More things I've wondered about recently.
Why does it seem that people are increasingly rude on the telephone?
And while we're speaking of telephones (an endangered instrument to be sure), why do people call where I work and say, "Someone called me from this number," and want to be connected to whoever it was that called. First, we have one hundred telephones attached to our work number; many are resident phones, and some are staff phones. Second, I'm not a mind reader. How would I know who called this person, especially when the person doesn't tell me who he/she is, or what his/her connection might be with my employer.
What ever happend to "two-toned" vehicles? Used to be that was the cat's meow (if I could use an ancient term of endearment). Now, unless a vehicle has been in a wreck, or is over 30 years old, it's all one color.
How many people under the age of 40 know how to can vegetables and fruit? Make jelly? Plant a garden? Should they know? I don't know how to churn butter...do I need to know? Can I even get the raw ingredients I would need to churn it?
At work this week, I got my March budget of expenses versus budget numbers two days ago. What good does that do me now?
Why do some families feel the need to be overly-assertive when their loved one comes to our nursing home? That just gets everyone off on the wrong foot.
I wonder when I'll get my first I-Pod-type device. I don't think anytime real soon.
How can one person possibly deal with 4,000 texts a month? Don't they have a life?
The "hurry and wait" syndrome is alive and well in Wichita. Hurry to the next light and wait for it to turn.
The herd mentality is also alive and well. Hurry to the next light in a herd and all wait for it to turn so it (the herd) can hurry to yet the next one.
Is Half & Half really 50% cream? I don't think so. And how can there be "fat-free" half and half?
Why do I wonder about things such as this? Don't I have anything better to do?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Bluebird of Happiness (or not)
I’m listening to one of the old Lawrence Welk shows on PBS right now (yeah, I know, but I like the music and remember watching these things years ago at home). One of the songs sung by Joe Feeney (who passed away a couple of years ago) just now mentioned the “bluebird of happiness”.
OK, what is that? Just what is the bluebird of happiness? Has anyone seen one? Does anyone have one? Where do you find such a critter? And what does he (she-it) do for you once you’ve found him (her-it)?
According to the fountain of all information (the Internet), you can purchase bluebirds of happiness made of glass, ceramic, or other materials. The web also talks of the mythology of the bluebird of happiness going back into ancient cultures. The bluebird, it seems, has long been a symbol of happiness, peace, and warmth. More than one song has been written about such a bird. And there are even videos on YouTube.
I’m reminded of the song by Little Jimmy Dickens that goes, “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose,” in the chorus. I have to wonder if the bluebird of happiness and the bird of paradise are one and the same. Maybe the two birds are related in some way. Maybe one is the evil twin of the other, since one bestows happiness and the other clogs up your nostrils.
Where indeed does happiness come from? How is it generated? Where is it stored? What brings it out into the open in a person’s life? What good is it? How can a person use it to his or her betterment? How is it measured? What does it look like?
You may think the answers to these questions are obvious “duh” answers, but think again. When was the last time you heard of someone who took his own life described as someone who was happy or was always smiling, or always a friend, etc? How often do we equate laughter with happiness? You and I both know those aren’t the same thing.
What about contentment? Does it have anything to do with happiness? And what about a person’s world-view? Does believing in God, for example, generally make one happier than one who does not hold such a belief? Can one be a God-believer (I’ll just say a Christian), and not be happy? Why or why not?
This happiness thing…it’s a real conundrum for me. Could it be that I’m not happy? Am I supposed to be happy? Do I deserve happiness? Why or why not?
Can someone explain this to me?
OK, what is that? Just what is the bluebird of happiness? Has anyone seen one? Does anyone have one? Where do you find such a critter? And what does he (she-it) do for you once you’ve found him (her-it)?
According to the fountain of all information (the Internet), you can purchase bluebirds of happiness made of glass, ceramic, or other materials. The web also talks of the mythology of the bluebird of happiness going back into ancient cultures. The bluebird, it seems, has long been a symbol of happiness, peace, and warmth. More than one song has been written about such a bird. And there are even videos on YouTube.
