| Origins March 1993 The title of this column, "Over Coffee", is not exactly original. It isn't that I couldn't come up with anything new or different if I wanted to. It's just that I wanted to take the opportunity to continue a tradition started with one of my predecessors in the newspaper business someone to whom I owe much of my present interest in newspaper writing. You old-timers may remember, (and by old-timers, I mean anyone over 40)! Who had a column of the same name in another Edinburgh newspaper about 25 or 30 years ago? And what was the name of that paper? Well, it doesn't take too much mental manipulation to divine the name of the newspaper as the Edinburgh Daily Courier. Francis and Sarah Otto owned and published that newspaper until the middle-1960's. After that, Bill Hale became the editor. It was Hale who gave me my first shot at writing a regular column for the newspaper. I was interested in the weather back then, as now. I was only a Sophomore in high school, but Bill came over to my house and took some pictures of my "state-of-the-art" weather instruments (such as a rooster wind vane, a large empty can with a ruler for a rain gauge, and a cheap barometer). He did a story on me and my interest in the weather. That kicked-off a regular daily feature which included my hand-drawn weather map of the United States, and a forecast. Occasionally, I would even write an article to accompany my forecast and map. One of those articles, complete with diagrams, was called "The Anatomy of a Thunderstorm". Bill also had a daily column in the Courier. He called it, "Over Coffee". And to think, he had to come up with something EVERY DAY! I was digging through an old chest of drawers that belongs to my aunt. She would keep almost everything I produced back then. I noticed several old yellow newspapers, advertising milk at $.69 per gallon! They all contained some of my original newspaper material. I hate to think my style hasn't improved, but they really were not too bad for a high-school kid! For several years, until the paper folded (and, no, I don't think I had anything to do with its demise), I continued to provide the daily weather forecast for Edinburgh. I would slip my copy underneath the door of the Courier office on my way to school each morning. And in the afternoon, it would be in the paper, as if by magic. Anyway, that is the origin of this column. I offer a "thank you" to the late Bill Hale, for the start, and for the idea. Have a cup on me. Weather March 1993 Elsewhere in this publication this week I speak of the approaching thunderstorm and tornado season. Severe weather is a blemish on what otherwise would be a marvelous season. Most people are not preoccupied with the weather, and so they do not let the possibility of tornadoes spoil their appreciation for the season. There are a few people, however, who get a nagging queasiness in the pit of their stomachs every spring at the thought of severe weather. Okay, I'll admit, I was once one of those people. Deep down, I guess I still am. My wife is much worse. Her apprehension borders on a phobic anxiety. Waitdid I say "borders"? My fear of the weather, which I have tried to bury deep within the subconscious recesses of my brain, originated in my early childhood. My aunt, who watched my five siblings and me while my parents worked, was very protective when it came to storms. At the first sound of thunder, she would have all of us go pile on her bed to wait it out. It seemed she had some notion that being on a bed protected one from lightning strikes. My early fear of tornadoes and severe storms caused me to consider ways to avoid them. I knew all the safety rules, but the only sure way to avoid them was to move to a place where they did not occur. There are many states which have a lower occurrence of tornadoes than Indiana, but they still happen. To escape them, I would have to move to the west coast. Even the west coast doesn't escape tornadoes completely, but they a very rare there. Of course, if I moved to the West, I could rest easy about tornadoes, but I would have to start worrying about earthquakes! And earthquakes have no season, so I'd need to be on my toes all year. I started thinking where in the entire country I could move and not have to worry about natural disaster striking. The Midwest and South have tornadoes; the West has earthquakes; the east coast has hurricanes. Is there a place one could go to escape? Probably the safest region to go would be somewhere around Wyoming or Montana. They have a slight predisposition to earthquakes, but then, so does Indiana. They are more prone to droughts, with hot, dry temperatures in the summer. After concluding that there really is no truly safe place to go, I decided to remain where I am. I like it better here anyway. Fads May 1993 If you were to ask any person on the street what was the latest fad, you may get a variety of responses. There are quite a few styles and activities going on today that may resolve themselves as fads when looked back upon from the perspective of the future. Compare the present situation to the really big fads of the past. Now, let me make it clear that I am not old enough to remember some of these