In the best of all possible worlds, everyone would consider each thought, action, and word and their effects on others. No one would suffer from an inferiority complex or lack of role models in life. All animals would be properly cared for; all children would be avid readers; all teachers would truly love students and teaching; all companies would have work for employees for a lifetime; everyone would be conservative and ecologically conscious of the environment. Every idea would be considered on the basis of value to life.
If only ideas were implemented as easily as words are spoken, those plants by the roadside that we consider weeds would be converted into biofuels. Acres of scrub mesquite would be uprooted and converted into building materials and fuels. Acres of prickly pear cactus would burn as clean fuel in our vehicles—vehicles which would be made from recycled plastics into a rubbery substance which would not break when bumped into a curb. The current billions of acres of plastics floating in our oceans would be reclaimed and made into building materials—providing millions of jobs in the reclamation process.
And as long as the perfect world exists, the huge holes punched into the landscape of Arkansas in the search for bauxite for aluminum would be reopened and converted into strip mines and then refilled and converted into gigantic gardens to feed the nation healthy foods untainted with poisons. The poisonous waters in those deep mines would be reclaimed and recycled into clean waters for drinking and irrigation. The poisonous residues from the water would provide another source of fuel for vehicles specifically used for farming—without contaminating either the soil or the atmosphere.
Finally, in the best of all possible worlds, all institutions from banks to governmental agencies would operate with scrupulous honesty and common sense. If only.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Commodity of Life
Unlike Roosevelt, we can’t claim that Black Friday will be a date that goes down in infamy; in fact, unless we read some of the headlines, we might not even have noticed that an occurrence on this particular Friday should have shocked and shamed us. Ignoring headlines or the lack thereof, the shame remains for those who simply care more for things than for people. Acquisition of things (or the desire for things) led the pack through the doors and over the body of a man who was trampled to death in New York. How utterly shameful!
When the shoppers/murderers were asked to leave because a man had been killed, they argued that they had stood in line since Thursday and were here to shop, refusing to leave until forced to do so. Callus is not quite the word for these people. Starving wild boars and sows can at least be herded. Insensitive belligerence should be treated with the cattle prods necessary to deal with unruly livestock.
What part of sanity completely unhinges for the word ‘sale’? What part of civilization is so ‘civilized’ that a most ‘developed’ country can suffer a stampede of greed? How can anyone justify hanging a big screen TV on the wall if its acquisition directly led to the death of an innocent person? Has life truly become a dispensable commodity?
God forgive us!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Word Play
Thanksgiving was quieter this year than ever. The grandchildren were calm and unusually quiet and were ready to eat when the adults sat down to ask the blessing. Of course, at least one came back to the table to protest that all she really wanted was turkey without all that other “stuff.” But other than the usual requests and compliments, it was a quiet group that sat at our son and daughter-in-law’s table.
Most unusual was the one phone call that we actually made ourselves in order to include our youngest son and his lady in our day. That was one of the few times that everyone seemed to be talking at once and laughing about what happens when we feed leftovers to the family dog. But little conversations eddied around the room and were easily heard by anyone interested. And wonder of wonder, everyone seemed interested in whatever someone mentioned.
We can be very thankful for the improvements in communications today. Calling that family member thousands of miles away makes us feel much less alone. But the ubiquitous cell phone has had an unfortunate side effect that just frosts my flakes. Some people seemingly want to include everyone within earshot in their conversations. Oh, they don’t REALLY want to include anyone; they just seem to want everyone to know that the phone call is so important—or that the recipient is so important. Once in a while I really wonder if someone is on the other end of that call—but PLEASE don’t put the caller on speaker phone to prove it!
New words come along all the time to explain our behaviors. “Communifaking” covers the desire to appear to be communicating when we really are not. Now that we have the word, surely we can try to understand the desire—or can we?
