A few summers ago, while browsing in a local library, I came across an interesting book, Running Blind, by an author named Lee Child. It was his fourth novel about the same character, an ex-military man named Jack Reacher, who travels the country with just a folding toothbrush, and has a knack for getting into serious trouble. I enjoyed the book so much that I set out to track down and read the other twelve Reacher novels. Some I got from the library; some from the internet, and the latest one from a bookstore. I am looking forward to the fourteenth novel being published next month.
After reading those thirteen novels, I came across one by Stuart Woods. The title was Two Dollar Bill and I was able to purchase it in hardcover at a library bookstore with a one dollar bill. The main character here, Stone Barrington, is a retired New York City detective who now practices law, although it seems more of a side job to his getting into jams and sleeping with every woman he meets. He also regularly hangs out at a real New York City restaurant, Elaines, on Second Avenue. The restaurant owner, the real Elaine, often appears in dialogue with the fictional characters. Woods seems to write one of these Stone Barrington novels a year (although he recently announced there will be two in 2010) and they are like potato chips – you can’t read just one.
After finishing that series, I saw a recommendation in a weekly magazine for a novel entitled Shatter, by Michael Robotham. It was one of the best, and scariest, books I have ever read. I followed that book with the author’s three previous novels, which contained some of the same characters.
Another book review led me to Rough Country by John Sandford, the author of many “prey” novels. I had never heard of him before, but this novel was about Virgil Flowers, a Midwest police detective with long blond hair and a proclivity for wearing rock and roll tee shirts. I enjoyed the book so much that I also read the two previous Virgil Flowers novels and eagerly await the fourth.
Finally, back in the library bookstore, I came upon a novel by Colin Harrison called The Finder. It looked interesting, so I invested another dollar for this hardcover book. Again, it was hard to put down once you started reading it. I subsequently got my hands on other novels by this author, and although they have completely different characters, each one I read seems better than the last.
I’m sure there are other interesting authors out there, and finding them by accident is one of life’s little joys.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Many unhappy returns
In my state, whenever you buy a bottle or can containing beer, soda or water, you are charged a refundable five cent deposit. Ostensibly, this is to encourage recycling and to avoid having these containers tossed in the trash and ending up in a landfill. Although the nickel deposit per container adds to the cost at the time of purchase, you get the deposit money back when you redeem the empty containers. This is usually done by inserting the empty bottle or can into a redemption machine which counts your items and prints out a credit slip. The machines are usually located in, or just outside, supermarkets or other large beverage retailers.
Many bottles and cans of beer, soda and water are sold individually at local delis or convenience stores, but these establishments aren’t equipped to handle returns. And the consumers who frequent these stores don’t want to carry the empties around all day, so they simply consider the extra nickel as a “tax” and toss the container in the trash. I’m not sure who gets the benefit of this unredeemed five cent deposit, but it’s the consumer who loses out.
As a proponent of recycling, I do my part by returning the empties. In the process, I get my money back. But that’s where the frustration comes in.
It’s time consuming to collect, store and return the empty containers. I have space in my garage to collect and store them, but it’s the returning part of the process that irritates me.
Many times, the redemption machines are being used by people with Santa Claus-like sacks of empties. When that’s not the case, the machines are usually full, or worse, out of order. I try to vary the times I use the machines, but invariably, I encounter people with large amounts of returns.
The aluminum can (I also get frustrated when I hear people refer to them as “tin” cans) redemption machines usually work properly, as long as the bar codes on the returns are clean and readable. The glass redemption machines work pretty well, too. It’s the plastic bottle machines that drive me up a wall. Because of the differing shapes of the plastic bottles, the machines sometimes have a difficult time reading the bar code, resulting in rejection of the product. This requires re-insertion, sometimes, over and over again. Funny how the scanners never have a problem reading the bar codes when you purchase the item.
So, rather than keep my frustration bottled up, I thought I’d write this little piece.
