Tag Archives: writing

Will the US Ever Become CA?

Posted in Uncategorized by

At first glance, this scenario appears improbable, even unthinkable. Yet, a careful examination of California’s historical trajectory over the past several decades reveals an underlying inevitability that cannot be easily dismissed.

In my early childhood, my family relocated to California, initially settling near San Jose before moving to Garden Grove, a modest city south of Los Angeles. At that time, the population was barely fifty thousand, and Garden Grove High School stood alone as the sole secondary educational institution. As I approached my high school years, the city’s growth became evident, with four high schools emerging. Today, Garden Grove has expanded to a vibrant community of 172 thousand residents, reflecting the dynamic transformation of this Southern California suburb.

During my teenage years, a popular sentiment circulated: families would visit California for a vacation and ultimately choose to make it their permanent home. This notion wasn’t merely a baseless rumor; I personally witnessed numerous acquaintances who, after experiencing the state’s allure, decided to relocate and embrace the California lifestyle.

Its reputation speaks volumes, rendering further explanation unnecessary. A brief encounter would swiftly illuminate the circumstances, and I’ve already delved into the underlying details previously.

However, lately, people have started going the other way, rapidly, to the point they lost a U.S. representative. There was no way I could have imagined that just 5 years ago. I should have. I left the Golden State over 40 years ago. Although there is much I miss there, I have never regretted leaving the crowds and later, the political climate.

As I consider all I’ve observed, I am starting to see many parallels between CA and the US. Right now people come here and then stay. If not for immigration laws, there would be far more here. And eventually, it too would become crowded. It would lose many of those things that draw people here. Conceivably, all those who decided stay, might decide to leave as have those from California.

I mean, who wants to live in a country that is run by tyrants who call themselves communist? I don’t think I will live to see it. However, I am beginning to think my sons will. I’m beginning to think my generation will be the first generation to leave a worse country than we received. And, by the way, a worse and more dangerous world.

Three Hours a Day

Posted in Uncategorized by

During a brief moment of leisure, I idly flipped through television channels when a compelling speaker caught my attention. His articulate commentary was not only insightful but also delivered with an engaging style. Though I cannot recall the specific C-Span channel, the presenter’s words resonated with clarity and a certain captivating charm.

I lingered, captivated by the broadcaster’s passionate monologue, and soon discovered I wasn’t alone in my fascination. His radio presence grew exponentially, ultimately reaching over six hundred stations and broadcasting three hours daily. Rush Limbaugh’s profound impact on national discourse remains undeniable, a legacy so significant that his name resonates instantly, even after his passing. The immediate recognition in listeners’ minds speaks volumes about his enduring influence on American media and political conversation.

Now, the networks are full of programs similar, but still unlike the one and only Rush. I’m not going to name all the programs. It would take so long. Besides you already know them. Even if you’re an advocacy of Bush’s point of view, you can’t deny his affect on today’s society and the many broadcasters who follow his leadership. Oddly, one of his followers even successfully competes with Sunday Night Football.

Still, there are a few who have also left their mark with much shorter programs. Consider Paul Harvey. Years after he has left us, people will instantly recognize the two words he made famous: “Good day.”

The idea has sparked my imagination. Imagine hosting a concise, three-minute daily show that could potentially catapult me to unexpected fame, even at this stage of life. Despite not considering myself particularly articulate or possessing a naturally smooth radio voice. I figure all I need is just a three minute spot on TV each day.

Modern news broadcasts have devolved into a spectacle of fragmented attention, where substantive reporting is marginalized. Within a typical thirty-minute program, commercial interruptions consume a third of the airtime, while meteorological updates and sports coverage claim another third. The remaining sliver—a mere five minutes—is allocated to actual news content, leaving viewers with a superficial understanding of current events.

In just three minutes, my innovative news program would distill the day’s most critical information, delivering a concise, comprehensive update that keeps viewers perfectly informed without wasting their time. I mean, do we really need ten minutes to find out if we will need a coat or umbrella?

In the cacophony of modern media, I confront a stark reality: entertainment trumps information. While listening to the radio, I heard a news segment devoted to Cher’s appearance on Saturday Night Live—a trivial detail that seemingly captivates the masses. My aspiration for concise, meaningful news appears doomed. The public’s appetite craves celebrity gossip, rendering substantive reporting nearly irrelevant. The hunger for superficial entertainment overshadows my idea for three minutes of real news.

Rush understood that a successful news program requires more than just reporting facts. By infusing entertainment into his broadcasts, he transformed traditional news delivery and captivated audiences. This innovative approach likely contributed significantly to his remarkable professional achievements.

News must be entertaining. If not, it will fail.

The answer: A Newspaper

Posted in Uncategorized by

The question: What is black & white and read all over.

Okay. It’s an old joke in reverse, sort of Jeopardy style.

it’s sort of a segway into my subject matter, newspapers and how drastically they have changed in just a short time.

Throughout my youth, newspapers never appealed to me. Reading was not my strong suit, and broadsheets were particularly challenging. The oversized pages seemed designed to frustrate readers like myself. Despite having long arms, I struggled to manage the unwieldy sheets. My typical approach involved spreading the newspaper on the floor and scanning for interesting articles. Inevitably, I would encounter the dreaded “continued on page…” instruction, only to discover that the remaining text could have easily been accommodated on the previous page. These layout choices only reinforced my disinterest in newspaper reading.

They couldn’t deceive me. I quickly understood their strategy. The goal was to divert my attention from the main content to the page filled with advertisements. The publication’s revenue primarily came from advertising, not the actual articles. Regardless of their tactics, it added to the irritation of the oversized pages.

