A friend of mine, of similar age, recently lost his job with a company in Hawaii, where he had been living for the last eight years. His wife was able to find a job at a university in Texas, of all places, and she moved there two months ago. Not wanting to stay in Hawaii by himself, my friend was forced to leave his island paradise and move to the Lone Star State.
I just got an e-mail about his trip and it was so interesting I thought I’d reprint portions of it here. I could not written it better, so here’s what he wrote:
“The trip to Texas was extremely stressful. Delta Airlines (Never fly Delta) charged me $175 in addition to the exorbitant airfare I already paid to take my two suitcases and guitar with me. Can you believe it? No free luggage! I mean, making me pay to take my luggage on a trip is like going to a fine restaurant and ordering a meal. You pay for the food; but if you want it cooked, you have to pay $5 more. Serving it on real china with real silverware (as opposed to paper plates and plastic forks) will be an additional five dollars.
How about when you want to see a movie? You can pay to see the movie; but if you want to “hear” the movie, that’ll be an additional five bucks. Or what if you need to stay in a hotel? . . . . Wait, hotels already charge you for “everything;” so they are not good examples.
I mean, where will the greed end?
So, I am much the poorer for having to fly with luggage.”
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
What's your Rosebud?
Anyone who has seen the movie Citizen Kane knows what “Rosebud” represents, so I need not explain it here. However, let me pose this question: What is your Rosebud?
Mine is quite simple. It’s a ball. A small pink rubber ball. The Spaldeen.
Today’s children, including my own, who grew up in the suburbs, cannot have the same affection for this small sphere of enjoyment. It was used in so many ways: thrown in a game called Running Bases; slapped in a game called Slapball; smashed with a broom handle in Stickball; bounced in Box ball; pitched against the red bricks in Stoop ball and even bounced on the asphalt in a game called “I declare war.”
The ball never got tired and neither did we.
Sure, I had an electric train set, cowboy six shooters, a Fort Apache set, Monopoly and Clue. But none of these things gave me the hours of pleasure that playing with that high bounce pink ball did.
The only thing that came close, but was still a distant second, was my bicycle. Like a car to a teenager, the bicycle gave a youngster freedom of movement. Can you imagine a parent sending a pre-teen to the store on a bike today? They’d be brought up on charges. But our parents thought nothing of it. Or maybe they did, and we just didn’t realize it.
To this day, one of my favorite leisure activities is tossing a ball to my younger daughter as she bounces on a trampoline. It’s actually a football and she can throw a spiral way over my head. I’m just happy I can keep up with her, although my wife is constantly reminding me to act my age.
Little does she know that when I’m playing ball, I’m still 12 years old.
Mine is quite simple. It’s a ball. A small pink rubber ball. The Spaldeen.
Today’s children, including my own, who grew up in the suburbs, cannot have the same affection for this small sphere of enjoyment. It was used in so many ways: thrown in a game called Running Bases; slapped in a game called Slapball; smashed with a broom handle in Stickball; bounced in Box ball; pitched against the red bricks in Stoop ball and even bounced on the asphalt in a game called “I declare war.”
The ball never got tired and neither did we.
Sure, I had an electric train set, cowboy six shooters, a Fort Apache set, Monopoly and Clue. But none of these things gave me the hours of pleasure that playing with that high bounce pink ball did.
The only thing that came close, but was still a distant second, was my bicycle. Like a car to a teenager, the bicycle gave a youngster freedom of movement. Can you imagine a parent sending a pre-teen to the store on a bike today? They’d be brought up on charges. But our parents thought nothing of it. Or maybe they did, and we just didn’t realize it.
To this day, one of my favorite leisure activities is tossing a ball to my younger daughter as she bounces on a trampoline. It’s actually a football and she can throw a spiral way over my head. I’m just happy I can keep up with her, although my wife is constantly reminding me to act my age.
Little does she know that when I’m playing ball, I’m still 12 years old.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Thinking Ahead
This school was established in 1902. Sometime in 2002, a sign extolling “100 Years of Excellence” was installed.
It is now 2009 and every time I see the sign, I wonder, “Which seven years weren’t so excellent?’
Perhaps the sign should have read: “100 Years of Excellence, and counting,” or, at the very least, “100 Years of Excellence, 1902- 2002.”
As it stands now, each year that passes just makes me wonder which years weren’t so excellent.”
A Sobering Realization
The other day I read about someone who was going through a mid-life crisis.
It occurred to me that for me to have a mid-life crisis now, I would have to live well past the age of 100.
So, not only has by youth gone by, but my mid-life has, too.
Now, that’s a sobering realization.
It occurred to me that for me to have a mid-life crisis now, I would have to live well past the age of 100.
So, not only has by youth gone by, but my mid-life has, too.
Now, that’s a sobering realization.
Beach books
I enjoy reading and listening to the radio. These two pleasures converged recently on the web. In July, NPR (National Public Radio) published a list of the “100 Best Beach Books Ever,” as complied by listeners. I was surprised to see nine of my favorites on the list (#2 is To Kill A Mockingbird). But the books listed are mostly those written some time ago (two by J.D. Salinger made the list).
This summer I read two novels recommended by author Stephen King: Shatter by Michael Robotham—and The Tourist by Olen Steinhauer. Both were published in March, 2009 and were hard to put down. Books like these make you wish they would never end.
The nice thing about finding a new book you enjoy is that it gives you hope that there is another undiscovered gem just around the corner.
Hope springs eternal.
Even in summer.
This summer I read two novels recommended by author Stephen King: Shatter by Michael Robotham—and The Tourist by Olen Steinhauer. Both were published in March, 2009 and were hard to put down. Books like these make you wish they would never end.
The nice thing about finding a new book you enjoy is that it gives you hope that there is another undiscovered gem just around the corner.
Hope springs eternal.
Even in summer.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Antiques
Most people understand that to be an antique, an object must be at least 100 years old (25 years for an automobile).
Assuming today is August 17, 2009, to be an antique, an object would have to have existed before August 17, 1909. An Indian head one-cent coin, commonly incorrectly called a “penny,” would qualify since those coins were last minted in 1909 before production began on the Lincoln head cents that same year. But how many people possess even one Indian head cent? Some may have silver dollar coins minted in the late 1880s or earlier, and they, too, would qualify using the standard definition.
But unless a person inherited something from a grandparent, he or she probably doesn’t possess any other antiques. As they get older, most people start to think of the toys from their childhood as antiques, as they fondly remember “the good old days.” But these are really just “collectibles” and not true antiques.
Fortunately, by the commonly accepted definition, “new” antiques are created every day. Since time does not stand still, something that is 99 years, 11 months and 30 days old today will be an antique tomorrow.
So hold on to everything you have and you will eventually be neck deep in antiques.
Assuming today is August 17, 2009, to be an antique, an object would have to have existed before August 17, 1909. An Indian head one-cent coin, commonly incorrectly called a “penny,” would qualify since those coins were last minted in 1909 before production began on the Lincoln head cents that same year. But how many people possess even one Indian head cent? Some may have silver dollar coins minted in the late 1880s or earlier, and they, too, would qualify using the standard definition.
But unless a person inherited something from a grandparent, he or she probably doesn’t possess any other antiques. As they get older, most people start to think of the toys from their childhood as antiques, as they fondly remember “the good old days.” But these are really just “collectibles” and not true antiques.
Fortunately, by the commonly accepted definition, “new” antiques are created every day. Since time does not stand still, something that is 99 years, 11 months and 30 days old today will be an antique tomorrow.
So hold on to everything you have and you will eventually be neck deep in antiques.
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