corn on the hand

My son took piano lessons for a year or so when he was in elementary school. Though I think the real reason he stopped taking lessons was because he has music talents beyond the limits of the classical style of music training, the precipitating event was his disgust with the teacher...Sister Agnise...and her penchant for blowing snot bubbles from her nose during his lesson time.

I took piano lessons for a much longer time period...I believe I endured the experience for about 5 years (before graduating into organ lessons...first taken to prepare to play for my oldest brother's wedding but eventually becoming a way to honor my mother and her delight in my playing...some day I might talk about the reason I quit organ lessons...enough said for now that it involved bondage).

My first piano teacher was my aunt...my Dad's youngest sister. It would have been ok in many ways except I was really not one of the favored nephews for my aunt...she preferred my older brothers.

My second and last piano teacher was Mrs. Vogt. She was a classic Fine German HausFrau. She believed in hard work, lots of practice, and timing. I eventually grew to loathe piano lessons...it all had to do with a 13 page piece called Riverboat Sonata...a piece involving three movements that I was to play for the Annual Recital. I had to memorize the piece.

My sister and I took lessons together. Sharon had some interest in piano but not much. While one played the lesson the other did school homework or tried to ignore Mrs. Vogt's youngest daughter. The first one to play the lesson had to call home for our pick-up time (this is a key piece...you NEVER wanted to be the first one to play).

Mrs. Vogt expected a lot of her students.

Mrs. Vogt expectorated a lot.

Mrs. Vogt was one of those kinds of people that were very juicy when they talked.

Mrs. Vogt LOVED to count out the timing of a piece when we played. The only problem was that she ALWAYS spit when she said the word "two". Timing for her was best represented by this: "One, Spew, Three, Four".

I remember many lessons. Two in particular are pertinent here. My sister had to play first one day and, being the first one to play, had to make the phone call for our pick-up after the lesson. I remember looking at my sister as she spoke on the phone and she was in near shock, trying to talk into the phone while avoiding a huge piece of potato that was stuck to the mouthpiece of the phone. I wanted desperately to laugh but lessons were serious business and you NEVER wanted to make a mistake in your lesson.

The other vividly remembered lesson was while I was playing the "Beautiful Dreamer" movement of the Riverboat Sonata. While loathing the song and enduring the millionth rendition of the piece, Mrs. Vogt nailed me on my poor timing and started her counting. One, Spew, Three, Four, One Spew Three, Four, One, Spew, Three, Four, One...and then it happened...at the word Two...she spit out a piece of food...it was corn...and it landed wetly on my right hand. AND I HAD TO CONTINUE PLAYING, with that wet piece of corn stuck on my hand...on top of my hand. And Mrs. Vogt never noticed it...she was so engrossed in my piece. I wanted to laugh and throw up.

And I finished the piece and we got picked up and the piece of corn was flicked into the wax plant in the corner of the room.

as chance would have it

i have broken more than a few light bulbs in my life. some i have stepped on, particularly the christmas tree lights that always seem to be under foot while wrapping the tree. some i have broken whilst screwing the bulb into the socket. some i have broken while up on a ladder reaching on tiptoes from the second to last rung straining to get the bulb into a staircase fixture. some i have broken opening the package and the bulb drops out unexpectedly. some have broken simply because they were broken in the package when i bought it from the store.

every once in a while i will have the experience where i will step on the light, or screw the bulb in too tight, or drop the bulb whilst up on the ladder, or it will drop from the package unexpectedly...and the bulb will not break...no matter how heavy the step or great the fall.

every time i have a bulb that does not work from the package, no matter what i do with the bulb, it will not work.

there are some guarantees...few actually.
there are many surprises...many actually

rights

I am a bit fascinated by the issue as to whether or not convicted felons ought to have the right to vote. some are of the opinion that a convicted felon should have that constitutional right revoked because of the crime(s) they have committed. I presume that this would mean all convicted felons, be they murderers to government officials caught extorting or perhaps perjuring.

I tend to think disallowing a convicted felon from voting is silly at worst, misguided at best. I think it is silly because, while the number of convicted felons is not small, I doubt there is a sufficient number of convicted felons who are both organized into a voting block to exact significant change in our society in a meaningful way. I think it is misguided because a felon is human being living in and influenced by our government and society and both capable of and therefore worthy of having opinions heard and a voice in our developing nation.