fads; I just happen to know of their existence. I won't even tell you which ones I CAN remember. Fads can come in a variety of categories. For example, their are fashion fads and music fads. These two categories probably account for the majority of fads. But there are other categories as well. There are fads in literature, food, television shows, movies, dances, and behavioral aberrations. There are also fads created for the purpose of merchandising which were meant from the beginning to be nothing more than a fad; remember the pet rock? Webster describes "fad" as "a style, etc. that interests many people for a short time; a passing fashion." And please, do not ever use the phrase "It's a passing fad"; it is redundant. To be a fad implies to be passing. But pardon my digression into rhetorical style. Fadish tendencies have been around a long time, but they have grown in importance only in this century. For example, it would be a gross misinterpretation to call, say, Feudalism a fad! On the other hand, the Charleston, a dance of the 1920's, was most certainly a fad. So were all the other dance crazes of this century: the twist, the bump, the mash potato, etc. Compare these dance fads with other forms of dance, such as ballet, tap, and ballroom dancing. The latter are not fads, for they have longevity. The same holds true for music. Rock and Roll was thought to have been a fad of the 1950's, but it's still alive and well. On the other hand, Disco was the hot music and dance entertainment of the late 1970's. Thankfully, it didn't last long, and hence, has been relegated to fad status. So what are the fads of today? In music, it is Rap. And I hope with every ounce of my being that Rap turns out to have the longevity of Disco, as opposed to Baroque. The fashion fad of today? I wouldn't hazard a guess; Nobody could ever accuse me of being a slave to fashion! What about television? Well, fortunately, animated features are in vogue. Thank you Simpsons! And in movies, the family-oriented shows have made a come back, after many years of being absent from the big screen. We can all hope this trend becomes more than just a fad. So how many of today's fads will turn out to be tomorrow's institutions? Some fads are obvious (again, remember the pet rock?). Some fads are good at masquerading as newly-established traditions. Only the future holds the answer. Here's hoping your favorite fad has the longevity it takes to become a staple element in society. Truth May 1993 "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...?" No, this is not a script for Matlock or Perry Mason. Most of you probably recognize the above question as the one which is used as the preliminary step of a witness's testimony in a court of law. The trouble is, not many people can make such a promise. I advocate changing the oath to: "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as you remember it?" The truth is sometimes quite elusive. It is very often not concrete; it has shades of color. I'm sure most of you have heard the expression, "little white lie." But, if lies come in shades, so then must the truth. A "white lie" is a non-truthful statement that causes no one any harm and is meant, primarily, to insure that situational protocol is maintained. For example, if someone asks you, "Do you like my new outfit?", it causes fewer wrinkles just to say, "Yes, it's nice", even if you don't like it, than to be brutally honest and hurt someone's feelings in the process. Most lies that do not fall into the category of protecting someone's feelings are those lies that are meant to shield the liar from blame or reprisal. If you call off work sick when, in fact, you feel fine, you have told a lie that falls into this category. But don't get me wrong I'm not one to judge the purity of heart that comes with protective lying. It's not like I've never done it myself! (I hope my boss doesn't read this part!) Returning to my earlier point, however, that if lies come in shades of gray, so must the truth, allow me to offer an example. Suppose there are two people who witness a traffic accident that takes place at an intersection. One person views the accident from a position half a block down one street. The other person views the accident from half a block down the other street. From one perspective, the accident may look as though it was the fault of one driver; from the other perspective, it may appear as though the other driver was the cause of the accident. So if both witnesses come forth with their version of "the truth", who's correct? Each witness was telling the truth from his own perspective. That doesn't mean the other was lying, only that his judgment of the situation was from a different frame of reference. To young children, the truth is much more black-and-white. It never occurs to most very young kids to lie. They generally relate their perception of the world in a truthful, straightforward manner. For example, if you have young children that have just passed that critical age limit whereby they must pay more for their meal in a restaurant, or pay the adult price when seeing a movie, you may try to extract one more year's worth of low-priced meals or movies when you say to the cashier, "Johnny's only 5", when, in fact, he's 6. But if Johnny is there with you, he most certainly will correct your loss of memory: "No Mommy. I had a birthday. I'm 6 now." Not that it has ever happened to me personally...