Listening to another story about Bernie Madoff last night, I started wondering how a person could be so greedy. He stole billions of dollars from his investors, and now sits in jail for the rest of his thieving life. How many billions would he have needed for it to be "enough?" Or do people like him never have enough?
On the other side of the coin, there is a woman on the anysoldier.com forum who, like Bernie, is in her 70s. Unlike Bernie, who lived high on the hog in his penthouse apartment, she and her husband subsist on Social Security payments. Any extra money they have each month goes for sending packages to the troops.
Why is someone who has everything so unbelievably selfish, while someone with very little is remarkably generous? I don't know the answer to that, but I believe that most people do want to help others. The holidays are once again around the corner, and there are so many people in this country who will be dreading them. Lost jobs, no health insurance, family members in Iraq and Afghanistan, no home to go to at night. It is sobering to recognize that "there, but for the grace of God, go I." So what can those of us blessed with much do for those not as lucky this year?
Every community has various programs for giving, both during the holidays and all year round. Food pantries, homeless shelters, animal shelters, clothing drives, and Toys for Tots are just a few examples of places to donate. Not all gifts have to be monetary; you can volunteer with the disabled, make cookies for a military family, shovel an elderly neighbor's sidewalk, visit a nursing home, donate blood--the possibilities are infinite. Watch your local news sources for projects and programs going on in your area over the next couple months.
You all know that my number one cause is sending packages to the troops. What better way to thank them for their service when they are so far from home and family during the holidays? It's also a wonderful way for kids to learn appreciation for those who serve our country and experience the happiness that comes from giving to others.
Maybe old Bernie never felt the joy of giving something to a stranger without expecting anything in return. Maybe like the Grinch, his heart is three sizes too small. Most of us will never be billionaires, but we can still feel rich. Just give.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
She-Wolf
The other night at the movies, I saw a preview for a film coming out called The Wolfman. Actor Benicio Del Toro visits his family home after the violent death of his brother, and soon after, he himself is attacked by a wolf-like creature. When the moon is full, he transforms into a hairy, snarling beast.
I don't even need a full moon. It was like watching myself evolving in the mirror. Hair in undesirable places. Knee-jerk anger over much of what I see, hear, read, and experience. Gnashing my teeth and being generally disagreeable about Fred's suggestions and comments.
I wasn't always like this, was I?? (For sure I wasn't growing a mustache.) But it's this personality transplant that bothers me the most. I've always been relatively cheerful and easygoing, not instantly riled up about everything. I feel like the real me has been snatched away and replaced by Miss Trunchbull from Matilda.
Besides the surliness, I offer other fine qualities. I'm forgetful, indecisive, unorganized, and feel extra gloomy when the sun doesn't shine. Small things seem overwhelming, and big things I'd rather think about next year. Our wedding vows didn't say "In sickness and in health, through PMS and menopause." With that loophole, Fred might go over to the cabin and never come back!
I guess I'd better do some more research and figure out how we can survive this time of my life--which could last for several more years yet. SLAM!! (That was Fred running out the door.)
And if you see a furry creature baying at the moon on Halloween night, stop and say hi. It might be me.
I don't even need a full moon. It was like watching myself evolving in the mirror. Hair in undesirable places. Knee-jerk anger over much of what I see, hear, read, and experience. Gnashing my teeth and being generally disagreeable about Fred's suggestions and comments.
I wasn't always like this, was I?? (For sure I wasn't growing a mustache.) But it's this personality transplant that bothers me the most. I've always been relatively cheerful and easygoing, not instantly riled up about everything. I feel like the real me has been snatched away and replaced by Miss Trunchbull from Matilda.
Besides the surliness, I offer other fine qualities. I'm forgetful, indecisive, unorganized, and feel extra gloomy when the sun doesn't shine. Small things seem overwhelming, and big things I'd rather think about next year. Our wedding vows didn't say "In sickness and in health, through PMS and menopause." With that loophole, Fred might go over to the cabin and never come back!
I guess I'd better do some more research and figure out how we can survive this time of my life--which could last for several more years yet. SLAM!! (That was Fred running out the door.)
