I like Ohioans, but I like them better when they are IN Ohio. The other day an ugly blue vannish kind of vehicle with a license plate surround that said something about Elyria was in front of me long enough for me to study it. I bet I even had time to check its tire pressures. Where are interesting bumper stickers when you need something to read? Nowhere in sight this time. We were both trying to turn left from Office Park (at the corner by Marley's) heading into Sea Pines. I had just come from Harris-Teeter and of course I had gelato on board. Since this huge thing was in front of me I couldn't gauge when or whether I would ever get across to the entrance lanes. We waited. We inched a little. We waited. And waited. Finally, nerve and inspiration moved these visiting Ohioans into, of course, the "residents" lane, which then caused yet another delay as the big, blue behemoth was sent across the "visitors" lane and into the Welcome Center. Big exhaling sigh.
I'm steaming as I finally see road space in front of me, and I'm reminding myself that we are all God's children and that we can't all live at the beach and that it's really silly to let stuff like that get to me and that anyway I'm not stuck behind them speeding along at 15 mph with my gelato turning to soup while they gawk at whatever. But multiply it by a bazillion times in summer after summer, and it gets old. And then of course there's the realization that this huge vehicle will be parking at the Beach Club, and that huge vehicles like that are the reason the parking lot was redone this past winter, wasting trees and also wasting a couple of months of easy access to the ocean. There's also the idea that an enormous vehicle can carry a lot of people who need a lot of food and so I know will see that thing again, or one like it, at Publix if I am foolish enough to go there on Saturday afternoon. I will be behind them in line, and with any luck they will have only one overflowing cart.
The thing is that Ohioans IN Ohio are much easier to get along with. I was there last week and feeling very happy for them about how high the corn was and how green the soy fields were and how nice some of the old-time architecture was. I even shopped among them with no issues. My youngest daughter and I had a wonderful al fresco dinner in Columbus' University area, surrounded by Central Ohioans who seemed to belong right where they were. We had cucumber martinis and some great small plates and we chatted with the people around us. Very enjoyable.
So how come these people seem so different once they get on the West Virginia Turnpike and start flying south, making time, oblivious to anything that resembles consideration?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Don't say much
"Speak low, speak slow, don't say much. And don't wear suede shoes." Advice from The Duke. Michael Caine says that John Wayne conveyed those words of wisdom to him. The first part is totally in John Wayne character as we remember it, but the second sentence reveals a very practical side. The idea is that if a famous man is found standing at a urinal, the guy next to him forgets what he's doing and pees on the star's shoes. So suede is a mistake. Since Pat Boone of white buck shoe fame is scheduled to participate in this year's Celebrity Golf Tournament on Hilton Head, I'm hoping to get to ask him about what his experience has been. I'll let y'all know. We may never know about Elvis and the blue suedes. Probably they were dark blue though.
In other, much more disturbing, film news we learn that Senator Phil Gramm, the same Phil Gramm who is (or was) associated with the McCain for President team, tried unsuccessfully to invest in a movie called "Truck Stop Women" that carried the slogan "No Rig Was Too Big For Them To Handle." Uh-huh! However, all was not lost. Gramm DID later get to invest in something called "White House Madness" that included a portrayal of an unhinged and nude President Richard M Nixon. I need a shower.
OK, those are both from days of yore, but how about this: Yesterday, on The View there was an actress named Diane Farr, about whom I know (make that knew) nothing, who shared with us that her husband's Korean family and her Irish and Italian family don't have a lot in common. What she said about her in-laws is that Koreans tend to be insular, something about small countries thinking they could get their butt kicked by other countries, but that when her husband was thirty-five he got to make his own decision and anyway the in-laws were pleased that she had a working vagina. What? I'm thinking that maybe they'll forgive her because she IS pregnant with twins and that pregnancy apparently happened when their first child, who was conceived on their honeymoon, was ten months old. Man, I needed to know all that.
In other, much more disturbing, film news we learn that Senator Phil Gramm, the same Phil Gramm who is (or was) associated with the McCain for President team, tried unsuccessfully to invest in a movie called "Truck Stop Women" that carried the slogan "No Rig Was Too Big For Them To Handle." Uh-huh! However, all was not lost. Gramm DID later get to invest in something called "White House Madness" that included a portrayal of an unhinged and nude President Richard M Nixon. I need a shower.
