What Would Jimmy Do?

Seems like the last couple of weeks, I’ve had occasion to do a fair amount of “texting.” I’ve also noticed that Claire seems to be texting more. Both faithful readers know that I’ve touched on this subject before and explained that “texting” isn’t new — it just goes by another name. If you dig back in the archives of this (or the previous) blog you’ll notice some entries discussing “Q” or “Z” signals. Those were used long before there was any such thing as the Internet or smart phones by the military and professional communicators.

But anyhow, back to texting — it started out as something only kids did, but now we are seeing senior citizens texting each other. I’m not opposed to texting, in fact I kind of prefer it — sometimes. But the problem is that it’s rapidly becoming the primary means of communication with some people, especially the younger generation.

So where does texting actually stand with me? I’m neutral, except of course, I have an opinion. The facts are (as I see them) that texting can be deadly. Texting is (probably) killing the English language. Texting is impersonal. Texting is a very useful form of communication — but, it’s not the only, or should it be the primary, method of communication. Texting is one of a number of ways now available to discourage face-to-face interaction. Just check out groups of teens (and pre-teens) at the mall. They’re not talking to each other, they’re texting. Texting has led people to shorten or abbreviate their words and thoughts so when it comes time to express themselves in a face-to-face situation, they don’t know what to say because they’re so used to staring at that little screen and using acronyms, they don’t know to speak those thoughts.

To be perfectly honest, a lot of texts make us sound a lot dumber than we are. What with all the abbreviations, we lose the ability to form and phrase coherent sentences in real life. When you talk to someone in person, your conversation is made up of many things including non-verbal cues, including posture, facial expressions, body position, eye contact, gestures, etc. When you communicate via text, these cues don’t exist.

I’ve heard that often times, guys are now asking girls out via text messaging — are you kidding me? Asking girls out? I’m guessing that sometimes (or maybe even often) it works. Just seems to me that some things are better done without the benefit of a cell phone. But that seems to be the way things are going. It’s probably fun to watch old people like me text. Usually takes about 20 minutes for a single text. And of course our texting acronyms turn out to be different — BFF to young people means best friend forever; to old people, it might mean best friend fell. TGIF usually means thank goodness it’s four (early bird specials, you know.) As age creeps up, we have to invent the appropriate abbreviations, like: HERN 8D — hearing aid, B4IMGON — before I’m gone, GR8 LWIO — great, Lawrence Welk is on. And then there’s BTW — before the war, ATD — at the doctors, FWIW — forgot where I was, IMHO — is my hearing aid on and WIWA — when I was your age.

So texting or talking, there is and always has been a generation gap and the generations will never fully understand each other. But that’s ok — I’m good with texting, but don’t get me started on Social Media….
— 30 —

We spent last weekend visiting in Cleveland. There was a wedding shower for Chassie (and Dave) on Saturday at the Stone Mad Pub — a pretty cool place, I’ve decided. Sunday we attended a Stracensky Family Picnic that seems to be becoming an annual thing thanks to Chris and John.

The Stone Mad Pub is located on West 65th Street. The building was constructed as a tavern and store house by the Leisy Brewing Company in 1912. At the turn of the century, Leisy was Cleveland’s largest brewery and owned multiple taverns throughout the city. The location on West 65th was probably chosen due to the rapidly growing immigrant population in the neighborhood — mostly Irish, Italian and Romanian.

Production at Leisy Brewing Company peaked in 1918, but Prohibition (1920 – 1930) resulted in the brewery’s downfall. The bar, however, continued its operation and was a popular speakeasy for a while. With the disappearance of commerce, industry and people from the area, the neighborhood began to deteriorate. Although the surrounding neighborhoods remain in pretty sad shape, the area around the pub has witnessed revitalization.

When you pull in you get a sense you’re somewhere in Europe — there’s a cobblestone drive and with a little imagination, the pub has a castle like appearance. The bar and the restaurant are located in separate rooms, but the best thing about the place is the outdoor area – it would be wrong to call it a patio – entirely made of stone — the surface, tables, benches — everything. In the middle of the area are multiple fireplaces with big stone chimneys. Looks like a great place to sit on a fall evening. Unfortunately, it rained the day we were there. The close second best thing about the place was the bathrooms — yep, the bathrooms are completely covered with antique tiling that had to be laid by hand by someone with amazing skill…

Although I didn’t attend, I’m told that the shower activities went well and everyone was happy to get to know the newest member of the family a little better.

The picnic was just as great as always and we carried on with our tradition of touring Cleveland on the way there.

