Retail Madness

     In the midst of all the Christmas hustle and bustle, I had need to buy some undergarments, strike that, let's call it what it is: Underwear. As in briefs, whitey tighteys.  (I don't do the boxer thing - not enough support.) My wife actually said, “Are you going to buy something now with Christmas so close?  Put them on your list.”  I declined. 

     Now people in general shy away from talking about underwear at any time, except in the concept of mother to son and/or wife to husband saying things like, "You really need to get new underwear, aren't you afraid you'll get in an accident and the nurses at the hospital will see them?" Notice I didn't say mother to daughter, and husband to wife. Males tend to not worry about their underwear and females stress over them. 

     Underwear was invented for one purpose, and one purpose only; to protect your outerwear from the ravages of natural body functions over which, apparently, boys and men have absolutely no control. Nor, do they seem to be worried about how they look figuring no one is going to see them, ever, unless, of course, you do get into that accident your mother warned you about, but as you are laying on the sidewalk bleeding and they are ripping your clothes off to see where you are bleeding from, the last thing on your mind is whether or not your underwear is clean. Officially, then, males don't care.  However, after constant nagging from mothers and wives, sons and husbands generally change them daily, but wear them until they are threadbare, with holes in them, and sometimes stained beyond what would be considered polite. 

     I had cause recently to go buy new underwear, because some of mine had reached the, "If you put those on and wear them out of this house, I swear by the time you return home you will not have any underwear left in your drawer, and you will be forced to buy new ones."  So, she's willing to send me to the store, sans underwear, which in my view would be far worse, as you are laying on the sidewalk bleeding from the afore mentioned accident, and when they rip of your trousers, the crowd would gasp, and the nurses would be forced to turn their heads. 

     However, I went (on my own, honest) and went to one of the nation's largest discount department stores and found them for the ridiculously unbelievable price of $36 for three pairs - 40% OFF!  I mean, come on.  $12 apiece?  On Sale? And these weren't those fancy dancy, low slung Chippendale briefs in shocking blue, these were run of the mill whitey tighteys.  After shopping at a few other, higher priced department stores, which were about the same, I ended up in a Big Box store where I found 7 pairs for $12.  Let's see now, $12 for one, or 7 of 'em for the price of one. I asked the lady helping me (there were no men working there - go figure) in the high priced store why the briefs there were priced so high.  She gave me this really big speech about thread count, dependable elasticity and something about "pocket" comfort. Her words, not mine.  I opted for the ones that were less than $2 each.  Keep the thread count and the elasticity.  These have plenty of pocket comfort and they will do the job, just fine, thank you. And, I can throw them away with impunity and buy new ones far more often, so they will always be clean.  If I do get in that accident we've been discussing I'll be fine with the nurses ripping off my pants.  Really.  I mean, who besides Mom's and wives will be looking anyway, and they're used to seeing men's underwear look like that. 

A Random Act of Kindness

     I have a few things that need set straight, but today I'm going to write about something that DOESN'T need set straight. In fact, we need more things like this to happen in the world that don't need setting straight.
     My wife and I own a flower shop, along with one of her sisters and her husband. My wife and sister operate the shop and my brother-in-law does the deliveries. I try to stay away from there because they always try to make me work when I show up. Actually, I show up when ever they need the extra help, or whatever, including things like installing a water heater, fixing a cooler, and so on. It'a a nice little place called The Garden of Eden that sells beautiful flowers and they have lots of cute little gifts, plus some very nice ones. So, if you're ever in Henderson, Nevada, (next door to Las Vegas) stop in and if you need flowers give them a call. You'll be happy you did. But, I digress.
     The reason for this epistle today is something that happened while I was there this morning. It seems awhile back a very good customer of their's (my wife and her sister - hereinafter referred to as the girls) and someone they love and respect dearly had been feeling down after receiving some treatments for leukemia. The woman's name is Betty and is well respected in the community and is rather wealthy, but the girls tell me she is so down to earth it's hard to believe she is wealthy. I've never met her. Like I said, I try to stay away from there. Anyway, the girls thought they would try to cheer her up so they sent her a little plush bear they carry as a gift, as a way of trying to cheer her up. It's a fuzzy little thing that talks when you put its paws together and says cute little things in a child like voice such as "Hope your boo -boo feels all better" and stuff like that. I have to admit it does its job rather well. It was designed to send to people who are sick, but is especially designed to cheer up children.
     Anyway, the woman called back after receiving it and after thanking the girls for their thoughtfulness asked how much the little bears were. After hearing the price, without hesitating, she ordered 25 or so of them. She wanted to donate them to a local cancer center that also treats children. They proved to be a hit with the kids and became known as "Betty's Bears". And, periodically she orders more when the hospital needs more of them. A nice thing, yes? Well, that's not where this stops. "Betty" called this morning and asked my wife to order another 36 bears. Then she filled her in on the rest of this story.
     It seems a little girl, about 4 years old, had been receiving chemo therapy for a form of cancer and had shut down psychologically. She wouldn't talk any longer. The hospital staff and her parents were sure it wasn't physical, but for whatever reason the little girl wouldn't talk. She used to talk, but wouldn't. Got an idea where this is going? Well, yesterday the little girl was in for therapy. And once again, wasn't talking. The therapist decided to get one of "Betty's Bears" to cheer the little girl up. When she clapped the little bears hands together, the little girl repeated every word the bear said. Startled, the therapist clapped its hands together again and each time she did, the little girl repeated what the bear said. The therapist said she had never seen anything like it. Her parents, understandably are thrilled and it looks like this was the major breakthrough they needed. Time will tell, but for the first time in a long time, the little girl talked. The story isn't over just yet. When my wife called the distributor to order more bears, she was told that her company was discontinuing the bears. And they better get this order in soon. When my wife told Betty this, she said how many do they have left? Calls were made, and it ends up that Betty purchased 500 bears so her program could go on. How good is that?
     And all because of two random acts of kindness. My wife and her sister who thought they could make some one feel better, and a generous woman who wanted to make children she had never met feel better. One act of kindness leads to another, and that's a good thing. So, next time you do something to make someone else feel better, the real winner will be you. And perhaps, some little girl or boy somewhere that you will never meet, who needed that to happen. And isn't that a wonderful thing?