I do not fully understand the rationale behind disallowing a convicted felon from voting. Is there some level of worry that somehow a criminal mindset will take over our nation? If that was the worry I certainly wonder about the attitudes and decisions of some/many of our elected and appointed and hired government officials who engage in both illegal and selfish behaviors and plans and decisions on a regular basis.

I contend who is the greater threat: the murderer in Leavenworth, reduced to a life of confinement that may include such things as working for a few pennies each day to purchase cigarettes and books, stamping license plates and road signs, keeping his body fit during his daily exercise period and studying psychology in the prison library; or the government official cutting a deal with a special interest group that will filter considerable funds to certain corporations that will in turn provide sufficient campaign funding and voting constituency to keep that government official in office for another term?

Frankly, limiting any adult U.S. citizen from voting is needless, errant, and perhaps myopic.

And, just as frankly, I do not contend to have a full understanding of all the pertinent antecedents and consequences of this issue.

Furthermore, I contend that no one has sufficient understanding of the issue.

Let them vote.

economics

I will never contend to be wise about economics. I will never pretend to be wise about economics.

Much has been made of all the bailouts. Much as been made of all the challenges to the economy. The McCain folk claim that the Obama folk blame the Republicans. The Obama folk claim that the McCain folk blame the Democrats. Everyone is to blame. I am not to blame. That is the common contention.

I listened to an interview on NPR about how the government neglected to regulate correctly such that we now have economic crises. Some say the government needs to monitor more. Some say the government needs to stay out of the way of business.

Recession. Inflation. All is up and all is down.

I find it interesting that we are mostly best at looking back at what should have happened based upon the current state of chaotic, if not crisis, economics. No one has consistently predicted the future, not that Alan Greenspan was all that good when he was good.

I do know a few things:
- when things are going good we stop looking at what could be a problem
- when there is money to be made we all rejoice
- when things that are going good are left alone they tend to start to rot
- when rotting things get smelly we take notice
- we are always in a reactionary mode...always
- dollars do not make cents unless there is bad investment
- you need cents to make dollars
- dollars make sense, if you believe the capitalist view
- no matter how much dollars make sense it is not good for dollars to make cents
- it always makes sense for cents to make dollars
- it takes longer for cents to make dollars
- when dollars make cents, it happens quickly...and usually suddenly
- when dollars suddenly make sense, everyone notices, but too late
- when people are too late, they tend to blame everyone else
- dollars can be made blaming others
- blamed others usually make cents
- insensed people make dollars off of other people
- cents don't tend to make sense when there are dollars to be made
- rarely do we get to making dollars and sense

What's my sense? A penny saved is a penny earned.

wont

Yann Matel, in his book "Life of Pi", makes an interesting comparison early in the story: "The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity, it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can...".

I find this to be an amazing treatise on life. It can be expanded to fit many of the ills I have lived through my life. Be in my dislike for having thick curly hair (I always liked Brant's hair...long, flowing, always easily 'combed' simply by shaking his head once). Or my frustration in grade school. I was the fasted kid in my grade. However, I attended a small school and each classroom was comprised of two grades. When my grade was the youngest of the two grades, my friend Brant, a year older, was the fastest kid in the classroom. When my grade was the oldest, John, a year younger, was the fastest kid in the classroom. My older brother had all the advantages of connections to people with connections...he has prospered well.

When I look around my life I can see how I've lived a life of comparison...constantly. It's kept me from savoring the moments of others, and kept me from savoring my own moments. There has been chronic fear of not being good enough, or of good things not lasting, and while that has kept me motivated, it's also kept me running and never relaxing in the peace of life.

Now, nearing 50, I am not sure I am attracted to what I have seemed to have done with my life. The feeling of being unsettled is more than a bit strong and kind of a meddlesome experience of each day. Being antsy, wondering what is over the next hill, even moreso wondering what cool experience exists over the hill to the side. Too much a life experienced from a zoned-out glaze.

The rudiments of this are dissatisfaction with self and Life. Judgment and fear invade each new experience and gone are the delights.