My brother shared insights into the unique reading culture of New Yorkers during their subway commutes. He explained the skillful art of newspaper folding, a technique that allows passengers to navigate cramped spaces while reading without inconveniencing fellow travelers. By the time they arrived at their destination, most subway riders had thoroughly consumed the day’s news, making them remarkably well-informed about current events.

In the digital age, journalism has undergone a profound transformation. Traditional print newspapers have evolved, migrating from physical pages to vibrant online platforms. Readers now consume news through smartphones, tablets, and digital devices, maintaining their reading habits while in transit. Despite the technological shift, the fundamental human tendency to remain absorbed in personal digital worlds persists, with commuters still largely disconnected from their immediate surroundings.

There is, however, one major difference that I wish were the same. Back then, in that day, they printed the truth. The quality of delivery is a great deal better, while the quality of the reporting has suffered horribly.

Training Cats

Posted in Uncategorized by

In the wake of our heartbreaking loss of two beloved canine companions to cancer, I discovered a calico cat seeking refuge in our storeroom. Recognizing our ongoing struggle with a persistent rat problem, I cautiously extended a gentle invitation to the feline, hoping she might become an unexpected ally in our household.

Over the years, I perfected a gentle approach to winning her trust. With small offerings of treats and tender petting, I gradually earned her trust, then her affection. My strategy proved remarkably effective, perhaps even more than I anticipated. Now, she greets me with such enthusiasm that whenever I settle into my chair, she eagerly leaps into my lap, seeking closeness and comfort.

Our unexpected journey into cat parenthood began when our feline friend’s expanding belly signaled an impending litter. Soon, our household welcomed a charming array of kittens: Goldie, a stunning gold and white beauty; Bridle, a spirited Broncos-themed companion; and the aptly named Gray and Blackie. Oh. How could I forget patches, the voistrous gray and white. She thinks she can talks and comes close to it. The veterinary bills quickly accumulated, leaving me both financially drained and certain that our feline family had reached its final count.

Over time, our efforts to domesticate the stray cats proved successful. A few gradually disappeared, and I choose to believe they discovered welcoming new families. Goldie, Blackie, and Brindle’s absence suggests they found more suitable environments, which brings me comfort. I prefer this optimistic narrative to considering less pleasant possibilities.

During my wildlife observations, I noticed an unexpected camaraderie between cats and a raccoon. Initially, I found myself intervening to protect the cats’ feeding area, but their calm demeanor surprised me. The raccoon seemed non-threatening, and the cats appeared remarkably tolerant, willingly sharing their meal with an unlikely visitor. This peaceful coexistence challenged my preconceived notions about inter-species interactions in the wild.

While I appreciate the diversity of wildlife, the prospect of a raccoon leaping into my personal space remains distinctly unappealing. Yet, I’m intrigued by the universal applicability of certain training techniques across various animal species, from nimble squirrels to other untamed creatures.

Hey, I’ve heard rumors that these techniques might work on people too. Who knows? It probably depends on the individual. What really gets me is when someone tries to manipulate another person like this. I think some folks might call it slavery, or maybe tyranny – even “soft tyranny” sometimes. Bottom line: be careful when strangers offer you stuff like food or favors. Always think twice before accepting anything from strangers, or even the government. Do we really want to be tamed or trained by those who reside in DC.

The Theory of Rain

Posted in Uncategorized by

During my military service, I was assigned to Naval Air Station Memphis, located in Millington, Tennessee, a suburb north of Memphis. The region was notorious for its generally predictable weather patterns, particularly its tendency to rain at the most inconvenient times. My fellow service members and I frequently discussed the frustrating meteorological phenomenon where clear, sunny skies would suddenly give way to intermittent rainfall starting Friday afternoon and persisting through the weekend.

As a sergeant, my crisp class C dress uniform demanded immaculate presentation. That day, which had begun with brilliant sunshine, transformed into heavy rain just prior to time to secure. Approaching the exit, I paused, studying the rain through the window with a mixture of resignation and frustration. Experience had taught me the harsh reality of local weather patterns – this downpour would persist with stubborn determination.until I was in my car.

An attractive lance corporal approached from behind, her footsteps light and purposeful. She halted, a wry smile playing across her lips. “Don’t worry, sergeant,” she quipped, her tone laced with playful reassurance, “you aren’t made of sugar and you won’t melt.”

I gazed back at her, taken aback by her unexpected comment. With a hint of irritation, I responded, “My priority isn’t personal comfort. I’m focused on preserving the integrity of my uniform.”

The rain cascaded around her as she burst into laughter, stepping into the downpour with carefree abandon. Her practical work attire, unlike the dress uniforms, meant she cared little about the water’s impact on her clothing. An instant later, I abandoned the shelter of the building, stepping into the deluge. Within seconds, my clothes were drenched, clinging to my skin. Predictably, the rain ceased its assault the moment I settled into my car.

Actually, rain almost anywhere does seem to arrive at some of the most inconvenient times. This particular uniform was hardly the only one that was soaked, just maybe the more frustrating.

Nonetheless, over the years, I did come up with a theory about rain—one that held true even during the hard rains in Vietnam. You can only get so wet. After that, the excess simply falls off. As uncomfortable as it may be, it cannot cause real harm.

While I appreciate staying dry, I’m not alone in my sentiment. Recently, I learned the Marines have updated their regulations, now permitting personnel to carry umbrellas while in uniform. Such a practical change would have been welcome decades earlier, offering us marines much-needed protection from the elements during outdoor duties.

The Keating Five

Posted in Uncategorized by

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

Posted in Uncategorized by

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

Posted in Uncategorized by

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

Posted in Uncategorized by

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?

Posted in Uncategorized by

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.