(right!). But children very soon learn that telling a non-truthful version of an event may keep them out of trouble. Almost 100% of the lies told by children are of the variety that is self-protective. They lie to avoid blame or punishment. Very few children will lie to protect someone else's feelings. ("Mommy, I don't think her outfit is pretty. It makes her look fat")! A child's perspective is the purest of all. Whether it be in a court of law, in a restaurant, or in the daily intercourse that takes place between humans, one should always keep in mind that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, more often than not depends on your perspective. Bandwagon June 1993 There is a psychological phenomenon that manifests itself in our society every now and then. Most of the time, it is benign, but sometimes it can be quite malevolent. Almost everyone succumbs to its effects periodically including myself. It can't be helped; but it can be fought. The phenomenon I'm referring to is called the "bandwagon effect." Everybody jumps on a bandwagon occasionally. The phenomenon is characterized by large numbers of people blindly (or semi-blindly) following a certain person, group, or organization, by supporting their agenda, or by participating in a certain fad. It doesn't require much thought to get on a bandwagon. People on a bandwagon have sort of a collective conscience; nobody except the leader or initiator of the bandwagon needs to do much serious thinking. The bandwagon effect explains why presidents often fall sharply in the opinion polls over a short period of time, or why a political candidate suddenly zooms to the top of the polls. Consider Ross Perot in the 1992 campaign. He certainly had a bandwagon, until he decided to quit. The most important characteristic of the bandwagon effect is that most of the people who are riding it are only doing so because so many other people are on board. It may have very little to do with the ideas or philosophy espoused by the group as a whole. As I said before, most bandwagons are benign. But, occasionally, a malicious one comes along. Take the syringe-in-the-Pepsi-can phenomenon of recent weeks. Authorities haven't been able to prove a single syringe was placed inside a Pepsi can during processing. Probably all (or at least the vast majority) of reports were false. It was a bandwagon effect. Granted, not too many people got on that one, but the ones who did had a malicious intent. An example of a fairly benign bandwagon is the one that always arises out of a popular music trend. I may be showing my age by using this example, but do you suppose all those zillions of fans who flocked to the Beatles concerts back in the '60's did so because they thought their music was the best in the world? Probably not. They were on a bandwagon. A similar example can be drawn from today's musical preferences. There are actually two bandwagons: one for Country Music, and one for Rap. I'm not on either of those. I tend not to get on music bandwagons because I prefer to listen to each piece of music as a separate entity unto itself. For that reason, I enjoy listening to some Country songs, some rock songs, some pieces of Classical music, and some adult contemporary but, and I want to make this perfectly clear, rap music is so far off the mark of what I consider good music, that it almost makes me pine for Disco! (Well, not quite!) Although I have ridden several bandwagons in my life, I have learned to try to fight the tendency to jump on any more. The reason is, I have a brain of my own, as does everyone else. A bandwagon tends to lessen an individual's own intellectual processes; his higher-level thinking process is delegated to the leader of the bandwagon, and relegated to his own mind's broom closet. A bandwagon, even a benevolent one, is in the same league as peer pressure in its effects on how we use our brains. I've never been one to do something just because someone else is doing it. In fact, I occasionally do just the opposite, for spite it's a character flaw. But, although, being human, I have occasionally acquiesced to the lure of a bandwagon, my advice is to avoid them whenever possible. Exercise your own judgment when faced with a decision and you might be surprised at how good your judgment may become. Graduation June 1993 I would like to add my congratulations to the graduating seniors of the class of 1993. High school graduation is a memory that will stay with a person throughout all his or her life. It is a very special event, indeed. As I hark back to the old days when I graduated from Edinburgh High School (well, at least my kids call it the "old days"!), I remember that, at the time, I really didn't want to participate in the ceremony. I was a very shy, almost introverted individual who really loathed taking part in any kind of public display. I didn't even like to eat in a restaurant that I'd never visited before. Fortunately, the principal made me take part. Not only