Tag Archives: writing

The Keating Five

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I am sure that the Democrats would love for us all to forget this chapter in American history. I would hope that those of us that know, especially those of us that remember first hand will never let them forget it. Let us keep reminding them on a regular basis. We do not want this memory to fade away.

We should have learned some important lessons, and we ought not to forget them. First, heroes do not always make good senators. Second, just because a man is a good pilot does not automatically make him a good representative or senator. Third, it also does not insure their honesty or integrity.

John Glenn was a hero and an astronaut. John McCain was a notable figure from Vietnam. However, the two of them, along with Alan Cranston, Dennis DeConcini, and Donald Riegle, hatched a financial plot that rocked the financial fodations of the country to the point that we no longer have savings and loans. There is no doubt in my mind that they should have all gone to prison. The three non-heroes did, but not for long. My best guess is that they didn’t want to incarcerate a war hero and an astronaut. If it were all revealed, my guess is that none of them would have spent another day inn the Senate.

They interfered with investigations involving large savings and loan establishments, which eventually collapsed. Conveniently, Glenn and McCain were cleared and served no time. My money is on the fact that their hero status kept them out of prison. Well, there may have been some conversation and some bribery going on. That part we will never know. I can’t even hazard a good guess. However, I wouldn’t doubt for a minute that large sums of money exchanged hands.

The net result is that the Savings and Loans went the way of the dodo bird, which, for the most part forced us all to go to banks for doing all of our savings and receiving all of our loans. This was something of a windfall for the banks, especially since the savings and loan establishments were the primary compilation for the banks. When this all happened, I had to move my checking account from my savings and loan to a bank, which was not at all happy with. My S & L just went away. They never asked what I wanted. I don’t think they wanted to know.

And, the Keating five. Well I don’t think they cared either.

It would seem the feds just can’t resist the urge to get their mitts into the financial institutions and cause mismanagement every couple of decades. And it’s us that suffer. Those in government that mess things up never pay the costs.

Neither Glenn nor McCain did either.

Humana; Just Plain Wasteful

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Food waste is a persistent concern that weighs heavily on my conscience. Today, I discovered a thawed frozen meal in my car, a frustrating reminder of my unintentional negligence. The irony of an unfrozen “frozen” dinner is not lost on me, and the situation feels both perplexing and disheartening.

Frustrated, I reluctantly discarded the forgotten item. Had I discovered it earlier, I could have salvaged and consumed it. The previous night’s freezing temperatures suggested it might still be edible. I distinctly remembered seeing it fall from the grocery bag and mentally noted to rescue it, but somehow failed to follow through.

In a moment of self-reflection, I acknowledged my forgetfulness and offered a sincere apology to God for being wasteful. The irony of relying on mental notes struck me—they’re as desirable as a thawed microwave meal that once held promise. My frustration simmered beneath the surface, a reminder of my own fallibility.

After discarding the spoiled frozen meal, I retrieved the mail. Amidst the stack of unsolicited papers, a Humana insurance brochure caught my eye. I recalled the challenging period when my wife was 63, and our monthly health insurance premium approached $1,000 due to Obama Care.

Throughout the year, I diligently paid Humana twelve full insurance premiums, yet not a single claim was filed. These payments were mandated by law, not a voluntary choice. When the year concluded, I found myself searching for alternative insurance coverage after Humana abruptly terminated my policy. The experience left me frustrated and feeling cheated. I vividly recall paying ten thousand dollars for essentially nothing, receiving only a dismissive farewell from the company.

Dismissing the Humana correspondence, I swiftly discarded the unnecessary paper, recognizing its irrelevance and considering both the document and its postage a futile expenditure of resources.

My silence feels like a futile resistance against their misguided persistence. Despite knowing they won’t listen, their relentless pursuit seems tragically wasteful—consuming resources and paper in a fruitless attempt to reach me. Their determination remains blind to the environmental cost of their unheeded communications.

Somehow, I suspect I am not the only one with feelings towards Humana. Perhaps we are losing trees by the thousands in similar efforts to reach similar former customers. Do you think the tree huggers care? I sincerely doubt it. They have no hope to gain any political gain from it.

A Fulltime Job

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As I approach my late seventies, retirement has proven far more challenging than I anticipated. After leaving the workforce at 66, I had modest hopes for a peaceful chapter of life. However, those dreams were quickly overshadowed when my wife began showing early signs of dementia, transforming our golden years into an unexpected journey of caregiving and adaptation.

