"Once Upon a Time ..."

This is a “Once Upon A Time…” story. But the events happen to be true.

Once, we were visiting my wife’s folks of a weekend. We had our granddaughter with us, and with her came a great number of school supplies which were carried in plastic boxes with lids that clipped on. On those lids were carrying handles. I’m not sure why I’m going into such detail, but my mind must think that it’s important.

Of course, all good things come to an end. So, while everyone else were finishing up Sunday night activities, I was taking things out to the car, which was parked in the back.

It was nighttime, and it must have been winter, for there was snow on the ground and it was cold. I was carrying out two or three of the school-stuff boxes when I tripped. Not able to catch myself, I fell flat on my face. I was a bit shocked, to say the least. I called for help, then realized that I’d shut the kitchen door against the cold, and, since everyone was in the front room they weren’t likely to hear me.

So, it was all up to me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and continue. With some difficulty, I rolled to one side and was able to draw my legs up and get one foot, then the other, under me.

I got to my feet, and did a status check of myself, then of the boxes I was carrying. I was shaken, but not hurt to speak of. One of the boxes lids had popped off, and some of the contents had spilled. I put that to rights, gathered the three boxes (it had been the top-most box under my left arm whose lid had come off), and proceeded to the car. I loaded them into the back seat, locked up the car, and headed back in.

I don’t remember if I ever bothered to tell anyone about my trip-and-fall. I most likely went into the front room, found a place to sit, and joined in with the conversation.

Fast-forward a few years. D__ and J__ are staying at her folks, helping Dad take care of Mom. They have the car, so I take the bus to work. It was really handy, the bus stop for where I worked was right outside the employee entrance, and the stop at the home end was right around the corner from our house. In all, a sweet arrangement.

Except for Saturday shift.

At that time, I was working the graveyard shift Tuesday to Saturday, which meant I came in on a given day for my start of shift at ten pm, then left the following morning a little after six-thirty. That was fine most days, except the busses didn’t run on Sunday. Every Sunday I needed to walk from the north end of town, to the south end, pretty much a straight shot, just like the bus.

That was fine, I needed the exercise. A few blocks from home was a strip mall, and in the strip mall was a buffet-style Chinese restaurant. Having just walked most of five miles, I often chose to kill some time in the modern five-and-dime store until the restaurant opened at eleven-thirty.

This was fine most weeks, but inevitably there would be weather. One Sunday morning we had a fine mist, and dew point was just below freezing, and the ambient temperature was just below dew point.

Now I love misty days. If I have nowhere to go and can grab my camera and walk around, fog and mist lend an air of mystery to otherwise familiar surroundings. Great enjoyment.

This kind of mist, however, was more of a gentle sleet, than a friendly cloak. I knew the sidewalks would be slippery; I also knew my sense of balance had been going south on me.

Nothing for it, though. I drank some break-room coffee, pulled my coat’s hood over my head, and set off. I found that if I kept my stride a bit shorter than usual I tended not to slip. With that in mind, I sallied forth.

About a half a mile into the walk, past the bridge over the Cache, it happened. I strode a little too long, my left heel slipped in front of me and I did the splits on the icy sidewalk. I was down, and no mistake. Like my stumble in my in-laws’ back yard I was alone. The only other people were the occasional pedestrians, easily hundreds of yards to the nearest one. Yelling for help was pointless.

I rolled onto my back and brought my legs together, and took some time to catch my breath. I started feeling the cold seep through my coat, into my body, the chill causing my body to stiffen. I couldn’t let that happen.

I had to move, so I rolled further onto the grass, pushing myself up onto my hands and knees, then straightening up, and getting my left foot flat on the ground, knee bent. Straightening my left leg, and bringing my right leg into action, I walked beside the sidewalk on the frozen grass until I got near to a post to lean on and catch my breath.

Still another four-and-a-half miles to home, but it’s got to be done.

Later that morning I had hot tea at the Chinese restaurant.

Sometimes the only one you have available to depend on is yourself and your own strength. When that happens, you may not be at the height of your powers; for whatever reason, the bounce you had when you were young is no longer available. Don’t give up. You still have strength. 

Decide to find that strength, find it, and do.

One step at a time.

Yes, you can.

Where There's A Will ...

... The Tax-Man Cometh.

(which is a great blog-post title in its own right, but I digress...)