The restful quiet that our minds require does not necessarily represent solitude. The house was quite full of children and adults on Thanksgiving Day. And we all had reason to be truly thankful for the blessings of health and happiness. Within the family no one felt the need to seem more important than anyone else. No one needed to communifake or exaggerate to feel loved or appreciated. Any play that could take place after that sumptuous and satisfying meal had to involve word play among the adults because we were simply too satiated to do anything physically demanding.
If this nation needs one blessing any more than another, surely being quietly capable of restful listening is one we could seek. Word play should be an exchange, not a display of disruptive dialogue like communifaking.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Family Elm
Trees have families occasionally. Oh, the ones out there along the highways may not all have families, but some trees do. The old elm out front on this street definitely has its family. It grew up in the Dickerson fence from some dirt that came up from the Bonita farmland. Fang’s dad didn’t pull it out of the fence line when it was little, and it grew to be bodacious before the family even grew up and the kids were grown. By the time we got married, it towered over the yard and the front end of the house like a many-armed sentinel. It sucked up all the moisture from the front flower beds and dropped bushels of leaves all over the roof and yard, but it also provided shade and a refuge for birds.
By the time our children were old enough to climb trees, the tree was too tall to be safe climbing territory. A few swings hung from the lower limbs for a few years, but it was safe from the tree house mania which warped a few other trees around the yard.
Struck by lightning several years ago, one of the stranger characteristics seems to be a whiter streak of wood down one side of the old elm. And the worrywart of the family had some of the lower branches which hung over the roof removed about the time the lightning struck. The result of storms, worrywarts, and the electric company mandatory trimming has changed the overall shape of the old elm, but not its character.
This afternoon a certain unnamed grandson walked his way up to the very wide crotch of the tree. He used a webbed tie down as a rope and threw its hook across the crotch to snag a younger branch. When I finally saw where he was and where his little sister was demanding to go as well, I had the proverbial hissy fit and insisted that he come down immediately. Unfortunately, the child is genetically aligned with his grandmother’s inability to go back the same way he goes forward. My mother taught me to get down from wherever I had decided to climb by refusing to help me get down. A grandmother does NOT refuse to get a grandson down, so I hauled out a ladder and then made him help me put it away after he was down.
This old elm has its family, but I plan to keep it a nice arm’s-length relationship. No climbing—only shading and shedding. They can rake up piles of leaves for jumping in, through, or among, but the limbs need to remain childless. Some family members serve best who only stand and shade.
By the time our children were old enough to climb trees, the tree was too tall to be safe climbing territory. A few swings hung from the lower limbs for a few years, but it was safe from the tree house mania which warped a few other trees around the yard.
Struck by lightning several years ago, one of the stranger characteristics seems to be a whiter streak of wood down one side of the old elm. And the worrywart of the family had some of the lower branches which hung over the roof removed about the time the lightning struck. The result of storms, worrywarts, and the electric company mandatory trimming has changed the overall shape of the old elm, but not its character.
This afternoon a certain unnamed grandson walked his way up to the very wide crotch of the tree. He used a webbed tie down as a rope and threw its hook across the crotch to snag a younger branch. When I finally saw where he was and where his little sister was demanding to go as well, I had the proverbial hissy fit and insisted that he come down immediately. Unfortunately, the child is genetically aligned with his grandmother’s inability to go back the same way he goes forward. My mother taught me to get down from wherever I had decided to climb by refusing to help me get down. A grandmother does NOT refuse to get a grandson down, so I hauled out a ladder and then made him help me put it away after he was down.
This old elm has its family, but I plan to keep it a nice arm’s-length relationship. No climbing—only shading and shedding. They can rake up piles of leaves for jumping in, through, or among, but the limbs need to remain childless. Some family members serve best who only stand and shade.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Tall Tales and Bible Stories
Back when our first child went off to public school, we wanted him to know the difference between tall tales, fairy tales, and stories from the Bible. Even back then a story circulated about the two little boys who were discussing Satan. One told the other that Satan was sure to turn out to be just like Santa—just his dad after dark.