was it required that all the graduates participate in Commencement, but we were obligated to be at our Baccalaureate service as well. I say fortunately, because I received a cherished memory out of the deal, and it really wasn't that bad, either. I mean, I didn't throw up or anything! It was, however, my first experience with graduating from anything. Although since then, I've done it two more times. I guess maybe it left a positive impression on me after all! Today's youth, however, might expect to have taken part in at least a couple of "graduations" prior to the big one at the end of their high school career. There are preschool graduations; many school systems have junior high graduations; and there are graduations from other special classes, too, such as dance classes, or Sunday School classes. Both of my kids have already graduated once, and the oldest one will only be in the 4th grade next year! I don't want to imply that preschool, junior high, dance classes, or Sunday School are not important, but, to me, having too many graduation events takes away from the real one the one that counts, at the end of the senior year of high school. When a person has already graduated two or three times before he finishes high school, then high school graduation may have less of an impact on his life. I can't back up that statement with any scientific study or by quoting from any psychologist's doctoral thesis; it just seems to make sense. I admit, I was there with camcorder in hand when both of my kids graduated from preschool. And if the junior high school they are in when they reach that age has a graduation ceremony, I'll be there, too. But, deep down, I would prefer that graduations be reserved for those who have won the war, not simply finished individual battles. Memorial Day June 1993 Another Memorial Day has come and gone, and along with it, all the eventsand activities normally associated with that holiday: the Indy 500, the decorating of the graves of soldiers and of loved ones with wreaths and flowers, and the anticipation of the last day of school. Memorial Day beckons, from deep within my subconscious, memories of my mom and my Aunt Ruby, making artificial flowers out of thin wire, crepe paper, and paraffin wax. When I was a child, they would spend the days before Decoration Day, as my aunt would call it, mass-producing their floral arrangements. Then, on May 30, Dad would take us to rural Columbia, Kentucky, about a mile or so off route 80, to a small graveyard where my grandmother was buried. In those days, there was no interstate highway; we took U.S. 31, which was a two-lane road all the way. I had no idea exactly how long the trip took, I just knew it was a long ride. The trip was made a little more bearable, however, because there was one spot somewhere in Kentucky where water poured out of the side of a steep, rocky hill. Dad would always stop and let us get out and take a drink, (we didn't worry about pollution back then). I was fascinated by this natural wonder, not to mention the fact that it quenched the thirst we had built up during our long voyage, (it was back before rest areas, too!). When we finally arrived in Columbia, we would stay at Uncle Bob's. He lived so far out in the country that I can actually remember when he had no electricity, though he eventually got it installed. He was not really my uncle, nor was his wife my Aunt Lena, but they were some distant relative, and I always called them aunt and uncle. They are both dead now, and their house was torn down years ago. After settling in, we would depart for the burial site of my grandmother; my father's foster mother. The tiny cemetery, hidden within a shallow wood, was not at all grandiose. The individual graves were covered with bare soil and fallen leaves, for the grass could not grow in among the trees. But the reverence was there. Although I was no older than 6 or 7, I could perceive it but being only a child, I did not understand the depth of feeling that came with the holiday, nor with the decoration of my grandmother's grave. This Memorial Day was different from the others, though. My mother hasn't made wax-covered flowers from crepe paper for years, and I haven't been to Columbia, Kentucky in that same span of time. But, although the Indy 500 race was run, and school did let out, just like always, the holiday was not the same. My aunt no longer lives with the family, but resides in a nursing home. My brothers and sisters no longer live at home either, for they are grown up, and most have children of their own. But, the most different thing of all, is that it was the first Memorial Day when one of the graves decorated was my dad's. Good Old Days July 1993 Remember the "good old days"? In general, that phrase is meant to conjure up an image of happy times experienced in a person's youth. And, if used in that sense, the phrase is quite harmless even benevolent. In a larger sense, however, it loses its meaning. Ever since I was young (you know, back in the good old days!), people have been trying to denigrate the ways of our modern society by comparing them in a negative fashion with what they perceive as a better age of the past. They compare our existence