All in all, a great weekend on the North Shore.
— 30 —

So I see in the news this morning that Edward Snowden has been given “temporary” asylum in Russia. Both you readers already know what I think of Snowden (lowest of the low) and my opinion isn’t changing the more I read.

It appears that his big beef is American surveillance of its own citizens, so off he goes to Hong Kong (now in possession of China) and then to Moscow. From there he has sought protection from countries that are far, far worse violators of freedom than the United States.

Part of this morning’s article indicated that he has deliberately withheld the most damaging information about how the National Security Agency operates. If Snowden’s intent is to expose what he regards as illicit programs/operations, why not just expose them? It appears that he’s attempting to play some blackmailing game. The article also stated that a few years ago, Snowden wrote that leakers (like himself) “should be shot.” Wonder what changed his mind?

Unfortunately, Edward Snowden isn’t just some malcontent that’s annoying and more than just a little dangerous. He’s done significant harm to international relations. Trying to gain asylum in countries like Nicaragua, Ecuador, Bolivia, etc. has consequences – for both him and the U.S. In fact, good ole Ed may be almost single-handily responsible for a significant rise in the costs/availability of frozen broccoli — and even roses. Ecuador is now using the NSA scandal as a reason to pull out of trade agreements with the United States that have kept Ecuadorian imports of frozen broccoli, canned artichokes and flowers tariff-free. Those agreements expire at midnight on August first.

Ecuador is the fourth largest supplier for frozen broccoli and canned artichokes. They are also the second-leading exporter of flowers. Certain large-headed roses only grow in Ecuador, so there is no alternative supply. So get ready for higher prices – thanks, Ed.

Edward Snowden considers himself a hero and a victim. He’s certainly no hero, and is not the victim of anything but the consequences of his own actions.
— 30 —

Maysville, Oklahoma is well known as the place I grew up of course, but it’s also the place Wiley Post grew up. Anyone aware of early aviation history knows about Wiley Post. If you’ve visited the Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian, you’ve probably seen his airplane, the Winnie Mae, on display. That’s the plane he flew solo around the world.

Wiley Post was born in Grand Saline, Texas where his father was a cotton farmer. The family moved to Oklahoma when Wiley was five and settled on a farm near Maysville. His first view of an aircraft in flight was at the county fair in Lawton, Oklahoma in 1913. He enrolled in the Sweeney Automobile and Aviation School in Kansas City and became a pilot in the U.S. Army Air Service in World War I. His training took place at the University of Oklahoma where he learned radio technology. The war ended before he completed his training and he worked as a “roughneck” in the Oklahoma oilfields. The work was unsteady and he turned to car jacking. He was arrested in 1921 and sent to the Oklahoma State Reformatory where he served 14 months of a ten-year sentence.

His aviation career began as a parachutist for a flying circus and he became well known on the barnstorming circuit. In 1926 he lost his left eye in an oil field accident and he used the settlement money to buy his first airplane. He met fellow Okie Will Rogers when he flew Rogers to a Rodeo. The two became good friends.

In August of 1935, Post and Will Rogers set out to tour Alaska and Siberia – via air. The plane crashed on takeoff from Barrow, Alaska, killing both men.

So why this discussion now? Eighty years ago this month, Wiley Post became the first man to fly solo around the world. Post took off on July 15, 1933 from an airstrip on Floyd Bennet Field in New York. Seven days, 18 hours, and 49 1/2 minutes later, he landed at Floyd Bennet Field, after circling the globe. Another solo flight around the world wouldn’t be accomplished until 1947.

The airport in Oklahoma City is named “Will Rogers World Airport,” and the secondary Oklahoma City airport is named “Wiley Post Airport” and is located on the north side of Oklahoma City — almost within walking distance of my sister’s house.

Maysville has honored Post by naming the high school auditorium The Wiley Post Auditorium.

As I mentioned, if you visit the the Smithsonian, you can see the airplane used for the solo flight – named the Winnie Mae (after the daughter of an Oklahoma oilman that originally purchased the plane) on display. The plane was purchased from Wiley Post’s widow for $25,000. Congress authorized the purchase just nine days after the crash in Alaska.

So next time you see Maysville, Oklahoma in the news, just remember that I’m not the only one that put it on the map — give Wiley a little credit too….
— 30 —

I just renewed my drivers’s license. I remember not too many years ago, when your license was due to be renewed, you went to the DMV and stood in line (usually a long line) then gave them your old license, they took a new picture, checked your eyes and gave you a new license.

Today to renew a driver’s license, you must provide a birth certificate, passport, social security card, two or three proofs of residency, voter registration card, and who knows what else.
So how did we get to this state of affairs?