I’m reminded of the song by Little Jimmy Dickens that goes, “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose,” in the chorus. I have to wonder if the bluebird of happiness and the bird of paradise are one and the same. Maybe the two birds are related in some way. Maybe one is the evil twin of the other, since one bestows happiness and the other clogs up your nostrils.
Where indeed does happiness come from? How is it generated? Where is it stored? What brings it out into the open in a person’s life? What good is it? How can a person use it to his or her betterment? How is it measured? What does it look like?
You may think the answers to these questions are obvious “duh” answers, but think again. When was the last time you heard of someone who took his own life described as someone who was happy or was always smiling, or always a friend, etc? How often do we equate laughter with happiness? You and I both know those aren’t the same thing.
What about contentment? Does it have anything to do with happiness? And what about a person’s world-view? Does believing in God, for example, generally make one happier than one who does not hold such a belief? Can one be a God-believer (I’ll just say a Christian), and not be happy? Why or why not?
This happiness thing…it’s a real conundrum for me. Could it be that I’m not happy? Am I supposed to be happy? Do I deserve happiness? Why or why not?
Can someone explain this to me?
Saturday, April 17, 2010
No Slump
I’m old enough to remember watching Yogi Berra, the legendary New York Yankees catcher (and later a manager and/or coach for the Yankees, the Mets, and the Astros) on television. He would be on the “Game of the Week”, with commentators Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese (themselves legends in baseball and a hoot to listen to as they commented on the game).
Yogi had an extraordinary career, and is widely regarded as the best catcher to ever play the game. One of his attributes, however, had nothing to do with baseball. He had a great knack for creating memorable quotes which, unless one thinks about what is really said, seem to make sense.
I ran across a web page with quotes attributed to Mr. Berra. Herewith are some of the ones I like best.
“I wish I had an answer to that because I’m tired of answering that question.”
“I didn’t really say everything I said.” (This quote is regularly expropriated by politicians of various stripes; however, they say it in words that aren’t quite as obvious as this.)
“You should always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t come to yours.”
“I made a wrong mistake.” (If politicians would only use this once in awhile…)
“Nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded.”
“You can observe a lot just by watchin’”.
“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
“I couldn’t tell if the streaker was a man or a woman because it had a bag on it’s head.”
“This is like déjà vu all over again.”
“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hitting.”
I’m sure you can look his quotes up on your own, and there are some you may enjoy better than mine. There are, however, some gems of wisdom in the mis-mesh of words he uses.
You can indeed observe a lot by watching. Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s mouth and look around and listen to what’s going on. Someone once said, “You can’t learn anything while you’re talking.” Some folks I know are first class examples of that.
The slump quote is also a gem. Refusing to carry oneself to the depths of despair by beating oneself up with words is a great attribute to have. No slump…I’m just not hitting right now.
Déjà vu.
Yogi had an extraordinary career, and is widely regarded as the best catcher to ever play the game. One of his attributes, however, had nothing to do with baseball. He had a great knack for creating memorable quotes which, unless one thinks about what is really said, seem to make sense.
I ran across a web page with quotes attributed to Mr. Berra. Herewith are some of the ones I like best.
“I wish I had an answer to that because I’m tired of answering that question.”
“I didn’t really say everything I said.” (This quote is regularly expropriated by politicians of various stripes; however, they say it in words that aren’t quite as obvious as this.)
“You should always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t come to yours.”
“I made a wrong mistake.” (If politicians would only use this once in awhile…)
“Nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded.”
“You can observe a lot just by watchin’”.
“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
“I couldn’t tell if the streaker was a man or a woman because it had a bag on it’s head.”
“This is like déjà vu all over again.”
“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hitting.”
I’m sure you can look his quotes up on your own, and there are some you may enjoy better than mine. There are, however, some gems of wisdom in the mis-mesh of words he uses.