Meanwhile over at Pedophile State University

     Just exactly what were the higher ups thinking when they all passed on the chance to take a major child molester out of circulation? If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm glad you stopped by my blog immediately after living in that cave for the past few days, and before you turned on the news. It shows I'm getting a little respect, anyway. The case I'm discussing is the Jerry Sandusky affair currently going on over at Penn State University, now and forever after to be also be known as Pedophile State University.
    I'm not going to reiterate and rehash the accusations or all the coverage, you are well aware of it. My question is how many people believe that after the young coach reported to Head Coach Joe Paterno, also known as God in Pennsylvania, and he reportedly told two other people who went to the President of the University, that not one of them asked him the questions any normal person would ask: What Happened, Exactly? Tell me what you saw. Are you sure?
     Perhaps they are lying. But, for the purposes of this blog, let's assume they weren't. Now the question becomes: How much do I really want to know? This guy is one of my best friends. Surely, he isn't capable of this? Perhaps you only think you saw what you saw.
     Now that we've established it isn't that bad, it's just a few quick decisions away from OK, what do we do about it? What is in the best interests of the University. Because folks, it all comes down to friendship and money. If this gets out it will damage the University. Oh my. If we keep him away from children while on campus, we'll be OK.  But wait, he has a charity called The Second Mile (which ironically takes in underprivileged children and protects them from the ravages of society). OK, we tell them the little bit we know and let them make their own decisions. Now the University is covered. "We told them everything we know, your Honor, none of this is our fault."
     The problem is, you Numb Nuts, that every child that was molested after you knew about this and did nothing about it, IS YOUR FAULT! The greatest gift most child molesters have is that the are trusted by everyone.  And the person they are molesting, generally, trusted them, and after the molester changed their life, either were too frightened, too ashamed, were too afraid no one would believe them, or worse, just figured that's the way life was, and wouldn't tell their parents, or others in authority.  That's what needs setting straight.  And, I'm not sure there's anyway to do that.
     Things will be different for a short while, and perhaps, some parents will sit down with their children and explain this to them, and then, maybe one of two of them will speak up and say something, like, "You mean like when Uncle Frank comes in my room at night and touches me, "down there" that it's not OK like he says it is?" Then, maybe for one family things will be set straight and we can take another one of these predators out of the reaches of society. Let's hope so! Oh, and by the way, let's make the sentences for molesters, life sentences. No sense in having to keep going through all this time after time. Because they won't stop. They can't. But we can stop them!

I was right! and wrong at the same time.

     Back in September I wrote about the fact my car had a problem with the battery and I was waiting for that fateful day when it finally died and I was forced to take it somewhere and have it dealt with. I wrote about thinking it was only a battery problem and hoping it was not more than that, my financial situation (like everyone else's - I know) is such I can't afford a big problem right now. Well, the day came and I was forced to take it in. Guess what? I was right. It was only the battery and while the dealership (which shall go unnamed) tried valiantly to offer me more things to fix, (they did a FREE maintenance check worth $79.95 to find out I had some things that COULD be fixed), but weren't really pressing matters. I declined those suggestions and they replaced the battery, all $248.53 worth, and I picked the car up the next day. Running like a top and all those nasty engine lights and other indicators saying I had something wrong were no longer on. I was right about that, too. Those lights were caused by the negative ground when the battery was jump started. All that went away.
     Well, then you ask, what were you wrong about, Roy? My problem is I took it to a nice place, a Cadillac dealership, which is one of the GM maintenance centers for those of us who purchased a Saturn just before they went out of business. Lucky us, we own two of them. There's a big banner when you drive in that says WELCOME SATURN OWNERS hanging down in the service bay area. So, they realize a good thing. Not only can they fix the Cadillacs which break down, but they can comfort us Saturn owners and make a little money at the same time. Did I say a little money? Let me rephrase that.  A LOT of money at the same time. However, they treated me well, took care of my problem and were nice about it.
     Here's where it went wrong. I left some loose change in the console. I also had a portable GPS system, some CDs and a few other items, like a pen, small notebook, etc. Somebody took the small change. They left the other stuff and took the money. Now it wasn't a lot, probably about $1.50 which I keep there in quarters so I can use it in parking meters. We don't have those fancy-dancy ones that take credit cards like some cities have. You'd think they would with all the money they make at 25 cents for ten minutes. And, the fines they rake in. But, I digress.
     For all of you shaking your heads saying to yourself, you idiot, you left it there in plain sight, what did you expect to happen? You may be right, but I'm one of those people who trusts others until proven wrong. I don't think we should have to take everything out of our cars when we leave it overnight at a place we trust. Or used to trust. I guess I do share some complicity in this by leaving it in a visible spot.  But I should not have to worry about $1.50 in change.  It's not the amount, it's the principle.  I wrote the dealership a letter, and I'm willing to bet you right now, that they will send some sort of "we're sorry this happened" letter and offer me a huge discount or a free something or other on my next visit, as "you are a valuable customer to us", so I don't think I'll come out on the short end of the stick. However, this is the type of thing we shouldn't have to worry about. We should be able to leave a few quarters laying in our console without worrying about it. It's a cultural thing. After the earthquake in Japan, weeks later, small safes were washing up on the beach. The people who found them took them to the local Police station for the Police to attempt to open them and find the rightful owner. In America, we don't have that kind of a culture, with honesty built in, and that's what needs setting straight. 

