?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Independence Day

Posted on July 4, 2013

I’m not sure if Independence Day or Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday of the year, the first being my birthday. Each has its own feel, but since today is the Fourth of July I’m going with the red, white, and blue.

Yesterday some friends invited us to join them for dinner tonight.  They live on the bluff and can see the fireworks from their windows without having to arrive umpteen hours early and score a blanket spot on the beach.  Earl and I did that once; we’re glad to be able to say we did it, but we weren’t planning a repeat performance.  Instead, thanks to friends, we get to see the show without mingling among the masses.  We are not great mass minglers.

I’m reminded of other Fourths of July:  the ones when my children were growing up, and we did claim blanket real estate for the firework show.  Only it was Libertyville, Illinois, in the eighties and nineties, not St. Joseph, Michigan.  It was local Butler Lake, not mighty Lake Michigan

One year my two sons and I went down the Mississippi on the Delta Queen, a truly American paddle wheel boat.  It was the year of the bicentennial, so this was even before our Libertyville days. I don’t know what my sons remember but a wonderful three day trip is etched in my memory.  We stopped in Louisville, Kentucky, where there was a silhouette artist doing quick-draws on the landing.  Of course I had to have my sons in silhouette.  Captured for all time at ages seven and four. I framed the artist’s work and hung it in various homes until, at last, I can no longer remember where I let it go.

Then there are the cookouts and rainouts and Little League baseball games and birthday parties for Earl’s daughter, who was born on July 3.  According to Earl, she thought the fireworks in Chicago’s Grant Park were for her. (I’ve not heard her side, but I suspect she caught on.) There are boat rides and sunburns and neighbors shooting rockets.  Patriotic music, a communal feeling of solidarity which is a respite to the gridlock in Washington, and an appreciation that we are truly blessed as a country.

Those fifty-two men who signed the Declaration of Independence in 1776 would not recognize the country they brought into existence, but I believe they would be proud that it endures.

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Robin

Posted on July 1, 2013

There is a robin who has built its nest in one of our evergreens.  It’s a smart robin, since the nest is hidden on the back side and is visible only to those to who paw the tree looking for it.  I am not one of those people.

Still, the robin and I continually startle each other. I walk in front of the evergeen daily as I check my various flower beds, more eager to rid myself of weeds than robins. Invariably I forget the evergreen has a flighty tenant, and it hasn’t learned that I’m harmless.

So the regular scenario goes like this:  Human checks flowers each morning, reveling in the beautiful blooms this summer has offered.  Bird hears and then sees human and becomes upset.  Flies from evergreen with a loud squawk and lands on driveway as if to challenge a mean intruder.  Human wonders, “Who is the interloper here?”

It’s true I’m not much of a bird lover.  In fact, I belong to the school that believes feeding birds ultimately gets in nature’s way.  At the same time, I would never attack a nest. So I wish the robin would just go about its business and let me go about mine.

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1000 Pieces

Posted on June 30, 2013

Two days ago Earl and I started a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle that is the size of a small area rug.  We’ve never done a thousand pieces before, and the last five hundred piece puzzle stumped us for days. Have we lost our minds?

The thing is the one thousand piecer was a Christmas gift, and the person who gave it to us is coming over in a few days. We thought it was about time we let her know we were enjoying her thoughtfulness.

And truthfully, we are. Unlike the previous puzzle, which was a picture of Custer’s Last Stand where much of the terrain was either blue uniform, brown horse, or sandy grass, this is a picture of a general store, circa the early twentieth century.  It’s Norman Rockwellian in tone.  And the great thing is that there are a myriad of colors and shades so one can assemble  pieces on that basis.

We’ve already got the red Cola Cola dispenser put together.  And the American flag and the mail boxes that a general store would have had back then.  Now we’re working on the grocery shelves with their various product names.  And words are always a great puzzle piece identifier.

I don’t know how long this will take, but so far both Earl and I have commented that Custer’s Last Stand was harder. It remains to be seen if this statement stands.