When cars came along around the start of the 20th century, anyone could drive them without restriction. Of course some of the early “cars” were just wagons that people attached a engine to for power — essentially replacing their horses. In 1899, Chicago and New York City required all drivers to pass an exam in order to operate their vehicles. New York City required any operator of a steam-powered car to be a licensed engineer. I guess technically, the first license to drive a motor vehicle was issued to Karl Benz (the acknowledged inventor of the modern automobile) in 1888. Because of the noise and smell of his creation, the citizens of Mannheim (Germany) complained. Benz requested and received written permission by the Grand Ducal authorities to operate his car on public roads.

The first real driver’s licenses were issued in 1903 by the states of Massachusetts and Missouri and required no examination of driving knowledge or skill and were basically just identification cards. As the number of cars increased, safety concerns began to prompt states to require driving examinations before issuing licenses. Rhode island became the first state to test individuals on their driving skills in 1908. The last state to require drivers to pass a driving test was South Dakota in 1959.

Driver’s licenses are used as the de facto form of identification in a large number (if not most) of countries, including the US, UK, New Zealand, Australia and Canada, because these countries have no national identification cards.

The fact is we all need driver’s licenses and we put up with all the rules and regulations necessary to get/keep one. But deep down we don’t think that little card is necessary because we’re all above average drivers.

While waiting for my license, there was a youngster waiting to take his exam for his learner’s permit. I vaguely remember taking the test when I was about 15 or 16. I remember one question asked who had the right of way when four cars approach a four-way stop at the same time? If that question is on the West Virginia exam, the correct answer is probably the pick-up truck with the gun rack and the bumper sticker saying, “Guns don’t kill people. I do.”
— 30 —

If my count is correct, the last entry in this blog was number 100. Both you faithful readers will remember that this is the second generation of my blog — the first one (“In My Own Write”) was closed out some time back and I started over with a simplified format. Anyhow, the fact that I’ve now updated it 100 times says something — I have no idea what, but it’s probably something like I can still write a lot of words about nothing.

But 100 is a cool number. We all wanted to get 100 on our homework when in school. The Today Show honors people that have lived to be 100 every week. It seems to indicate a fullness or completeness.

100 degrees on the Celsius scale is the boiling point of water (at sea level.) 100 kilometers is generally considered to be how high the Earth’s atmosphere is (the Karman line is the line above sea level and is generally considered the boundary between our atmosphere and outer space.

100 is the number of years in a century and we have 100 U.S. Senators, there are 100 tiles in a Scrabble game (at least the English version) and the first hundred days of the President’s term is used as a benchmark for his accomplishments.

In many countries 100 is the telephone number for emergencies — in England, dialing 100 will get you the operator.

There are 100 yards on a football field and it’s the minimum distance for a Par 3 hole on a golf course.

The first gulf war, under President H.W. Bush, lasted 100 days. The second reign of Napoleon lasted 100 days — ended by his defeat at Waterloo. On average, 100 people choke to death on ball-point pens every year. An ant can lift 100 times its own weight.

The Bible mentions lots of number lots of times, but the number 100 is used 95 times. Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born.

Often times we just use a hundred to mean “a lot.” So I’ve written in this blog a lot and here we are on entry number 101 – that’s a lot too, but because of its lack of “roundness,” it seems more precise. So when we reach 101 it’s kind of like a fresh start — the first day of every new year starts on 1/01 and usually when we say something is 101 it means the beginning, like a beginner’s or introductory course — that’s the number invariably given to the first course in each field of study in universities.

So here’s to not necessarily a new beginning but maybe a fresh start for a lot more of nothing….
— 30 —

Several times in the past few days, both myself and Claire have come across situations and individuals that “tried our patience.”

I’ve always heard that patience is a virtue. I suppose that’s true, but it’s also an acquired trait and an achievement. Patience is a virtue simply means that the ability to wait for something or someone without being angry or getting upset is a good and valuable quality. According to my extensive research, there is a phrase in Latin — “patience is the greatest virtue.” But some sources give credit to William Langland who apparently coined the phrase in 1377.

Today most of us are so busy rushing around jumping from one thing to another, we actually miss out on life. The majority of people don’t learn the true meaning and purpose of patience until they’re much older. To a lot of people, patience sucks. But the fact that patience is a good thing has been drilled into us most of our lives — when we were little, we all read, or had read to us, the story of the tortoise and the hare. I remember it never made much sense to me that a turtle could ever win a race with a rabbit, but that story was conveying how important patience really is. Patience is also stressed throughout the Bible — there’s a verse in Proverbs that says, “a hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel.”

