of course those rules were violated once in a while but a riot over a football game? True, my era saw a few riots but a riot over a football game? Can't recall one of those.
In State College this past weekend the joy of Penn State's win over Ohio State got so many folks carried away that police in riot gear had to be called out, according to reports. It was also reported that light poles were taken down along with street signs and people jumped on cars and tossed things off balconies. Cars were damaged and several small fires were started though none got out of hand. Those folks, in their joy of winning, celebrated by throwing shoes, toilet paper, pots, pans and even a newspaper box according to that same published report.
Well, just come crazy kids having a little bit of fun on a Saturday night I suppose; as an additional treat, reportedly hundreds of people got their first taste of pepper spray which doesn't really taste that good but serves as a badge of courage the next day, I suppose.
Good to see those youngsters blowing off a little steam. Good for the school, wonderful for the communities reputation and think how pleased the taxpayers who had to pick up the bill for police and cleanup must be.
Those crazy kids. Don't you just love 'em.

Pay Now---Buy Later

What a novel idea: the layaway plan
Used to be that was the wise thing to do. You picked out what you wanted to give someone as a Christmas gift and began to pay on it. The store kept it in a back room for you to retrieve when you finally made the last payment. Of course you got no interest on the money you paid but the upside was that come the day after Christmas you didn't owe anybody anything and look at the interest you saved.
Somewhere along the way Instant Gratification reared its ugly head and we began to feast on credit, taking big bites to help answer the question, "What am I going to give (fill in the blank) for Christmas?" We bought a lot of things hoping that at least one of them would be the right thing but in doing that we ended up with a bellyful of payments that came due in January.
I saw a story the other night that said layaway plans were coming back and that more shoppers were taking advantage of them. Seems like an old/good idea may get another run.
I like it. Seems better than sharing my income with a credit card company.

LOOK! Out there...

Some while back I decided that it was a good day if I could get out of bed and walk to the coffee pot on my own two feet. There are those who are not as fortunate.
On my travels to said pot this morning I noticed what a difference a night can make. I went to bed under cloudy, drizzly skies and, lo and behold, I awoke to a pretty nice morning. Lots of sun, a good breeze, chilly but just fine. It was a surprise and a very pleasant one at that. I am more than lucky today and I am having a very, very good day,

Who Was That Caller?

I got a call from the Governor here at the ranch the other day; said he was fine and wanted to make sure I went out to vote, even suggesting who I vote for just to make it easier on me.
I also had calls from Mr. McCain and Mr. Obama as well each asking for my vote. Neither of the vice-presidential candidates have called but I expect they will very soon...election day being right around the corner and all.
Funny how it is you hear so much from those big folks in Harrisburg and Washington every four years or so and then very little the rest of the time. Makes you wonder what happens to them, doesn't it?

Some Sand To Play In

I think we all should have a sand box to play in. I'm convinced of that after spending some time in one in the company of a young friend of mine,
A little bit of make-believe road building, a good helping of "Sand Cake" or simply digging a hole using a truck and shovel (making the appropriate truck sounds all the while of course) is a wonderful way to get rid of the days frustrations or irritations. You have some great company, fresh air, a little acting like a kid again no matter your age; what more could you ask?
Of course I know this idea will never even get off the ground for it doesn't cost enough nor require a prescription so I doubt it'll gain any altitude.
If you don't mind, though, I'm going to go along with my little friend on as many trips to the sand box as I can. Feels great and that's a good enough reason for me.

10 - 1

So, here it is October first and time again to ask the question, "Where did the summer go?"
Got me!
Seems I was just rolling into it, preparing to enjoy and evening on the porch, a picnic lunch, a canoe ride and maybe even a little fishing. Almost none of that happened and what did was in terribly small amount.
I woke this morning with the realization that today marked what I consider to be the official start of autumn. That day in September when fall begins according to the calendar is merely a date, everything that follows a warm up for the fall season. October first, though, that means business.
I have a little fun driving a tractor that pulls a hay wagon up to an orchard. This Sunday I expect it to be busy for a lot of people share my opinion, I think, that October first is really the start of autumn; time to think of apples and pumpkins and scary ghost stories. Autumn is here, enjoy it or, like the summer before it, it'll be gone before you know it.