in a "wretched and wicked world" with a mythical time long ago when everything was all right with nature and with God. People today rave about the federal budget, unemployment, the national debt, the lack of prayer in public schools, abortion, nuclear power, and a host of other modern "evils", as though evils in general were a recent invention. Yet, consider this: Anyone over 60 years old can certainly remember the "Great Depression" of the 1930's and World War II that followed it. Were these the "good old days"? Or how about the McCarthy era and the Cold War, in which the people of the world worried daily about possible nuclear annihilation, or being overrun by Communists? Were these the "good old days"? Before that, what about World War I? There was a pandemic of deadly influenza that killed thousands worldwide. Smallpox, diphtheria, and tuberculosis was rampant, and there was no antibiotics! Streets and countrysides were filthy with soot and particulate matter burned at unregulated factories, and there were few safety provisions for miners, construction workers, or other laborers. Or what about the huge trusts, monopolies formed by tycoons of the late 1800's that made it nearly impossible for small companies to compete. Going back further, what about the Civil War, the war that tore this nation apart. Surely that wasn't the "good old days". People may say, "Sure, we've had plenty of wars and economic crises, but people back then cared for one another more than they do today, and our nation was closer to God back then, too." Well, what of slavery? Does that show a caring for other people? What about when people settled their arguments by dueling? Alexander Hamilton, one of our nations founding fathers, was killed in a duel. Was this the "good old days"? Another misconception is that our country was founded as a Christian nation. This is certainly not the case. Some of the founding fathers were not religious men at all; others were only lukewarm with regards to Christianity. Our country was founded on religious FREEDOM the tenet that everybody has a right to worship in any way they see fit, as long as they do not infringe upon anyone else's right to do the same. And God has not been expelled from public schools. He never resided in the SCHOOLS in the first place, any more than he resides in churches. God resides within individual human beings, not buildings. In centuries past, in Europe, there were plagues, wars, famines, despotism, slavery, and forced child labor. People lost their heads, literally, because their faith was different from that of the ruling class. Were these the "good old days"? Although we have special interest groups in this country today who think their beliefs give them the right to break the law, we as a nation, still have religious freedom. We also have a safer working environment, a higher economic standard of living, a longer life expectancy, and a great deal more free time than almost any other group in the history of the world. I think that makes THESE days the "good old days". Motels August 1993 Have you stayed in a motel or hotel lately? Perhaps you've stayed at an inn, or a bed-and-breakfast. What's the difference among the various terminology used to denote a place where one spends the night while away from home? Many years ago, there were hotels and inns, which are basically two different words for the same thing. Then, in the 1950's, motels started to arrive. Motels were invented as a result of the interstate highway system. The word "motel" is a contracted form of "motorist's hotel". The difference is that hotels tend to be located either within cities, near convention sites, airports, and in places where there is no easy interstate access. Motels, on the other hand, are generally found close to interstate highways. Hotels tend to be larger, multi-story buildings with porters, bellmen, and room service designed to cater to a person who has reached his destination. Motels tend to be smaller, one- or two-story buildings with a pool and some minor services to accommodate a passing motorist on his way to somewhere else. Bed-and-breakfasts are small hotels that serve you breakfast as part of the nightly charge. They tend to be found in smaller cities and towns that tend to have a lot of summer tourist trade especially in the New England states. I don't ever remember staying at any of these institutions while I was a child. One day, Dad decided to load up the family car and take off on a trip to Nashville, Tennessee. He had no planned agenda; he just wanted to get a burger. After seeing the sights, we headed home late in the day. We started looking for a motel to stay in, but there was some kind of music convention in town and all the motels were filled. We had relatives in Columbia, Kentucky. I don't like staying in strange people's houses, even if those strange people are relatives! I would have much preferred to stay in a motel, but I sensed we were heading in the direction of Columbia. We took the back roads, stopping at each small town to see if there were any motels with vacancies; there were none. Finally, we found one, but Dad decided he was definitely NOT going to pay nearly $35 for a family of 6 to spend