There’s an old joke that proves how important patience really is. A supervisor, manager and the director of a large company were walking to lunch one day when they found an antique oil lamp lying on the curb. They rubbed it and a Genie came out and said, “I’ll give each of you just one wish.” The supervisor yelled, “Me first! Me first!” and asked to be in the Bahamas, driving a speedboat. Puff! He’s gone. “Me next! Me next!” said the manager and wished to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with an endless supply of Pina Coladas. Puff! He’s gone. So the Genie says, “Ok, you’re up” to the director. The director said, “I want those two back in the office after lunch.” The moral of the story is be patient and always let your boss have the first say….

Anyhow, I’m sure patience will come to any one who waits for it.
—30—

We were in a doctor’s office a few days ago and there on the wall was a poster that I’ve seen probably hundreds of times — its a drawing of a pelican preparing to eat a frog and the frog has a choke-hold around the pelican’s neck. The caption is “never give up.” Well, this looked to me like a good topic for this blog — never giving up is a trait we all at least desire…

But I gave up on that topic and decided that frogs would be better. I’ve heard that there are more than 6,000 type of frogs and they’ve been around for more than 200 million years. Out came my trusty dictionary and it told me that frogs are tail-less amphibians with moist skin and long hind limbs for leaping. There are both semi-aquatic and terrestrial species which live in wet habitats. Interesting, but not particularly exciting — I figured there must be more to frogs than this….

Further extensive research revealed that people who study frogs are called herpetologists and the fear of frogs is called ranidaphobia. Frogs shed their skin when they get too big for it — and — then they eat it.

There are tree frogs, bullfrogs, leopard frogs, cricket frogs but the biggest is the Goliath frog that originated in Cameroon (West Africa) and can grow to the size of a cat; the smallest comes from Cuba and is only 1/2 inch long. Frogs diets vary according to the type and size — small frogs eat insects like flies, spider and cockroaches but the larger ones eat snakes, birds and small mammals.

When I was a kid, we used the terms frogs and toads interchangeably — they are from the same family, but they differ in a lot of ways. Toads tend to have dry, lumpy skin and frogs have smooth skin. Frogs have small, fish like, teeth on their upper jaws and toads have no teeth at all. Frogs eyes tend to bulge from their heads and toads eyes appear more recessed. A frog lays its eggs in tight circular batches and a toad lays its eggs in long strings.

Frogs were the first land animals with vocal cords. No wonder the expression “a frog in my throat” became popular.

I’ve heard it said that if you kiss a frog it will turn into a prince. Most people say that that’s not possible — it only happens in fairytales. But I’m not so sure — where do you think the fairytale writers got the idea?
— 30 —

We went to see the new Lone Ranger movie a couple of days ago. I liked the movie, but if I was a Lone Ranger purest I probably wouldn’t have. The movie took a lot of liberties with the actual story, and while entertaining, it wouldn’t please those that thought it should follow the original Lone Ranger theme.

The Lone Ranger was one of my favorite radio shows when I was young — it always started with, “A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty ‘Hi Yo Silver!’ The Lone Ranger. With his faithful Indian companion Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early west. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again!”

I’m sure I didn’t get words exactly right, but that’s how every episode of the Lone Ranger started. The tory of the origin of the Lone Ranger (and the movie held somewhat accurate in that respect) was that a posse of six members of the Texas Rangers were ambushed by a band of outlaws led by Butch Cavendish. There was one lone survivor of the ambush and an Indian named Tonto stumbled onto the scene and recognized the survivor as the man who saved his life as a boy. He nursed the man, who it turns out is named John Reid, back to health. One of the Rangers that was killed was John’s older brother, Daniel Reid — a captain in the Texas Rangers. Since the outlaws believed all the rangers were dead, Tonto fashioned a black mask from the material of Daniel Reid’s vest to conceal John’s identity. After the Cavendish gang is brought to justice, Reid continues to fight evil and crime under the alias of the Lone Ranger.

The movie was somewhat true to the general story, but left a lot of things unexplained that the younger generation might wonder about. For instance the use of silver bullets — the Lone Ranger decided to use only silver bullets to remind himself that life, too, is precious and, like his silver bullets, not to be wasted or thrown away. According to the original story, the Lone Ranger’s horse (Silver) was a wild horse and the Lone Ranger saved him from an enraged buffalo — in gratitude, Silver chose to give up his wild life and be a faithful companion to the Lone Ranger. Before acquiring Silver, the Lone Ranger rode a horse called Dusty.

Tonto’s horse was ignored in the movie, but in the radio program, his horse was named Scout. I remember hearing Tonto say, “Git-Um up, Scout” on the radio. (That phrase was used as an advertising line in the 1970s to promote the Scout utility vehicle.)