Life had different designs for us. Our dreams of leisurely adventures and golden-year explorations faded like distant memories. Fate, with its unpredictable brushstrokes, painted a canvas far removed from our carefully sketched plans. Isn’t that the nature of existence—a series of unexpected turns and unscripted moments?

Being a caretaker for someone with dementia transcends the traditional concept of a job, consuming every waking moment and challenging the very definition of full-time work. The phrase “full-time job” fails to capture the relentless emotional, physical, and mental demands that caregivers experience around the clock.

When a person is the sole caretaker of someone with dementia, it means twenty-five hours a day. It means sleeping with one eye open. It means no holidays, no vacations. It means no sick days. It means working through it all, regardless.

If fortunate, you might get some help. More likely, you will be flooded with advice, most of which will be useless.

Don’t count on help from family, friends, or community. Strangely, that number shrinks daily. They all have their own families and commitments. Besides, who wants to watch a loved one slowly pass away before their eyes?

Throughout history, certain ancient cultures practiced the harsh tradition of abandoning elderly members on the outskirts of their settlements, providing minimal provisions and leaving them to fend for themselves. This cruel practice reflects a stark contrast to our modern understanding of human dignity and compassionate care for the aging population. Today, we recognize the inherent value of our elders and strive to support and respect them, ensuring they are not marginalized or discarded.

And yet, here we are, just the two of us. We are living within the city limits, not two or three miles into the wilderness. We do have a roof over our heads, waiting for the Lord to take us home.

I would say everyone just leaves us, just waits, but that’s not true. It seems, as I figuratively tread water well enough to get our heads above water, the city of Horn Lake decides to toss me a boat anchor. It would seem they are not satisfied with waiting for us to pass; they seem to enjoy threatening us with jail figuratively driving us under the waves.

I must admit, the thought does intrigue me. I could do with a rest. Jail time might be a nice vacation.

But then…. Who will take care of my wife?

Everything Falls

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As I age, the constant pull of gravity seems to challenge me more intensely. Standing up has become increasingly difficult, particularly after sitting on the ground. My balance isn’t what it used to be, and I find myself stumbling or losing my footing more frequently than before. These physical changes are a stark reminder of the passage of time and the subtle ways our bodies transform with age.

Lately, I’ve noticed a peculiar phenomenon: whenever I place an object on a completely level surface, it remains stationary momentarily, only to inexplicably tumble to the ground the moment I look away. This occurrence has become increasingly frequent, leaving me to wonder if gravity’s mysterious force is intensifying. While I can’t definitively explain this curious pattern, the repeated incidents have certainly piqued my curiosity.

Gravity seems to conspire against my medication routine, transforming simple pill-taking into a frustrating game of chance. Each tiny tablet appears magnetically drawn to the floor, slipping through my fingers with an uncanny precision. Tonight, I briefly celebrated a small victory when I snatched one pill in mid-descent, only to watch helplessly as two more evaded my grasp, continuing their rebellious tumble toward the ground.

As I attempt to put my medications in my mouth, occasionally a pill slips and clatters to the floor. When this happens, I’m left in a precarious situation, unsure which specific medication has fallen. The stakes are high, especially with critical prescriptions like my blood pressure medication. Missing a dose could potentially lead to serious health risks, including the threat of a stroke. Determined to maintain my health, I meticulously search the floor, carefully crawling and scanning until I locate the dropped pill, ensuring I don’t compromise my medical regimen.

Then, of course, I’m back to that other problem of gravity: standing.

Complaint or Affirmation?

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Over the years, in my attempt to write books, I have learned. For instance, there is a legal term “waive.” There is also a word, “canvass.” I found that out the hard way. My worst mistake was misspelling one of my books titles,”The survivers.”

I am not going to make excuses for myself. It was a dumb, stupid mistake, and a woman called me out on it. I corrected the mistake, and others went on to read and enjoy the book. I even got one 4-star review, though most were only 3 stars.

The thing is, the woman did me a great favor, or even a privilege, with her complaint, and I was genuinely thankful for it. Moreover, I will be grateful for any other corrections. You see, I really enjoy the affirmations, but I find the complaints more profitable.

