The Final Click for Inventor of TV Remote

Eugene Polley, the guy who invented the TV remote passed away yesterday.  He was 96.


I have mixed feelings in considering Mr. Polley's legacy.  On one hand, his invention (in 1955) revolutionized TV watching - because it allowed a viewer to switch  the TV on or off, control the sound, channel and as the first ads for the device promised the ability to "...shut off annoying commercials while the picture remains on the screen.”   All with the convenience of not having to get out of your chair.  
On the other hand, perhaps we should  blame him for a generation of obese couch potatoes, not to mention the fact that the remote enables us to click distractedly, instead of concentrating on a single program. 


I don't recall having a TV remote in our house, growing-up.   I remember having to get up to tune the sound or turning the channel (chunk, chunk, chunk).  In those days it didn't seem like so much of a hassle anyhow; there were only 3 stations,  and there were long stretches of time when the only thing broadcasted was something called "Test Pattern."  In those days every house had an antenna strapped to the chimney.  As kids we often went outside to play (unlike modern children whose only exposure to light is the radiated glow from their electronic game devices). 


As more programming was added and more channels came online, especially with the evolution of cable, the need for remote control was pressing, even to those of us who were late-adopters of technology.  With more than 100 channels, you had to click vociferously to find a program worth watching, so the remote became an invaluable staple of living rooms and dens.  Now the average TV  room has at least three remotes:  One for the TV, One for the cable box, and one for the DVD. All efforts to develop a "Universal" device have failed.  So we are stuck with multiple remotes.

So, although Mr Polley's idea for the TV remote has resulted in many of us being fat and unable to concentrate,  you gotta love the brilliant concept of the  mute button.

UnFair & Unbalanced

You probably have read/heard about the latest flap about Obama's birthplace.

I know I have promised not to get political, but I think the national debate has actually gone beyond politics into a worthy discussion of ethics, rhetoric, psychology  and fact.  

It is interesting that many anti Obama pundits will quickly deny that they believe the story, but are just as quick to pass it on, slathered with heavy gobs of innuendo.  Of course, this is like tossing red-meat to keep the mindless rabble aroused, and out for blood.  If you read the comments you will see that there are a lot of folks out there who do not like Obama and eager to join the attack.

Despite the fact that the author of the biographical blurb has admitted that it was her error, the fact that it was repeated over several years and venues, would suggest that Obama was doing nothing to correct the error.  In other words, it appears like he was cashing-in on the claim that he was born in Africa, until he realized that this would be a problem for a guy with presidential ambitions. Critics, like loudmouth radio host Michael Graham are referring to this as his "Elizabeth Warren moment".   Graham also had an amusing week of calls when it was  revealed (apparently someone actually read the Obama autobiography) that as a youth, the future president had eaten roasted dog meat. (Not to be confused with dog food - which used to be horse meat).

On the other side, Romney critics keep trying to dredge-up mud about his past.  The decades-old story of the dog in a cage on the roof of the car has been flogged mercilessly in liberal blogs and op-ed pieces.  More recently the story is about a bullying incident from prep school where the victim (suspected of being gay) was held down while Romney shaved his head.

The most interesting thing about these issues is that they really have little  to do with a candidate's qualifications as a leader or representative at this moment.   Most voters have already made up their minds anyhow, and reports of past sins by their candidate are dismissed as  faux pas (like Professor Warren's hoary claim to minority status) will not change anyone's mind - or vote. (That is, unless someone comes up with an official Kenyan birth certificate.)   It seems that the issue of "character" is an elusive concept, which seems important when your opponent seems to lack it.

 Does the word "minority" mean anything anymore? On May 17th the Globe and WSJ reported that the 50.4% of babies under 1 year are nonwhite.  And the median age for white Americans is over 50, (beyond childbearing), whereas other groups (Asian, Blacks,Hispanics) is young 30's.  Thus the tipping point has been reached where it is only a matter of time before white Americans are the minority.

They even report that 4 states (Hawaii, New Mexico, California and Texas) plus Wash DC are already  "majority minority" states.  Which to me sounds like an oxymoron.

As a fat,old, white guy I have already felt the sting of discrimination. Pretty young girls don't even look at me anymore, no one wants to hire me, Howie Carr wants to take my driver's license away...  My Doctor keeps checking my prostate,  friends and relatives send me articles about losing weight,  the mailbox is full of flyers for "senior" housing.  Where do I sign-up for reparations?

Prime time TV Viewing Down, Mystery Solved.

NYT reports that Prime time TV viewing has decreased.  This is not the normal transfer of viewers from traditional networks to cable, this is across the board.  The reported hand-wringing of the network execs because low numbers means lower ad revenues.

"Though there seems to be no one reason for the decline, many executives say they are concerned that long-term changes in watching habits are taking a significant toll on viewership."

No one commented on the obvious cause:  There are virtually no good shows. And, too many commercials

Reality shows - low budget shows about fishermen, lumberjacks, celebrity cops, housewives, and motorcycle shops have become tedious knock-offs of a standard script that contains high levels of bleeped-out language, phony conflicts, and zero pathos.  We don't care about these players.  They lack heroism; they are just angry people yelling at each other.   These hoked-up dramas are empty calorie fast food, that leaves the viewer bloated with unresolved angst and a brooding guilt for wasting valuable time.

Sporting events are marred by the unceasing yak-fest of announcers who are in love with their own voices, and the forced break in the action to get in pre-arranged commercial messages.  These forces are enough to get me channel surfing between innings, periods, and time-outs.

 I almost never watch prime time TV,  where you can be assaulted by as many as ten separate commercial messages between segments..   It is a huge waste of time.  I can record the few shows that I like with the DVR and watch them at my leisure.  By fast forwarding (I use the jump button that skips ten second intervals) I can watch most 1 hour shows in 38 minutes, or less.  

If there are a lot of commercial-averse people like me, who are not being counted by the network execs, it is no wonder that the trend line of the apparent viewers is going down.

The one show that I do watch in real prime time is Masterpiece Theater on PBS on Sunday night .  Most of these presentations are produced in UK.  These shows are uniformly well-done.  I suppose that makes me a snob.  So Be it.

It should be noted:  PBS formerly boasted that they were commercial free, but greed and money dictate everything, don't you know, so we have seen an encroachment of  low-key 20 second ads where they used to run a list of sponsors.  At least they do not (yet) break-up the presentations into segments punctuated by automobile or Viagra ads.

Stay tuned.

Obesity is the new Tobacco

An opinion piece this week  in the Boston Globe by Derrick Jackson  quotes a prediction that by the year 2030, 4 out of 10 Americans will be obese (i.e., more than 100 pounds) over their suggested shelf weight.

I hate to brag, but once again I am ahead of the curve.  They say that bragging, like eating, is addictive because it makes you feel good.  Apparently, talking about one's self excites the pleasure center of the brain.  I suppose this is why blogs and social network apps like Facebook are so popular.  