Many bottles and cans of beer, soda and water are sold individually at local delis or convenience stores, but these establishments aren’t equipped to handle returns. And the consumers who frequent these stores don’t want to carry the empties around all day, so they simply consider the extra nickel as a “tax” and toss the container in the trash. I’m not sure who gets the benefit of this unredeemed five cent deposit, but it’s the consumer who loses out.
As a proponent of recycling, I do my part by returning the empties. In the process, I get my money back. But that’s where the frustration comes in.
It’s time consuming to collect, store and return the empty containers. I have space in my garage to collect and store them, but it’s the returning part of the process that irritates me.
Many times, the redemption machines are being used by people with Santa Claus-like sacks of empties. When that’s not the case, the machines are usually full, or worse, out of order. I try to vary the times I use the machines, but invariably, I encounter people with large amounts of returns.
The aluminum can (I also get frustrated when I hear people refer to them as “tin” cans) redemption machines usually work properly, as long as the bar codes on the returns are clean and readable. The glass redemption machines work pretty well, too. It’s the plastic bottle machines that drive me up a wall. Because of the differing shapes of the plastic bottles, the machines sometimes have a difficult time reading the bar code, resulting in rejection of the product. This requires re-insertion, sometimes, over and over again. Funny how the scanners never have a problem reading the bar codes when you purchase the item.
So, rather than keep my frustration bottled up, I thought I’d write this little piece.
Checks and Balances
I have a tendency to save things. This is not good, as those things tend to accumulate and take up too much space. As I get older, I am discovering that the things I saved, are, for the most part, useless. Even to me.
A case in point: I have every check I ever wrote from the time I opened my first checking account until the banks stopped returning them with the monthly statements. In sorting through these canceled paper checks, in an effort to de-clutter, I was struck by the simplicity of my life in those early days of adulthood. I had a car, but not much else. Even after I got married, my wife and I lived in a one bedroom apartment for the first three years. We took trips and had everything we wanted. In a relatively clutter-free environment.
Then we bought a house, had children, and generally over-bought things. I began saving things that belonged not just to me, but to my whole family. Thus did my life of clutter begin.
Now, I feel the need to get back to the simple existence of my earlier days.
In looking through each year of canceled checks, I have come to realize that I need to keep only a few samples as mementos of my earlier life. A rent check in the amount of $195. A check to the US Mint showing how much I paid for proof coin sets, which, many years later, have a market value below what I paid for them. Some investment! A check to a grocery store for $9. Even a few for under a dollar!
Another reason for saving just a few samples of those old checks is to see how my signature has changed over the years. It has changed relatively little and is still legible when I sign today. I never understood those straight line signatures some people are fond of using. Are they too lazy to sign their full name, or does it take too much time?
So, in trying to come full circle and return to a simpler time in my life, I am systematically discarding all evidence of those complicated years between then and now.
Call it a system of checks and balances, if you will.
A case in point: I have every check I ever wrote from the time I opened my first checking account until the banks stopped returning them with the monthly statements. In sorting through these canceled paper checks, in an effort to de-clutter, I was struck by the simplicity of my life in those early days of adulthood. I had a car, but not much else. Even after I got married, my wife and I lived in a one bedroom apartment for the first three years. We took trips and had everything we wanted. In a relatively clutter-free environment.
Then we bought a house, had children, and generally over-bought things. I began saving things that belonged not just to me, but to my whole family. Thus did my life of clutter begin.
Now, I feel the need to get back to the simple existence of my earlier days.
In looking through each year of canceled checks, I have come to realize that I need to keep only a few samples as mementos of my earlier life. A rent check in the amount of $195. A check to the US Mint showing how much I paid for proof coin sets, which, many years later, have a market value below what I paid for them. Some investment! A check to a grocery store for $9. Even a few for under a dollar!
Another reason for saving just a few samples of those old checks is to see how my signature has changed over the years. It has changed relatively little and is still legible when I sign today. I never understood those straight line signatures some people are fond of using. Are they too lazy to sign their full name, or does it take too much time?
So, in trying to come full circle and return to a simpler time in my life, I am systematically discarding all evidence of those complicated years between then and now.
Call it a system of checks and balances, if you will.
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