I am not the first to realize that complaints are good things. There was a man who pleaded with his customers, “Please give me the privilege of hearing your complaints.” He built a retail empire because of it.

Lately, many submit an opportunity to use surveys to rate them. You know, the 1 to 5 star rating thing. Invariably, I notice many companies pointing to survey results, boasting about how many stars they have.

It is but one reason I refuse to take part in surveys. It is fine for some things such as books. However, sometimes I get the idea that big corporations seek not the complaints but rather the affirmations.

Immediately after I purchased my Chevrolet HHR, they had me take a survey. Three years later, I could not find a place anywhere to register a complaint. They wanted the affirmations right after I bought the car. They clearly have little interest in complaints three years later.

Actually, my purpose was to help them with my remark. Clearly, they weren’t interested.

Lately, Walmart has been requesting surveys from me. It would seem they were seeking complaints, but I suspect they just want to accumulate stars. In other words, they are seeking those wonderful accolades.

I was tired of deleting the surveys, so I filled it out. I’ll let you guess how I did it. I don’t think they will like me anymore.

For anyone else who might see this, they might decide against asking me to fill in their survey. Better to keep it simple. Just ask if I have any complaints. Better yet, provide someone to take my complaint to—that is, assuming they really want the privilege of my complaint.

Frequently, we customers don’t complain. If possible, we simply go away.

Here They Come

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Subtitle: I Told You So

Years ago, maybe one or two will remember, I wrote a post about driverless cars. The prediction has come true. I heard it on the news today.

There was a crowd that speculated 60 Teslas had accidents while on Autopilot. They suggest the loss of 60 lives because the computer does not drive as well as a human. Personally, I challenge the concept. Suspect it is likely half and half. Likely a little more one way than the other.

Whichever way, whatever happens, the die is being cast. Those legal eagles, ambulance chasers have smelled blood in the water, and soon the lawsuits will start flying.

Buckle up for a wild ride through the autonomous automotive frontier! While self-driving cars rev my imagination, I can’t help but ponder the ultimate showdown: Silicon Valley’s algorithmic prodigy versus the unpredictable human behind the wheel. Will our robotic chauffeurs outsmart the caffeine-fueled, text-messaging, road-rage-prone human drivers? The jury’s still out, and this technological tango promises to be more suspenseful than a high-stakes game of bumper cars.

Expert witnesses will parade in, each side wielding their technical wizards like legal weapons. The computer’s impeccable security will be interrogated, cross-examined, and dissected with surgical precision. Meanwhile, the lawyers will be grinning from ear to ear, their framed diplomas casting a victorious gleam on the courtroom walls, knowing they’re the only true beneficiaries of this digital drama.

The ambulance chasers will likely win their share, and the defense attorneys will likely win a few. Most will likely be settled out of court. Sometimes the defense will be afraid of losing and set a standard. Sometimes, the prosecutor will settle, afraid to set the standard the other way.

As all the paperwork from all the legal briefs finishes trickling down from above, the losers will be the drivers. The cost of the cars will skyrocket, and naturally, the cost of auto insurance will likely follow.

Sure, a settlement might line a few pockets, but who’s signing up to trade their body parts for a payout? Not this savvy survivor, that’s for sure. I’d rather keep my limbs intact and my bank account untouched.

So, at some point, the computer has to become better than the human. I ask you, do we take the steering wheel out of the hands of humans for the safety of others? On the other hand, do we permit humans to hold onto the wheel in spite of it being more dangerous?

Futurists, brace yourselves: the million-dollar question is lurking just around the corner, ready to pounce when we least expect it. And hey, while we’re at it, we might want to whip up some shiny new laws that are as clever as they are cutting-edge.

Considering laws are made by lawyers for lawyers, I don’t expect to see it in my lifetime.

Missed my Chance at a Million

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I’ve developed an innovative personal hygiene product called the Sneeze Pad, a groundbreaking solution designed to enhance public health and personal safety. The concept features an elegantly simple design that can be easily manufactured, with potential for aesthetic refinement and customization. This practical invention addresses the growing need for immediate sneeze containment and could revolutionize personal protective equipment.