My doctor thinks people should try to maintain the same weight they had when they were age 21.  Sure, doc, I'll just stop eating bacon and drinking beer, and start getting more exercise, ha ha ha.

Just thinking about deprivation makes me hungry.

Another Reason to Turn Off the TV

Here is a statistic that every high school kid should know: The unemployment rate for College Graduates is running about 4%.

Neil Shah, blogger at WSJ wrote:

"American adults who hold college degrees are finding it easier to get jobs. The unemployment rate for those 25 years old and over who have at least a bachelor’s degree dropped to 4% in April from 4.2% in the prior month and 4.5% in April 2011. That is roughly half the overall U.S. jobless rate, which declined to 8.1% last month from 8.2% in March.

I was not a math wizard in college, but it seems valid to say that without a degree you are twice as likely to be unemployed.

100 foods

One of the popular diversions spawned on the Internet is a list of 100 foods, apparently selected at random by some bored journalist(s).  For some reason, people find it entertaining to check-off the foods that they have tasted and send the list to their "friends".    I guess the idea is to impress your friends that you are adventurous enough to actually eat boiled snake eyeballs, or tongue of newt.

Photo courtesy
www.edibleblog.com

Now, at the risk of being thought of as a total grump, this seems to me a bit silly. Juvenile, even.   It was  interesting when evil Watergate plotter G. Gordon Liddy admitted in an interview that as a youth, he once killed, roasted and ate a rat, because he thought it would make him fearless.  And, as mentioned in his  autobiography, a young Barack Obama, then living in Indonesia was introduced to eating dog, snake and insects (which he recalled as crunchy)  This is interesting stuff.

  But, mere lists of foods checked-off do not give the reader any information about your character or motives.  Who gives a rat's patooty that you have eaten Twinkies?

The rest of us are only interested in the story behind the meal?  We want the tasty details of setting, the personalities of your server, chef, host.  There should be an element of danger or passion or mystery associated with the dining experience for it to be worthy of sharing the disclosure with friends - even FBF's.

Cricket Salad

So do not present me with boasting lists that you have tried 60 of the hundred items.  Tell me about the most fabulous meal or the worst thing you have tasted and why you did it.

On a List of "America's Most Adventurous Eaters"  my name would be way, way down near the bottom - and in small print.  I have no exotic stories to report, except maybe  the time on that camping trip with Dick Cheney where the guide was shot and killed --  accidentally of course --  and the rest of us cooked and ate him.  You can't make stuff like that up.

Fenway at 100

Big deal: Fenway Park is 100 years old today.  The media folks are glad to have something to seize on that will fill time and space and also utilize old grainy footage of Babe Ruth and Ted Williams.  So pardon me for jumping on the bandwagon.  

Since you ask, yes I have a lot of memories of Fenway growing-up as a kid from Watertown.  Dad took us to games, and I loved the hot dogs and peanuts, watching the greats like Ted Williams and Jimmy Pearsol.  We also collected and traded baseball cards which always retained the smell of the sheet of Fleer's bubble gum that came in the same packet. I once lost a rare Ted Williams in a flipping contest when my brother's Dell Crandall (then catcher for the Boston Braves got a "leaner" that beat my "incher" toss.

When I was 14 my buddy Dave Randall and I got our first jobs, working at Fenway Park.  We were hired by the company that cleaned-up after the games.  I think the pay was 85 cents and hour.  Our first (and , as it turned out - only) workday was a night game. After much debate, our mothers decided to allow us to go into Boston on the streetcar.  We got into the park during the 8th inning and watched the game.  Then we spent about 6 hours as part of the crew sweeping the stands.  (I learned some valuable sweeping skills that night which have served me well all my life.)  We didn't get through working until after 2am, and did not get home until the early hours of the morning.  That was 56 years ago and I think the MBTA stopped running after 1AM in those days.  Maybe we walked home; maybe we hitchhiked back to Watertown.  Needless to say our mothers had waited up for us, and were not happy.  We were forced to resign after only 1 evening of work.

I have not actually attended a game at Fenway in about 20 years. I have long since been priced-out of actually buying tickets to baseball games. ( It's not that I can't afford a ticket, its that I don't think it is worth the price to watch a bunch of overpaid baseball workers pretend to be "playing" a game.)

The last time I went to a game - my friend George had an extra ticket - we sat in the stands along the right field line.  I think they were playing the Orioles.  It was one of those typical boring games where nothing was happening, so the crowd was getting antsy.  Some fans in the bleachers started the wave.  Some broke out beach balls.   One gal sitting a few rows behind us had recently had an operation to enlarge her breasts.  She started to flash them whenever she thought the camera might be pointed in our direction.  As one of her friends explained,  "She's mighty proud of those $800 puppies."  I was not sure whether it was $800 each or for the set.  They were indeed attractive, if you like that sort of thing.
Pretty soon, many of the fans in our vicinity had taken up the chant "Show us your tits."   She obliged them several times, to cheers and whistles.  I couldn't help feeling bad for a dad who was not shouting and whistling who was sitting with his son who looked to be about 7 or 8.  They were trying to watch the game.  And I thought to myself, this is not the place to bring a kid.

Now, when I watch the games on HD TV, I relax in my comfy chair, sipping inexpensive beer, eating freshly cooked food, and if I need to take a bio break, I just hit the pause button, and never risk missing one of those rare, exciting moments in the game.  Usually, I click away during one of the incessant pitching changes, and forget about the game.  Or I doze off into a peaceful slumber.  And did I mention that the parking in my driveway is free?

Rhetorical Confirmation

I was gratified yesterday when I read in the morning Globe that the pope is still Catholic
("On his 85th, pope reaffirms his faith")  Gratifying, because I can confidently keep this rhetorical question in my arsenal of  standard responses to the bartender when asked, "Would you like another beer?"

Unfortunately, I was unable to find any reportage that could confirm my strongly-held belief that wild bears do indeed defecate in the woods.

Litter Marketing

A few days ago,  I was backing out of my driveway when I noticed a bright yellow piece of paper taped to my front screen door.  It was raining heavily, but  I stopped, got out of the car and splashed through a few puddles in the walk to retrieve what surely must have been an important communication.

Not so.  It was a flyer from a painting company.  "TIME TO PAINT YOUR HOUSE?" it wondered in bold 36 point Times Roman font.   Needless to say, it annoyed me to have been trespassed upon and judged in this manner.  OK, so my house could use a touch-up here and there, but I found it offensive just the same.   I looked up and down the street to see if others had been similarly insulted.  It was clear that the flyers were only left at the houses which the leafleter had deemed in need of a fresh coat.

Earlier this spring there are a couple of landscape entrepreneurs who drove around town throwing baggies full of stones into people's driveways.  Inside the baggie is an ad for their oriental gardening service. 