And if you see a furry creature baying at the moon on Halloween night, stop and say hi. It might be me.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Blog Neglect
Yes, I know; it has been over a week since I last wrote anything here. When life gets busy, the blog is one of the first things to fall by the wayside. I was out of town most of last week; first I spent two days down near Milwaukee with Amy, my college roommate. We had a great visit, and I wasn't on the computer a single time. I came home for about 24 hours, and then took off again. Fred and I spent a night in Eau Claire, where he then stayed for a 3-day training. I drove down to my mom's Thursday and had lunch with her, three of my aunts, and a cousin. Our October get-together has become a yearly tradition, and with six of us talking and laughing, I always feel sorry for the other restaurant patrons!
After staying overnight at my mom's, I headed to Eau Claire again and picked up Katie. We came back to Rhinelander in her car, driving in snow and slush, and she stayed for the weekend. On Saturday we picked up a few things in town for her Halloween costume. I suggested who she should dress up as, and it turned out to be really funny. I'm sure she will post a bunch of pictures on Facebook!
Now I have to finish up Halloween cards and my Christmas card swap cards for the troops. We are going to Amberg Friday for a Hilton Halloween, and I have lots to do before then. With holiday preparations on the horizon, I will probably become even more neglectful here. But...I'll write when the mood strikes me, or when a topic comes along that's too good to pass up. In case I'm away the rest of the week....HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
After staying overnight at my mom's, I headed to Eau Claire again and picked up Katie. We came back to Rhinelander in her car, driving in snow and slush, and she stayed for the weekend. On Saturday we picked up a few things in town for her Halloween costume. I suggested who she should dress up as, and it turned out to be really funny. I'm sure she will post a bunch of pictures on Facebook!
Now I have to finish up Halloween cards and my Christmas card swap cards for the troops. We are going to Amberg Friday for a Hilton Halloween, and I have lots to do before then. With holiday preparations on the horizon, I will probably become even more neglectful here. But...I'll write when the mood strikes me, or when a topic comes along that's too good to pass up. In case I'm away the rest of the week....HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Great Sock Conspiracy
Socks are one of those necessary but dull items that we buy periodically when our old ones get holes or we need a new color or style. Most people don't get riled up about socks--until they start disappearing into the great black hole of laundry limbo.
Socks come out of the package in pairs, but somewhere during their construction, sock DNA is programmed so that one in each pair will vanish. Where do these socks go??! Some fall behind the washing machine or dryer, to be discovered months later in a dry, hardened ball. The corners of fitted sheets are favorite hiding places, as are sleeves, pant legs, and hoods. I've found them stuffed down in the couch cushions, behind the dresser, moldering in a gym bag, and lying in the driveway. Some get left at the cabin, at Grandma's and in motel rooms. Others simply vaporize into the ozone layer.
After Erica left for college, I completely cleaned her room. There were a dozen or more socks under the bed and stuck between the mattress and bed frame. Katie left a trail of mismatched socks strewn through the Elk Mound house at the end of the summer when she went back to school. Over the weekend I was looking for something under the seats in Fred's car, and I came up with one of his black dress socks. Its mate has been sitting on the dresser for months. Obviously my family thinks socks grow on trees--or know that Mom will buy new ones to replace those they have lost due to careless sock management.
Being the packrat that I am, I don't throw out any sock singletons. There is a bag of friendless footwear in my closet, some which have been mateless since the turn of the century or longer. You never know when a prodigal knee-hi might return.
Sometimes I will pair white socks together even if they aren't the same kind. A white sock is a white sock, after all, and if you're wearing long pants, who can tell? I have learned, though, that Fred gets annoyed if I match one of his black socks with a navy one--though I've never done that on purpose. Really.
I propose that sock manufacturers include three socks in a set--a pair and a spare. Or maybe communities could have sock swap days where we all bring in our odd man out socks and look for potential mates. Speed dating for footwear...I like it.