The Left (use your own definition, it'll get you close) seems inordinately interested (not to say nosey) about the average Joe's money, and how he spends it. It seems the Federal Government (especially under Democrat leadership, but not exclusively so) agrees. To wit, the previous Administration arranged to expand the workforce of the IRS by a number uncomfortably larger than eighty thousand (80,000) bodies. Feel free to search for the references, they're there.

Thankfully, that idea was quashed, along with mandatory reporting of any expenditure to a particular recipient larger than $600 in a year's time (that amount tracks your UTILITY payments, folks). The IRS already requires tracking of amounts larger than ten thousand dollars. It (the government, et. al.) has done this in the past under the idea that We The People have been underreporting income, and what we did with it, in order to make sure we give the Government its fair share.

Fair Share. 

What is our 'Fair Share'?

Before I continue, it is important to note that we did not always pay an income tax. It wasn't until the ratification of the 16th Amendment that we did so. And the common person was not in its sights; the amendment was passed under the slogan, "Soak the Rich" The One Percent, of the day, if you will. And, envy, in the hands of a democratic (a.k.a. "mob rule") vote, the 99%  envious majority voted predictably and Income Tax became the law of the land.

But did it stay just the 1%? 

I'm afraid not. 

It has crept down the brackets to the average Joe, and even the below average Joe. We each must put in our 'withholding' amounts every paycheck, and hope to get a fraction back at tax time. We call it a 'refund'. Technically, that's what it is. But it is good to remember that this 'refund' is in actuality our own money that we overpaid.

It wouldn't bother me so much if the Government would stick to its original mandate, and paid attention to the needs of the country as a whole, defending the nation, mediating interstate commerce, and other such things. But it got into the generosity business. And, with the common sense of a prodigal child, it has spent this country's income prodigiously. 

But has it come to it's senses? If it weren't so painful it would be laughable. Thus we come to Randy Cassingham's nugget below.

The nugget comes from Randy Cassingham's web-paper, This Is True (tm), from his archive section (click here to see the original). 

Stanley S. Newberg fled persecution as a Jew and came to America. He did well, and when he died, his estate was valued at $8.4 million. 

He was also grateful to the country that took him in: his will left $5.6 million in cash to the U.S. Government. 

Based on 1994 spending rates, the money will last just under two minutes. 

Randy adds the tag line of, "And we thank you for the six wrenches and four vinyl binders from the bottom of our hearts," (because we all know how well the government spends other people's money). 

(From Randy's letter code on the original posting, the article came from Associated Press, and he, himself, wrote the nugget. This, and the links already included above, should cover any 'fair use' requirements.)

Back to the diatribe. Many of you readers (heh, who am I kidding? My 'readership' is the equivalent of whispering down a well.) As I was saying, many of you readers will yell at me and say we need things like roads, bridges, a capable military, basic research, etc. To which I say, "You are absolutely right!"

I am not against the things listed in the Constitution as a mandate: protect our shores from invaders, our people from criminal harm, insure that we have a country worth keeping, help fund basic science, the stuff that often slips through the cracks. The Government, Federal, State and Local, has a job and duty to its citizens in making sure our country and the communities within have access to the means to 'pursue happiness'. 

Then to get the heck out of the way.

Various things have been added over time. The 'not-tax' of Social Security and the 'not-tax' of Medicare, being a prominent two. If Social Security had remained the trust fund that it was originally intended to be, it would be solvent, and contributions would be less onerous for those currently paying in. They (that's 'You', folks), like my parents, would be paying in for their own retirement. Medicare tax payments, likewise. Instead, it's a Ponzi scheme, and young adults today are rightly bothered by it. 

But please, don't lay the blame at my feet. That decision was made in the Sixties, when I was still in grade school. I'll let you guess what president and congress made that decision. I'll help you out: it wasn't JFK. It wasn't Tricky Dick. 

And, by and large, I'm not even blaming the Welfare State. Decisions there could be wiser.

What bothers me, is the idea of this enormous pot of money that we can grab out of, without the need to pinch pennies, or even gold pieces. It's as bottomless as a leprechaun's crock of gold.

What a crock!

And even if we reach the bottom of that crock we'll fiddle with the tax brackets, assess a new tax or fee (the secret work-around to 'No New Taxes'), find a new way to have each citizen pony up another buck, and by the time each citizen does so, that's another three-hundred-million dollars.

