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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| Bring something nice to Angus Jones. The guy has nerve. He speaks out for what he believes, even tho' it's like biting the hand that feeds him. He hasn't been a Hollywood victim (well sort of, but he got over it), like a lot of other teens in show business. He didn't swallow all the lifestyle around him and become a brat. So different from Lindsay Lohan. I feel sorry for Linday. See if there's something in your bag to boost her self esteem, not her ego, and give her a little will power. She need serious help. Jonas will take a lot of backlash for an unpopular stand. He needs encouragement to stay strong, and be a positve role model, using his talent and experience for good, not greed. A pat on the back to Angus for swimming against the stream. |
| Hey, Santa, How about an anti-inflammatory that doesn't interfere with anticoagulants? In other words, something that reduces swelling without thinning the blood? That would be Christmas to a lot of arthritis sufferers and older injured people. How about ice packs that stay on shoulders or elbows for 10 minutes without being a constant bother even while trying to sit still? Or heel pads in shoes that don't slide around? Or a real way to reduce sun spots (liver spots, age spots, a rose is a rose) without paying a week's salary for negligible results? It's easier to make children happy, isn't it? |
| Santa, It's me again. When I get on the bus, there is usually at least one homeless person. Sometimes, there's a whole contingency traveling together. I wish that you could provide shelter for them. I'm not asking for luxury apartments or spacious homes. A dormitory for those who can share space, with a locker where they can store private possessions with a lock, instead of carrying them all over town. And a shower room. And a laundry room. And the anti-social ones, usually men, usually but not always drinkers, could have a separate maybe leaner place with less supervision. Maybe the women's dorm could be divided, women with children and women without children; kids 13 and under should be able to stay near their mothers without disturbing other residents. And not just for Christmas, Santa, not just the winter, but all year long. Without any limitation on how long they can stay. As long as they're making an active attempt to get on their feet. I know a lot of them made bad choices. Some have various addictions. But some are victims of a family member's choices, or disease, or medical problems, or temporary setbacks. I just can't stand to see any of them lugging all their "stuff" around. Or think of them sleeping outside with the mosquitoes and stray cats and rain. Or being unable to shower before job hunting. Simple shelter and indoor plumbing, a little privacy and safety and hygiene. That's all. |
| Dear Santa, It doesn't matter whether I've been bad or good. Not for my list. I'm wishing for others, and it's not fair to withhold gifts from them based on my worthiness. I have a co-worker, one I'm not close to, who lost 3 close family members in a bombing in another land. It doesn't even matter what country, because this happens to so many in so many places. My wish is that bombing of all types stops. No more lives lost because of mass destruction. No more broken families, broken hearts, broken communities. This is a gift that people would soon forget and fail to appreciate once the bombing stopped for a while. But wouldn't that be nice? To let bombing fade from the mass memory. It wouldn't erase other kinds of evil, so that would be enough to occupy our minds. Stop the bombs, the IED's, the drones, the air-raids. It's just a beginning. Wouldn't that be a good gift for the earth? Better than toys or new clothes or fancy gadgets. |
| Of all the fancy toys we keep at our house for visiting relatives, the favorites are always wooden spoons, or plastic bowls, metal pie pans, or cardboard boxes. I should also list flashlights, magazines, and fingernail polish--the things you don't want them to have. All the brand name toys can't hold the status of things that allow imagination, exploration, and creativity to dominate. Save your money, and recycle old purses, men's hats, and boxes. You'll have happy kids. |
| At the bus stop I read a poster entitled Reasons to Cry In Public. It listed 30 reasons, all very sound. But it got me to thinking about more. Surely 30 is only a beginning number. I could add a few. Being attacked by hornets. Contemplating a Christmas without your brother--Mr. Christmas himself--for the first time in your life. Being told your mother's kidneys are only 13% functioning. Hearing that 3 family members were just killed by a bomb in your homeland. Seeing another homeless woman get on the bus with dirty clothes and all her earthly possessions in her hands. Watching a child being yelled at and being called names, like stupid, by temperamental, impatient parents. Listening to a man tell about losing both his loving parents in the same year. Hearing that your friend's wife lost the baby. Learning that the damage to your house from the earthquake will cost more than you make in a year. Living from paycheck to paycheck and being told that your company is downsizing and your position has been eliminated. I'm confident there are many more. |
| I get angry every time I see that poor kid with the painted face, and the partially shaved head who says "Never fall asleep at a sleepover". That's not funny. If that happened to my kid, I'd be pressing charges against the parents of the bullies who did that. Instead of stuffing him with Ragu, the parent should be punishing the other boys and putting cold cream on the kid's face to clean him up. Whatever happened to parental guidance and responsibility? Bullying is not a joke. Ragu is wrong to exploit it for commercial gain. And believe me, overweight children are already victims of parents who don't know how to deal with their problems. Using food to numb the feelings instead of handling issues is a mistake that harms a child in the long term in many ways. What were these advertisers thinking? |