You can indeed observe a lot by watching. Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s mouth and look around and listen to what’s going on. Someone once said, “You can’t learn anything while you’re talking.” Some folks I know are first class examples of that.
The slump quote is also a gem. Refusing to carry oneself to the depths of despair by beating oneself up with words is a great attribute to have. No slump…I’m just not hitting right now.
Déjà vu.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Masters
I’m watching the Masters tournament today. I’m not much of a golfer, and golf on TV is not my idea of the most entertaining thing to do. However, we recently purchased an HDTV, and of course Tiger. Woods is playing his first tournament since coming back. It’s been somewhat interesting.
First, in high definition, one can have a much greater appreciation for the environment of a golf course. You can see blades of grass, veins in leaves, sticks on the ground, and stubble on chins. Oh, wait. Stubble isn’t really environmental, is it. In any event, the clarity of the picture is rather amazing and an enjoyment to see.
Second, I wish Mr. Woods well. I am not a fan of crude jokes or other sanctimonious drivel aimed at him or anyone else. We all are abject failures in life. Some of us have our failures displayed for all the world to see; a lot of us manage to keep them relatively quiet and out of the news. It doesn’t matter to me that he does not profess Christianity, or that he may or may not be sincere in his “recovery”. Nor does it matter to me if he wins (which at this point seems unlikely), or if he just places well. I wish him to do well.
Third, to keep all of this in perspective, at least for me, the microphones regularly pick up the sounds of birds nearby in the trees, calling out their songs. That may not mean much to you, and you may think this a stretch, but that tells me that regardless of what is going on at that place from a human perspective, there is another world there; one that has been there for eons past, and one that will remain (assuming the creation itself remains) for years to come. Human accomplishments, while noteworthy, cannot hold a candle to the inexorable march of time and the work of the Creator in upholding His handiwork day after day, year after year, eon after eon.
First, in high definition, one can have a much greater appreciation for the environment of a golf course. You can see blades of grass, veins in leaves, sticks on the ground, and stubble on chins. Oh, wait. Stubble isn’t really environmental, is it. In any event, the clarity of the picture is rather amazing and an enjoyment to see.
Second, I wish Mr. Woods well. I am not a fan of crude jokes or other sanctimonious drivel aimed at him or anyone else. We all are abject failures in life. Some of us have our failures displayed for all the world to see; a lot of us manage to keep them relatively quiet and out of the news. It doesn’t matter to me that he does not profess Christianity, or that he may or may not be sincere in his “recovery”. Nor does it matter to me if he wins (which at this point seems unlikely), or if he just places well. I wish him to do well.
Third, to keep all of this in perspective, at least for me, the microphones regularly pick up the sounds of birds nearby in the trees, calling out their songs. That may not mean much to you, and you may think this a stretch, but that tells me that regardless of what is going on at that place from a human perspective, there is another world there; one that has been there for eons past, and one that will remain (assuming the creation itself remains) for years to come. Human accomplishments, while noteworthy, cannot hold a candle to the inexorable march of time and the work of the Creator in upholding His handiwork day after day, year after year, eon after eon.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
At Peace
As I slow down this evening, ever mindful of the inexorable march of time toward Monday, I am in a rather contemplative mood right now. I just came in from sitting on the back porch, listening to the birds, watching folks walk the path in the park behind the house, and absorbing the cool breeze.
We went to sunrise services this morning. Our church is on the banks of the Arkansas River downtown, and we had services down on the bank, along with some ducks, runners and walkers, traffic, some homeless under the 1st Street bridge, geese, and a train or two. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a sunrise service quite like that…not the service itself, but the extras that were part of the environment. Prior sunrise services since we’ve been here have been held inside due to bad weather, so this is the first time in several years we’ve been able to be out.