When did it become legitimate for stranger to drive down your street and tape things to your doors, or toss things in your driveway?  I guess it's just an extension of sticking flyers under your windshield wipers in the parking lot at the mall or super market.  I may be cranky, but I have always regarded these pieces of unwanted paper as, well, litter.

Generally, personal solicitations - whether they be at my door or on the phone – are met un-disguised hostility.  You can imagine how I feel about those who have the temerity to littler my driveway and doorways with marketing material.

If that isn't the definition of Spam, then what is?

I have a suggestion for the Selectman - stop trying to raise our taxes and make litter marketing a fine-able offense.  Lots of money can be levied in penalties, and the culprits leave their phone numbers as evidence.

I'm sure the culprits who littered my neighborhood feel that this is just a legal way for them to get their message out cheaply.   But it is an invasion of my space.   If I am on vacation, no one picks up the litter - If I was a crook, I would just cruise around looking for homes where no one had picked up the paper or phone book.  Not long ago some bright marketing genius decided to deliver a promotional copy of the New York Times to every home as a tease to show non customers the benefits of home delivery.  Three days later the papers were still sitting in the driveways of people who were away.  They might as well have put out a sign that said Nobody is home - Break in here!

I have spent a lot of money this year, but not one penny went to any business that left unsolicited marketing taped to my door or shoved under my wipers or tossed in my driveway by drive-by salespeople.

No Youngsters Need Apply

Today in the Boston Globe there was a nice article about a Needham MA company that welcomes and retains older workers instead of sending them out to pasture.  Yes I thought it was a belated April fools prank too, but it is legitimate.  The company is called Vita-Needle.  There are 49 employees. the median age is 73. 


The piece, written by Katie Johnson was encouraging for those of us who are "old, retired and restless":

"Now many other companies are learning what Hartman and Vita Needle have long known: A white-haired workforce can be hard-working, dependable, experienced - and economical. Nationally, the over-65 workforce is projected to grow 64 percent, to 12 million, by 2020, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics; by then, 7.4 percent of the workforce will be over age 65 - more than double what it was in 2000.
The notion of employing more older workers is growing in popularity, according to a 2011 study by the Economist Intelligence Unit, a business analysis company. It found a majority of corporate executives see the increased longevity of workers more as a business opportunity than a liability.
And companies are learning to make accommodations that assure success. In a 2007 pilot project, for example, auto company BMW equipped older workers in a German plant with magnifying glasses and chairs, and made other small adjustments - and found decreased absenteeism and increased productivity.
At Vita Needle, employing older workers is viewed as a significant cost-saver. Most members of the 49-person workforce are part time, with starting pay a few dollars above minimum wage, with no health insurance, sick pay, or retirement benefits. It works because most of the older workers are covered by Medicare and draw income from Social Security.
Hartman also gives out companywide bonuses at the end of the year, sometimes equal to a few months’ pay."

Wouldn't it be nice if there were more companies out there that valued the experience and cost benefits of employing seniors?  Some of us would prefer a nap break to a coffee break, but we show-up, we git r done, and we don't ask for benefits.  Send offers to my email address above. 




http://articles.boston.com/2012-03-31/business/31281861_1_older-workers-needles-workforce

Future Games

I do not approve of the premise of the popular "Hunger Games" stories.  Pitting teenagers against each other for the entertainment of the masses is just wrong.  I know what you're thinking:  Hey we do it all the time, it's called high school sports.  Yes, but we don't force them to actually kill the opposition.

I have long been an advocate of getting old people to do government-sponsored  fighting.  It just makes sense to stop wasting young innocent lives and instead get really angry old guys to do the fighting with each other.  Geezer Games might be a popular sport.

In his novel "Twenty Thirty"  Albert Brooks envisions a society nearly 20 years in the future, where killer diseases such as Cancer and Alzheimer's have been eradicated by cures discovered  circa 2014.  The population of octogenarians has grown well beyond predicted lifespans.  The burden of medicare and social security  to support the new cadre of un-dead has bankrupted the government.  Young people are forced to enter virtual indentured servitude to support aging parents. Generational conflicts inevitably evolve into open warfare between the old and young.

Both Brooks' pre-apocalyptic vision and the world where Hunger Games exist seem all too possible as our national leaders in both parties are stuck on short-term selfish concerns.  It seems inevitable that the legacy we are leaving to our grandchildren is a polluted, over-heated planet, ruined economies, and the real specter of endless global conflict as a population control measure.  

One of the recent reality shows (National Geographic) features "Doomsday Preppers."  Folks who call themselves "Preppers" range from citizens who believe in being stocked with emergency supplies in the event of a local, short-term disaster, such as weather or other act of God, to those who are actually preparing for Armageddon or polar shifts or pandemics.  Preppers are a subculture whose fears and plans have created a whole specialized market, blogs and newsletters.  

As a fan of science fiction I have read numerous accounts of the post-apocalyptic future.  None of them seems worth the effort of preparation to me.  If I have the choice of a future, I think I would rather fight another geezer to the death for sport than to hide out in a  bomb shelter with no TV or cold beer.  

What's in your Bucket?

 My grandson, Dennis (who caught a 14" bass  his first time out), likes to go fishing with grandpa.
The other day, on our way home, empty-handed, from (shark) fishing, I took him to the local seafood store to see all the varieties of fish in the case. I bought some red snapper for dinner. He asked for a piece, which he took home.  My daughter says he insisted on cooking it himself. When I asked him how he liked red snapper he said, "It was good; I like the skin!"

He is going to be a fine fisherman some day, especially as his attention span improves. My previous experience fishing with kids is that at age 7-8 they are good for 1/2 hour of casting and reeling, then become more keenly interested in throwing rocks in the water, scaring away any hookable fish that might have been lurking nearby.  It takes a lot of sitting and waiting quietly to become a real fisherman.


---

On somewhat parallel thread, last Tuesday, I was sitting at my regular corner stool at Dunn-Gaherins -- my favorite local Irish pub -- when a party of folks came in. 4 young people and one older guy. From the conversation, I could tell that it was the old guy's birthday. I offered to move down a few seats so they could all sit together and talk, whereupon they bought me a beer. (Sometimes a good deed can be rewarded). The old guy sat next to me and told me that it was his birthday. "How old are you?" I asked.

"Eight-four," he said stirring his martini. (He had asked them serve it in a bourbon glass, because his hand shakes and he didn't want to spill any). "These are my grandchildren," he nodded to the young folks who were smiling and giving him their full attention.

This gave me a new item to add to my bucket list: "Celebrate 84th birthday at a bar with grandkids."

Update 3-25 One of my math wizard friends has reminded me that Lila will only be 18 when I am 84.  I may have to ammend the bucket age to 87.  Scary. 