Ignorance is pretty pathetic, but determined ignorance is deplorable. We don’t need to study Hebrew, Greek, or Aramaic to know the basics of the Bible any more than we need to learn BASIC computer programming to use a computer. But some things are pretty essential to sharing in the foundations of American thought patterns. Our laws are based—for the most part—on the Judeo-Christian heritage—the Ten Commandments. If we break it down to the two great commandments, we still acknowledge that there is a power or authority above all men and that we are our brother’s keeper.
At one time, when I did my first teaching of adult classes at college level, I naively assumed that every student would know the story of the three little pigs. A young man from the inner city area of Houston assured me that bedtime stories were not a part of his childhood. During that same year, a fellow student asked me about the story of Job because we were studying the play J.B. by Archibald MacLeish. Again, ignorance had the power to astound me.
While the level of ignorance has become more understandable because of the proliferation of different kinds of knowledge, some things are simply too basic to ignore. Our children and grandchildren are quite capable of text messaging and using the controls to the X-box with a dexterity that would astound many an older craftsman. And the children continue to practice these skills as if becoming proficient might determine the direction of their lives. Who knows? Perhaps these are the skills of the future. However, the ability to read, the ability to understand and apply knowledge to their lives, and the ability to discern the connections between the laws of the spirit as opposed to the rules of governments will determine the quality of life for future generations.
If our children and grandchildren have no sense of the origin of our social mores, they will not understand why we have lived our lives as we have. Whether it is an elective taught during zero hour or an extracurricular activity after school, Texas has made a good step in the right direction by offering the Bible as a class for our young people. No matter who teaches the classes—ministers or English teachers—nobody’s brand can cover up the entire hide and hoof to disguise what is really in that book: His Story.
Ignorance is pretty pathetic, but determined ignorance is deplorable. We don’t need to study Hebrew, Greek, or Aramaic to know the basics of the Bible any more than we need to learn BASIC computer programming to use a computer. But some things are pretty essential to sharing in the foundations of American thought patterns. Our laws are based—for the most part—on the Judeo-Christian heritage—the Ten Commandments. If we break it down to the two great commandments, we still acknowledge that there is a power or authority above all men and that we are our brother’s keeper.
At one time, when I did my first teaching of adult classes at college level, I naively assumed that every student would know the story of the three little pigs. A young man from the inner city area of Houston assured me that bedtime stories were not a part of his childhood. During that same year, a fellow student asked me about the story of Job because we were studying the play J.B. by Archibald MacLeish. Again, ignorance had the power to astound me.
While the level of ignorance has become more understandable because of the proliferation of different kinds of knowledge, some things are simply too basic to ignore. Our children and grandchildren are quite capable of text messaging and using the controls to the X-box with a dexterity that would astound many an older craftsman. And the children continue to practice these skills as if becoming proficient might determine the direction of their lives. Who knows? Perhaps these are the skills of the future. However, the ability to read, the ability to understand and apply knowledge to their lives, and the ability to discern the connections between the laws of the spirit as opposed to the rules of governments will determine the quality of life for future generations.
If our children and grandchildren have no sense of the origin of our social mores, they will not understand why we have lived our lives as we have. Whether it is an elective taught during zero hour or an extracurricular activity after school, Texas has made a good step in the right direction by offering the Bible as a class for our young people. No matter who teaches the classes—ministers or English teachers—nobody’s brand can cover up the entire hide and hoof to disguise what is really in that book: His Story.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Smorgas--What? Smorgasbord!
Well, if the black and white termite will settle down on the saddle blanket we put down for him, we might make it through another cool night. This critter doesn’t have the triple fur coat that our Chow had, so he gets a little cold outside. Naturally, that means he gets to come in with the rest of the family, including the cat hanging off my shoulder at the moment. No, the dog doesn’t get to rest on my shoulder, but if he thought I would let him, he would try. Oliver Twisted just tries to help with my computer keyboard, but he can’t spell any better than Fang can.