How can something like this be set straight?

     This mornings newspaper contained a small article on page 9A, which I thought pretty much buried it except for readers like myself who look at EVERY SINGLE article in the paper.  Whether or not I read an article is something I determine after reading the headline, or the first few lines.  This article's headline was:  Indiana crash kills seven who were on their way to a funeral.  Are we so blase that the sudden and horrific death of seven people deserves a mere mention, and then, only on page 9A?
     Two things stand out in the article, without referring to who, what and where, but as to HOW.  First, there were 10 people in a 7 passenger mini-van.  Second, none of them, including an infant were wearing a seatbelt.  The infant was in a car seat, but was not buckled in.  Apparently, this was one of those almost unavoidable crashes as a deer ran in front of the van, it braked and hit it anyway, and then was struck from behind by a semi-trailer truck.  Ten of them and no seat belts.  Did they think they were invincible?
     Just exactly when are people going to learn to put on their doggone safety belts?  (I'd use stronger language, but my grandchildren read this article.)  In my early life I was a Naval Hospital Corpsman, a medic, if you will, and the forerunner to today's paramedics.  I'm here to tell you I never, ever removed a dead body from a seat belt, but I scraped up a few that didn't have their belt on.  For all you independent minded people who are arguing it's your God Given right to ignore that seat belt, just think of that cute little child in the back seat who you are about to deprive of a parent because you have the ability to flout the law and also teach the little person in the back seat to do as you do, not as you say.  Then they will grow up (because you put them in a seat belt) to flout the law themselves.  "My old man never wore his seat belt and died at the age of 91, so I don't need to wear one either."  They can write that famous quote on your tombstone at the ripe old age of 20.  Just had an acquaintance's best friend lose a 20 year old son that way; he didn't have his belt on, his two companions did, during a rollover.  They attended his memorial service. His parents said he always wore it, his friends said he never wore it.
     Probably one of the most memorable accidents that brings this home to me was the young 4 year old boy who was injured because he wouldn't sit down in the front seat.  He "didn't want to" and it was easier to give him his way instead of forcing the issue.  When his mother slammed the 1962 Corvair to a stop, for whatever reason,  he fell forward onto the little 12 inch gear shift, which had a cute little plastic knob on top, and it entered near the right shoulder blade, next to the neck, in that little hollow we all have and didn't quite exit from his back; you could see the ivory covered knob as it protruded almost through his back stretching the skin so much you could see through it.  They had to cut it off while he was suspended on it, upside down, and bring him to the hospital that way. Unfortunately that was after it had severed his spinal cord between the 2nd and 3rd cervical vertebrae, turning him into instant quadriplegic.  He could still breathe, so that was in his favor, but I will never forget this scared little boy who didn't know his dad's last name, mom was unconscious, and there wasn't enough information in her purse to find daddy for about 4 hours. There was a Navy housing sticker on the windshield, and that's how daddy was finally located. However, in the meantime, I had to hold onto this frightened  little boy's hand and tell him to hang on.  I was the Corpsman in charge of the emergency room that day and I will always remember him struggling for breath and being so very frightened. He wasn't in pain, as he had lost all feeling, he was however, very bewildered and lost.  All because Mommy thought it was easier to let him stand up, rather than sit down, as we found out later.
     There will be those who read this article and when they get in the car the very next time will not put on their seat belt.  Those people are idiots.  I can't set that straight.  I'd say it was part of the grand plan to remove these people from society, but unfortunately, they usually breed before they are removed, so their progeny continue the same idiotic trend. Again, I'd use stronger language and tell you how I really feel but, once again, my grandchildren may be reading this. You can't force people to use their seat belts.  Remember when cars couldn't start if you didn't have your seat belt fastened?  I knew one guy who figured out how to disconnect it the day after he got his new car home.  I went to his funeral, too.  His wife, who had her seat belt on survived.  Interestingly enough, the day she got out of the hospital, she went to a party celebrating that very fact, had too much to drink, and died in a head-on collision on the way home from the party.  Too drunk to put her seat belt on, but not too drunk to drive. Talk about irony.  
     The only people who can set this straight are those who currently aren't using their seat belt, and start using one, every time. I won't start my car until everyone in the car puts theirs on.  If we have more people than belts, they don't go.  If they don't want to ride with me, fine, no problem.   And when I get in their cars, I put one on, and if they don't, I can't force 'em.  But every time, I'm afraid I will be like the two young men mentioned earlier.  I will make it to their funeral and, unfortunately, so will they.  Except they will be the guest of honor.  And I can't set that straight, either.