Disturbing News

One of the disturbing stories in the news lately is about the American G.I. who is accused of shooting 16 unarmed civilians in Afghanistan.    There is no excuse for such a killing spree, yet the blame must be shared by the US military brass whose policies forced a soldier who had already done 3 tours in Iraq to serve yet another tour in another war zone, against his wishes.  Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.  I hope an inquiry reveals the machinations of such decisions,  and the guilty higher-ups are identified.  Other recent instances of breakdowns in protocols -- for the treatment of remains of dead soldiers, disposal of religious materials, and handling of classified material --all lead to the conclusion that no one is minding the store.

Also disturbing is the pattern of abuse and insensitivity by the military-political establishment to veterans who have served and sacrificed for their country.   The media is rife with stories of rising suicide rates, violence and PTSD behavior by returning GI's.  Not to mention the way the military bureacracy ignores the needs of military families, who are also enduring the sacrifice of their soldiers.

Author Steven Moore writes:

" Other veterans’ services also lag far behind what they should be. Families of service men and women overseas have few if any support systems and returning veterans’ families don’t either. Service families are often faced with eviction or foreclosure from rental or mortgaged properties. Veterans make up the largest percentage of the homeless. We can cheer our military overseas at a Super Bowl—we can also forget all about them when they come home. Many disillusioned with their inability to reintegrate into American society re-enlist, often exacerbating their problems when they return once again."

The bureacracy allows policy makers and armchair generals to hide from their deadly decisions to send young men off to war.  The persistent problem since the beginning of modern warfare is that after the conflict, no one cares about the warriors.  We are happy to have them kill and die in foreign lands to preserve the status quo at home.  But we often feel ambivalent - perhaps it is because we don't want men capable of such violence among us. 

I don't like war.  I think it as a terrible thing for political forces to force young men who really have no beef with each other to go off to foreign soil to shoot at total strangers, just to satisfy the egoes of failed diplomats.  It's one thing to be defending one's own borders, but quite another to defend the supposed rights of all oppressed peoples in the galaxy.  I don't agree with the concept of preserving American liberty by trying to convert theocracies into democracies.  

Yes, I know it gets more complicated than that, but I do not understand why we have not learned the lessons of history.  We all know the fundamental truth of the age old observation "That which you take by force, you must keep by force."  Not understanding this simple dictum  was the downfall of the Roman Empire and it will probably be the draining force that eventually brings the US to its economic knees. 

The very least we can do for the patriots who serve, risking limb and life, is to treat them well when they return.  The Pols and Commanders need to be more accountable for their decisions and mistakes.

The Joy and Dread of Travel

They say that travel broadens one's perspective.  I think this is literally true, because it forces one to see and experience life outside of one's home village.

 Traveling always reminds me that my world is a very small piece of the universe.  As you fly over (or drive by) village after town, over hill and dale, your appreciation for the diversity and  extensiveness of human civilization is magnified. 

As we get older, we try fight the forces that tend to diminish our world.  It is a losing batttle: our increasing aches and pains attenuate the number of paths  we can explore,  and we strive to challenge our brains to stave off the fog of forgetfulness and worse -- the loss of desire.    At a certain point in life, we start to weigh the expected payback from adventure, we reflect on past experience, and often we conclude that many things we thought were exciting or pleasureable are just not worth the effort anymore. 

I am critical of nearly every aspect of air travel. It costs too much.  The tack-on fees for checking a bag or sitting in a comfortable seat are outrageious.   I dislike lines, I abhor being forced to sit for hours in a seat that is too small, I hate waiting, I loathe  airport food, and then there is the subtle but constant danger of imminent death.  The boarding process is still an mixture of  in colonial apartheid and goat rodeo.  Instead of sensibly boarding passenders from rear to front, they seat first class passengers first, then frequent flyers, moms with small kids, invalids, and when there are no more special categories they finally allow able-bodied, poor folks to enter the clogged passageway so they can stand and wait while all the others find their seats and stuff their carry-ons into overhead bins. 

The whole flawed process takes ten times longer than necessary.  I would feel even more annoyed if I were one of the privileged First Class passengers who has paid 5 times more than any of the rabble for the privilege of sitting in a comfortable chair and have drinks served to me in a real glass tumbler.
I would hate having to sit there and watch the unwashed standing over me bumping my elbow with their reticules and luggage waiting for others to get settled.

Other people who regard me as just another ranting, grumpy malcontent say that the slings and arrows of air travel are "the price we must pay to get from here to there, suck-it-up, you sniviling whiner."  To them I say, nonsense!   There is no legitimate reason that a person should suffer the indignities of modern aviation.
Wake me up when they invent the beamer (as in "Beam me to Albuqurque, Scottie.")

Having said that, I still have fun when I am in the new place.  The adventure of looking for a good place to have breakfast, or the enjoyment of the land and its variations, meeting new people, seeing where history occurred or just gawking at the art -- these are the joys of travel.

A poignant moment occurred yesterday in the Albuquerque airport, as we waited for our (re-scheduled) flight to DFW.   A group of about 20 civilians were lining-up in two columns, each holding a flag or banner, like the way a band forms on a football field to cheer on the team as they emerge from the tunnel.  When I asked one of the participants what was going on, he told me that it was a welcome home for a local soldier who was returning from war duty.  (He didn't know where the GI had been stationed).  As we sat and watched, the group grew.  More people came to stand and greet, several uniformed military were among them.   By the time the solder arrived, the group had swelled to around 40.  Finally, a round of applause broke out and the soldier - a tall black man - and his family 3 small kids and mother emerged, surprised but smiling.  They walked the "gauntlet" of greeters, shaking hands and sometimes embracing.  The kids' expressions were priceless, amazed that all these people (a diverse group of mostly white and brown skins) wanted to shake their dad's hand saying sincerely  "Thanks for your service." 
We onlookers were compelled to rise and applaud, as well, wiping our misty eyes, feeling proud of our countrymen.




  

Since When is Schoolyard Fighting a Crime?

In Lynn, Mass., 29 teens have been suspended because of a fight a few days ago, where no weapons were involved, and neither of the female combatants was seriously injured. One of the girls had allegedly called the other one a "whore".

Someone had the bright idea to videotape the after-school affair, and post it on Facebook.   Authorities got involved.  Now, the the combatants may be facing criminal charges, and the onlookers are punished with suspensions because they did not step-in to stop the fighting. Huh?  I always thought the famous  Seinfeld episode -where the callow friends were tried for not interfering with a carjacking-- was based on fictitious legal grounds..

I did not realize that two kids (minors) duking-it-out in a fair fight was a criminal offense. This is the way the world has worked since schoolyards were invented. It is the natural way for most living creatures to resolve conflicts of turf, romance and dignity. Yes, someone always gets hurt, maybe even bloodied. Someone wins and someone loses. And often, the former enemies - who have gained respect for each other in combat - become bonded friends. The use of weapons is not acceptable of course, but 1 on 1 fighting with fists of evenly matched opponents rarely results in serious harm.