| Another attraction in Jackson, TN, in Madison County, is the Casey Jones Home and Railroad Museum. It is privately owned by the main historian of Casey Jones and her husband. There are genuine antique railroad cars, including a duplicate of the engine that wrecked with Jones. This is another good family adventure. Inside the store and museum, there are many play stations for children, some with trains they can touch, and some that are for observation only. There are books galore, including the Thomas the Train series, and other toys, and even railroad outfits in tiny sizes. For the rest of us, there are train whistles and the usual memorabilia. There's a short film on Casey Jones, and lots of displays. Although not train related, they have a horse drawn hearse. My father was fascinated with it and had his picture made several times beside it. There are many objects from the time frame and information on trains, tracks, and so forth. Outside, adjacent to the building is old Engine 382. You can climb up the platform inside like I did and ring the bell (not a whistle). There's not much room for anything except shoveling coal into the engine. For those not familiar with Casey Jones, or who may have forgotten, Casey wasn't his real name, but he came from Caycee, and that stuck instead of John. He was always on time and was well known for his punctuality. There is still some question as to whether he received the proper signals or whether someone or even Casey made a mistake, but Casey realized there was a problem of two trains about to collide. He got all of his crew to jump off, but stayed with his engine. He managed to run off the tracks, killing himself, but keeping the passenger part of the train upright so that no one was injured or killed, except himself. He was a hero for sacrificing himself to save others. We know Casey's story, primarily because his coal shoveler worshiped him. He grieved so much over Casey's death, that he wrote the folk song we all heard as kids. As for his house, I learned that it was a "mirror house". Houses in small towns were built facing each other. It would be rude to do otherwise. With no radio, TV, or computers, folks sat on the front porch at night and called out to each other across the small yards. The outhouse would be shared by two such houses. So as they passed each other between the houses, they met each other "coming and going", giving birth to an every day phrase we take for granted. If you want to check it out, it's close to the interstate. You know you're there, when you see a small engine suspended in the air from a pole. |
| This "Village" is a privately owned tourist attraction in western Tennessee in Madison County. Just a few minutes from Jackson, and close to Alamo (I'm sure it's named for the Alamo in Texas where notable Tennesseans fought). It is in the early stages still, but is an attempt to preserve rural Southern life from the early part of the 20th century. It's a self-guided tour, but there are explanatory signs at key displays, and you have a map to get you around. Most notable is an authentic cotton gin, which has been relocated from a more Southern locale. It's a good look at budding industrialization. For those in manufacturing or with an interest in assembly lines, this can be quite fascinating. It also brings to life many things school children study. There are cotton branches everywhere, cotton fibers, seeds, a steam engine, and machines that operate on two floors at once. There's a pond close by, corn fields, and honey bees. A school and a church have been located there. These are not replicas, but are authentic buildings relocated here. The desks in the school are old, but are varied styles from different periods. The owners have recently obtained a confiscated still and are setting that up in an old log shed, for display only, not for operating. One building has a print shop, demonstrating newspaper printing. Everything dates back to a period before air-conditioning or central heat. Of course, all buildings have electric lights, which would not be the case in the early 1900's, when electricity was a luxury in the country. It was only in the 80's the day I visited, but it was pretty hot and sweaty in the cotton gin. I thought how awful it must have been for the men who worked there in the deep South on summer days with no ceiling fans or other cooling. Some of the machinery was dangerous and could mangle a hand. They didn't have built-in safety features like we do today. You just had to remember, don't touch or adjust manually while operating. I was also attacked by hornets! How real was that! I finished out my tour in pain, but found it fascinating. As they continue to build their display and improve the Village, Green Frog will just get better. For families, Green Frog Village is a great place to stop. As with any tourist stop, there is a store and cafe. The locals seem to enjoy the food there and gather early for lunch. There is considerable walking, so wear comfortable shoes. It doesn't have a glitzy, commercial entrance, so you'll probably drive past before you realize it. Be prepared for a u-turn. And if you want to donate some old farm equipment or tools, I'm sure they will display it! |
| If you're thinking of vacationing in Tennessee, consider going to Bush's Beans. It has an interesting and entertaining tour for all ages. It's set at the bottom of a mountain a few miles off the highway. The scenery is beautiful and rustic. The factory is historical, but modern. My dad, in his 80's, was fascinated with the old vehicles-a Ford pick up and a delivery truck, painted deep blue with the Bush's emblem. The interiors were still in perfect shape. There's a cafe there which serves Pinto bean pie. We skipped that, but enjoyed the shop with flying pig themes and the usual memorabilia applicable to the area and product. They also stock more variety of beans than I have ever seen in any store. The museum and movies tell the story of the first Mr. Bush, the Stokely family, and the Bush Brothers, and the evolution of the company and its products. You might think this would be a yawn fest, but surprisingly, they have put it together in an interesting way. It's all brief, so that you aren't overloaded, the marketing department keeps you upbeat, and you end up admiring their vision. Their goal, they tell us, is to be the world's expert on that little bean, and to be able to feed the world. How admirable is that! The bean is easy to grow, easy to prepare, and thanks to the evolution of canning, easy to store cleanly and safely for long periods of time. While most of the process is done by assembly line, like one ton pots of sauce, the spices are still mixed by hand. The labels, however, are not shown on film, so you can't get even the large scale recipe. They show you how environment-friendly they are, even recycling bean waste by using the methane gas in operations. They filter their own water. The films are so well done, they inspired me to do a documentary like that on my own company. I can use it for training purposes, but also for good-will with our contractor and other departments. But it's not just movies and advertising gimmicks. A lot of the displays are interactive for children. And many items from the Bush home from the early 1900's on show a sample of 20th century life. Former Bush products can be seen on display (tomatoes, etc.). Before you leave, you can meet Duke and have your picture taken with him. Just know, that he's still not talking. |
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