OK, those are both from days of yore, but how about this: Yesterday, on The View there was an actress named Diane Farr, about whom I know (make that knew) nothing, who shared with us that her husband's Korean family and her Irish and Italian family don't have a lot in common. What she said about her in-laws is that Koreans tend to be insular, something about small countries thinking they could get their butt kicked by other countries, but that when her husband was thirty-five he got to make his own decision and anyway the in-laws were pleased that she had a working vagina. What? I'm thinking that maybe they'll forgive her because she IS pregnant with twins and that pregnancy apparently happened when their first child, who was conceived on their honeymoon, was ten months old. Man, I needed to know all that.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Nothing against old people
Nothing against old people...because, after all, I are one...but let's be honest: Along with the wisdom gained from living a long time and going through some stuff, there can also be some mental drawbacks. Already this morning, I have forgiven myself for leaving a pair of shoes behind on my trip last week and have spent some time in a panic about my cell phone charger, which I found exactly where I knew it was. The way I get around a lot of the age-related absentmindedness is to work harder about being organized. I make more lists than I ever have. I make piles and place them where I can't possibly ignore them. OK, it didn't work that well to have my pile of A-priority items in the bathtub, but stuff happens, right? And everyone says that a good place to stow stuff in case of flood is in something waterproof like the dishwasher.
The stubbornness, though...well, all you have to do is read the BT blogs, also Vox, and you get an idea of how that goes. Yes, I am stubborn, and it shows up in all kinds of ways. Forget the fact that I have a lot of years of being right behind me because that only feeds the lifelong tendency that I, a Taurus, have toward digging in. Today it's only about my answering machine. After a call to Hargray about my non-functioning phones, I learned that the problem was somewhere in whatever connects to the outside phone line. I deduced that it was my answering machine and disconnected it. All was well. But the stubbornness that never gives up on anybody or anything got into me and I just had to see if I couldn't make it work. The upshot, another long stretch where people got a frustrating busy signal. I think it's curtains for the answering machine...except that it has on it the voices of my children and an adorable message from my grandson that sounds like "Tanka winka wah," (translation: "Thank you for the Lincoln Logs.") which is irreplaceable because he now speaks much more clearly.
When I see John McCain, and I hear certain things, like confusion between Sunni and Shia and the latest failure to recognize that Czechoslovakia went away a good fifteen years ago, I'm thinking that his past hero-self is, well, heroic, but that his present old-guy-self, is Sun City material.
The stubbornness, though...well, all you have to do is read the BT blogs, also Vox, and you get an idea of how that goes. Yes, I am stubborn, and it shows up in all kinds of ways. Forget the fact that I have a lot of years of being right behind me because that only feeds the lifelong tendency that I, a Taurus, have toward digging in. Today it's only about my answering machine. After a call to Hargray about my non-functioning phones, I learned that the problem was somewhere in whatever connects to the outside phone line. I deduced that it was my answering machine and disconnected it. All was well. But the stubbornness that never gives up on anybody or anything got into me and I just had to see if I couldn't make it work. The upshot, another long stretch where people got a frustrating busy signal. I think it's curtains for the answering machine...except that it has on it the voices of my children and an adorable message from my grandson that sounds like "Tanka winka wah," (translation: "Thank you for the Lincoln Logs.") which is irreplaceable because he now speaks much more clearly.
When I see John McCain, and I hear certain things, like confusion between Sunni and Shia and the latest failure to recognize that Czechoslovakia went away a good fifteen years ago, I'm thinking that his past hero-self is, well, heroic, but that his present old-guy-self, is Sun City material.
Monday, July 14, 2008
The Macs, and I don't mean Bernie and Apple
Back on the couch after a lovely road trip. All right, not lovely, but bearable. And now it's time to contemplate dysfunction in the world and in my life. I am SO pissed about Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae and their ugly stepchild, IndyMac. I could do a whole Old Lady Rant just on that topic and on my irritation with the notion that probably NO ONE WILL PAY FOR THIS. People all along the way built this house of cards that we call a real estate/mortgage/securities market, and most got fat salaries and bonuses out the ying yang. But not people like me who have no debt and who are honorable investors and who now don't know what to do with their assets, WHICH I might add, are losing value with every key stroke.
Because I have been paying attention for a long time, I'm not surprised. After I saw the first quarter earnings for 2007, I made some moves, but even so, I feel at risk, and I know I'm in a lot better shape than a bunch of retirees. Keep in mind that retirees will not be earning their way back to prosperity. That's what the concept of "fixed income" is about. So lots of us have followed the advice of supposedly much smarter people to invest and diversify and rebalance and go for safe instruments and yadda yadda yadda. What I am most grateful for is my frugality. I don't have to have the latest and the best, and it's true that I haven't contributed much on the consumption side of the economy, but damn I'm glad for my paid-for car and my paid-for house and my old countertops and, oh yeah, my health.
