Happy Memorial Day

The greeting, "Happy Memorial Day," always strikes me as ironic. I know it is intended to say "Enjoy the Holiday weekend," but it seems odd, like saying "Have a nice funeral."

Different people have different perceptions about the significance of Memorial day. To some people, it is just a holiday - a day when you get paid to stay home, drink beer and have some friends over for a cook-out. To many gardeners in northern climes, Memorial day is traditionally recognized as the day to safely plant delicate annuals such as tomato sets or other frost sensitive crops in the garden. Sun worshipers here in New England see Memorial Day as the first day of the beach season. People start heading for the Cape or other shore venues. To many coastal business people Memorial Day is thought of as the harbinger (if not the unofficial start ) of summer.

Sometimes we forget the original purpose of the day: to remember those who died in service to their country. It is hard to fathom the incredible sacrifice made by these human beings to advance a concept called liberty. Many of those who died never got to be heroes - they were killed on the beaches of Normandy before they even got a shot off, or, blasted by a roadside bomb in Iraq, or asleep in a barrack in Beirut. Still, we rightfully honor them all for going out into the world to fight "for their country."

Those of us who are lucky enough not to have our asses shot at, can opine and pontificate about the political reasons behind war, but as Cindy Sheehan has discovered, the world is a complicated place. The enemy of your enemy is not necessarily your friend. Disillusioned by the antiwar industrial complex, the self styled attention whore is abandoning the peace movement to try and get her life back. She declares that her son "died for nothing."

In contrast, I recently saw a documentary about life in the Palestinian territory. One man was asked if he would want his son to become a militant fighter. The video showed the kid who was was 4 years old, cute and happily playing kickball with his siblings. The dad said that he would be honored to have this boy - his son - become a martyr. It was shocking and sad to think that a father could be eager to make such a sacrifice.

There was a time when some of us actually thought that peace in the world was possible. I seem to recall having that feeling very briefly when the Soviet Union collapsed. Then we discovered that the positive effect of totalitarianism was that it suppressed civil/ethnic squabbles. Without the harsh rule of an invading empire, tribes and villages will resume fighting with each other.

In one sense the kids who died in wars did not die in vain. Collectively, through their sacrifice, they probably helped to preserve a "peaceful" way of life for the rest of us - so we could go about our lives, getting and spending, having cook-outs, with uninterrupted TV programming and texting on our blackberries. We need to thank them because we are not living in dirt floor huts with government loudspeakers on every corner.

Yesterday was the commercial day-off from the workaday world. Tomorrow is the traditional observance of Memorial Day.

A day for each of us to ask ourselves "Are we willing sacrifice our lives (or those of our children) to keep religious nuts from killing each other?" Would we not be better off to just let them fight?

You can do it; we can help.

In today's news, Home Depot reports a 30% decline in first quarter 2007 profits. The recently appointed CEO attributes the loss to a softened housing market. He also blames the weather (?).
As a recent customer of Home Depot, I can tell you what the problem is: They suck.

My ongoing experience with HD has been deteriorating over the years. Gone are the knowledgeable and helpful folks with the orange aprons who seemed to enjoy their work and were glad to see you. Now the employees are sparse and seem to avoid eye contact so they can escape your enquiring mind.

I suppose I should be going to the new Lowes, but it is another mile down the road.

The customer service desk is a joke. Some of the people don't even speak well the language. They constantly mispronounce your name. It takes several phone calls to transact the most basic business, and they clearly do not know what is going on.

The longest lines are not at checkout but at the returns desk.

This is a classic case where the new CEO should go "walking around." He should ask his aunt to go in and try to buy window blinds or a rug. His aunt will most certainly report that it is a harrowing experience - one that she WILL NOT WANT TO REPEAT.

The stores are chaotic; the seasonal or special display areas are overstocked and difficult to navigate with a carriage. Employees are uncertain and in short supply. The plant stock is tired looking. (We bought some indoor ornamentals last year. Great price. Shortly after we got them home, they began to show delayed signs of poor care. Today one is dead and the other still looks stunted. So, despite the great price what are the odds that we will buy more plants at HD? )

Their inventory situation is strange. Several times recently I could not get to the item I was interested in because either there was stuff piled in the way, or the gate to the aisle was closed.
A few weeks ago, I was looking for lime. There was a pallet full of bags o' lime on the second shelf but none that you could reach. I could not find anyone to help and even after i got someone in another dept to page a garden shop employee, no one showed up and I left the store without buying anything.