Socks come out of the package in pairs, but somewhere during their construction, sock DNA is programmed so that one in each pair will vanish. Where do these socks go??! Some fall behind the washing machine or dryer, to be discovered months later in a dry, hardened ball. The corners of fitted sheets are favorite hiding places, as are sleeves, pant legs, and hoods. I've found them stuffed down in the couch cushions, behind the dresser, moldering in a gym bag, and lying in the driveway. Some get left at the cabin, at Grandma's and in motel rooms. Others simply vaporize into the ozone layer.
After Erica left for college, I completely cleaned her room. There were a dozen or more socks under the bed and stuck between the mattress and bed frame. Katie left a trail of mismatched socks strewn through the Elk Mound house at the end of the summer when she went back to school. Over the weekend I was looking for something under the seats in Fred's car, and I came up with one of his black dress socks. Its mate has been sitting on the dresser for months. Obviously my family thinks socks grow on trees--or know that Mom will buy new ones to replace those they have lost due to careless sock management.
Being the packrat that I am, I don't throw out any sock singletons. There is a bag of friendless footwear in my closet, some which have been mateless since the turn of the century or longer. You never know when a prodigal knee-hi might return.
Sometimes I will pair white socks together even if they aren't the same kind. A white sock is a white sock, after all, and if you're wearing long pants, who can tell? I have learned, though, that Fred gets annoyed if I match one of his black socks with a navy one--though I've never done that on purpose. Really.
I propose that sock manufacturers include three socks in a set--a pair and a spare. Or maybe communities could have sock swap days where we all bring in our odd man out socks and look for potential mates. Speed dating for footwear...I like it.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Purr...Brrr!!
Yesterday's day-long snowfall here was not well-received by the inhabitants of our house. It's too early in the fall for the fluffy white stuff to be coming down, especially since it hasn't even been six months since our last spring snowfall! I am intellectually capable of knowing that this snow won't last and that we will have some more warm days before winter is here to stay. The cats, however, don't like what is going on at all.
Last winter Smokey and Russ became "inside" cats after it got cold out. I felt sorry for them, and they so appreciated the warmth and coziness of being in the house. We adjusted to being a 5-cat household--even though Snickers, Jazz, and Crunchy didn't much like having new siblings.
When spring finally came, the two "outsiders" were eager to get out and explore again after the long winter--and Crunchy was allowed to go out for the first time, too. For five months now, they have been indoor-outdoor cats. All three have spent whole nights and even weekends outside if we were gone. I would hear them at the door if they wanted to come in, and we were all happy with the arrangement.
Yesterday, however, brought a forgotten wrinkle in their collective cat consciousness. Smokey came inside covered with snow after being out all night--meowing pitifully, like "How could you leave me out there??!" Russ sat at the door wanting to go out as I assured her that it wasn't a good idea. She was insistent, though, so I opened the screen door and she stuck her nose out, sniffing the cold air--then retreated a little as a wet flake landed on it. Gathering her feline fortitude, she delicately put a paw onto the snow-covered porch--then looked back at me with a "what the heck is this?" expression on her face. She did go out, though, and awhile later Crunchy went through the same ritual.
They were in and out all day, like little kids wanting to play in the snow and then changing their minds. I could see out the window that much of their outside time was spent underneath the car!
Unlike their outside peers, Jazz enjoyed the day sitting on the heat vent, while Snickers burrowed in a fleece blanket on the bed. I think they had the better ideas.
Last winter Smokey and Russ became "inside" cats after it got cold out. I felt sorry for them, and they so appreciated the warmth and coziness of being in the house. We adjusted to being a 5-cat household--even though Snickers, Jazz, and Crunchy didn't much like having new siblings.
When spring finally came, the two "outsiders" were eager to get out and explore again after the long winter--and Crunchy was allowed to go out for the first time, too. For five months now, they have been indoor-outdoor cats. All three have spent whole nights and even weekends outside if we were gone. I would hear them at the door if they wanted to come in, and we were all happy with the arrangement.
Yesterday, however, brought a forgotten wrinkle in their collective cat consciousness. Smokey came inside covered with snow after being out all night--meowing pitifully, like "How could you leave me out there??!" Russ sat at the door wanting to go out as I assured her that it wasn't a good idea. She was insistent, though, so I opened the screen door and she stuck her nose out, sniffing the cold air--then retreated a little as a wet flake landed on it. Gathering her feline fortitude, she delicately put a paw onto the snow-covered porch--then looked back at me with a "what the heck is this?" expression on her face. She did go out, though, and awhile later Crunchy went through the same ritual.