In today's bubble-boy mentality, even the spectators are considered guilty. What about people who attend boxing matches, wrestling, hockey games? Are we obligated to run out on the ice and break up any altercations lest someone get a bloody nose?
I fear that we are becoming a nation of wusses - in a world where there are some pretty tough players. The horror which should be reserved for gun-toting shooters seems to be directed at the Lynn kids who were doing what kids do: working through an unsettling rite of passage.

Fun With Photoshop

 This was school vacation week, and I was scheduled to spend the day with my 7 yr old grandson, who is at that awkward age - too old for day care and too young to be trusted home alone.  Everyone else had work to do and I had no valid excuse, so I agreed to spend the day with little D. 

The forecast on Wednesday was unseasonably warm for February in Metrowest Boston, so it was agreed that we would go down to the Charles River for an early season fishing opportunity.   Little D was excited. no doubt remembering his amazing success at the pond last summer when he caught several good sized 2-3lb largemouth bass.  He claims to have caught 4 but I only remember 2 so I am sure he is on the road  to become a typical fisherman, most of whom exaggerate their experiences.

I got the camera out and yelled "Pretend you have cought something."
He mugged with the appropriate expression.
I posted the photo on facebook, so his working parents could see that we had gone fishing as planned

Within an hour,  his dad,  reposted the picture with a small addtion from photoshop gallery:

Pretty funny.

Thud!

I have been writing on Blogger since 2003, and it has always mystified me that Blogger/Google has provided storage space free to any moron who can figure out how to post text.  The service does not require the author to make the blog public or to include advertising.  So why do they do it?

For years,  I've been wondering when the next shoe would drop.  Yesterday, I got a message that Blogger "no longer supports [my] browser," which happens to be Microsoft's Internet Explorer.  Hmm.

Somewhere, I heard the thud of a size 12 brogan hitting the floor.

The message suggested that I start using the Google (Blogger's parent) Chrome browser.  And sure enough, I had problems accessing the editing features for blogger posts until I caved-in and downloaded Chrome.

I fear we will be seeing more of this sort of extortion in the future, as the competition between Google and Microsoft becomes more intense and forces users to "choose a side."  This competition may keep the act of blogging to remain free for a while longer, but eventually someone has to pay....

I recall the early years, when Cable providers assured the public that "Pay TV" would be commercial free.  How's that working-out?  Most  cable and "free" TV today is unwatchable - unless you have a DVR and can skip through the commercial breaks.    Even "commercial-free" PBS is loaded with sponsored blurbs - which thankfully are run between shows and not in the middle of them.

I find it unsettling that most futuristic visions from Hollywood and in print literature portray a tomorrow that is either post-apocalyptic ( e.g., "The Road",  "Book of Eli")  or a society dominated by commercial advertising ( e.g. "Idiocracy", "I Robot").    

Don't forget to click on the ad that appears just below this post.  I make money when people click on my ads.
Daddy always said: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Sponsored Interruptions

Don't we all hate pop-up ads?

By their very nature, they are intrusive, annoying and ineffective as a means to get my interest.
The underlying intention of a pop-up ad is to interrupt whatever you are doing to make you read a not-so-subtle marketing message.  If you invoke the option to disable pop-up ads it also prevents you from getting information you might have thought you wanted when you clicked on a link.

Most odious of all are those ads that spawn when your cursor rolls over a word on the screen. Seldom does the window contain any relevant information.  Usually it is a sales pitch for teeth whitener or penis enhancement.

Now it is probably true that many men could use some penis enhancement, but no sane person is going to order it from some unknown source on the Internet.  Next thing you know, all your twitter and facebook "friends" will get a message: "(yourname) likes Pump-It-Up gel!"

My point here is that online marketing has spun out of control.  It defies logic to assume that you can create a sense of trust when you sneak your message into the sight line of your targets, and the annoyance factor drowns out any pitch that might create a sense of need in the mind of the consumer. 

No one seems to be listening to the universal groan of users when they are assailed by these flashing, jiggling, pop-ups with no x in the corner so you can close the window.

Then there is the devious method employed by the Globe.com and dictionary. com for example.  When you go to their landing page, you get a hidden set of cookies install ed on your machine without your permission to tack your Internet use and you get at least one ad opened as a separate window surreptitiously placed on the bottom status bar. 

Small minds will reply that these trivial annoyances allow the vast information on the Internet to be delivered free to your browser.  Some one has to pay.

Well, I have hit the wall. My indulgence to accept these intrusions is worn thin.  I am erasing all the cookies on my machine, and vowing to  stop using any website that continues to require me to enable pop-ups.  If it takes me back to the dark ages, then so be it.

As Shakespeare said, "Kill all the Marketers." Well, if he had been writing on a laptop, I am pretty sure that's what he would have said.

Snowbird Wannabee

Someone sent me the link to a youtube video, that graphically sums-up the reasons to fly south in winter.
  

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=xkk7DX0l95A&Lid=12

Distracted Drivers, Pay Attention!

Here in Massachusetts, the solons in the legislature are currently considering a bill to make it unlawful to use a hand-held mobile device while driving.

photo: jdpower.com

This is just common sense.  These days, whenever you see someone driving badly, nine out of ten of them have some sort of phone pressed to their ear.  The distraction of phone usage seems to interfere with a driver's sense of speed and distance.  Driver-Callers are either going too fast,  passing you on the right,  or they are blocking traffic, moping along in the passing lane.  They pull out in front of you suddenly, cut you off and steal your parking space, they follow too closely, meander through intersections and generally create a more hazardous situation.

Some critics don't think the proposed measure is enough.  They think hands-free phones are also distracting. I'm sure there is scientific proof that any non-driving activity is distracting*.
We carry on conversations with passengers, sing along with golden oldies,  sip our drive through coffee, and practice our presentations while speeding down the pike.  Most of the time we arrive without a crash.  But I must admit to rear-ending a Subaru in Newton one morning while I was writing down the punchline to a joke (which I no longer recall). 

The great thing about modern technology is that cell phone transmissions can be tracked by location and time.  The only way the  law can be enforceable - is to make analysis of cell phone records an integral part of the investigation of any accident. 

I would even support a bill that allows an insurance company to add a caveat to its policies that says, we will not pay if you are involved in an accident while using a mobile device (or not wearing seat belts).  This would seen to be a great incentive for drivers to self police their own cell phone usage.

*I've witnessed some bizarre behavior at the wheel, most of which should probably be prohibited: Women applying make-up, people noshing on Egg McMuffins, reading  paper or book, one guy was practicing scales on his trumpet while waiting at a stoplight on memorial drive.  One time, following a small red pickup truck on route 495,  I noticed  something hitting my windshield making little smudges, so I sped up and passed them, I could see a couple apparently oblivious  grooving to the music eating chicken wings and  tossing the bones out of the windows.