They can't be serious?

     Last year, while I was in the hospital and extremely ill, my poor wife was getting exhausted from working at our flower shop, two hour round trips to the hospital, sometimes more than once a day, not getting to eat on time, or often, and still trying to maintain the house, and all those other things.  One night after getting to bed late, and extremely tired, Murphy's Law crept in.  If something can go wrong, at the worst possible time, it will.  As this law is wont to do, (look it up it's a word - and it's used correctly), it chose one of those nights for the smoke alarm to go off.  Ours do that periodically, and only once have they gone off in the daytime, all the other times have been at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. And folks, ours has a safety feature that means if it's a battery that is causing the problem you need to fix it then, not later, because it won't go away.  If you've ever had an alarm go off in the middle of the night, you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't, I don't recommend it, but it is one hell of an adrenaline rush. After you determine you are not going to be consumed by a fire, you have to determine which of your wonderful smoke alarms is doing this, they all go off together - it's a law - and then take care of the problem.
     My poor exhausted wife had to get out of bed, determine which alarm it was, get the ladder, climb it, remove the smoke alarm and disconnect the battery.  She figured she would take her chances of dying in a fire that night, so she left it disconnected, put the ladder away and went back to bed. Since I couldn't do anything about it, my son came over and tried to fix it.  Unfortunately it wasn't the battery and the alarm was FUBAR, so my wonderful son ordered one on the internet and said, "Here, Merry Christmas".  That was last year.  It arrived and spent it's time in the box carefully placed on our high tech clothes rack (a treadmill) where it sat until today.  I decided to install it.  It went well, (once I read the instructions).  It was easy, came with the right adaptors and took about ten minutes to install.  That's not why I write this.  It was when I was reading the instructions, I found some things that need set straight.  Actually, two things.
     First, and I quote directly from the instructions, TEST THE ALARM WEEKLY TO ENSURE PROPER INSTALLATION. OK, let's be fair.  Everyone who does that on a weekly basis, please raise your hands.  Now.  Come on, don't be shy.  I didn't think so.  How about once a month?  Now would be good.  I don't see any hands.  How about when the freakin' alarms go off for no reason?  That's what I thought.  Now I see a few hands.  The point is, who's going to grab the ladder, take it around the house into almost every room, and push that little button on a weekly or even monthly basis? We have eight of those things.  I'd be surprised if there are people who do it regularly, as in once a year.  The manufacturers are covering their collective legal butts.  "Your honor, it's written right in our instructions in big letters, to test weekly.  We are not at fault.  Never mind the fact we have them place in locations Andre the Giant couldn't reach. They take them down and never put them back up.  Can't blame us."  Oh and guess what?  66% of all smoke alarms in the United States do not work because they are faulty or the batteries are dead.  FACT.  Check it out. They can't make you fix one or test one.  It's your God given right (and your children's) to die of smoke inhalation, or burn to death,  if you're too doggone lazy to fix one, or test them.
     Second, and this one I really love, there are no smoke alarms in our house in the kitchen and in the garage. Go look........ I'll wait.........told ya! Wanna know why?  And why most homes in the country are like that?  Because those locations create nuisance alarms, especially in the kitchen.  Something burns on the stove and bingo! off goes the alarm, so they don't install them.  Even though the majority of fires in a home are caused in the kitchen.  Yep, in the kitchen, the room without a smoke alarm.  Since your home builder doesn't want you pissed at him, and calling him at three in the morning, he leaves them out of the places most people have nuisance alarms.  He gets to sleep while you die of smoke inhalation.
     "Why don't you install one of your own then?  Why are you making such a big deal about it?" you ask. Because there are federal and state laws that say all smoke alarms have to be tied together electrically and run in the same raceways as your other common household wires. They have to be tied together so the alarms ring in all parts of the house.  One goes off and they all go off.  That's why.  And most folks will probably take their chances and not go to the time and expense of adding these alarms to already built homes.  In fact, we left the one that's 18 feet high in our house disconnected because we've already spent an hour at three o'clock in the morning, on an extension ladder that could barely reach it, while we're standing ABOVE that lettering that says DO NOT STAND ABOVE THIS RUNG, trying to fix it with an 85 decibel alarm screaming in our ears, that's why!
      At least this new one has the battery cover where it's easy to reach.  And it has a "hush" button that will circumvent nuisance alarms.  It will still take a ladder, but I don't have to remove the unit from the wall and try to fix it in the dark, standing on a wobbly ladder while I'm trying to twist it off the ceiling. So, these are things that need to be set straight. Get the ladder now, while you're thinking about it.  Then test your alarms. It might save your life, or more importantly, one of your children.