They were in and out all day, like little kids wanting to play in the snow and then changing their minds. I could see out the window that much of their outside time was spent underneath the car!
Unlike their outside peers, Jazz enjoyed the day sitting on the heat vent, while Snickers burrowed in a fleece blanket on the bed. I think they had the better ideas.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Silver Bells
Tomorrow will be my and Fred's 25th anniversary. As you can see in the picture, I could not resist his sideburns and mustache, and he was enthralled by my Orphan Annie hairdo and hoot owl glasses. I remember many specific moments about our wedding day: the grim look on my dad's face as we walked down the aisle; Fred's tears when his late mother's favorite hymn was played; my sister Kelley wrestling his niece for the bouquet when I threw it; the wedding party hanging out in our hotel room till 4 AM. But it never occurred to me to wonder what our life would be like in five years, let alone twenty-five. All I was sure about was that we would live happily ever after.
Fast forward to now. Where did all that time go??! Working, raising kids, losing parents and siblings, weddings, grandkids, changing jobs, moving....some bad times, and many, many good times.
We renewed our vows on our tenth anniversary, complete with a dinner and DJ for family and friends. This one will be more low-key. We spent the weekend at the cabin, which is kind of ironic since we also spent our one-day honeymoon 25 years ago at some friends' cabin on the Black River. We went squirrel hunting that day; Fred shot them and I fetched them. This past Saturday we also went squirrel hunting--didn't see any, though.
Looking back from this vantage point, the experiences we have had and issues we have dealt with are like stepping stones that got us to where we are now. When we became partners and built a life together, we didn't know--and still don't--what the end of the story would be. Some days have been happily ever after, while on others we've played the parts of the wicked witch and the troll. But with love, support, trust, friendship, and respect we have made it this far, and I hope all that takes us through the next 25, too.
Happy anniversary, Dear! We're still having fun--and you're still the one.
Fast forward to now. Where did all that time go??! Working, raising kids, losing parents and siblings, weddings, grandkids, changing jobs, moving....some bad times, and many, many good times.
We renewed our vows on our tenth anniversary, complete with a dinner and DJ for family and friends. This one will be more low-key. We spent the weekend at the cabin, which is kind of ironic since we also spent our one-day honeymoon 25 years ago at some friends' cabin on the Black River. We went squirrel hunting that day; Fred shot them and I fetched them. This past Saturday we also went squirrel hunting--didn't see any, though.
Looking back from this vantage point, the experiences we have had and issues we have dealt with are like stepping stones that got us to where we are now. When we became partners and built a life together, we didn't know--and still don't--what the end of the story would be. Some days have been happily ever after, while on others we've played the parts of the wicked witch and the troll. But with love, support, trust, friendship, and respect we have made it this far, and I hope all that takes us through the next 25, too.
Happy anniversary, Dear! We're still having fun--and you're still the one.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Bacteria Cafeteria
Yesterday morning I watched a segment on "The Today Show" about germs. I was very glad that I wasn't eating breakfast as I found out some quite unsavory things. Did you know that after five years, the pillow on which you place your head each night has 10% of its weight composed of dust mites and their feces? Eewww!! You shouldn't keep your toothbrush on the sink because when you flush the toilet, miniscule particles of its contents spray up to ten feet. Gross!!! And every time you wash your undies in a load with other clothes, e coli bacteria are dispersed among the entire lot. YUK!!
After this nauseating news, I went to town and viewed every person I saw as a teeming, writhing cesspool of bacteria that I didn't want to go near. The woman in front of me in the checkout line sneezed, and I backed away, debating about putting my canvas bag over my head. I went into the store bathroom--after being checked out by the clerk who had been sneezed upon--and washed my hands with soap and water, humming the Happy Birthday song to myself. The length of this tune is supposedly the amount of time it takes to satisfactorily get rid of the germs.