Cold weather has its advantages. Granted that perspiration was rolling off my nose today as I painted near the ceiling, but at least we didn’t need air conditioning just to stay in the house. But cold weather does seem to make paint dry a little slower. We have two rooms to paint and one wall to repaint in the kitchen. The lady at Sutherland’s wanted to know if we would EVER be finished with all our work on this house. I am not sure that it is even possible to ‘finish’ a house if a person plans to live in it or keep living in it. And we really don’t do things to the house just to have something to do or just to have a fresh change.
Our DIL has inspired Fang to do something a little different when painting this time. I suppose it is the new fashion to have the walls different colors in the same room. Our entire house has been one color ever since we completed the major part of the ‘overhaul’ or remodeling. Sutherland’s doesn’t sell that color any longer, so now we have a major change in the room which used to be the office—one wall is now R-E-D. Something about a little red wagon . . .The rest of the room will be a tan color called ‘dried stem.’ One thing about it, we aren’t likely to lose that little red wagon amongst all that dried grass.
Fashion has never been one of our biggest concerns—or even ONE of our concerns; but it is not that difficult to understand that some people’s tastes differ drastically from others. Cars, music, TV shows, or even the latest in technology are some of the areas that exhibit differences in taste. And then there are things that never change: religion and politics, civil liberties and senior disorganization, pot holes and public excuses, animal rights and biogenetics, global warming and nasty hangnails. Oh, if our tastes are somewhat eclectic, we can find just about anything for agreement or disagreement should we care to discuss our concerns. It’s wonderful to have such a smorgasbord of choices. But we can be most thankful for cold weather. At least we know it WILL change.
Cold weather has its advantages. Granted that perspiration was rolling off my nose today as I painted near the ceiling, but at least we didn’t need air conditioning just to stay in the house. But cold weather does seem to make paint dry a little slower. We have two rooms to paint and one wall to repaint in the kitchen. The lady at Sutherland’s wanted to know if we would EVER be finished with all our work on this house. I am not sure that it is even possible to ‘finish’ a house if a person plans to live in it or keep living in it. And we really don’t do things to the house just to have something to do or just to have a fresh change.
Our DIL has inspired Fang to do something a little different when painting this time. I suppose it is the new fashion to have the walls different colors in the same room. Our entire house has been one color ever since we completed the major part of the ‘overhaul’ or remodeling. Sutherland’s doesn’t sell that color any longer, so now we have a major change in the room which used to be the office—one wall is now R-E-D. Something about a little red wagon . . .The rest of the room will be a tan color called ‘dried stem.’ One thing about it, we aren’t likely to lose that little red wagon amongst all that dried grass.
Fashion has never been one of our biggest concerns—or even ONE of our concerns; but it is not that difficult to understand that some people’s tastes differ drastically from others. Cars, music, TV shows, or even the latest in technology are some of the areas that exhibit differences in taste. And then there are things that never change: religion and politics, civil liberties and senior disorganization, pot holes and public excuses, animal rights and biogenetics, global warming and nasty hangnails. Oh, if our tastes are somewhat eclectic, we can find just about anything for agreement or disagreement should we care to discuss our concerns. It’s wonderful to have such a smorgasbord of choices. But we can be most thankful for cold weather. At least we know it WILL change.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
No Laughing Matter!
Today a couple of ladies at the Texas Workforce Commission--now called Workforce Solutions--helped me hold my mouth just right to finally change some of the entries on some job applications. One lady seemed to think that it helped to hold one foot up in the air while attempting to get the right selection of forms and codes for same. If artists need the correct techniques to get beautiful results on canvas, in music, or in dance, these folks need more than practice in techniques. They need a magic wand!
Three of the women at TWC this afternoon seemed to be about on their last leg with fatigue, but they were still pleasant and very patient. To still have a sense of humor after a very busy day has to be an art form--or the outgrowth of empathy. Whichever, as difficult as it can be to have to search for employment, these people are there to make the attempts less stressful. Apparently they are mirrored all over the state of Texas--and all over the nation. Unemployment is not a laughing matter.