Why are some commercials so bad?

     One of the nicest things about having DVRs is the ability to skip through commercials, but, unfortunately, I watch a lot of live sports on TV, especially this time of year.  The playoffs in MBL are on, there's college and NFL football, and I watch whenever I can.  By its very nature, live sports tends to stop you from recording it because few people like to watch a sporting event if you know the outcome. There are occasions that I will DVR an event, but only if it's a major game that I want to watch and that there is very little chance I will find out who won ahead of time. There have been those time that I found out the score and then guess how much fun that is to watch?  Right.  None.  Unless your team destroys someone like 73-0 and you want to watch for the sheer perverse thrill of watching your team be supremely valiant over those poor suckers who played them.
     However, I digress. Because I watch them live, I'm forced to sit through the commercials.  Now, normally I don't mind commercials, in fact, as Super Bowl Sunday has proven, commercials can be downright entertaining and fun.  For example, one of the best, and it's been on a lot lately, is the little boy in the car commercial who is running around in a Darth Vader outfit trying his best to bring inanimate objects to life with no success.  Then Dad comes home and the little boy tries to bring the car to life with his powers. With his Dad inside the house watching, Dad starts the car by remote control and the little boy is startled and turns with a look of "I did it, I did it", that is priceless.  Dad just winks at Mom and then the rest of the commercial is about the car.  I cannot tell you the name of the car for sure but I think it's Audi.
     Unfortunately, another commercial is a bearded man in a ship captain's uniform, with an obviously fake octopus on his shoulder walking into his house to an awaiting female partner, who just happens to be beautiful.  Spilling from his pockets are silver and golden coins that while they are talking fill the room he is in. They laugh insanely as they are swallowed up by the golden coins, while she gives the tag line, which is something about his smelling good.  The commercial by the way, is Old Spice.  Perhaps you think I'm making a point for those people who make these things.  I can tell you without uncertainty that the product name I remember best is the bad one, and the one I loved the most, I'm only pretty sure I'm right.  So the Madison Avenue types will stop right there and say, "See; that proves our point!" Wrong, wrong, wrong.  I will remember the Audi commercial and next time I'm looking at a car, and have the means to purchase one, I will remember the Audi commercial with good feelings.  The next time I'm looking to buy aftershave lotion I will buy any product EXCEPT Old Spice. This commercial is so bad, I'm struggling with the fact people, seemingly in their right minds, wrote, produced, directed and PAID FOR this outrageous piece of advertising crap.  So, I will do MY best to set this right.  By NEVER buying their product and passing on the word to others.  It's the least I can do.

Sidewalk soliciting

     On my way to the grocery store this morning, I noticed a young man standing on the median strip holding a sign  of which I could only make out the following words: Funeral Donations. As I progressed, I noticed several other young men holding similar signs which looked to have similar information. Intrigued, I made sure to go by one of the sign holders when I left the store. Sure enough, the signs were requesting donations for a funeral, much like the familiar homeless panhandlers we see from time to time in urban areas.
     Except these were earnest looking young men with a purpose. No beseeching, just holding their signs with a look of hopelessness on their face. The signs were asking for donations for the funeral of a 5 year old boy, named Brandon F. (I purposely left his last name off) with his picture. The picture depicted a smiling little boy, of apparent Hispanic descent, although his last name doesn't indicate that, and the sign said, "Little Brother". The sign holders, indeed, looked familial and of Hispanic descent of various ages that could be older brothers, and/or cousins.
     I never respond to these types of request, but this one seemed like it was real, and not a scam of new and disgusting proportions. Still, there are agencies for this sort of thing and I proceeded on home without offering any help, but couldn't stop thinking about it. I wondered what sort of circumstances had brought this family to this, and what had happened to the child in question. So many questions that are unanswered as I write this. I have never seen anything like this before, and I wonder, is our society finally getting to the point where it is so bad economically that families cannot afford to bury their young? Are they undocumented and they are afraid to turn to government agencies for relief?
     Wouldn't it be better to use a cheaper means of interment such as cremation? I am aware that the Hispanic culture is such that most can't bring themselves to this form of final departure, because most believe the body rises again at resurrection and will walk the earth with their family. In fact, many request to be buried in their homeland so they are among those they love and had left behind, when the final resurrection does occur.
     So, that leaves us with a young man whose family is out soliciting funds from strangers in order to give their "little brother" a proper and expensive burial. It disturbs me to think of that. I think I will drive by there tomorrow just to see if they are still there. If they are, I don't know what I'm going to do as yet, but this is haunting me. If I can help, I will try to help set it right. It's the least I can do.