A SONG IN HIS HEART

I am not an early riser...never have been, likely never will be. But these days I am forced into it.
Each morning at daybreak a bird in a tree outside the bedroom window breaks into song; no sparkling, whimsical tune is it either. No, this is more like three or four chirps in a row, repeated over and over and over.
Is this bird chirping for a mate? Perhaps signalling its hunger? Maybe it is simply chirping to make sure all the others of its kind have noticed they're burning daylight every minute more they stay in the nest.
Then there is one more possibility. Maybe the bird is just happy that it made it through the night, that it has another day to look forward to, that it is early enough to get a worm and that all about it the world is fine.
Not a bad attitude when you think about it.

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE ONE

This time of year my mind wanders back to my high school graduation.
It was the sixties, the early sixties, and we scholars were getting ready to make our mark in a turbulent era, times that were somewhat like today in fact.
One of the key ingredients in a kids makeup at that age (at least in boys) is the notion that they are indestructible, that death comes to everybody else but that they will live on no matter what. I thought so too and some of my friends shared that belief as well.
One Friday night after a football game in our senior year three of us went out in a car and on a moonlit road with a steep hill at the beginning and a steeper one leading into a curve at the end, my friend cranked his fathers Buick up to forty or fifty miles an hour then turned the headlights off just for the fun of it.
What a rush!
How stupid is that?
We survived thus reinforcing our faulted logic that we would live on no matter what.
Some times that logic fails and when it does the result is too horrible to contemplate.

OKAY, JUST ONCE....

Look!
Up in the sky.
It's a bird.
It's a plane.
No, it's Superdelegate.
I'm sorry, it's just something I had to do.

AN OLD MESSAGE

I don't go to garage sales very often but my wife does. Sensing a need to restock our shelves with things other folks don't need, and we eventually won't either, she hit the circuit Saturday morning.
You can't be too early because the sellers won't let you in but you can't be too late either for then you miss out on the "good" stuff. She was there at the perfect moment.
She bought a small book that dealt with mostly good ideas about life and living and I don't suppose I could go wrong if I followed a few. But what intrigued me most about this book was the carefully written note on a blank page. The date was December, 1923, years before the Great Depression and WW II, decades of history ago.
It was a gentle note offering the book as a Christmas gift with the hope that the person getting it would enjoy it as much as the giver.
It was a refreshing bit of insight into a time long ago, into the thinking of someone now long gone, into what was really important in that era.
Eighty-five years from now will we find the same kinds of messages? Will we find books?

ALL'S NOT QUIET

I spent some time one recent Sunday morning basking in the quiet of the day. It did not last long, of course, for everyone is so busy they end up doing some yard work on Sunday since they aren't able to do it all on Saturday because there is shopping and soccer and a bunch of other things that need doing. A lot of that is carry over from the week when no one is able to get it all done for they are too busy with work and such.
The mowers, edgers, chain saws and tractors usually begin to crank up in my neck of the woods around about 11 on Sunday. They go pretty good the rest of the day. A "peaceful" Sunday is a thing of the past.
Too bad, for me and for those using the power equipment; none of us get our proper time off. It's part of the hefty price we pay in the name of progress.

MEMORIAL DAY BLOG SCRIPT

When I began to write this I did not, as is my custom, begin with a title. It is what it is because I did not have anything better, more concise, more fitting to the day. How can you, after all, summarize all that Memorial Day means in just a few simple words?

Every so often I get to thinking about all the men and women who died in wars of the past and present. Oh I’d bet they were handsome men, lovely women for war comes in and snatches only the youngest, it seems, that time in life when we are at our best.

Some come home alive and well, of course, and they are the ones we often see at Memorial Day parades marching in line as best they can. Others come home too beaten up to do much of anything and still others come home in a flag shrouded coffin to take their final resting place on a quiet hill, at peace for all eternity.