a few hours sleeping (it was already nearing midnight). So we drove on. There were plenty of Holiday Inns along the way, but Mom wouldn't go for it too fancy. Dad said we would head for Columbia, (I thought "Oh, no"), and we would see if the Columbia Hotel had a vacancy. When we arrived in Columbia, my hopes were shattered no room at the inn! It was after midnight; we were all tired we ended up staying at, you guessed it, the relative's house! Scams August 1993 The United States is a great country, with the roots of the free- enterprise system staunchly entrenched. Few will deny that. It was founded on certain premises, such as life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion and making a profit. Profit is the motivating factor behind any free-enterprise economy. It has become increasingly evident over the past couple of years that nations that are based on controlled economies, such as the old Soviet Union and the nations of Eastern Europe, cannot survive the long haul. The free-market system is what gives the U.S. its great wealth and huge Gross Domestic Product. However, the free-market system is not without its sleepy side. There are, of course, the rip-off artists who specialize in taking people's money from them and providing nothing of substantial value in return. There are the false advertisers, that exaggerate, or even lie, in order to make their products more appealing to the consumer. What ruffles my feathers more than these, however, are the sly and sleazy entrepreneurs who offer a service or product for a profit, but which use the ambient emotions of their prospective customers to close the sale. I'm not referring to the rampant use of emotion-provoking gimmicks or commercials that pervade society, but the ones who use the emotions already present. Let me offer a couple of examples. Less than a week after my father died last year, my mother received an envelope from a Michigan company containing a nicely-laminated copy of the obituary, with a Bible verse on the reverse side. The note in the envelope said that, if she wished, she could keep the token and send the company $2. And, of course, they would be more than happy to sell her copies of the laminated obituary for $2 each. Granted, the laminating was well-done, and it was a token that we enjoyed having. In fact, we did order additional ones from the company. It was a bona fide service, but one which took advantage of the emotional state of a family just days after experiencing the death of a family member. The company makes this service available not because they feel sorry for grieving widows, but in order to make a profit from someone's death. Another, less morbid, example comes from the world of academics. There are at least a couple of companies out there who send letters to school teachers and administrators every year along with a form that can be used to nominate students who have a relatively high academic standing. Now, there may be many students in any school system who's grades would qualify them for "nomination". And anyone who is nominated by a teacher, and who is at least a "B" student is accepted to receive this "honor". The honor is a listing in a book that is printed simply to list the names of students who have been nominated as having good grades. Then, the company will gladly sell this book to the parents of the nominated students. Don't get me wrong. All nominated students actually are high- achievers. But the only ones who appear in the book are those who's teacher happened to open the letter of the company who publishes this book and then decided to nominate some students. These companies feed off the pride (and ego) of the families of students who are nominated. Colleges, trade schools, and businesses do not make a habit of checking through this publication. The fault lies not with the student, or with the parents, but with the faculty member who fails to see the scheme for what it is a blatant profit-making exploitation of good students. The only reason I bring any of this up is as a bit of a warning. If you want to fall for one of these schemes that pray on human emotion, that's fine; just be aware of the true motives behind them. Camping September 1993 There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who always separate the people of the world into two types, and those who don't! Okay, so I belong to the former.... But with regard to camping, there are two kinds of people in the world: The purists, who believe that camping must constitute "roughing it", by sleeping in tents and sleeping bags in the woods; going to the bathroom in an outhouse (or using a tree); and leaving all electronic gadgetry and entertainment devices at home, such as TV's radios, and cellular telephones. Then, there are the progressive campers those who like to camp in a motor home or self-contained camper with running water, a refrigerator, stove, satellite dish, and microwave oven. They must have their flush toilets and hot showers, too. Back in my youthful days when I was in college, I belonged to the former category of campers. I thought people who took their home-on- wheels to a luxury camp villa were not really camping at all. I liked roughing it, to