Things we can learn from our grandchildren

    Like all grandparents, we often think our grandchildren wear these little halos and say the cutest things. Occasionally, they say amazing things, and once in a while, they DO amazing things. Yesterday was one of those days. We took one of our grandchildren, Joshua, who is 8, to the grocery store with us and while we were there, he spent his time doing all the things an 8 year old will do, and at one point, was on his hands and knees looking under the self checkout counters for coins. Which he found - 48 cents worth - and was very proud of his find.
     As he held them tightly in his fist, I asked him what he planned to do with this newfound wealth. He replied he didn't know, but you could see his eyes and mind wandering as he gazed at the impulse items aligning the shelves next to us as we checked out. (He was with two of his four grandparents who would have indulged him in his choices, unlike a parent who would say, not that, not this and so on.) He didn't buy anything though, and as we walked out of the store, behind a table, sat an older man. Piled on the table were bunches of paper poppies and a donation box with a sign saying, Memorial Day Poppies.
     Grandma said, "Josh, if you wanted to spend your money, that would be a good thing to spend it on." Joshua asked why. Grandma said, "Because all the money goes to help veterans who return home from the war. The man will give you a poppy and you can keep it and it will always remind you that there are people who fight for your freedom and even give their lives so you can live in a free county."
     Without hesitating, he walked up, put the 48 cents into the money box and collected his poppy. He said, "I'll show this to my mom and dad tonight, when we go to Grammy and Grandpop's."
     As we walked to the car, apparently I started experiencing an allergy of some sort, because my eyes were beginning to water, and I had a funny tightness in my chest. As we were putting the groceries in the car, my wife asked me, "Why do they sell poppies for Memorial Day? Do you know?"
     I answered, "It's because of the poem, Flanders Fields, which starts, "In Flander's Fields, the poppies grow, between the grave sites row by row, or something like that. It's one of the most famous poems of World War I, and honors the men who are buried in Europe after being killed in battle. On Memorial Day we buy poppies to remind us of why they died." (Actually, the first two stanzas are, In Flanders fields the poppies blow, between the crosses, row by row.) 
     As we rode home in silence, each of us thinking our own thoughts about the past few moments, Joshua was gripping his poppy and looking at it. He then suddenly spoke up and said, "I did a good thing, didn't I?" I couldn't answer for at that moment, for that funny allergy business returned suddenly and I found it difficult to talk. So, I just drove home as Grandma was able to softly answer, "Yes, Joshua, you did a good thing."
     

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.