George Zimmerman, the man charged in the Trayvon Martin shooting in Florida, is running out of money. So his defense fund is offering a deal: if you contribute to his fund, you’ll receive a Thank You card personally signed by Zimmerman. And so I’m thinking, why exactly do they think I want Zimmerman’s autograph?
Wow, this is interesting. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, we’ve had 332 consecutive months of above-average temperatures (compared to the average for the 20th Century). The last month with a colder-than-normal temperature was February 1985.
So, if you are 27 or younger, you have never experienced a month that was colder than normal.
During the past year, every land mass across the globe experienced warmer-than-average temperatures except for two places–Alaska, and the eastern tip of Russia.
Last week in Dallas I met a guy from Nebraska who runs a restaurant at a country club. His wife was attending the same convention my wife was attending.
He told me his father died of a heart attack at age 46, leaving his mother to take care of 11 children. That’s right–11. They scraped by on, I believe he told me, about $500 a month, depending a lot on government assistance.
“The system worked for us,” he told me. “Maybe that’s why I’m a Democrat.”
Today, he said, he and his siblings are adults with good jobs, paying their taxes and contributing to society. But at one time they desperately needed society’s help–and because they live in America, they got it.
We hear a lot of anecdotes, most of them negative. Add this one to the mix.
Here’s something which makes me amused, in a carnal sort of way.
When my order comes to, say, $5.23, and I give the checkout girl (or guy) a ten-dollar bill and a quarter, it freaks her out. She can’t figure how to give me change.
Doing math in your head, like cursive writing, is becoming a lost art.
In high school and college, I worked in a grocery store–Pixley Foodmart in Pixley, Calif. I’ve never seen checkout lines work as fast as ours did. We blazed along–and without scanners!
Our cashier machines told us the total amount, but not how much change to give. We had to do that in our heads.
We looked on a chart to determine the amount of tax. In weighing produce, another chart. A number didn’t magically appear on a screen for everyone to see. Only I, running the cash register, saw the amount I was plugging into the cash register.
One night 15 minutes before closing, I was the last cashier, I had a line of about 20 customers stretching toward the back of the store, and I had no pennies left. And I didn’t want to ask the office for a new roll of pennies. So I improvised.
I went through every customer, making sure the amount ended on a 5 or 0, so I didn’t need to use pennies. I just mentally adjusted the amount of tax I charged, or maybe the amount I used for produce. The final amount that appeared on the cash register was always divisible by nickels.
I did this all so fast that nobody suspected anything.
Let’s see TODAY’s youth pull that off!
Sometimes I’m reminded of how little I know.
Each week, the New York Times Book Review includes an interview with some author, in which that author talks about what he’s reading now, favorite authors, over-rated books, etc. This week it was Jeffrey Eugenides, who is evidently a well-regarded author, but I’d never heard of him. Sadly, the same is true of many of the authors they choose. So as much as I consider myself well-read, I’m apparently not.
Eugenides is asked, “What’s the last truly great book you read?” (Most weeks, the author is asked that question.) He mentions “The Love of a Good Woman,” a collection of short stories by Alice Munro. He said, “There’s not one story in there that isn’t perfect. Each time I finished one, I just wanted to lie down on the floor and die. My life was complete.” He mentions Munro’s characterization, her storytelling, and her technical inventiveness.
I’ve read one or two Alice Munro books. They were fine. I know that if I read those short stories, I would probably be bored. I wouldn’t be seeing the things Eugenides sees. And I know a whole lot more of what to look for than most people.
Then Eugenides stuck in the knife. “Whenever I try to read a thriller or a detective novel, I get incredibly bored, both by the language and the narrative machinery.” Well, that’s mostly what I read, thank you–detective novels and thrillers. On the other hand, maybe in this case I’m the one who knows what to look for. He’s meddling in MY world.
But I don’t think that’s the case. Very doubtful, in fact.
Now, let’s expand this concept to include all the other things I know on only a surface level. Economics. Theology. Photoshop. What my wife is thinking and feeling. Foreign policy. Military strategy. Speaking technique. Pretty much everything, in fact.
Tonight–in a half hour, in fact–is the second presidential debate. Both candidates will say things that sound good and reasonable to me, but which, in fact, are outright lies or severe distortions. But I won’t recognize it. A pundit will come on afterwards and explain what I missed, and it will sound like an illuminating explanation. But that pundit will also be outright lying or severely distorting. And I won’t know recognize that, either.
And the next day, I will transport my ignorance to Facebook, where I will make statements that sound definitive, but which are based on lies and distortions I heard from the candidates–lies and distortions that still sound reasonable to me. And those Facebook statements will be further mangled by my own biases, which I will adamantly deny having.
During our breaktime discussion the other day, during which we solve the problems of the world, I learned that several of us share an aversion to big-box stores like Walmart and Meijers. They are just TOO big, and we don’t like going into them. You end up walking several miles just to get a couple needed items.
Here in Fort Wayne, the Walmart (Apple Glen) parking lot is impossible to navigate. It causes me all kinds of stress.
Meijers is more accessible, parking-lot-wise. Yet there’s something about Meijers that I especially dislike. I don’t suppose it’s any bigger than Walmart, but it SEEMS bigger. We rarely go to Meiers, even though it’s closer than both Walmart and Target. Just something about it. It seems too huge. And what’s with the silent J? Is that necessary?
Pam and I prefer going to Target. It’s a big store, too, one of those Super Targets. But for some reason, it doesn’t seem too big. Plus, we like those plastic red carts.