Isn't it time for the madness to stop?

Zombies in your living room

One of Steven King's lessor works was a 2006 novel called "Cell." The premise of the story is that a never-explained source of the worldwide cellphone network creates a mysterious pulse that is broadcast on all operating cell phones. Everyone who is on the phone turns into a zombie. Anyone who is on their phone is immediately turned into lurching living dead. The crazed "phoners" gather in groups to hunt and attack the one who were not afflicted (normals).

Although the novel was published before the current wave of "smart" phones, I cannot help being reminded of it as a metaphor for what actually happens when normal (flip-phone) people get a "smart" phone. Smart means any of the flat phones - iphones, blackberries, droids, etc. with tiny screens and keyboards that connect the device to email and Internet. Oh yeah, they also make phone calls.

When someone gets one of these devices you and their other contacts are suddenly deluged with poorly focused video and snapshots, and text messages (eg, "u nvr guess who is sittng nxt to us." Attached is a blurry photo of someone who looks like Brad Pitt.) You keep getting calls but no one is there. When you dial them back they say, "oh it must have been an ass-dial. Oops i have another call bye now."

Smart phoners turn into mesmerized information crazed zombies. Perhaps you have noticed that people who have acquired a new smart phone begin to exhibit a personality change. Visitors who were previously interesting and polite now display a rude disregard for normal rules of attentiveness and an unabashed preoccupation with something other than your company. They come into a room and place the smart phone on the nearest flat surface so they can watch it in case they get a new tweet or email message. From that moment on, your conversation is punctuated by their incoming calls and text messages which require their immediate reply.

First, you feel embarrassed for them and their dis-social zombie-like transformation. Then, you start to become angry at their apparent disrespect for your companionship. You can't wait for them to leave; and your interest in future socialization melts like a dropped popsicle on a hot summer sidewalk.

They are everywhere: at the pub, at the theater, in museums, restaurants, libraries, stores, even at the pool. I guess they think they are cool. The rest of us think they are annoying.

Solar Flares and Hemorrhoids

If your favorite wireless gadget is acting-up today, it could be because of the solar storm that is pummeling the Earth's atmosphere with cosmic radiation. Scientists (who may actually understand this stuff) warn that some communications may be disturbed - GPS, and other satellite based transmissions will be most vulnerable.

A lot of people are worried about global warming and believe that humans can do something to delay or prevent it. I believe that it is far more likely that civilization as we know it will be destroyed by a disastrous and unforeseen extraterrestrial EMP (electromagnetic pulse) that wipes out all communications, computer memory, and the power grid. Such an event would result in a long period of apocalyptic return to barbarism and chaos for surviving humans. Ok maybe I read too much sci fi during my youth, but I'm not the only one who worries about such things.

Also, I have long held the apparently unscientific belief that the dramatic recent rise in reported cases of personality disorder in humans (especially in children) can be linked to the corresponding increase in the amount of radio waves that are beaming all around and through our collective brain tissue from electromagnetic  sources - microwaves, cell phones and other wireless devices, radar, HD transmissions, ifrared remotes, lasers and you-name-it.  

If microwaves can cook popcorn, it is completely logical that they can alter the molecules of the human/fetal brain. The correlation calculations are not complete yet but I am confident is stating that extraterrestrial radiation will be proven to be the source of many physical maladies. Perhaps we have solved the mystery of unpredictable flare-ups in skin afflictions like psoriasis and certain nagging itches such as hemorrhoids. The current wave of solar powered high speed cosmic protons are crashing through the Van Allen belt at a speed of 14,000 miles per second. These are heavy duty quantum particles that can seriously plunk your magic twanger, Froggy.

Updated version:  A loyal reader (GWP) has informed me that sonar was incorrectly listed in my list of electromagnetic wave sources.   I am pleased to correct this information.  Of course sonar is a sound based wave.  Sonar transmissions are suspected as links to whale and dolphin strandings by some scientists. So they are potentially of earthshaking importance.  (e.g., if the Maker of the Universe sneezes, we could be in for a rocky ride of sonar storms, not to mention celestial germs).

Metaphors

photo: thestar.com/news

The half-sunken cruise ship Costa Concordia still lies where she ran aground just a few hundred yards offshore of the island of Giglio in Giglio Porto, Italy.   By now, anyone who reads, listens to, or watches the news is familiar with the almost unbelievable story. 

How could so many things go wrong? The most compelling questions are yet to be answered.    My friend has a 17 foot fisherman's boat and he has a sonar screen that scans the bottom for solid objects, but a cruise ship the size of the Empire State Building has no working sonar?  Also, just about everyone who has been interviewed by news reporters has complained about the lack of  training and information following the abandon ship order, yet nearly 4,200 passengers and crew got off the ship alive in the dark of night.  Isn't the most incredible fact that less than 40 people are still confirmed dead or missing in the bowels of the behemoth? 

It boggles the mind to consider that such a disaster could happen in calm seas in well traveled waters.

But it reminds us that the bubble of safety and security that we take for granted can pop at any time.

For some reason, ship disasters always make me think about my working life.  Many of the projects I worked on were like cruises to nowhere, plotted by some captain of industry who had an enormous ego, but was navigationally retarded.   The Titanic metaphor often seemed apt.  We trench denizens would sit around the coffee room musing about management re-arranging the deck chairs when the ship was taking on water, or arguing about what song selections the band should play while passengers took to the lifeboats. 

Some of those projects ended-up on the shoals of  disaster.  As I review my resume,  most of my former companies have failed or merged into different organizations.  Some cheap-shot commenters will undoubtedly muse that I was the jinx that helped sink those ships.  But, as is my wont, I prefer to point the finger at cowardly captains and clueless coworkers. 

No Blackout Here

If you click on a Wikipedia link today you will get a split-second view of your desired search page and then a black out overlay with the query "Imagine a World Without Free Knowledge..."
They are going dark for 24 hours to "raise awareness" that the U.S. Congress "is considering legislation that could fatally damage the free and open Internet."

Attention Getting Gimmick?

As an unabashed opponent of strikes and other stoppages as a means of getting public attention, I am on the side of the so-called capitalists on this issue. I think it is just silly to stage such a mock protest. That's like saying, "Hey everyone. I am going on a 24 hour hunger strike to stop the madness!"

Stopping Piracy is a worthy aim.
I do not know if the current SOPA and PIPA proposals will kill the free Internet - that would require more research than I am in the mood for.  But, as an occasional  producer of revenue-producing intellectual content, I claim solidarity with my brother/sister artists who have been getting ripped-off by illegal piracy.

On the mostly free Internet,  no one seems to be in charge.  (This is not universal, some countries closely monitor local access)  In general censorship does not exist.  You can watch dirty pictures, say virtually anything you want about anyone with impunity.  You can learn how to make bomb components just as easily as accessing a Kayak fishing video.  