Computers and those in their "Golden years"

     I have any number of friends who have parents that refuse to use a computer for various reasons. Most of them are in their "golden years", but that can mean anywhere from 50 to 90 or so.  I think some of them are intimidated (although they would NEVER admit that) by computers, while others point to their lack of computer talents with pride as if the rest of us are Luddites.  But, I think that a number of them are like my father who took up using a computer at the ripe old age of 81, back in 2001.  He was at our house for Christmas and his grandchildren were discussing it, and he suddenly said, "I'd like to try it but I don't have anyone to teach me."  My son, a gifted computer programmer said, "I can help you", and then, we were in the computer room with Grandpa at the computer learning how to use it.  In 2001, remember, they weren't quite as user friendly as they are today.  He picked it up quickly and after a few hours of instruction, was soon using it fairly well.  Then, after he returned home he called and said he had purchased a computer and wanted me or my son to help him with a few things before he "hurt" it.  I worked with him, promising to call my son, if we needed him.
     I asked him if it was set up, and he said, "Yes, the guy that sold it to me installed it for me and I am ready to go."  Even had his e-mail all set up. and was just making sure he knew what to do.  I said, "OK, turn it on and tell me when you get everything up.  He did, I matched him on my computer and started working with him on what he was seeing and what I was seeing on mine.  Then, I learned, why most people can be intimidated by computers.  Things that come easy to most of us, especially the younger set, are confusing to the older generation.  For example, I told him to left click his mouse and then asked him what happened.  He did, and I did the same, following his every move. I instructed him how to place the cursor (I told him it was that little arrow thingy that moved around when he moved his mouse - he understood that), and then to left click.  He did and said what happened.  I said, "OK, put the cursor on the icon (I explained what an icon was) and he followed that, and he understood highlighting.  Then I said "Highlight the words you want, and then right click and what do you see."  Expecting him to tell me about the drop down table that appeared with choices such as: cut, copy paste and so on."  He explained that nothing happened.  I said, "surely something happens?" and he continued to say "NO."  Loudly, I might add. We tried it several times.  Finally I said, "I don't think you are right clicking and left clicking correctly." Then, said my wonderful 81 year old father, "I understand what you are telling me, GODDAMMIT!  What I don't understand is what difference it makes which hand I use." I called my son and asked him to call his Grandfather.  It was easier.  

Too Much Technology?

     Let me start today's "Needs to be Set Right" concept with another of those day to day things most of us experience.  I left my GPS plugged into the cigarette lighter receptacle on my car (although we don't use the lighter receptacle for anything other than that.)  Well, maybe to recharge our cell phones, and the occasional use of our Emergency Compressor, all things techonological, if you notice.  All things I'm glad I have and love using.  I digress.  Anyway, by leaving the GPS plugged in and on, I drained the car battery.  Deader than a Nehru Jacket (look it up - it's the headliner at the Dead Fad's Museum). 

     Of course, I didn't realize that when I got in the car and turned the key to hear........silence.  You know how the first time you do it, you think "this can't possibly be happening?", well, just like everyone else, I turned they key again and at least one more time before I convince myself that the battery was indeed dead.  Either that or someone removed the starter on the car while it was locked in our garage.

     However, being as I stated above, a believer in technology, I got out the old handy dandy battery emergency charger that works off household electricity and having done this countless times before, put the positive charge clamp on the positive battery post (the one with the little + on it), and then, looked around for the negative post.  There wasn't one. When the heck did they start making batteries without two posts?  However, I also knew that there's a school of thought that says batteries can blow up if not being charged properly, leaving you slumped over the car fender, hood up, seriously burned face wise from the exploding battery acid, and being there like that all day, until your wife comes home and looks for you and finds you there, horribly disfigured, or even worse, deader than the Nehru Jacket we talked about.  Not wanting her to find me like that, I read the manual which says hook it to a negative ground, except they don't tell you what exactly that is.

     I hooked the negative clamp, as one is supposed to do, to a negative ground that I found which isn't as easy as it looks.  Batteries are always grounded to the car frame somewhere, and all you have to do is find a metal piece of car which is also attached to it.  So, by touching the negative clamp to various parts of the car near the engine block that a clamp could fit on, I found one that provided a connection.  Confident, I left the car and went back into the house secure in the knowledge that shortly (perhaps an hour or two) the battery would be fully charged.  The battery charger indicated every thing was well, and more importantly, I was still intact, not having suffered those unimaginable burns all those safety warnings tell you about.

     A couple of hours later I went out, checked out the charger which said the battery was in fact charged, and disconnected everything.  Then, I started the car, and it started right up.  Everything was as it should be.  All was now right with the world.  Or was it?  

     After putting the charger away while I let the car run, I then shut it off and confidently started it up again.  Yep, lots of good starting sounds and Old Blue started right up.  Then, as I waited for all the little dashboard lights to go off one by one as the car checked itself out, I noticed that the little light that looks the outline of an engine block stayed on.  A quick check of the owners manual says if that light stays on take it to your nearest dealer for service as soon as possible.  Not as soon as convenient, mind you, but as soon as possible.  Letting that little warning pop up in the back of your head that says, "if I don't get this to them as soon as possible, they won't honor the warranty.  That's no problem, this is out of warranty.  Or worse yet, if you are out of warranty, it indicates a little problem that we are warning you about, and if you don't take care of it in the next 20 minutes, this thing is going to turn into a BIG problem and BIG problems costs BIG money.  

     I took it for a test spin in the neighborhood figuring if it craps out I can walk home and I can figure out how to get it home from a few blocks away, rather than on some major side road or highway with uncaring motorists in cars whizzing by at speeds generally 20 miles higher than posted. 