a point. I remember one excursion I took with some college friends to Big Bend National Park in Texas in the mid-1970's. By the time we got from Franklin to the Texas border, we were only half way to our destination proving once again how big Texas really is! That camping trip taught me one valuable lesson: Never leave food in the tent with you where you sleep. I was awakened at 5:30 a.m. by the sound of a skunk who had discovered how to unzip the tent door, sitting there on the floor of my tent, eating a cookie he had gotten out of our supply bag. To make matters worse, his fellow skunk-mate came barging in and decided he wanted the same cookie! The two skunks were between me and the door, so there was no way I could get out. Like a fool, I decided to try to wake the other members of the camping party, who had wisely decided to sleep "under the stars" outside the tent. Yet, I didn't want to startle the skunks with a loud yell. So, I decided I'd try whistling. I started whistling softly, at first. Then I got louder and louder until I got up enough nerve to let out a faint cry for "h-e-l-l-l-p". As stupid as it may sound (and believe me, I never heard the end of it from my fellow travelers), the whistling worked, because it awakened a couple of the other campers who promptly came and unzipped the door of the tent. The skunks made a frantic circle around the tent, then ran out. And, luckily, I came out smelling like a rose! I don't do a lot of camping now. But, over the years, I have changed my mind about what constitutes "real" camping. Give me a nice RV, a television, microwave, and, of course, running water and flush toilets, and I'll go camping, as long as there's something else to see. I still don't like camping just for the sake of it. But I don't totally blame the skunks; I just tend to enjoy comfort more now than I did in my younger days! Bulls October 1993 Being a journalist is, for the most part, a great occupation. Occasionally, however, it involves doing things that you'd really rather not do. This week, I had the pleasure of interviewing a couple of gentlemen who will be taking part in the Sprint Classic Rodeo coming up this weekend. The two fellows, Bobby Rowe and Eddy Caraway, were very friendly and cooperative. They answered all my questions fully. They were more than willing to pose for a couple of pictures. Eddy recommended that I take a picture of one or two of the bulls that were scheduled to perform. I replied, "Sure. Let me just get my camera out of my car and I'll be right back." When I returned a few seconds later, the two gentlemen had moved over to the gate of the bull pen. Inside, roamed about 20 or so large, mean- looking bulls. That is where I began to get a little dubious about the assignment. Bobby opened the gate and went in. He motioned for me to follow. I asked, "Are you sure I really need to be in here?" He said, "Yea, come on in. It'll be all right. You just have to know which bulls are the good ones and keep them between you and the bad ones." Well, that sounded easy enough; I just wasn't quite sure which bulls were the good ones! As we began to walk into the field of bulls, their eyes glaring at me as if to say, "Who's this guy; I've never seen him here before," I called to Bobby, who was walking about 10 paces in front of me, and asked, "Why don't you just go get the bull you want me to shoot and bring him back here." He snickered a little, then replied, "Ah, come on!" So, I hesitantly edged on up to where he was standing. He took the opportunity to show me a scar in the middle of his forehead that he had received, courtesy of one of the bulls. He said, "He knocked me right out." I, of course, was feeling much better with that bit of news, (pardon my sarcasm). He then pointed to a light gray bull and said, "Better keep your eye on that one." I was thinking, "If I hadn't come in here, I wouldn't have to keep my eye on that one." But I said, "Would you kindly keep your eye on that one for me?" He said "sure thing." He drove a couple of bulls out of the way in an effort to get to this one black bull that was relaxing on the ground. Then he said, "Oops, that's not the one. Sometimes the markings on these bulls look so much alike you can't hardly tell them apart." I was thinking, "So how can you tell the 'good' ones from the 'bad' ones," but I kept my mouth shut. We finally got to the back of the corral where the two bulls were standing that he wanted me shoot a picture of. He explained that they were brothers. I wondered silently, "They all pretty much look alike, so why couldn't I have just taken a picture of that first bull standing near the gate?" Just at that moment, two of the bulls began to get into a bit of a tussle. Eddy Caraway quickly broke it up by getting in between the two. Bobby told me "Sometimes they like to fight among themselves. That's how I got my scar. When a fight breaks out between two bulls, sometimes one of them goes for you its an easier target!" By that time, I really wasn't caring much about getting a picture at all! But I quickly snapped two shots and began to mosey back toward the gate, hoping none of the bulls would consider charging me (and I don't mean admission!). We made