But, some people think it is dangerous to publish certain kinds of information.  Ben Franklin is alleged to have said that "citizens who are willing to give up a little liberty in exchange for a little safety deserve neither".  Poppycock, I say.  Sometimes you need to constrain freedom of speech.  We do it all the time, and it makes for a healthier, less course and safer society.

Free = Worthless
Most people tend to have more regard for experiences that have a cost associated with them. Studies have shown that people who wait in long lines for tickets value the performance more than those who got the tickets for free. Kids are notoriously careless with stuff that doting parents have lavished upon them. One parent in my neighborhood recently complained that his son was on his 3rd iPad in twelve months. My generation was raised without the expectation of entitlement. I had to earn the money to buy my first car.  

Summary
If you have read this far, you have ascertained that I am - as usual - all over the lot on this topic.  I think people ought to be paid for worthwhile expression of their art*, yet I am like you annoyed to have to pay for stuff that used to be free.  And is free content covered by free speech?

Blogging is the ultimate free arena. There is zero cost of entry and maintenance. I have often wondered why Google offers the Blogger.com platform for free to anyone regardless of writing skill. Who is paying for all the space and access? And why? As a reader, you pay nothing, and you probably use the Internet more for entertainment than for information. You correctly disregard the brandished wisdom of pedantic bloggers, thinking If you're so smart why aren't you rich?

*Note - I think the setting of a fixed price for entertainment needs to be abolished.  I am developing a new paradigm, where tickets are paid-for after the performance. The price is set by the perceived value as determined by the purchaser.  (If Meatloaf shows-up sober, remembers the lyrics and gives a good show, he makes a lot more money than if everyone was disappointed.  If the Patriots suck and lose the playoff game, they are docked and the price of a ticket is reduced accordingly.) This concept might work for Wall Street too!

Pardon Me

Pardon me, but I am more offended by the Mississippi governor Haley Barbour's pardoning hundreds of bad guys who were convicted in a court of justice than I am over the US Marines who pissed on the bodies of the enemy who were trying to kill them a few minutes earlier. 

What is wrong with me?

Malquoting the other guy

Mitt Romney found himself being quoted out of context the other day.   He was speaking about healthcare insurance and the benefits of having options.  In a regrettable choice of words he said "I like being able  to fire people."  Clearly Meaning it is desireable to have the ability to switch companies that are deficient in providing the best level of service.  The quote in context can be viewed here.

In an unseemly display of low road politics, opponents and partisan pundits jumped on the quote, happy to take it out of context and twist it to show what an evil job destroyer the Mittster is. 
 In a pretty meanspirited act, Gingrich even had the quote converted to a cell phone ringtone .

Well Mitt you deserved it.  You got the same thing you did when you intentionally  malquoted Obama, attributing him to a statement which was 100% opposite of his stand (he was actually quoting a McCain staffer at the time). 

Karma Baby! Suck on it.

The Grass is Always Greener

My wife thinks I am crazy because I keep looking at part time job postings on Craigslist.

"Why do you want to go back to some hellhole?" she wonders. Good question.

The simple answer is: I don't know. The more complicated and (potentially fictitious) reason is that I am  looking to find my place in the cosmos. One thing seems clear. I am restless with my status as "Retiree".

Being retired from the world of work is wonderful in many respects. You can sleep as late as you want in the morning. You have time to read the print versions of 2 papers, and have an unhurried breakfast. You can pretty much plan your day - take a walk, have lunch with friends, go to a movie.

Theoretically, you can golf and fish and wander around to your heart's content. You don't have some crazed boss demanding a status report, or wondering aloud at the staff meeting why your numbers aren't better. You don't waste two hours a day sitting in traffic. For once in your life, you finally have enough time for those extended trips to exotic places that you always talked about.

 
On the other hand, there are some drawbacks. You can't just sit around reading for hours on end and communing with nature every day, or napping like the cats. Anything gets boring if you do it day-in day-out.  Traveling can become both a distraction and a delight, but it does not fulfill you - unless you consider checking-off your bucket list as fulfillment.  And, there is the little matter of money.

If you are retired and rich, it makes things much easier.  But if you retired, collecting social security and have less than mega-millions in your  IRA, you are forced to make some trade-offs.   You cannot afford to travel all the time, and you cannot shop for trendy clothes or afford $40 haircuts anymore.

When I was younger, I was fulfilled by spending time in the garden and maintaining the grounds. I never thought of working in the yard as work because I enjoyed it thoroughly. Work is what someone else makes you do.

Nowadays, I don't anticipate Spring the same old way. The optimistic joy of gardening has gradually given way to reality-based discouragement, the groaning of stiff knees, achy backs and wildly unpredictable weather.

I have become pessimistic about climate and cynical about politics and skeptical towards anyone who claims to know the truth, has a cure for psoriasis, knows the secret to riches, wants to manage my money.
Parkinsons Law states that work fills the time allotted to it. There is a corollary to free time. If you only have one thing to do today, it will take all day to do it. We retirees are always complaining how busy we are.

Working people envy retired people. Buy after you have read two papers end-to end and checked the status of the markets, and taken a brisk walk, met friends for lunch, and so on, there is still a vague sense that something is missing.  It's that old feeling that you occasionally felt on the job that you were accomplishing something bigger than just staying busy.

Some mornings on my walk, I find myself looking at young people driving by, dressed for work with a tinge of envy. I know that odds are good that  they are probably on their way to some hellhole where the boss is overwrought asshole and the coworkers are backbiting shits.

But I can't help wondering if just maybe someone is actually  going to a place where the work is interesting and rewarding and their workmates are bright and positive with good sense of humor. To me, that would seem to be a pretty good way to spend one's day.

Thoughts on Christmas Letters

Consider your selves lucky.  You didn't get a Christmas Letter from us this year, recalling the memorable moments experienced by our wonderful family during the last twelve months.  You did not have to squint at blurry photos of us standing in front of monuments and churches on our enviable trips.  You were spared the adorable pictures of our cuddly pets and cuter-than-average grandkids.  If you were on our A list, you got a nice storebought card with an appropriate seasonal wish/greeting. 

 Everyone has access to word processing,  so it has become de rigueur for the family scribe to compose these little annual histories, like newsletters, printed with festive little borders and using special gothic fonts.  We got a dozen or so, ranging from the barely readable to the mildly informative to the ludicrous.  When the authors sit-down to write a Christmas Letter, they presumably do so out of an urge to recap the year of pertinent news for friends whom they have not had regular contact with.  But by the third sentence they start channeling Walter Cronkite, announcing each mundane event as if it were late-breaking need-to-know news.

 "Trish said her first word in February. It was "Dlurb" 

           "Thor, our new pucker doodle puppy,  ate mom's favorite pink bunny slipper."

While I am sure these memories are precious, I wonder if they need to be shared with the World.  Sometimes, they can unintentionally reveal too much information.