Fortunately for our sanity, we soon forget about these horror stories not long after hearing them. If we didn't, most of us would probably never leave the house! We are lucky to have this wonderful thing called the immune system that in most cases will beat up on those nasty germs and prevent us from catching every bug that we encounter. But hand-washing is the number one preventive measure we can exercise to avoid geting sick. Apparently, adults touch their faces 18 times an hour, and children do so 80 times! If we have touched some disgustingly germ-infested item like the TV remote, computer keyboard, or telephone, then rub our eyes...ZAP! Germs can live on inanimate objects from 20 minutes to two hours! So that person at the grocery store who covers his mouth when he coughs--then pushes the cart back into the corral for you to use next--may have just passed on his cold. We're advised to wash our hands before touching our faces, but how many of us are even aware of the times we rub our eyes, scratch our cheeks, or push our glasses up our noses?!
As flu and cold season begins, I will wash my hands often, carry antibacterial hand gel in my purse, and try to keep my paws off my face. I won't shake hands. And I might also buy myself a new pillow and give Fred my old one.
After this nauseating news, I went to town and viewed every person I saw as a teeming, writhing cesspool of bacteria that I didn't want to go near. The woman in front of me in the checkout line sneezed, and I backed away, debating about putting my canvas bag over my head. I went into the store bathroom--after being checked out by the clerk who had been sneezed upon--and washed my hands with soap and water, humming the Happy Birthday song to myself. The length of this tune is supposedly the amount of time it takes to satisfactorily get rid of the germs.
Fortunately for our sanity, we soon forget about these horror stories not long after hearing them. If we didn't, most of us would probably never leave the house! We are lucky to have this wonderful thing called the immune system that in most cases will beat up on those nasty germs and prevent us from catching every bug that we encounter. But hand-washing is the number one preventive measure we can exercise to avoid geting sick. Apparently, adults touch their faces 18 times an hour, and children do so 80 times! If we have touched some disgustingly germ-infested item like the TV remote, computer keyboard, or telephone, then rub our eyes...ZAP! Germs can live on inanimate objects from 20 minutes to two hours! So that person at the grocery store who covers his mouth when he coughs--then pushes the cart back into the corral for you to use next--may have just passed on his cold. We're advised to wash our hands before touching our faces, but how many of us are even aware of the times we rub our eyes, scratch our cheeks, or push our glasses up our noses?!
As flu and cold season begins, I will wash my hands often, carry antibacterial hand gel in my purse, and try to keep my paws off my face. I won't shake hands. And I might also buy myself a new pillow and give Fred my old one.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
An American Soldier
Rhinelander lost a soldier in Afghanistan last Friday. Sgt. Ryan Adams, 26, was killed in Logar Province when his vehicle was attacked by rocket propelled grenades. Seven other members of his unit, the 951st Engineer Company out of Rhinelander and Tomahawk, were injured in the attack.
Sgt. Adams was a 2001 Rhinelander High School graduate. While there he played golf, baseball, and was quarterback of the football team. Described as a "natural leader," he joined the military after graduating and had already served one tour of duty in Iraq.
His funeral will be held at Rhinelander High School this Saturday. Memorials are being accepted in his name at Park City Credit Union and will go to an organization called Angel on My Shoulder, a charity that helps people, particularly children, deal with cancer. Sgt. Adams was very involved with this organization.
This past weekend was a deadly one for American troops in Afghanistan. Eight other soldiers were killed in an ambush, and many were wounded. These men are posted in the remote mountainous region in the eastern part of the country, a difficult place to live--and a desolate place to die.
As lives continue to be lost on our behalf, please do what you can to help make our troops know that they are appreciated and cared about--and that they aren't alone over there. Contact me, or go to www.anysoldier.com to get started.
Heroes wear military uniforms, not athletic ones. Please support our troops!!
Sgt. Adams was a 2001 Rhinelander High School graduate. While there he played golf, baseball, and was quarterback of the football team. Described as a "natural leader," he joined the military after graduating and had already served one tour of duty in Iraq.