While we’re on the subject of Tonto, the movie made it clear that Tonto was of the Comanche Tribe. If I remember the radio show correctly, he was a member of the Potawatomi Tribe, although I have heard that he was originally supposed to be Apache. In whatever native American language he spoke, Tonto supposedly meant “wild one.” Tonto is famous for calling the Lone Ranger, “Kemosabe.” That word means “trusty friend” or “trusty scout.”

During the movie, Daniel Reid’s son (Britt) played a fairly significant role in some of the scenes. I don’t remember Britt being mentioned much in the radio program, but he grew up and had a radio show of his very own — Britt became the Green Hornet. Seems like they had “spin-offs” way back in the 40s.

Now getting back to the Lone Ranger/Tonto relationship. The movie united the two for the first time as adults. The original “story” says that the Lone Ranger saved Tonto as a boy. I don’t remember ever listening to the radio program and Tonto not being there, but the fact is the first dozen or so Lone Ranger radio programs didn’t include Tonto. In those first programs, the Lone Ranger spent a lot of time talking to himself while traveling across the desert — that, of course was necessary to make things clear to people listening on the radio, but it began to make him sound like a wandering crackpot. Tonto was introduced on the radio program so the Lone Ranger had someone to talk to.

So the Lone Ranger told Tonto, “Only you, Tonto, know I’m alive. To the world, I’m buried here beside my brother and my friends… forever.” And Tonto replies, “You are alone now. Last man. You are lone ranger.” “Yes, Tonto, I am… the Lone Ranger.” “um, that right, Kemosabe.”

And then, the way the movie should have ended: The Lone Ranger riding away on his white stallion, Silver, shouting “Hi-Yo Silver! Away!” Then someone had to ask, or maybe even a sub-title — “Who was that masked man, anyway?”
— 30 —

We were looking for rocks to put in one of our flower beds instead of mulch yesterday — or maybe we were looking for stones. Some places called them some kind of rocks (e.g., river-rocks) and other places called them stones (e.g., landscaping stones.)

Well, you’d probably never guess, but that got me to thinking… what the heck is the difference in a rock and a stone? The “things” we have in front of a wall in our front yard were always referred to as stones by a little girl (Sophia) that used to live a couple of houses away. Emily refers to the same “things” as rocks. Sophia’s parents were both of European descent, so the use of stones may be more of a European expression.

This seemed to be one of those questions that just begged for some extensive research. The dictionary is usually a good place to begin extensive research, although it seldom provides acceptable  answers. Checking the Merriam-Webster dictionary, here’s what I found:
Rock: a large mass of stone forming a cliff, promontory, or peak
Stone: a concretion of earthly or mineral matter: (1) such a concretion of indeterminate size or shape.
Rock is also listed as a synonym for stone….
So, Merriam-Webster wasn’t much help to me again.

I got to thinking about the terminology I use when handling or looking at these “things.” Since I’m not sure there’s much difference in the composition or material, I sometimes find myself categorizing them by size, like: if it’s really small, I sometimes refer to it as a pebble, if it’s a bit larger I might call it a stone, bigger yet I usually call it a rock, and if it’s really, really big or huge, it’s a boulder to me.

One theory that I uncovered is that while a rock is sitting undisturbed on the ground, it’s a rock; once you pick it up to use it, it’s a stone. I decided there really isn’t a satisfactory answer to my question, so….
I moved on to just thinking about rocks and stones. We use both rock and stone in our language fairly often and usually they don’t refer to those “things.”

There is rock music, like rock ‘n’ roll and it also refers to something we often do in a chair. A diamond is often referred to as a rock. Some of the phrases we use them in would really sound strange if we substituted stone for rock or rock for stone….
Between a rock and a hard place just doesn’t have the same ring if you say between a stone and a hard place. And remember when you were a kid you’d say, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?” Do you think, “sticks and rocks may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” would have ever caught on?

Something can be hard as a rock or solid as a rock or steady as a rock; you can have your drink on the rocks or have rocks in your head, but don’t rock the boat and we’ve all heard about the hand that rocks the cradle. You probably think this blog has now hit rock bottom, but it hasn’t.

How about something being carved in stone, or leave no stone unturned or maybe kill two birds with one stone. One can be stone sober or just a stone’s throw away — of course none of this is cast in stone or should you cast the first stone.

Try substituting rock for stone or stone for rock in the expressions listed — they just don’t sound right, do they? So maybe the words were invented to help us express ourselves, not to describe the “things.” Truthfully, I don’t know — I’ve heard that a rolling stone gathers no moss, but a rock just rolls… and I really don’t want either, but I guess if I had to make a choice, I’d rather have a kidney stone than a kidney rock.
—30 —