So, this is one of those times when I think of all those men and women and I lack the words to thank them properly let alone sum up this day in a few words. Maybe I’ll just say thanks and let it go at that. They might well be too embarrassed if I tried to say more.

SAME OLD, SAME OLD

The headline on the Associated Press wire this afternoon (Tuesday) says oil prices have closed at a new record, above one hundred twenty-nine dollars a barrel. I don't buy my oil by the barrel, it's more by the quart, enough to keep my vehicles engine from freezing up.
Given that I'm not sure I really care a whole lot about the oil prices; I guess I should but I don't. I can't do much about those prices for they are controlled by people who deal in shiploads of crude compared to my few quarts every so often. So, I'm not interested when crude hits a new high, that's not news.
Oil prices dropping, now that is news,

HERE WE STILL GO

Another day, another disaster.
I look at the wire service reports each day and list in my mind the latest badness to beset the world. A typhoon and earthquake have led over the past several days but each day gives me more reason for sadness for, each day, reports from both areas tell tales of individual human misery pulled from an already thick volume of sadness and despair.
In those stories I see people, just people. Really, save for the fact that I know where they are, these folks could live a couple states away. They grieve for their children and families, their cries of anguish understandable given that their hopes and dreams have been crushed beyond repair and I'd probably do the same.
They say these things happen for a reason though I am hard-pressed to come up with one that fits here. I'm now grasping at the notion that perhaps some of us around the world will suddenly realize that despite our leaders penchant for painting pictures of an enemy to be reckoned with there are mostly just people over there, like us. They may not follow our way of life but, when push comes to shove, we all cry the same kinds of tears.

WHEN WILL IT END?

Before you acuse me of being unpatriotic, Dear Reader, let me say up front that I hold democracy and the freedom it gives me in only the highest regard. I cherish it and I hope it never goes away nor do I forget those who have given so freely of themselves even paying the ultmate price to defend it.
But, having said that, I now must ask when will this election thing conclude?
Is it just me or does it seem like we've been electing a nominee, just a nominee now and not the President, forever and day? I can't go to the news anywhere without running across the latest Democratic/Republican doings. Yet, despite it all, I'm not hearing what I want to hear as in, "Mike, I understand your position completely; I just took my truck down to the gas station yesterday for a fillup and I almost overdrew my credit card." Or, perhaps, "Three seventy-five for a head of cauliflower! I went shopping last week, bought a few bags of stuff, and it cost me over a hundred dollars. Mike, I feel your pain."
See, that's what I want to hear. I'm tired of speeches, promises, points made while all of us sit and stew over a choice between fuel or food, medicine or shelter, a decent salary or upper-level poverty.
I tire of it all and I do so want it to be over.

JUST HOW OLD AM I?

I am a frequent visitor to a fast food restaurant right down the road from the station. I like the food because they serve some healthy stuff and it's also convenient. I am entitled to a Senior Discount when I go there but never ask for it.
Thinking that through, I've decided I don't particularly want anyone to know I'm entitled to it even though admitting to my age would save me a few pennies. I'd prefer keeping it my little secret and quietly sitting down to eat at least a little bit poorer for maintaining my vanity.
That's what it is, I guess, vanity. I never thought I'd get this old but now that I have I don't intend to make the fact public by asking right out for my Senior Discount!
Now, if they ever start offering ten percent off on gasoline, well, that's a different story.

HELLO, HOW ARE YA?

When you live in the same town for a long time folks get to know you, maybe even consider you a native.

A few days ago I went into my local diner for some breakfast and said hello to five or six people from the time I went in to the time I left. They know me not because I work in television but because I do business with them, see them at the park, because our kids went to school with theirs or were in Scouts together. Lots of reasons.

Anyway, I realized again how good it is to have a place to call home, a place where everybody knows your name, where they care about what happens to you.The world is a hurry-up kind of place and we pass others like ships in the night, never really getting to know somebody before they're gone. I don't have that problem in this place I call home and I find I'm very glad about that.

TELLING TALES

I believe I could do a good job as a pundit, "One who gives opinions in an authoritative manner, usually through the mass media" according to Merriam Webster.