A compact, ergonomic protective shield designed for personal hygiene during respiratory events. Measuring approximately 3 by 4 inches, this innovative device features adjustable wrist straps for secure forearm attachment. The surface is covered with a specialized, adhesive-backed material treated with advanced antimicrobial agents. When a user experiences a sneeze or cough, they can direct respiratory droplets onto the pad, where the chemically treated fabric immediately captures and neutralizes potential pathogens, preventing their spread and maintaining a hygienic environment.

In the aftermath of the global health crisis, my innovative solution remains unrecognized. Despite its potential to save countless lives, the moment has passed. While pharmaceutical companies, healthcare providers, and medical facilities capitalized on the pandemic’s urgency, my breakthrough idea sits unrealized. The opportunity for recognition and potential financial success has slipped away, leaving me with a sense of missed potential and unfulfilled promise.

On the other hand, the pharmaceutical companies are still making their fortunes off me. Since I took the vaccine, I’ve had at least three blood clots. So now I take this medication that makes my nose bleed. I do put up with the nose bleeds so I don’t have any more blood clots. Oh, and by the way, I pay almost a hundred dollars a month, this after Medicare and auxiliary insurance.

It appeared that nearly everyone prospered during the pandemic, except for those like myself who continued to struggle with lingering health complications. While some found opportunity and resilience, I couldn’t ignore the profound loss experienced by those who succumbed to the virus and the families left behind to grieve.

So Why Did I Settle in the Mid-South?

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Rarely do my readers contemplate this nuanced inquiry. The essence of the matter lies in the delicate interplay of timing, misguided decisions, and a subtle lack of understanding.

During my military deployment in Japan, tragedy struck when I learned of my brother’s sudden death. Typically, such news guarantees emergency leave, but I faced several unexpected challenges. A significant strike had shut down the gates at Kadena Air Force Base, creating logistical hurdles for arranging transportation. Resolute in my commitment to my family, I was adamant getting their own flight.

While the Marines covered my ticket to San Francisco, I had to pay my way from San Francisco, CA to Fort Smith. I was also responsible for all my family’s transportation costs, which significantly depleted our savings. Reflecting on the situation, remaining in Japan for the duration of my service would have been financially prudent. Completing my term there would have resulted in discharge at MCAS El Toro, near Disneyland, and presented numerous advantages. Had I followed this path, I would have saved considerable money, returned to familiar territory, been surrounded by family, and quickly secured an electronics job, leveraging my years of experience in the field.

Once in Fort Smith, I applied and received permission to get out about a month and a half early, rather than have them send me back to Japan or elsewhere. I went to Memphis, where I had been stationed for a few months of training. It wasn’t my home stomping grounds, but it was the next best thing. There, after a short time, I received my discharge.

At that time, in the mid-1970s, Memphis thrived under Republican leadership, boasting a vibrant urban landscape and a robust technological sector. Four prominent computer companies maintained substantial offices in the city, creating a dynamic professional environment. During my job search, a pivotal moment in pop culture history unfolded—the unexpected passing of Elvis Presley. I collected several newspapers documenting the momentous event, a potential treasure trove of memorabilia that, if preserved, might have yielded significant financial value today.

After joining the company, a disturbing incident occurred when someone threatened my son with a knife on the school bus. Concerned for our family’s safety, we quickly decided to purchase a home in Desoto County. However, we soon realized we should have chosen a location even further from the urban center. The neighborhood’s character seemed to be rapidly changing, mirroring the challenges of nearby Memphis. Our sense of security was further shaken when an intruder broke into our home while we were present, brandishing a .45 caliber weapon – a scenario unimaginable just decades earlier.

Relocating to the pollen capital of the United States proved to be a significant misstep, given my severe allergies. Prior to Dr. WW Taylor’s comprehensive patch test, I was unaware of the extent of my allergic reactions. During the twenty-minute examination, I rapidly failed the test, prompting the doctor to remark that he had never encountered such an extreme case of allergies in his extensive medical career. My ignorance of my own health condition led me to make this ill-advised move, which would ultimately have substantial consequences for my well-being.

Hours after the medical examination, a chilling realization struck me: had the Marine Corps known the full extent of my severe allergies, my entire life trajectory would have dramatically shifted. I would have been disqualified from service, sparing me from deployment to Vietnam. Instead, I might have remained in California, living a completely different existence. Such thoughts of alternate destinies can consume one’s mind, spinning elaborate scenarios of what might have been.

Aren’t you relieved that some mysteries remain unspoken?