For the last little bit I've been throwing a little money around, trying to help the workers who I know are hurting. I've been eating out more and tipping more and donating more and in general trying to do my part without buying more clutter. I know that a lot of middle class workers got suckered into the shop, shop, shop mode that has propped up the US economy for too long. I'm not mad at them. I'm mad at the high-rollers, the livin' large show-offs, who by the way ought to consider the wisdom of a very good book, The Millionaire Next Door, by Thomas J. Stanley and William D. Danko.
According to Wikipedia, the main points of the book are:
**Spend Less Than You Earn
If you are always spending up to or above what you earn, you will never increase your net worth no matter how much you make. The author discusses being prugal: prudent and frugal.
**Avoid Buying Status Objects or Leading a Status Lifestyle
Buying expensive imported vehicles is poor value and you will constantly need to buy the newest model. Buying status objects such as branded consumer goods is a never-ending cycle of depreciating assets. Living in a status neighbourhood is not only poor value, but you will feel the need to keep buying status objects to keep up with your neighbours, who are mostly Under Accumulators of Wealth (UAWs).
**Prodigious Accumulaors of Wealth (PAWs)Are Willing to Take Financial Risk if it is Worth the Reward
PAWs are not misers who put every penny under their mattress. They invest their money for good returns, and will consider riskier investments if they're worth the reward. Many put money not in the stock market, but invest in private businesses and venture capital. They do not gamble or speculate on long-odds stocks.
**Economic Outpatient Care
The authors also make the interesting observation that PAWs tend to have children who require an influx of their parents' money in order to afford the lifestyle that they expect for themselves, and that they are less likely to have been taught about money, budgeting and investing by their parents.
See, it's that last part that I see all around me especially in Gated Community World. It reminds me of the very wise comment of a wealthy woman I once knew. She said, "I have done untold damage to the people I've helped." Yes, it feels good to indulge the ones we love, but doing that teaches dependence on someone else's efforts and assets and in the end it isn't really a kindness. Sorry, kids.
Because I have been paying attention for a long time, I'm not surprised. After I saw the first quarter earnings for 2007, I made some moves, but even so, I feel at risk, and I know I'm in a lot better shape than a bunch of retirees. Keep in mind that retirees will not be earning their way back to prosperity. That's what the concept of "fixed income" is about. So lots of us have followed the advice of supposedly much smarter people to invest and diversify and rebalance and go for safe instruments and yadda yadda yadda. What I am most grateful for is my frugality. I don't have to have the latest and the best, and it's true that I haven't contributed much on the consumption side of the economy, but damn I'm glad for my paid-for car and my paid-for house and my old countertops and, oh yeah, my health.
For the last little bit I've been throwing a little money around, trying to help the workers who I know are hurting. I've been eating out more and tipping more and donating more and in general trying to do my part without buying more clutter. I know that a lot of middle class workers got suckered into the shop, shop, shop mode that has propped up the US economy for too long. I'm not mad at them. I'm mad at the high-rollers, the livin' large show-offs, who by the way ought to consider the wisdom of a very good book, The Millionaire Next Door, by Thomas J. Stanley and William D. Danko.
According to Wikipedia, the main points of the book are:
**Spend Less Than You Earn
If you are always spending up to or above what you earn, you will never increase your net worth no matter how much you make. The author discusses being prugal: prudent and frugal.
**Avoid Buying Status Objects or Leading a Status Lifestyle
Buying expensive imported vehicles is poor value and you will constantly need to buy the newest model. Buying status objects such as branded consumer goods is a never-ending cycle of depreciating assets. Living in a status neighbourhood is not only poor value, but you will feel the need to keep buying status objects to keep up with your neighbours, who are mostly Under Accumulators of Wealth (UAWs).
**Prodigious Accumulaors of Wealth (PAWs)Are Willing to Take Financial Risk if it is Worth the Reward
PAWs are not misers who put every penny under their mattress. They invest their money for good returns, and will consider riskier investments if they're worth the reward. Many put money not in the stock market, but invest in private businesses and venture capital. They do not gamble or speculate on long-odds stocks.