We then dismissed for a continental breakfast, which was actually very complete, and the regular services inside, sans Sunday School classes. I always go away from that place refreshed and happy that I’m part of that family. Yes, I know we as Christians are to do our work outside the walls of the church building. But it’s necessary also to meet together to refresh and renew after a week spent outside those building walls, living, loving, and longing.
We had lunch with both of our sons and the grandkids; then grandma went with her sis and the others to help our younger pack, as they’re moving in a few weeks to a new home they’ve purchased. Since my daughter in-law is 8 months pregnant, it’s going to be difficult for her, so we’re helping more than we might otherwise.
I stayed here and prepared for a birthday shindig tomorrow evening for my niece. There promises to be quite a few here, and I cut the grass, cleaned up, threw away trash, and generally got things ready. It should be fun tomorrow.
Now, it seems that the evening should last forever. It’s so nice out, I’m at peace, and all is right, it seems, with the world. I know that isn’t really true. All I have to do is look at the news or think about going to work at the home. But for now, I’ll enjoy the minutes we have left in this evening and long for a time when this kind of peace is not fleeting, but forever.
We went to sunrise services this morning. Our church is on the banks of the Arkansas River downtown, and we had services down on the bank, along with some ducks, runners and walkers, traffic, some homeless under the 1st Street bridge, geese, and a train or two. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a sunrise service quite like that…not the service itself, but the extras that were part of the environment. Prior sunrise services since we’ve been here have been held inside due to bad weather, so this is the first time in several years we’ve been able to be out.
We then dismissed for a continental breakfast, which was actually very complete, and the regular services inside, sans Sunday School classes. I always go away from that place refreshed and happy that I’m part of that family. Yes, I know we as Christians are to do our work outside the walls of the church building. But it’s necessary also to meet together to refresh and renew after a week spent outside those building walls, living, loving, and longing.
We had lunch with both of our sons and the grandkids; then grandma went with her sis and the others to help our younger pack, as they’re moving in a few weeks to a new home they’ve purchased. Since my daughter in-law is 8 months pregnant, it’s going to be difficult for her, so we’re helping more than we might otherwise.
I stayed here and prepared for a birthday shindig tomorrow evening for my niece. There promises to be quite a few here, and I cut the grass, cleaned up, threw away trash, and generally got things ready. It should be fun tomorrow.
Now, it seems that the evening should last forever. It’s so nice out, I’m at peace, and all is right, it seems, with the world. I know that isn’t really true. All I have to do is look at the news or think about going to work at the home. But for now, I’ll enjoy the minutes we have left in this evening and long for a time when this kind of peace is not fleeting, but forever.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Kid Experiences
The wife and I were talking a day or so ago. We were listening to NPR talk about a retirement community where children could not live, and could only visit for three weeks or less. She mentioned that she enjoyed having children around our neighborhood. I do as well. Although our immediate neighbors are retired, there are kids a couple of doors down, and teens across the street. There are children on down the block and in several homes between ours and where we turn on to Maize Road.
I enjoy seeing them, and I especially enjoy the ones just down the street. Their home, like ours, backs up to a park and the kids there have taken over a small part of the area right behind their yard. There’s an old tree back there that’s easy to climb, and it’s a perfect place for kids to spend time in the summer or on a Saturday.
I was beginning to wonder if kids did that kind of thing anymore. But these do, and they have friends over and they all enjoy themselves there, or in their backyard pool, or maybe out front at the basketball goal by the side of the drive.
I recall years ago (you knew this was coming, didn’t you) when I thought summers would never end and we had more things to do and places to explore in our neighborhood than we would ever, ever get to. There was always the railroad spur line that ran to a grain elevator next to our small patch of ground (a couple of acres). Or there was a huge pile of trees that had been felled in a neighboring lot that we could climb all over, at least until the owner burned them. When that happened, they had a wiener roast and the neighborhood showed up with hot dogs, marshmallows, and salads and had a good time.
One neighbor had a plot of sweet corn where we would hide and play in after the corn had been picked. Then there was always the drainage ditch a half block away which pretty much always had water in it, or at least puddles of water. Many times there would be crawfish, tadpoles, and other such life in the puddles.