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Ten Days’ Worth

Posted on June 29, 2013

It’s been ten days since my last blog; I didn’t intend to go so long without writing.  It just happened. A lot of other things also happened.

My son’s Internet business is slowly working out the kinks in its new website.  We have figured out the problem with the credit cards, so our virtual doors are officially open for business.

Some friends and I had lunch at a new place in Benton Harbor called Bread + Bar.  The owner is well-known for his award winning artisan breads and baked goods; and I suspect he reasoned that having a liquor license would enhance the bread experience.  The restaurant’s décor was simple and clean, the food was excellent, and our individual checks came on miniature break boards . . . a charming touch.  There was just one problem:  the accoustics were downright awful. At times my friends and I could hardly hear ourselves think, much less chat. Evidently we were not alone in noticing this problem; we learned the owner is already looking into a solution.  When he implements it, I’ll be back.

Summer officially arrived, although there wasn’t much hoopla made about it.  Seems people have started to think summer begins on Memorial Day.  I probably notice June 21 more than most, since that was my Mother’s birthday; and she was most proud to have been born on the “longest day in the year.”  She would have been ninety-five on this particular June 21.

A long-time friend and I met for a couple days in Grand Rapids, MI.  We get together in a hotel without our mates once or twice a year and talk up a storm.  It’s a tradition that started in 1976 when we met in Kalamazoo, MI, that first time.  Our children were little, and we needed to get away.  Now our children are approaching middle age, but we still get away.  Maybe it’s because we haven’t run out of things to talk about yet . . .

And, finally, yesterday Daniel Taylor was released from an Illinois prison after serving twenty years for a murder he did not commit. The Center on Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern University’s School of Law was instrumental in securing Taylor’s release, as it obtained records that proved he was in custody for disorderly conduct at the time of the crime.  I nominate this incident as having the best outcome in the past ten days.

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The Morning After

Posted on June 19, 2013

No, I’m not talking about a colossal hangover here . . . but maybe I am.  Yesterday, Launch Day at my son’s Internet business didn’t go exactly at planned.

The site is beautiful, looks professional, and really is 2013 instead of 2003 when the first site was launched.  There’s just one slight – well, not so slight – problem.  Somehow, the site can’t process credit cards.  And, if you’re an online retail store, not accepting credit cards doesn’t seem like a great business plan.

I’m sure it’s a question of some coding that our tekkies will take care of.  I’m sure we’ll be up and running soon. And I’m sure we’ll laugh about this down the road.  At the same time, it does feel as if we all have a hangover.

Stay tuned . . .

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Lift-Off

Posted on June 18, 2013

Today, the company my son and his partner own launches a new website.  It’s been more than two years in the making; and in that time the economy hasn’t been particular good to them.  I don’t mean their personal finances; I mean the growth of Fred Flare, their fifteen-year old business.  They are pinning their hopes on this new website to turn the company’s finances around.

If I compare this to other national programs, mostly those related to space exploration, I’d say they might win the battle but lose the war. We all know what happened to NASA and Cape Canaveral even as the general public watched lift-off after lift-off.

That said, staff is working incredible hours to launch the new site; the company has used untold resources; and the prospect of the site not saving the company isn’t even on the owners’ radar.

So while I believe I am the realist in the group, I hope that a miracle occurs, that we lift off into joyous  economic renewal, and that Fred Flare continues at warp speed ahead.

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Strawberry Time

Posted on June 17, 2013

Where I live in southwestern Michigan it’s time for fruit and veggie stands to crop up, almost as plentiful as weeds but much more appreciated. Already asparagus has come and gone, and now it’s strawberries’ turn.

For the past week or so, we have been inundated with the homegrown, sweet, red fruit.  Within walking distance of my home is a patch where you can pick your own or purchase quarts of ready-picked beautiful berries.  However, I came by mine free via a friend who got more than she could handle.

So Earl and I have been eating strawberries for almost a week.  Tonight, we had them for dinner.  Under the adage that “Life is short so eat dessert first,” we dined on strawberry shortcake as our entrée.  It was delicious and also reminiscent.