 "Slippery fingers Jill dropped a gallon jug of K-Y Jelly on my toe and I was limping around for a month."

Does anyone really like to get these smarmy, self-satisfied, impersonal missives?  I don't think so. The mistake most amateur writers make is that their prime motivation is to tell you something positive about themselves.  They incorrectly think that you are interested in their wonderful lives, so they selectively pick-out what they think is the most enviable moments.  They believe themselves to be informative and entertaining, I guess.  

The truth is, we are more entertained by accounts of ruined parties - where uncle Jack got drunk and fell off the chair  - than we are about perfectly planned parties where the food was perfectly cooked and everyone exchanged pleasant dinner conversation.  We don't want to hear you gush about your luxurious river cruise down the Seine, we want to hear about your miserable air travel hassles "And little Bernie screamed all the way from Paris to Rome! It was awful."   We wallow in your misery.

 Christmas Letter authors ought to be more caring and tuned-in to their audience.  Instead of crowing about what a great year you have had, describe some of the hilariously  crappy moments.  Instead of striving to make your recipients wish they were you, give them the gift of  being happy with their own lot in life - make them glad they aren't you.

Here are some ideas to get you started on a more interesting Christmas Letter next year:

"Melvin lost most of our nestegg investing in mink farms. What an Idiot. I should have married...."

"One of the neighbors tipped-off the cops and they confiscated my whole crop of weed...."

"Alice is pregnant again. She was featured on the Maury show to determine who the dad is....."

" Irving saved money by spreading lime on the front himself. Except that he mistakenly loaded up the spreader with rock salt..."

"Publishers Clearing house knocked on the door, but no one was home...."

 

You get the idea. 

** Disclaimer: Except for George, no one who reads this blog sent one of the Christmas Letters described in the piece.

 

Ch-ch-changes

Although I generally think of myself as retired,  I have kept up an interest in keeping active and involved with the working world.   In early December I answered a job ad on Craigslist for a Shipper at a small local nonprofit publishing company.  The job description contained many of the elements that I want in a job:
      ·         local – this outfit was a 6 minute drive,
      ·          modest commitment of time -  two  mornings a week (8hrs max) ,
      ·         some physical activity – 70% of the job was not sitting in front of a computer,
      ·         A decent hourly rate – $15 which is a few bucks above the min. wage.

During the interview, I learned that the job involved entering transactions on the database the picking packing and shipping.  I have always been a fan of the fulfillment process.  At various times in my career I have worked at big companies, helping to design and implement optimal processes for order entry, through the distribution cycle to billing and receipt.  On my resume I used to claim to be an IT fulfillment expert.  

But those high flying glory days are long ago and far away.  These days I swing on low hanging branches.  This opportunity appeared  to  be an easy way to get a paid workout and lend some structure to my distinctly unstructured week.  The two women who interviewed me apparently saw that I was a trustworthy guy who would show up and get things done.  So I accepted the offer with a modicum of hope and enthusiasm.

However after two weeks of training it became clear that this was not turning out to be what I had expected.  It was a very small operation, with only 2 full timers and only one other part timer ( the Accountant).  The physical part of the job – schlepping boxes of books, packing and filling orders – was relatively easy to learn and well within my strength and endurance capabilities.  After several weeks I had established a fairly good routine for getting the shipping and stocking work done.

But the job also involved key-entry of order data into a MAC  Filemaker Pro database.  This was a customized system that was probably considered "state of the art" in 1991.  It was clunky, and I was slow.  The gal who I was reporting to was impatient with my tedious keyboarding skills and several times during the training, she would exasperatedly reach over and hit the key that I was searching for.   When I told her not to do that, she developed a scowl that became ever-present when she and I were in the same room.    

I have never been very good at labor intensive activities myself.   Perhaps this realization was the motivation  for the role that I enjoyed most in my professional life:  helping other people work more efficiently.

Since retiring and entering the world of part-time work, I have had to come to terms with the realization that employers were not looking for their part-timers to be problem solvers or major contributors; they just wanted an efficient, interchangeable part - An easily replaceable working unit who does not ask questions or offer suggestions for improvement.  Ideally, they’d prefer a robot.  

I admit that I am not always patient or compliant.  Like most adults, I dislike supervision.  I can be stubborn – a tendency which I blame on my Irish and Dutch genes.  There was a lot of supervision and not much congeniality.  I expected a laid-back atmosphere, but was disappointed to find the chill of no-nonsense efficiency to be the prevailing wind.

This may sound like a self-serving rationalization for my decision to quit the job, but after a few weeks, I just did not see things getting better.   One of the chief reasons I quit my last job (at AAA), was because  they would not even discuss the possibility of improving the process (too costly), and yet they blamed the hapless counter people for making errors on a system that was neither logical or intuitive.  This was pretty much the same situation. 

At my age, I feel that I should not endure anything that I dislike if I can help it.  So, it is with little regret that I say sayonara and good luck.  Every experience is an education; even if it is not always fun.

Have I given-up on my quest to become usefully employed?  No.   My daughter has encouraged me to follow her interests in mediation training.  She seems to think that I would enjoy helping people find solutions to conflicts.  I am giving it serious consideration.   I demur, because the cynical part of my ego suspects that it is too late -- that I have become a hopelessly grumpy old fart who will never be satisfied with any job.

Hope still lives – I am starting Yoga lessons next week.  Flexibility and inner peace, here I come!

Holiday Events

Here at the Wellesley mansion, we have been busy preparing for the holiday festivities. We have a wreath with a red bow hanging out front and we have a Christmas Tree. Yes, Virginia, we still call it a "Christmas Tree" and if our Muslim, Jewish, Gay, Transgender, Vegetarian, African-American, Handicapped, Atheist friends and neighbors are offended, they can go suck eggs.

Last year, I finally gave-in and let my wife buy an artificial - excuse me, she calls it a "permenant" tree. It comes in three sections pre-wired with lights , and takes all of 10 minutes to put up. I would prefer a traditional “live” spruce, but I must admit there is an up-side to going fake. No schlepping around looking for the perfect tree at a reasonable price, no pine needles on the rug, easy-up, easy-down, and no expired tree to haul off to the dump.  The cats seem annoyed that there is no water tray to drink from, but they are captivated by the many new cat toys hanging from the branches.

We have another holiday party to go to this afternoon.  One of those open house deals where the hostess has cluelessly scheduled it smack in the middle of the Patriots vs Broncos game.   She feels that it is the NFL schedule that is at fault and besides who what a waste of time watching a stupid football game characterized by intense moments of brutality interspersed by long intervals of standing around and commercials.  She has a point, but still...

This will be our third holiday event in three days, and we know the effects of all that rich food and libation.  I may have to let out my belt a notch, but no worries I have already resolved to start a more healthy lifestyle -- next year.