That's almost Real Money.

If the various levels of governments pinched the pennies as do you and I, choosing chicken instead of steak, tofu instead of chicken, beans and rice instead of anything else, We The Individual People would have a few more dollars with which to make our own choices.

Yet we have people saying that we don't deserve better than beans and rice. THEY do, but we don't. We don't deserve to make our lives a bit more comfortable. 

Those on the dole can spend the money they get foolishly or wisely. Those who spend foolishly buy junk food and manage to buy cigarettes (it happens). Those who spend wisely manage better. And yet...

Those who are on the dole who want to get off have nearly impossible walls to climb: if they have a job and don't go over the limit, but manage to save the least little bit to maybe get out of state housing and into an apartment, then they are disqualified from the assistance. Yes they can save money, but (especially at the current housing market) by the time they get first month-last month-security deposit amounts of money, they no longer qualify for assistance and cannot make that leap. In other words, they can earn and save money, but not enough for the day-to-day of the Average Joe, or even the Below Average Joe to make the leap from net taker to net earner and tax payer. 

That some do despite the hold-backs is truly miraculous. They truly have a will and determination to succeed. God bless them, and may they have continued success. And may they pay it forward.

I'm going to borrow from Chuck Woolery (you can laugh if you want to), and request that Congress refrain from spending money on metaphorical Albino Squirrels. Disregarding any malfeasance on the part of congress, I am sure there is an abundance of sympathy for those in need, and since we have this great big pot of money, and the American People are a generous bunch (and gullible, besides, what they don't know won't hurt them - except in the pocket book). And Congress puts it in the budget. 

At first, this wasn't so bad, I mean, how many Albino Squirrels (metaphorically speaking) are there really? And, look, "Here's the Social Security fund just brimming full of money, surely we can use some of it for this or that, as long as we put it back."

(A Doonesbury story arc comes to mind, not going to search for it, but you go ahead: "The Union Retirement Fund Was Just Sitting There." or words to that effect.)

Two problems have occurred over the years: one, it didn't stop with just one squirrel, and two, the way it would need to be paid back was from taxes. And taxes came from? Yeah, you got it in one guess; us.

So, now we're paying into a fund that is being paid out to retired funders, but also to orphans and widows and disabled and ... out of work, and immigrants, and (I'm gong to use a hateful term here, but it fits) wetback immigrants. 

It has gotten bad enough, that not only are the people who are willing to assimilate and become United States citizens taking from our hands, but people who only see the U.S. as a rich uncle with deep pockets have come, not wanting to assimilate, not even wanting to obey our laws (they've broken one law, what's one, or a dozen, more?), to take from our hands. 

And it pains me to think that some of our government lawmakers are complicit in this, seeing in these smiling faces voters, or at very least larger districts, to allow themselves to stay in congress. We try to elect responsible men and women who look out for the general welfare of our nation. Instead, we have many of these people using the phrase 'General Welfare' to mean anything they want, to the point of placing the needs of Albino Squirrels (as cute as they are) above the real needs of the country.

Once upon a time our generous nature was expressed in the funding of non-profit organizations, or just simply giving to the person in need. We have deductions from our tax bite for that nowadays, but before the need for the bookkeeping to keep the IRS happy, we simply gave.

We gave to organizations such as The Salvation Army and The United Way. I've given to both, and will do so again. I'll also give what I can, where I can, when I can, to individuals. This includes the homeless; I make the judgement call and I make the decision, not a bureaucrat hired to do so.

But that's not what I was talking about. I could fill the need by creating a company to meet that need. I would sell something that someone else needed. Back in the day it was a barter economy: you had something I wanted, I had something you wanted. We haggled over how many these for how many those, and when we came to an agreement, the deal was struck and stuff swapped hands.

Nowadays I would create something that you might exchange some small green pieces of paper for. I in turn, would swap a number of those green pieces of paper for something I needed or wanted, maybe more raw materials or a machine to help me create the stuff I sell more economically. I might even employ someone to help me make more of the things I make, and give HIM (or her) some of those green pieces of paper so he (or she) can exchange them for things they may want or need.

In short, I could create a business. 