We had an old barn on our property that was good for several hours of exploring and play. It had a loft in it where dad had stored lumber from an old house he tore down on that same lot. And before he tore down that house, it was a good place to explore, along with the yard surrounding it.
And, of course, when all else failed, we could trek across the highway to the far east part of town. There were several lots there on the edge of town that were overgrown and perfect for exploration, and several friends lived in that area. Besides, the town’s sewage treatment plant was nearby (yes, I know that sounds gross, but to a group of boys…) and places we’d not seen in a long time were right nearby, including the highway overpass over the railroad, Sand Creek, and other attractions.
When I was older, I enjoyed working in dad’s shop. He built a workbench for me, which I still have and use by the way, and I spent hours taking things apart, trying to fix things, and building things. I worked a couple of summers in that shop repairing lawn mowers for paying customers, having my own business. That, combined with helping out on the farm (we lived in town, but dad was a farmer/stockman) and helping him with his other job working plumbing and heating pretty much kept me busy during my teen years. I didn’t have any time to get into trouble.
I hope the kids down the street retain fond memories of their years here and are able to tell their kids and grandkids about the times they spent climbing trees, exploring the park, and shooting baskets. About having friends over, swimming in the pool, and playing games until all hours of the night. And I’m sad for any kid that doesn’t have the opportunity to have those kinds of experiences.
I enjoy seeing them, and I especially enjoy the ones just down the street. Their home, like ours, backs up to a park and the kids there have taken over a small part of the area right behind their yard. There’s an old tree back there that’s easy to climb, and it’s a perfect place for kids to spend time in the summer or on a Saturday.
I was beginning to wonder if kids did that kind of thing anymore. But these do, and they have friends over and they all enjoy themselves there, or in their backyard pool, or maybe out front at the basketball goal by the side of the drive.
I recall years ago (you knew this was coming, didn’t you) when I thought summers would never end and we had more things to do and places to explore in our neighborhood than we would ever, ever get to. There was always the railroad spur line that ran to a grain elevator next to our small patch of ground (a couple of acres). Or there was a huge pile of trees that had been felled in a neighboring lot that we could climb all over, at least until the owner burned them. When that happened, they had a wiener roast and the neighborhood showed up with hot dogs, marshmallows, and salads and had a good time.
One neighbor had a plot of sweet corn where we would hide and play in after the corn had been picked. Then there was always the drainage ditch a half block away which pretty much always had water in it, or at least puddles of water. Many times there would be crawfish, tadpoles, and other such life in the puddles.
We had an old barn on our property that was good for several hours of exploring and play. It had a loft in it where dad had stored lumber from an old house he tore down on that same lot. And before he tore down that house, it was a good place to explore, along with the yard surrounding it.
And, of course, when all else failed, we could trek across the highway to the far east part of town. There were several lots there on the edge of town that were overgrown and perfect for exploration, and several friends lived in that area. Besides, the town’s sewage treatment plant was nearby (yes, I know that sounds gross, but to a group of boys…) and places we’d not seen in a long time were right nearby, including the highway overpass over the railroad, Sand Creek, and other attractions.
When I was older, I enjoyed working in dad’s shop. He built a workbench for me, which I still have and use by the way, and I spent hours taking things apart, trying to fix things, and building things. I worked a couple of summers in that shop repairing lawn mowers for paying customers, having my own business. That, combined with helping out on the farm (we lived in town, but dad was a farmer/stockman) and helping him with his other job working plumbing and heating pretty much kept me busy during my teen years. I didn’t have any time to get into trouble.
I hope the kids down the street retain fond memories of their years here and are able to tell their kids and grandkids about the times they spent climbing trees, exploring the park, and shooting baskets. About having friends over, swimming in the pool, and playing games until all hours of the night. And I’m sad for any kid that doesn’t have the opportunity to have those kinds of experiences.
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