His funeral will be held at Rhinelander High School this Saturday. Memorials are being accepted in his name at Park City Credit Union and will go to an organization called Angel on My Shoulder, a charity that helps people, particularly children, deal with cancer. Sgt. Adams was very involved with this organization.
This past weekend was a deadly one for American troops in Afghanistan. Eight other soldiers were killed in an ambush, and many were wounded. These men are posted in the remote mountainous region in the eastern part of the country, a difficult place to live--and a desolate place to die.
As lives continue to be lost on our behalf, please do what you can to help make our troops know that they are appreciated and cared about--and that they aren't alone over there. Contact me, or go to www.anysoldier.com to get started.
Heroes wear military uniforms, not athletic ones. Please support our troops!!
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Football Movie I Hope Is Never Made
When I count things now, I skip number 4 and just add one on at the end. My Brett Favre shirt is worn inside out and only for walking the dogs. Any newspaper stories about him get put directly beneath the litter boxes.
"Oh, she's so bitter!" you say. No, really I'm just mad at myself for thinking that loyalty exists in professional athletes. There is certainly enough bad behavior among NFL, NBA, and MLB players for anyone to realize that they often aren't deserving of the pedestals on which we place them. But as a Packer fan for nearly 40 years, I foolishy thought that we were different. Our team is from the smallest city in the league and is owned by the fans, not some rich old guy. Anyone who plays there is surrounded by the tradition, the history, and the legends. It's easy, as a fan, to get caught up in all that and think that the players feel the same way about the Packers, the town, and the legacy as we do.
I was naive to believe that Brett Favre, or any other player for that matter, feels allegiance to the team he plays for or the fans who love him. It's a job, a game, a business. Ok, I finally get that. But why does he have to look at the camera yesterday and say, "Monday night is just another game."? Come on, Brett! At least be man enough to say that "The Packers hurt me, and now is my chance to hurt them back." Do you think people would think less of you? I'd say you've already crossed that bridge, pal. It was worth it to you to come out of "retirement" twice, risk injury, destroy the good will and hero status you had in Green Bay, and maneuver to play for the team that is the Packers' biggest competition. So don't sit there and tell us this is like any other game. We fell for your heartfelt first departure from the game 18 months ago, but as we've since learned: your words are empty.
If the Vikings do make it to the Super Bowl (and lose for the fifth time) it should make him proud that they are using him just as he is using them. For revenge. For glory in the twilight of his career. But not for years of loyalty from a team and its fans. That seems pretty hollow compared to what he had in Green Bay.
Oh yeah, I forgot again. Loyalty has nothing to do with it.
"Oh, she's so bitter!" you say. No, really I'm just mad at myself for thinking that loyalty exists in professional athletes. There is certainly enough bad behavior among NFL, NBA, and MLB players for anyone to realize that they often aren't deserving of the pedestals on which we place them. But as a Packer fan for nearly 40 years, I foolishy thought that we were different. Our team is from the smallest city in the league and is owned by the fans, not some rich old guy. Anyone who plays there is surrounded by the tradition, the history, and the legends. It's easy, as a fan, to get caught up in all that and think that the players feel the same way about the Packers, the town, and the legacy as we do.
I was naive to believe that Brett Favre, or any other player for that matter, feels allegiance to the team he plays for or the fans who love him. It's a job, a game, a business. Ok, I finally get that. But why does he have to look at the camera yesterday and say, "Monday night is just another game."? Come on, Brett! At least be man enough to say that "The Packers hurt me, and now is my chance to hurt them back." Do you think people would think less of you? I'd say you've already crossed that bridge, pal. It was worth it to you to come out of "retirement" twice, risk injury, destroy the good will and hero status you had in Green Bay, and maneuver to play for the team that is the Packers' biggest competition. So don't sit there and tell us this is like any other game. We fell for your heartfelt first departure from the game 18 months ago, but as we've since learned: your words are empty.
If the Vikings do make it to the Super Bowl (and lose for the fifth time) it should make him proud that they are using him just as he is using them. For revenge. For glory in the twilight of his career. But not for years of loyalty from a team and its fans. That seems pretty hollow compared to what he had in Green Bay.
Oh yeah, I forgot again. Loyalty has nothing to do with it.
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