Then this morning, someone brought up how people dress at Walmart. Like, lots of pajama pants. Another coworker said that when he goes to the Target around Jefferson Pointe in Fort Wayne, it seems like people are dressed up. Wearing their Sunday finest just to go to Target.
Pam and I shop at that Target all the time. I’ll be paying more attention to how people dress.
I didn’t mention going to K-Mart, did I? There’s a reason for that.
I came across this piece, titled “The Green Thing,” on Facebook. It’s apparently been circulating for a while, and I have no idea who originally wrote it.
In the line at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment.
The woman apologized to her and explained, “We didn’t have the green thing back in my day.”
The clerk responded, “That’s our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment.”
She was right — our generation didn’t have the green thing in its day.
Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled.
But we didn’t have the green thing back in our day.
We walked up stairs, because we didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.
But she was right. We didn’t have the green thing in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby’s nappies because we didn’t have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts — wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that lady is right; we didn’t have the green thing back in our day.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house — not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana.
In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn’t have electric machines to do everything for us.
When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
Back then, we didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.
But she’s right; we didn’t have the green thing back then.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water.
We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.
But we didn’t have the green thing back then.
Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service.
We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn’t it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn’t have the green thing back then?
When Pam and I visited California last October, I noticed how restaurants always posted the number of calories in each food item on the menu. I really liked that. It definitely affected what I ordered. There were items I might have ordered but, upon seeing the calorie count, opted for something else. True, I was gonna buy an In and Out Burger no matter how many calories it had, because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about (and it was worth it). But for other foods, I appreciated knowing how it might affect my waistline.
This was a state law in California, as it is in some other states and cities (notably, New York City). Some people argue that it represents far too much intrusiveness by government, and there’s a point to be made there. Government defaults toward intrusiveness. But considering the healthcare costs of poor nutrition (diabetes, heart disease, etc.), some of which society inevitably picks up (with or without Obamacare), I approve of calorie counts.
Now I see that McDonald’s will begin including calorie counts in about 14,000 restaurants nationwide. For a while now, their website has posted a complete ingredient breakdown for all McDonald’s foods. Kudos to them. But now we’ll be able to see the calorie count while standing in the checkout line.
Not that McDonald’s has been the standard-bearer for healthy eating. That’s like recognizing Congress for its workplace politeness and sensitivity. McDonald’s knows, of course, that a national law is coming (no date has been set yet) when all larger chains must include calorie counts. So they are just getting out there ahead of the curve, trying to win low-cal brownie points. Yet, I applaude them.
The result may be that, the next time I go to McDonald’s, I look over the menu, note the calorie counts…and go right back out the door. Because I’m confronted with the glaring reality that everything I like isn’t good for me.
A mandated calorie count may also make restaurants more reluctant to introduce new high-calorie items. Imagine ad campaigns where restaurants brag about how FEW calories their foods have.
Now, if they could just include the salt content, too. As a person with Miniere’s disease, I carefully examine all food labels to check the sodium content, lest vertigo come knocking. This is crucial to my health. But you can’t include everything. A friend of mine is allergic to corn. You can’t ask restaurants to identify the amount of corn syrup and other derivatives used in every menu item. So, on a practical basis, I’m content just putting the calorie content. For everything else–you’re on your own. That seems reasonable.
Slate.com published a good article about this back in March 2011. However, the article mentioned several studies that show, in places where calorie counts were already mandatory, it hadn’t changed people’s eating habits. Especially in poor neighborhoods. People were consuming as many calories as before.
In one study, just over half of the people said they actually noticed the calorie information. (The same people, I assume, also walk in front of speeding cars.) Only 15% said it affected their choices. The latter 15% averaged 106 calories less than everyone else.
But hey–if only 15% of consumers use the calorie information, that’s a good start. Nothing is universal right off the bat.
I’m definitely, and proudly, in that 15%. And 15% of a population of 300 million–that’s 45 million people who pay attention. People who probably also–like me–examine food labels in grocery stores, and make buying decisions on that basis.
Changing eating habits won’t happen overnight. Educating people about the need to control caloric intake, and having the need actually sink into their skulls, will take a while. Perhaps the majority of folks will never catch on. But putting the information out there, in plain sight, is a good start. We can’t do much more than that. It ultimately comes down to people’s choices.
Unfortunately, it won’t suddenly make people start cooking more at home, or getting regular exercise. Sometimes it takes a heart attack to do that.
If I was a teenager today, would I want a tattoo? Possibly.
I don’t remember my high school classmates in the 1970s getting tattoos (a large, multi-ethnic school in Tulare, California). It just wasn’t a thing back then. But we still had ways to be “cool,” and I suppose tattoos, today, are evidence of “cool.”
I was not immune to peer pressure. I wanted to be cool (and fell oh so short). So maybe, if growing up today, I would pester my parents for permission to get a tattoo (and pout when they said no).
Tattoos are very common at my church. It doesn’t bother me. I have no inclination to be either judgmental or admiring. But I have zero interest in getting a tattoo. Maybe because a person can possess only so much “cool,” and I’m at capacity. Yeah, that’s my story.
I found these stats:
Among those without tattoos:
We know what the soldier means by the thumbs-up. But do we really know what those Iraqi kids mean? Are they secretly laughing inside?
In many countries, the “thumbs up” gesture is akin to the middle finger in America. One of those countries is Iraq. So picture this.
American troops, in their tanks and Humvees, are driving through an Iraqi city. From the street and windows and rooftops, Iraqis can be seen giving American troops a thumbs-up. The American troops smile at what they perceive to be a welcoming gesture, and they return the thumbs-up.
When actually, all both sides are doing is flipping each other off.
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Copyright © 2013 Steve Dennie | All rights reserved