     And, it probably rode just fine, but I imagined all kinds of things going wrong, and heard and felt all kinds of sounds and vibrations indicating something was definitely wrong.  So, I got back home OK and then researched everything on the internet.  Deciding eventually I was going to leave it as is, (I really didn't have time to wait for the car as I needed it every single day for the next 5 days, then, I could take it in) I drove it around all the while waiting on edge for that moment when the car gasped it's last breath because I ignored that little light.  

     As luck would have it, I picked up my grandchildren and my son in law's car had the hood up.  I asked him what was up and he said his engine light came on and he had taken it to a local car parts store and they ran one of those diagnostic tests on it and they said it was probably only a small indicator part and he could try resetting the engine light after he cleaned up the indicator link.  The test, he said, was free.  Wow, that's all I needed to hear, so the next chance I had, I went to the friendly car parts store where they plugged in their little tester and ran the test.  It indicated I had 14 things wrong.  Bummer. How the heck could 14 things show up, it wasn't even running?  So, I went back home, armed with all this technological information and as I read through the reports realized almost everyone of them said it was some kind of grounding fault.  Maybe that's it I thought.  So, back to the internet and more research focused my exact needs.  And, after stating what was wrong in a general question, answers popped up immediately, most of them indicating simple solutions and one of them was, (the most popular I might add) to detach the grounding terminal on the battery from the car for a minute and then hook it back up and restart the car and the engine light would probably not come on again.  

     Seemed like an easy cost free solution, so out to the garage, and started looking for the grounding wire where it is hooked attached to, and detach it.  (The internet said anyone with any kind of experience with cars could do this, so this would be a shoo in.)  Wrong again.  I'm still looking where it attaches to the frame. It's very difficult to track down and I haven't been able to isolate it to detach it.  Being almost 70 years old and not able to move like I used to, and with a recent hip replacement preventing me from laying on my back under the car looking for the hook up, I haven't decided yet what to do.

     Have you looked at your car engine lately?  I didn't think so.  I still can't find the transmission fluid level indicator  dipstick which they say is "RIGHT THERE" only it's not "THERE" on my car.  And neither is the negative attachment for my battery anywhere where I can get to it, and detach it.  For further good measure, it took me an hour to find the oil filter cap and I needed a $20 dollar extension and a special oversize $20 socket to remove it.  I had a picture of it and almost missed it. 

     Growing up in the golden age of automobiles spoiled me I guess.  I worked on my own cars for years, replacing brakes, pistons, carburetors, and all the really simple stuff with no problem at all.  Today, it's a major pain to change the oil.  And, I really, really  don't want to take the car to one of those big money dealerships (or even a garage mechanic - I mean who can you trust these days), so I wait until the car doesn't run and I'm forced to do something.

     Now, I spend my days driving around with one eye on that engine light that stares at me all the time I'm driving all the while reminding me that I am turning a little problem into a BIG MONEY problem because I won't take it in...........yet.       

    I am one of those people who have embraced technology with open arms, and while not quite as proficient with it as I'd like to be, I think it has and will continue to change our lives every day.  On the other hand, I am wondering if we are not, in fact, rushing toward that phenomenon known as "The Singularity" described by Vernor Vinge, in his paper regarding this subject, and presented to the  Vision 21 Symposium March 30-31, 1993.  

     Briefly stated, Vinge postulates that "we are centered on the ever accelerating progress of technology and changes in the mode of human life, which gives the appearance of approaching some essential singularity in the history of the race beyond which human affairs, as we know them, could not continue."

      Are we in fact racing to that time in our lives which Vinge states will occur prior to 2030, or are we going to realize that technology is not the only answer?  I vote for the later, although I may not be here in 2030 if/or when "the singularity" arrives.  Realize he wrote this 18 years ago, prior to all the most recent accelerating changes.

     As I look at my car engine and all the covers, wires and parts covering up others and which all have to be removed before you can find where something is, I wonder if this isn't something that needs to be set right.  Let me rephrase that, this is something that needs set right.

   

      


     

What the blog is all about

     I've been told by several well meaning people that I need to have a blog page now that I've published (well, I'm about to publish) a book.  Fortunately, I'm one of those people who like to write, and think I have something to say on most any subject.  I've been told I'm verbose and I would have to agree.  My wife wants me to concentrate on my new children's book coming out, but there will be time for that when it is published.  I promise I will tell you more about it before it hits the streets.  

     

     So, the blog from day to day at first will be about things that I think need set right with the world, things that are a lot wrong, a little wrong, and sometimes not even wrong but could go wrong and still need set right, (from my point of view that is).  It may never be something you might agree with, but I think from time to time I will hit on something that will hit your thought bone and make you ponder with me "why is it that way, when it could be so much better"?

     

     Let's start with something that happened just the other day.  My brother-in-law, kind soul that he is, told me that his pool fill valve was leaking.  It wasn't just leaking, it was really leaking - like almost full blast. (He had other problems besides that leak, but let's just concentrate on this one problem.)  

     

     It was an old fashioned gate valve that had been installed about 25 or 30 years ago and had never been a problem before recently.  So, being a guy who has done this kind of thing for himself, and actually repaired things for a living for a few years, I told him I would take a look at it.  I told him it would be simple to repair as long as the valve body seat wasn't damaged, and would probably only require a simple replacement of the washer that closes off the valve when you crank it shut.  