What Makes me Laugh?

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Unexpected bursts of laughter punctuate my days, catching me off guard with their spontaneous delight. Initially reluctant to explore this writing prompt, I soon realized that these unscripted moments of joy are the most precious—emerging suddenly, transforming ordinary instances into memorable snapshots of pure, unadulterated happiness.

However, these are usually also the ones I can’t think of at the moment. It is good that God has given us humor to allow us to cope. One day near the end of Marine boot camp, I started laughing. The guy next to me cautioned me that I would suffer if I were caught, and he was right. However, I replied, “I have to laugh. If I don’t, I’ll cry.”

I guess God gave us both laughing and crying as coping mechanisms. For the time being, though, I’ll forego my comments on crying as the prompt was for laughing. Besides, we Marines never, never cry.

Children bring us laughter, right? And at the most unexpected times. I can remember the first time my 1-year-old son tasted a lemon; then fussed when we took it from him. Of course we immediately gave it back and he ate it. Never figured on that one.

Pets are divine comedians, sent to brighten our lives with unbridled joy. My loyal canine companion found pure bliss in pursuing oversized rubber spheres, a mere $2.99 investment that yielded endless entertainment. Despite his valiant efforts to conquer the unwieldy orb, his teeth never quite found purchase. Inevitably, after an exhausting pursuit, he would manage to pop the ball, while we dissolved into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Those three dollars were a masterful purchase, transforming an ordinary afternoon into a memory of pure, unadulterated happiness.

Cats possess an enchanting fascination with strings, their playful nature coming alive as they track the elusive movement. Watching their determination intensify when the string disappears beneath furniture is a delightful spectacle of feline curiosity. Their love for boxes transcends size – from sprawling cardboard containers to tiny packages – each becomes an irresistible playground. Even when logic suggests a box is too small, cats will ingeniously contort themselves to fit, defying physical constraints with remarkable flexibility. Perhaps most amusing is their laser pointer pursuit, where they leap and bound with wild abandon, scaling walls in an epic chase against an unattainable light, embodying pure, unbridled joy.

Yet, as I reflect on those moments, memories dance across my mind, bringing forth a warm, nostalgic smile.

The act of writing brought unexpected joy, punctuating my reflective moments with subtle grins. Each carefully crafted word seemed to unlock memories and emotions, transforming my initial hesitation into a meaningful exploration of thought and experience. thus, I can say, even the prompt brought a smile, if not an outburst of laughter.

The Purpose of the Internet

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Through countless hours of browsing, scrolling, and digital exploration, I’ve uncovered a profound insight into the essence of the Internet. This revelation wasn’t a deliberate quest or planned investigation, but rather an organic understanding that emerged gradually, almost imperceptibly, as patterns and behaviors crystallized before my eyes.

Periodically, I disconnect from the internet with remarkable ease. A mere two mouse clicks is all it takes to sever my digital connection. When I seek absolute certainty of disconnection, I simply unplug my mobile device—a swift, foolproof method that requires no waiting or additional steps.

I noticed a significant performance improvement after disconnecting the link from my computer. The system’s speed increased dramatically, running 4 to 6 times faster without the connection. Unsurprisingly, reconnecting the link instantly reduced the computer’s performance, making it clear that the link was causing substantial system slowdown.

Therefore, I figure the primary purpose is to slow my computer. You see, if it weren’t for the internet an all it’s associated requirements, I would not be able to keep up with my computer. Hence, we must keep the internet connected or we would never be able to keep up with our computers.

Can you imagine a computer actually doing things at lightning speed? Think about it. Could you keep up with it? Can you imagine your computer seemingly displaying results before you can finish entering the data? How in the world could you possibly keep up with it?

Hence, we must have the internet to keep the computer from getting away from us. Do we really want them coming up with answers before we complete the questions? Ergo, obviously, the most critical reason for the internet is to slow the computers.

When we connect to the internet, it’s intriguing to consider the complex background processes occurring within our computer’s system. Beyond the visible web pages and applications, numerous computational tasks are simultaneously executing, managing network connections, running system updates, processing security protocols, and handling background data synchronization.

While it might be essential to slow our machines, sometimes I feel the internet is doing its job a tad too well. Sometimes, I get this urge to stay unconnected, remain antivirusless, and simply let the machine do its job without the throttling.