it back through the herd to the gate, where I was quite relieved to step out of the corral. I thanked them, and then went on my way. I didn't dare tell them the Polaroids I had taken didn't turn out very well! Wishes October 1993 If you had three wishes, what would you wish for? The popularity of the Aladdin film and video tape release has brought back that age-old hypothetical inquiry once again. But why three wishes? It seems to me that, if used properly and with adequate forethought, even one wish would suffice. So let me rephrase that first question: If you had one wish, what would it be? I once asked a classroom full of high school students that same question. A dichotomy quickly formed in the type of responses given. And, interestingly enough, the wishes tended to fall into the same two categories our politicians group themselves into there were the Republican wishes and the Democrat wishes. That is to say, some wishes tended to be altruistic; others tended to be central to the wish-maker. The right-wing wishes were for things like, lots of money; gold, silver, stocks, and bonds; new cars; submissive females (if the wish- maker was male); power; good oral hygiene. The left-wing wishes were for things like, world peace; an end to world hunger; no more violence or crimes; a world without drug abuse, or good health for everybody." Personally, I have extreme views on a variety of issues, but not all on the same side of the spectrum. On some issues, I'm extremely conservative; on others, I'm extremely liberal. I guess you could say I'm a middle-of-the-road extremist! That's sort of like ordering your steak extra-medium, I guess. Anyway, getting back to my one wish, I figure I could cover a lot of ground with just one wish, if done properly. Using the same wish- restrictions that the Genie used on Aladdin, namely, that he can't kill someone, bring someone back from the dead, or make someone fall in love, my wish would be "I wish that every event that is going to take place in the world, from now on, would be an event that would make me happy." Now, that's covering a lot of territory! It may sound very selfish at first glance, but if you consider that I'm just an average sort of fellow whose wants and needs are about the same as any other average person, then whatever event would make me happy would tend to make a lot of folks happy. It would also mean that I, or anyone who is close to me, would never die, since death would tend to make me unhappy. It would also mean that none of us would ever get sick because illness would make me unhappy. From a worldly perspective, since I detest petty fighting among (or within) nations, these wars would never occur. Famines would be a thing of the past, too, because they make me unhappy. There would be a few people ticked-off by my wish. The so-called Pro- Lifers, or the Affirmative Action advocates, and other special-interest groups may be very displeased with my wish. But, in general, it would, I believe, make the world a little better. I'm sure it would make it better for me! But, alas, there is no magic Genie. Nobody has a wish coming. But, once in a while, it's nice to fantasize a little! So, what would you wish for? Christmas light damage December 1993 Do you enjoy looking at Holiday displays and the myriad of Christmas lights and decorations this time of the year? As far back as I can remember, our family has been very big on Christmas and its associated decorative paraphernalia. When I was young, Dad would always string some lights around the front porch. Back in the '70's, he really got in the spirit; he not only decorated the front of the house, he decked-out the back porch, the bird house, and the interior of almost every room! He loved Christmas. Almost exactly one year ago, the lights that had been strung around the house and fence by my brother were vandalized. Dad had been unable to do any outside decorating for a couple of years due to illness, but he did manage to build (at the dining room table) a wooden birthday cake with the message "Happy Birthday Jesus" on it. Lights surrounded the cake. Anyway, several strands of lights were stolen by perpetrators unknown. Dad was very ill at the time, but it upset him greatly. He could not for a minute understand why anyone would want to destroy a Christmas display that had taken a lot of effort, and cost a lot of money to put up. Dad was to pass away only two weeks later. This year, the hoodlums are at it again. This time, they seem to be concentrating on the public light displays downtown. The police department is cracking down on this type of activity, and rightfully so. They need assistance in helping to identify those who have no respect for public or private property those adults who behave worse than most juveniles. If you enjoy the holiday decorations, and if you want to protect the items bought with your tax dollars from being smashed in the streets, take the time and responsibility to get involved and report it. Sgt. Lutz says you can remain anonymous. Collectively, maybe we can put a stop to the dim-witted behavior by those who obviously have nothing better to do with their lives. | |
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