     He was worried that we wouldn't be able to get the thing apart because it had sat there for 30 years without being taken apart before.  So, we sprayed it with that old standby WD-40 (if it doesn't move and you want it to, spray it with WD-40 first - if it moves and you don't want it to, use duct tape - pretty much a rule to live by) and then let it set for a few hours and spray it again.  In the meantime, you can amuse yourself with a couple of cups of coffee, or a few brewskeys (and if the missus asks you what you are doing, simply reply "waiting for the WD-40 to kick in,") or if it's really old, grab that copy of War and Peace you've been meaning to get at for years and give it a go while you are waiting.

     Then we removed the valve stem with relative ease and it popped right out. The washer, as I suspected, was worn and corroded on the sides, but the valve seat itself was smooth as glass and all we needed to do was head to the local hardware store and find a replacement washer and replace it, then the old valve stem, then turn the water back on and watch everything just fall into place and voila, no leaks.

     Here's where things went south.  A visit to the local big box hardware supply store (which shall go unnamed) proved to be useless as after they took one look at the washer, took us to the washer supply wall and showed us that they didn't have what we needed and wouldn't be able to order it.  However, in all fairness, they did say, we could replace the whole valve at a huge cost ($45.00 or so, for the valve alone) or we could try down the road at a plumbing supply house which would probably have what we were looking for. 

     Let's see, spend $45 for a new valve, plus the work of replacing it, or going to the local plumbing supply house, get the small part we need and then go back and fix said valve.  So, off to the supply house, where there was only one person working, you know, in these hard economic times, so we had to wait in line until everyone in front of us was done.  (First thing in the morning, I'd hate to see what happens on a day where everything goes wrong and everyone heads down to the supply house to get what they need at the same time.)  Then we showed the guy the washer and waited confidently while he showed us where they had a box full of them, except he didn't do that, because he said, "We don't have that in stock.  We don't carry them and can't get them.  Try "----------" plumbing supply at the corner of such and such and so and so. That was across town.  Really, seriously across town and about $7 away.  At today's gas prices that's about 40 miles away round trip.  For a ten cent part. So we went back home and called them and they were nice enough: after a wait while the young lady we talked to talked to someone else who talked to someone else, came back on the line and said, "We don't carry that and they said you should replace the whole valve."  

     WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE.  I've got a 10 cent part in my hand that is probably available somewhere, but not a single person responsible for making customers happy, said, "let me call a supplier, or let me see what I can do".  Everyone of them to a person, said with a shrug, "Can't help you.  Sorry."  And, I might add, two of them actually laughed when we said, we need a 10 cent part and you want us to spend $45 to fix it, plus labor.  They just nodded and moved on to the next customer.  Just on a hunch I stopped at the big box hardware store's competition (another big box store) and got the same shrugs and answers.

     Being from the old school, and having never, ever, thrown away a part I thought I could use later, I went home and looked through my amazingly disarrayed garage and tool bench.  It only is disarrayed when I am looking for something that I have no idea if I even have.  Otherwise, I know exactly what to move to find that hammer I placed there 6 weeks ago, or was it last week, when I was making a minor repair that took some muscle.  (Hammers are excellent for that sort of thing, especially after you've used some WD-40).  

     And, in about the third place I looked, I found a sprinkler valve still in the box, that was of no use anymore as the system I now use has entirely different parts.  And, I'd saved it for at least 15 years, just knowing this day would come.  And, when I opened the box and looked at it, THERE IT WAS - MY HOLY GRAIL, a washer that was remarkably like the one I was looking for.  So, I took the valve apart, grabbed the washer and reappeared at my brother-in-law's with the new part.  It took about 3 minutes, if that, to replace everything and to put the new part in place.  Since it is slightly different, there is a chance it will skew out of place occasionally, and might need to be reseated.  But, since they only fill the pool occasionally, they don't need to use it that often reducing the number of times they need to use the valve.  And, now they can turn their water on without over-filling the pool all the time from a leaky valve. And I couldn't charge my brother-in-law, so it was free.  Besides, it was his birthday the day before, so I just said Happy Birthday.  He was happy and I was happy I could fix it - even though it wasn't as easy as I thought.

     Which brings me to today's gripe.  Everything today runs on a profit, and the big box stores have squeezed out the small guy.   In my younger days I could go down to the local hardware store, especially in a small town, and find just about anything I needed.  It might take a minute to find it, but they generally had it, but more importantly, they had someone who knew what we were looking for, where it probably would be, and/or exactly where to get it. Not just sending you off and getting you out of their hair.  Nowadays, you have to buy ten of everything you want instead of one, (if you can find what you are looking for), and they only sell the most popular parts for the most popular items.  I understand why, but I would also think they would have a central location for those more rare items, or at least some deal with the manufacturers.

     I was really happy I had what we needed, and we will search for places on the internet and or valve providers to find a more suitable replacement, but I still think you should be able to walk into a hardware store, show them what you need and they say it's right over here, or we can order it for you.  Even parts that are 25 years old.  Washers haven't changed that much in over a hundred years.  

     I found obscure parts for my 1952 Ford, 50 years later, easier than a 10 cent washer.  That's a darn shame,  and it needs set right.