Undaunted, I bought a new propane grille the other day. The price was excellent and they offered to assemble the unit for no additional charge. The HD guy who I spoke to wrote the SKU on a piece of paper and told me to order it at the service desk, which I did after waiting for my turn in a well populated line. Although I asked several times, no one could tell me when to pick up the assembled grille. When I got home I noticed that there was a ready-by date on the order form (which incidentally must have been designed by and for chimpanzees). After a few days I called the desk to see if my grille was done. She could not say but would call me right back. 4 hours later, I received a voice message on the home phone from the HD service desk. The woman's accent was so thick that I could not understand the message, but I assumed it was to tell me that the grille was ready. (yo gree e eey fo u peeuh)

When I arrived at the store, it took half an hour to find the assembled grille. The service desk did not know where they kept the assembled grilles. Finally someone came out pushing a grille with my name on it. But he was not able to help put it in my van. Finally we wrangled a few guys to help me put the grille in my Caravan.

During the time I was waiting in line, I gathered from my fellow customers that they too were harboring strong feelings of dis-satisfaction. When I mentioned that they did not seem to know what they were doing, one guy agreed. "It takes two trips to get anything done right - and three phone calls."

So next time I think I need some hardware items, I'm thinking that maybe Lowes isn't so far after all.

Wrongful Diagnosis

In the news the other day was an item about a man in UK named John Brandrick, 62, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago and told that he would probably die within a year. He decided to live out the rest of his short life in style. He sold most of his stuff and used the money to travel, staying in luxury hotels and generally living well.

When he failed to succumb on schedule, he was forced to confront the moment that all senior citizens dread, the real possibility that we will outlive our resources. Mr. Brandrick was simultaneously annoyed, perplexed, frustrated and delighted to be around to tell about it. It turns out, upon re-examination that he does not have the fatal illness, rather pancreatitis, a painful but non-fatal condition.

Now he is suing his doctors and the hospital for wrongful diagnosis because he spent all his money, has no home and (quixotically) no clothes. Most of us probably admire this guy for resolving to face-up to Death and spitting the grim reaper in the eye, going out in a blaze of glory. At the same time we see him as a pitiful loser who will not take responsibility for his own impulsive actions.


This story embodies the deeply ingrained philosophical contradictions of our times – especially for those of us on the back nine*.

Self-help authors encourage us to “Live as though you might die tomorrow; learn as though you will live forever.” They say we should take risks with our pleasures, but we must be patient to let wisdom arrive in the fullness of time.

It is said that the sign of intelligence is the ability to hold two contradictory thoughts in the mind at the same time. Like my mother often advised, “Have fun but be careful.” I think that studies** may eventually show that the constant presence of these opposing ideas in the cerebral cortex may cause us to be operationally bi-polar.

So, maybe we sometimes do crazy things on impulse and the regret them later on. Well, you’ll excuse me, I am going downtown to get a fire-breathing dragon tattooed across my back.


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*Pardon the golfing metaphor, but it was either this or “…treading down the dark road to dusty death…” I think you’ll agree that the back nine flows better.

**As far as I know there is no formal study examining the psychological effects of ambiguous warnings, yet. But someone should be looking into it.

Outrageous Acts

My favorite part of the newspaper is usually the letters to the editor section. It is said that for every reader who actually takes the time to write down their thoughts, there are thousands more thinking the same thing. So, taking into account the editorial skewing in the selection of opinions, the Letters give a hint as to what actual readers are thinking about.

In today's Globe, I notice several letters to the editor decrying what the writers thought was benevolent handling in the reporting of the story of the MIT dean who was forced to resign over embellishments to her resume. The letter writers wanted to see the perp made to walk the plank with hands handcuffed behind her; then hanged and dragged around the city square. After all, she had violated a sacred trust.
Now, all of the MIT students who were admitted during her tenure have a cloud over their heads. How could someone so unqualified be relied upon to uphold the high standards of MIT's exclusionary admissions policy?

For the record, I need to confess to a bit of fabrication on my own resume. I got my degree (BA in LA) from a good but not elite school. About ten years ago, I started changing the designation of my Major to Journalism on my resume, because I thought it sounded more practical than English Literature. Would those who pompously refer to the document as Curriculum Vitae call this Fraud?

Lying on an employment application form is fraud, and punishable according to stated policies. Creative editing of one's personal advertisement (Resume) might fall into the category of Marketing Bullshit rather than criminal misdemeaner.

I believe the outrage over the crime of resume-fudging seems a bit misplaced. Perhaps some of it ought to have been better directed at the war in Iraq, tainted pet food, or even global warming. But who am I to question the motives of others? (My last letter to the editor was about unleashed dogs and the challenge of avoiding their ubiquitous poop on the sidewalks where I take my daily -weather permitting - stroll.)