**Economic Outpatient Care
The authors also make the interesting observation that PAWs tend to have children who require an influx of their parents' money in order to afford the lifestyle that they expect for themselves, and that they are less likely to have been taught about money, budgeting and investing by their parents.
See, it's that last part that I see all around me especially in Gated Community World. It reminds me of the very wise comment of a wealthy woman I once knew. She said, "I have done untold damage to the people I've helped." Yes, it feels good to indulge the ones we love, but doing that teaches dependence on someone else's efforts and assets and in the end it isn't really a kindness. Sorry, kids.
Monday, July 7, 2008
I Did It My Way (Sorta)
Yesterday was Sunday and as usual I started the day with "The Racket", which really doesn't take much time unless I get into the Sudoku. The Sunday Sudoku is usually rated "hard" and so it can take a while and a lot of erasing. I did today's in pen. Anyway, yesterday's Island Packet Lowcountry Life section which contains the Sudoku also contains an article about six-word memoirs. A man named Larry Smith has written a book and started a web-site where short and pithy life commentaries are listed. "Not Quite What I Was Planning," an example of a six-word memoir, is the main title of the book.
Naturally I was distracted from any other serious mental exercise while I thought of what I would say with limited space. Here's what I came up with:
If I had only ONE word: Fuhgeddaboudit.
If I had TWO words: Told ya.
If I had THREE words: Gimme a break.
If I had FOUR words: I wasn't even there.
If I had FIVE words: This will end in tears.
And my SIX-word memoir: I did it my way (sorta).
I really wanted to tweak people with "John David Rose Is A God," but chose not to go to the dark side. See, I'm not all bad.
But if I had EIGHT words, I could make my signature statement: "I liked it better the way it was." Oh well. We live, we change, we grow. OMG! That's another six-worder. Stop me somebody.
Naturally I was distracted from any other serious mental exercise while I thought of what I would say with limited space. Here's what I came up with:
If I had only ONE word: Fuhgeddaboudit.
If I had TWO words: Told ya.
If I had THREE words: Gimme a break.
If I had FOUR words: I wasn't even there.
If I had FIVE words: This will end in tears.
And my SIX-word memoir: I did it my way (sorta).
I really wanted to tweak people with "John David Rose Is A God," but chose not to go to the dark side. See, I'm not all bad.
But if I had EIGHT words, I could make my signature statement: "I liked it better the way it was." Oh well. We live, we change, we grow. OMG! That's another six-worder. Stop me somebody.
Friday, July 4, 2008
WTH, General Cornwallis?
Today is of course the day when patriotic Americans celebrate the birth of our country in 1776. July 4th is the day when the Continental Congress ordered that the Declaration of Independence be authenticated and printed. Things were rocky for those early patriots. There was by no means unanimity about what they were doing, and in fact, the Revolutionary War had started the year before and wasn't going all that well in 1776.
It continued to not go that well for five more years, which brings me to wondering what the heck the British General Charles Cornwallis was thinking that January day in 1781 when he found himself in North Carolina building a bonfire and burning all his stuff, including personal baggage, tents, books, silverware, and ordering his men to do the same. One can only guess how they felt about throwing casks of rum into the flames. Historians say that Cornwallis was trying to create a lighter, more nimble fighting force so as to pursue the half of the American army that was led by General Nathanael Green. Some also say that the bonfire was somehow symbolic of Cornwallis' determination to defeat the Americans whatever it took. So the plan was to live off the land in the North Carolina mountains in late Winter? Hmmmm. Well, I don't know much about military strategy and the symbolism is a little much for me too, but I DO know about "stuff."
As a bit of a pack rat myself, I can imagine accumulating a lot of stuff in one's travels. I usually do, and it's mostly printed stuff. But the gatherer in me would have a very difficult time setting it all on fire, especially if I didn't know what to expect from the coming days. I mean what if between skirmishes I felt like reading a complimentary copy of USA Today? And then there are the free supplies that I pick up at hotels, like pads and pencils and shampoo and tea bags and apples and bananas. There is, after all, no guarantee that the next hotel will have that stuff. Now if it were near the end of a trip, I might jettison some clothing that wasn't working for me and that someone else could use. But throwing useful stuff into a fire? Not an option. Could be that's why I'm not a General.
Fortunately for us Americans, and not so fortunately for the Crown and the Loyalists, the minor bonfire event became part of a chain of more significant events that culminated in surrender at Yorktown to General George Washington within the year. May God continue to bless America as we continue our improbable history.