In fact, having accumulated some of those green bits of paper into a fairly large stack, a certain Mr. Newman created a company for the sole purpose of giving. But he didn't just build a foundation, per se. He built a company, with himself as the brand, in order to fund, from its profits, his giving forever. Or, at least as long as Newman's Own salad dressing keeps turning a penny now and then.

He did this with a pile of his own money, earned in the movie business. I can do the same thing with whatever I've earned by whatever means.

However, if even the slightest bit of over-and-above a hand-to-mouth existence is removed from me in the form of a tax, then given to someone who doesn't even share my values, I cannot create this business. I cannot employ anyone. I cannot sell my whatsit to anyone, because I cannot make it, I cannot even buy the materials or the tools I might need to get the job done. 

But, my government 'friend' will hand me enough to keep my belly filled, just as long as I don't aspire to anything higher than to be a drone, nor even a worker bee. 

And I'll eat beans and rice, and like it.

But then, what of the Stanley Newbergs of our nation, the ones who fled persecution to settle in this land of opportunity? Or the ones born here, but dirt poor? Stanley Newberg did well enough to set aside $8.4 million by the time he died; he chose to thank our fine nation for the opportunity by giving two-thirds of that, or $5.6 million, to us, These United States, to spend wisely on his behalf.

And in 1994, it disappeared in under two minutes, flat.

We, as a nation, can do better. Our governance must do better. We need to go back to the speech that President John Kennedy gave back in the early sixties, and take his words to heart:

"Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."

Not just by paying taxes, but by creating opportunities for others. 

Zig Ziglar said it years ago: 

"You can have anything you want as long as you help someone else get what they want!"

Not a hand out, but a hand UP.

Yes, We Can!

Real brief, for Doug Adams fans

I know it's been a while, and this is real brief since I need to rush off, but,

Today's phone bots have yet to rise to the level of Sirius Cybernetics systems.
(And we ALL know how bad THEY are!)

Carry On in Spite of, 

Yes You Can!

The Hulk is Dead, and I Don’t Feel so Well Myself

    Hulk Hogan  has been a figure who has been hard to avoid over the years. He has been on the wrestling circuit for decades, starred in movies, stumped for politicians, and generally has been a force to be reckoned with.

    Not being a wresting fan myself, the first encounter I had with his image was not a good one: he was being interviewed and the interviewer asked the question that many people were asking: “Isn’t this all just fake?” By way of an answer Hulk reached out with is right hand and slapped the interviewer on the left side of his head, and asked his own question: “That was an open-hand slap. Did that feel ‘fake’ to you?”

    The interviewer was nearly knocked over and understandably backed away. 

    Before you start laughing at this, I saw that, and immediately said to myself, “That was undeserved.” Turns out Hulk had broken the interviewer’s eardrum, and the man ended up losing about thirty percent of his hearing in that ear. 

    Now I know that that question had been floating around for years, and I’m sure the Wrestlemania folks had gotten tired of the question, or assumption, that they just faked stuff for the camera. And Hulk Hogan was probably tired of hearing about it. But that moment, he lost any respect I might have had for him.

    Over the years my feelings mellowed. In one movie 'Mr. Nanny', he was babysitting an unruly family of kids and got the usual 'Davids beating Goliath' treatment, including buckets of water, slippery surfaces, and a bowling ball on the high shelf in the closet rolling onto his head. 

    It showed that he could take a joke for the camera.

    Good Times.

    I tend not to take celebrity endorsements seriously, so when this actor or that sports figure says they’re voting this way or that, I usually tune them out. But I do occasionally get a kick out of their antics.

    For those who don’t know, Hulk Hogan’s signature front-of-camera move is to rip off his t-shirt (sorta like the Big Green Marvel character), while yelling his defiance to any challenger.

    It's fun to watch.

    The last time I saw Hulk Hogan rip off his shirt, it was to reveal a ‘Make America Great Again!’ shirt underneath.

    Whatever your politics, you should admit that that was cool!

 Sail on, Sailor.

Every Now and Then ...

Every now and then I find unusual things. Sometimes it's an odd item, sometimes an odd thought. 

Sometimes it's an odd bit of archaic whatnot. 

A lot of people have heard of the Anasazi, and the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings. There are some cliff dwellings in the Garden of the Gods area west of Colorado Springs. And, of course, Chaco Canyon. 