We recalled that Earl’s mother made strawberry shortcake using those round spongy mattress-like things you buy at a supermarket.  I assume she added the requisite berries and whipped cream and did the entire thing in about five minutes.  He loved every bite back then.

My mother, on the other hand, was a purist. Well, almost a purist.  She used hot biscuits with butter as her base.  I must admit she didn’t make the biscuits from scratch, but I never noticed.  What I did notice was that her strawberry shortcake blended a warm buttery taste with a cold sugary flavor topped with whipped cream. And I make mine the way she did.

Which is what I did tonight.  We sat on the patio in the cool evening and ate our dinner and recalled our mothers’ methods.  I suspect both would have approved, even if neither of them would have offered dessert for the main course.

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Sneaky, Sneaky

Posted on June 15, 2013

It pays to read the fine print, and I suspect many people do not.  If they did, the solicitation I received from my credit card company today would not have happened.

Here’s how it went down (and I am specific with the credit card company on purpose).  Capital One sent me some pre-printed checks with the enticement that I use them to pay off other creditors or upcoming bills.  The hook was that anything I used these checks for would have a zero percent interest for twelve months.  It did catch my eye.

But then I read the stipulations.  In essence, if you bought this scam and used one of the checks to transfer a balance or whatever at zero percent interest, anything else you charged to the card in coming months was subject to a 17.9 percent APR, UNLESS you paid off not only the new charges but also the money you’d transferred. So what is the advantage?

This seems to be a blatant way of forcing people like me, who always pay her credit card off monthly, to pay interest.  I already know that those who pay their bills completely every month are called – can you believe it? – “deadbeats” in the credit card world because we don’t generate interest for the credit card company.

At the same time, the credit card company doesn’t acknowledge that our purchases generate revenues each month from the vendors from whom we purchase.  So we’re not really deadbeats; we’re just not generating the maximum revenue for the credit card company.

It’s not about helping us; it’s all about them.

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Denali

Posted on June 11, 2013

Something happened on June 7, my birthday.  It won’t get a lot of publicity, but it’s important anyway. So instead of writing about the birthday dinner and the various acknowledgements and the restaurant’s flour-less cake with the symbolic candle, I choose to talk about Denali, located in Alaska.

Does the word resonate?  Maybe. But if it doesn’t, then let me tell you that Denali is the Alaskan Athabaskan word for what is more popularly known as Mt. McKinley, the highest peak in North America.  The first person ever to reach the summit did so on June 7, 1913.

Here’s the issue.  Many people want to rename the mountain Denali; others, particularly legislators from Ohio who claim President McKinley as their own, block this legislation every single time.

C’mon.  Why wouldn’t we want a mountain in Alaska to have an indigenous name?  After all, did President McKinley ever climb it, much less visit? It’s not as if we’re denigrating the Father of our Country or the Great Emancipator or even a more contemporary President.  McKinley probably doesn’t make many Top Ten lists of Presidents, so I say Ohio should give up.

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In My Next Life

Posted on June 7, 2013

Today is my birthday, so I’m ruminating about my past, the present, and the future. Of these three categories, my past is definitely the largest.  The present will be gone tomorrow, and the future is yet to arrive.

I’ve decided when it does I am going to pay more attention to my piano playing. I have spent myriad hours and many dollars in pursuit of learning how to play this instrument. Still, it baffles me.  I’m not one to do things I don’t do well; so I admit that often the first hurdle to overcome is to simply sit down at the piano and play, because it is a struggle.

I read a quote recently that said (and I paraphrase) that it takes ten years or ten thousand hours to become accomplished at something to the point where you can repeatedly do it well.  Reduced to mathematical components, this equates to twenty hours a week for ten years. I try to practice piano four hours a week, which means I need to live to one hundred to reach elite status.

I think about this, since I’ve been a freelance writer much of my life.  I’ve certainly exhausted more than ten thousand hours in that endeavor, and writing is more like breathing than working.  I hope in the next year I can say piano is starting to move in that direction too.

Then I won’t have to come back as a child piano prodigy in my next life.

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