This presidential election year seems to be the Year of the Pundit for they are all over the place. People I never heard of and probably won't again come in to television stations and networks to offer opinions on the three candidates, their chances of winning, the likelihood they'll lose if the turnout in the third ward of a county in the northwest corner of Indiana is less than 53%. I don't know as how any of them are making anything more than a guess.



So, given that background, is it no wonder I see the field of Punditry as my future. I can be as authoritative as the next guy and I can have an opinion on almost anything from dollars to donuts, rockets to reactors, spaghetti sauce to spaghetti making. The fact that I know almost nothing about any of the topics in question need not be considered. It is my opinion and I'm sticking to it and, as long as I am and can shout down anybody else who has a different view, I think the least that should happen is I get paid for my talents. We all need to help the economy; I heard that today, from an economic pundit.

JUST A FEW BILLION MORE

ALLENTOWN, Pa. (AP) - A state transportation official says it would cost $11 billion to fix the nearly 6,000 bridges in need of repair in Pennsylvania.
ATLANTA (AP) - The jackpot in the multistate Mega Millions lottery drawing has grown to $120 million.

Maybe, just maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have some of the PENNDOT higher ups go out and play the lottery, in the name of bridge repairs, of course.

Hey, 120 million here, 100 million there, pretty soon you're talking real money. It won't be enough to fix everything, for sure, but every penny helps.

I'm just sayin'

SOMETHINGS ELSE THAT'S NEW

NICE...
At the risk of swelling the heads of the folks who put together and manage our Web page I must say they did a great job with the new one. True, there are likely a few bugs yet to be found but it looks just fine to me. I don't know the first thing about making up one of these things but I know a lot of training, time and effort goes into it.
Now, if I could just get them to make me look a few years younger.

A NICE PLACE TO VISIT

I'm thinking now that my government rebate, when it finally comes, will likely go to that weeks grocery order and filling my gas tank. In short, I don't expect it to go very far. Nor do I expect to be going very far on vacation. So, I'm taking to exploring places closer to home.

Not exactly a vacation spot but certainly a stop is a place called Little Rocky Glen just off Lithia Valley road outside Factoryville. I thought it time I paid a visit.

It's a nice place, one used in simpler times for recreation when folks didn't need all the bells and whistles we now see as a necessity for a successful vacation.

There is a high trail that goes uphill for a little bit before going back down to the creek then you can go back upstream to where your car is parked. It's a bit tricky getting around and you ought to be careful, nature is not always neat and tidy but it is always interesting. I'm not sure I'd take toddlers here but I did see kids maybe ten years old.

In any event, it's a nice little place to spend an hour or two just watching the water go by or the birds coming in. A marvelous little getaway from a world where there never seems to be enough money to go around no matter how hard we try.

TIRED, OH SO TIRED

You know how spring is, at least you do if you own a home. It's a nice season but always brings a lot of work with it. Everything needs tending to and while there are stores happy enough to sell you the stuff you need, the price does not include application.
This is a key consideration when you get close to a ton of mulch that needs spreading after the beds are cleaned, after the edging is done. Dear Reader, let me just say that is a lot of work.
Anyway, I ain't as young as I used to be nor as young as I think I am. When I finally finished, I could barely drag myself to the front porch, hardly had the strength to allow myself to collapse when I did. It wasn't pretty. I guess I really should follow the advice of my better half and act my age.
On a positive note: I got four job offers from neighbors wanting my services. Ah, there's gold in that mulch!

THE FIRST OF MANY?

So, we have this new toy to play with...
It's interesting in that it allows us Posters to do different things we weren't able to do under the old system.
Fonts, for example,can now be changed on a whim. I can barely contain myself.
Remember, well maybe you don't, but there was a time when fonts were something to be collected for, in the early days of computing, they were something unusual and to have a lot of them marked you as a guy on the cutting edge of technology. It was said, "He who dies with the most fonts, wins".
Anyway, they don't make the telling of stories any easier or the stories themselves any better they just dress things up a bit. I guess that's what our Webmaster has done for the Blog page.
Goodness knows I can use all the help I can get.