RadioShack, when it was trying to be relevant to the (then) current shopper included an Alanis Morissette  unplugged session in Chaco Canyon. Personally, I wasn't impressed by her, but hey, even then I was an old guy.

Just lately I learned of a site in southern Colorado that seems to be an extension of the Chaco culture: Chimney Rock, Colorado (go to this website: chimneyrockco.org). It sounds like an interesting place, and in all my sixty years in the state of Colorado I'd never heard of it. (I found out about it through this channel: TheRandallCarlson, the particular link: They Built This to Catch the Moonrise)

There are new things to be learned even in a place I have resided most of my life.

I am unsure if I'll be able to visit the site this summer, but here's hoping. 

The biggest thing that stands in our way of learning new things, accepting new challenges, or taking new paths is our own short-sighted sophistication. It's that Dunning-Kreuger thing: 'I know something about something, so I know all I need to know.' 

Novice confidence, gotta love it! 

Novice confidence can be a good thing. It is what kept me on the ski slopes, learning without meaning to, that if you're skiing moguls it really does help to keep a bend in your knees. 

With my Cognitive Field Theorist brain I try to learn a little (the world-at-large, as well as the people in it, is/are my teachers, though not officially), while showing/teaching people (again, not officially, but, everyone you meet is a student) how to do the same, filling in the 'Here Be Dragons' places on personal knowledge maps. The trick is to teach something without the learner realizing they are having their mind expanded. When you hear, 'Hey, that's cool!' or similar, you know a lesson has hit home. I've always tried to teach the wonder.

I'm at a stage in my life that I'm at the other end of the D-K process: I know enough about most things to realize I really don't know a lot about anything. So I try to keep an open mind, but also I test the new knowledge as best I can before redrawing the map.

That's a Mizpah I keep with myself.

So should you. 

Yes, You Can!

Inspiration is Where You Find It

Today has been a mixed day, and since I've crossed midnight, it's tomorrow already.

My leg hurts. My water retention has gotten bad enough that my left leg is swollen and leaking like a partly popped blister. And it hurts like blazes. I need to take my water pills, and take a walk, and find a bathroom and take a walk and take my water pills and take a walk ...

And when I walk I need to protect my leg. It's not infected, but I need to keep it clean so any opportunistic bacteria doesn't get a toe-hold. I measure my hydration/dehydration by the hoarseness of my voice: if I have a voice to sing with then I need to lose water.

That is aggravating. I love to sing, and if I cannot make music that's one more joy gone. 

I have other joys, but as I have said, today (yesterday?) has been a mixed day. I ended up sleeping through most of it, which means I'm not likely to sleep well tonight. I'll put up my movie playlist, 'drop the needle' on something I like but can ignore, and wake up whenever. Usually at three or four A.M., and won't be able to go back to sleep until nearly noon, then ...

I have tried to make a point of going to bed by eleven, or even ten, and force myself up at six, if I've managed to sleep that late (see above), and start the day: light breakfast, meds, get washed and dressed, go out for a walk. Come home and do something or other for work.

That's the plan.

Stay active, stay alive. Don't sleep so much. 

The movie I woke up to was "The Ron Clark Story." 

Inspiration is where you find it. Still a mixed day. I watched the end of the movie an hour ago; it reminded me of why, ultimately, I wanted to teach.

It also reminded me, tangentally, of Simon Sinek's TED talk: "How Great Leader's Inspire Action" If you are in a position of leadership, you need to watch it. 

AS I SAY, it reminded why I wanted to teach. It also reminded me of the 1960's ads for the Peace Corps: "The Hardest Job You'll Ever Love." I never joined the Peace Corps, though my oldest brother did. He came out a bit changed. More importantly, he was alive, and didn't need to be drafted.

The why. I need a why or two. Why to not sleep the day away, but instead to do something useful and hopefully meaningful.

Remembering, per Mr. Sinek, the why is not to make money: the monetary gain is incidental to the why. 

Why? To fill a need, to serve a cause, to put a smile on a face. I've lost my specific 'why'. Why let my leg heal, why get up and move, why take those hateful water pills?

Why teach? 

Why?

Why try?

Okay. Look at 'The Butterfly Circus', a short film (not sure if it's findable any more). The message:

'The Greater the Challenge, the More Glorious the Victory!'

Okay. My leg still hurts. 

Rise above it. 

Yes, I Can.