Saying that something is not a laughing matter always makes me smile and think the opposite. Nearly everything we take seriously has been made into a joke of some kind. For instance, the hijacking of that huge ship full of oil makes me want to suggest that we dress up a garbage ship off the East Coast to look as if it were valuable and send it to Somalia. Fix their wagons!
Here in WF we have a principal of a grade school who took the trouble to insist that repairs were much more sensible than new construction--to insist that a local small school was better for the students. Common sense! Hooray for common sense and American do-it-yourself enterprise! Those studies concerning the impact of new buildings or search committees for a new superintendent are more expensive than remodeling or running a job search with TWC. Local companies around here can do the construction work created by remodeling our buildings--especially since these are the days of fix it and make it do. And it wouldn't hurt to trust TWC to find a good man or woman for the superintendent's job! We have a good school board; let our school board interview a few folks sent to them by TWC. It looks like we can trust our school board's judgment of people.
No, TWC doesn't have a magic wand to replace lost jobs, and Wichita Falls doesn't have a fairy godmother; and even holding one foot up and grinning might not be very helpful. So what can we do for ourselves? We don't need to waste money on studies just because that is the way it has always been done (and it has NOT), and we can help create local jobs for those who are able to work. And no, despite helping to remodel this house as Fang's right-hand woman, I don't do construction work. But I admire those who can step outside the normal pattern to refuse to accept the closing of a school or who can have common sense enough to look for an employee who is qualified without having to hire a search team.
Patience and good humor--that's what the folks at TWC had today! Maybe it is because they are Wichitans. Wichitans always have to find a little bit of humor in life just to live here. Never can tell--maybe the next high wind will blow in a fairy godmother!
Three of the women at TWC this afternoon seemed to be about on their last leg with fatigue, but they were still pleasant and very patient. To still have a sense of humor after a very busy day has to be an art form--or the outgrowth of empathy. Whichever, as difficult as it can be to have to search for employment, these people are there to make the attempts less stressful. Apparently they are mirrored all over the state of Texas--and all over the nation. Unemployment is not a laughing matter.
Saying that something is not a laughing matter always makes me smile and think the opposite. Nearly everything we take seriously has been made into a joke of some kind. For instance, the hijacking of that huge ship full of oil makes me want to suggest that we dress up a garbage ship off the East Coast to look as if it were valuable and send it to Somalia. Fix their wagons!
Here in WF we have a principal of a grade school who took the trouble to insist that repairs were much more sensible than new construction--to insist that a local small school was better for the students. Common sense! Hooray for common sense and American do-it-yourself enterprise! Those studies concerning the impact of new buildings or search committees for a new superintendent are more expensive than remodeling or running a job search with TWC. Local companies around here can do the construction work created by remodeling our buildings--especially since these are the days of fix it and make it do. And it wouldn't hurt to trust TWC to find a good man or woman for the superintendent's job! We have a good school board; let our school board interview a few folks sent to them by TWC. It looks like we can trust our school board's judgment of people.
No, TWC doesn't have a magic wand to replace lost jobs, and Wichita Falls doesn't have a fairy godmother; and even holding one foot up and grinning might not be very helpful. So what can we do for ourselves? We don't need to waste money on studies just because that is the way it has always been done (and it has NOT), and we can help create local jobs for those who are able to work. And no, despite helping to remodel this house as Fang's right-hand woman, I don't do construction work. But I admire those who can step outside the normal pattern to refuse to accept the closing of a school or who can have common sense enough to look for an employee who is qualified without having to hire a search team.
Patience and good humor--that's what the folks at TWC had today! Maybe it is because they are Wichitans. Wichitans always have to find a little bit of humor in life just to live here. Never can tell--maybe the next high wind will blow in a fairy godmother!
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