It continued to not go that well for five more years, which brings me to wondering what the heck the British General Charles Cornwallis was thinking that January day in 1781 when he found himself in North Carolina building a bonfire and burning all his stuff, including personal baggage, tents, books, silverware, and ordering his men to do the same. One can only guess how they felt about throwing casks of rum into the flames. Historians say that Cornwallis was trying to create a lighter, more nimble fighting force so as to pursue the half of the American army that was led by General Nathanael Green. Some also say that the bonfire was somehow symbolic of Cornwallis' determination to defeat the Americans whatever it took. So the plan was to live off the land in the North Carolina mountains in late Winter? Hmmmm. Well, I don't know much about military strategy and the symbolism is a little much for me too, but I DO know about "stuff."
As a bit of a pack rat myself, I can imagine accumulating a lot of stuff in one's travels. I usually do, and it's mostly printed stuff. But the gatherer in me would have a very difficult time setting it all on fire, especially if I didn't know what to expect from the coming days. I mean what if between skirmishes I felt like reading a complimentary copy of USA Today? And then there are the free supplies that I pick up at hotels, like pads and pencils and shampoo and tea bags and apples and bananas. There is, after all, no guarantee that the next hotel will have that stuff. Now if it were near the end of a trip, I might jettison some clothing that wasn't working for me and that someone else could use. But throwing useful stuff into a fire? Not an option. Could be that's why I'm not a General.
Fortunately for us Americans, and not so fortunately for the Crown and the Loyalists, the minor bonfire event became part of a chain of more significant events that culminated in surrender at Yorktown to General George Washington within the year. May God continue to bless America as we continue our improbable history.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Keep your eye on the ball
My idea of playing golf is to watch other people doing it. True, I did play a round at Pirate's Island last week and scored well, but that was just because I wanted to impress my three-year-old grandson. Anyway, for over twenty-four hours my game has been about seeing what happens with a ball I heard land yesterday. It's too far off the course to attract much attention, and close enough to my house to allow me to surveil it. Yep, it's still there. It's a nice new "TIT-lee-ist" with a green Young Life logo. (I learned to say TIT-lee-ist as a captive viewer of a Beavis and Butthead Moronathon. A story for another day.)
After the foursome that I think sent it there passed on by, I was guessing that it wouldn't be long before some tacky unentitled person who didn't hit THAT ball wandered into my "natural area" to retrieve it. This would be par for the course, so to speak. It's not even that long ago that I had a conversation through my bedroom window, where a guy said that he and his daughter were in my yard specifically seeking golf balls. I saw no daughter and called Security, but really people do take a lot of liberties. Oddly enough, when they think they might have hit the house, golfers usually go wheeling on by as though there is no dwelling there. It's only when they've hit a pathetic stroke, no doubt one of many, that they seek their ball as though it were the Hope Diamond. Once in a while, they ask permission, but usually not. And once in a while, in a magnanimous mood, I give found balls to whoever passes unless they act like jerks, in which case I am tempted to say something like, "Nice shot, Alice and you're trespassing."
Since I have hundreds of balls saved up, I don't care about accumulating any more of them, but I am a teensy bit territorial and don't like just any ol' person wandering around my yard. So it's with perverse interest that I keep watch on the occasional ball to see just who is going to irritate me by violating my invisible boundary. It's just a matter of time.
After the foursome that I think sent it there passed on by, I was guessing that it wouldn't be long before some tacky unentitled person who didn't hit THAT ball wandered into my "natural area" to retrieve it. This would be par for the course, so to speak. It's not even that long ago that I had a conversation through my bedroom window, where a guy said that he and his daughter were in my yard specifically seeking golf balls. I saw no daughter and called Security, but really people do take a lot of liberties. Oddly enough, when they think they might have hit the house, golfers usually go wheeling on by as though there is no dwelling there. It's only when they've hit a pathetic stroke, no doubt one of many, that they seek their ball as though it were the Hope Diamond. Once in a while, they ask permission, but usually not. And once in a while, in a magnanimous mood, I give found balls to whoever passes unless they act like jerks, in which case I am tempted to say something like, "Nice shot, Alice and you're trespassing."
Since I have hundreds of balls saved up, I don't care about accumulating any more of them, but I am a teensy bit territorial and don't like just any ol' person wandering around my yard. So it's with perverse interest that I keep watch on the occasional ball to see just who is going to irritate me by violating my invisible boundary. It's just a matter of time.
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