Oh, I am pretty sure those folk who seem to have the wonderful life are in their own private cells...or meadows or garages...all proverbial cells. And those folk living the mindful existence may be just as turned off or bored or prone to wondering 'is this it?' (that is a question posed to me at one of my most vulnerable of times...in retrospect I should have left the scene with all due haste and never looked back). Yet such comments are further evidence of a life of wont and not a life of Life.

It is possible Life is an experience of wanting wont.

oui, merci

I don't need to go into all the details behind the decision to travel through Ontario on the way home from Boston with my daughter, other than to say we were moving her back to Wisconsin after her successful college experience. What is more important about this piece is the question posed to us while trying to enter Ontario, near Niagara Falls.

Our vehicle was packed completely full with my daughter's possessions. The Canadian border patrol agent took one look at us, after we delivered our passports, and said "you need to prove to me that you are just passing through and not intending to deposit your daughter and her belongings in Canada". The gentleman was very intense, twice shared he was not trying to be difficult, but insistent upon our proving we were passing through and not intending to stay. At one point he said "This is Canada. We do not have to let you into our country. And if you cannot prove to me that you are merely passing through I can assure you it is a very long walk around the lake."

I have to admit being intimidated, which is likely the effect the man was attempting to create. At one point I even had a brief thought of "how dare you...I'm from the U.S. Why would I want to live in Canada?". I didn't go there.

But it got me thinking about what I could do to demonstrate that I was just passing through. He used an analogy of what happens at the border of Mexico and the U.S. He posited that U.S. border patrol agents deal with carloads of people of Mexican descent claiming they are just wanting to come into the country for a visit and plan to go back.

While I did not like being put on the spot to such an intense degree, I admit that the task before us...and that of the border patrol agent...is rather significant. What proof is necessary to demonstrate that people are passing through? What would it take? It's not like I can bring a letter from home saying "my wife can vouch for me". Certainly I could have asked a Wisconsin congressman to write a letter on our behalf. I reckon a copy of my house mortgage would be some level of proof. My passport certainly was not enough.

In the end we gave the man my daughter's State of Wisconsin ID, and her college ID (it was expired). Having obtained what he needed, the border patrol agent said "just go".

I will live with this on my mind for a time. What can I do to prove I am not just passing through.

you dope?

when i was a kid, dope was an alcohol-based substance applied to tissue paper covering a balsa wood frame. the frame could be an airplane wing, or fuselage. dope was highly toxic and flamable. my older brothers and i used to like the smell, though it wasn't best to use it in closed quarters. the tissue paper was first wet and, when dried, would be taut. dope was applied to seal the tissue paper. colored dope added distinction to the project. clear dope created a sense of depth in the finish. i can still remember the smell.

sometimes, when my third oldest brother thought i did something 'stupid', he would call me a dope.

as i got older, dope was slang for drugs...usually heroin or acid, sometimes marijuana. gossip about the 'burnouts' was comprised of how the erratic and problematic and confusing behavior of kids was a direct result of being on dope. i remember moving from michigan to wisconsin. we traveled back for my oldest brother's wedding. my second oldest brother hooked up with his childhood friends. one in particular...his name was stu...had gotten into the 'drug scene'. i remember my second oldest brother coming back after his visit with stu, and being upset because stu was "on dope". i recall having a thought that stu was a dope.

today, dope is primarly an athletic issue. no competitive sport is immune to the questions that are raised as to whether an athlete's performance was due to steroids, or some other substance.

i am ambivalent about the use of drugs...dope...when it comes to competitive sports. not that i am actually in favor of drugs, which i am not. the issue is the cut-off point for technology and human skill. takes the men's horizontal bar in gymnastics. incredible feats of skills and control of momentum occur on the horizontal bar. few of the technical elements could be completed if men were not allowed to wear special gloves that have a dowel sewn into the finger tips of the gloves, enabling the athlete to clamp on to the bar. resin, for that matter, is used to dry one's hands, useful for gymnastics and baseball. in the past, pitchers used dirt. now, resin is a must. in competitive air rifle shooting, special guns with balance bars, special glasses with depth gauge's and side-blinders enable accuracy. in swimming, special suites reduce drag in the water. whereas one used to shave legs to cut down on drag, now one relies upon the suit. are any of these, and the myriad other technical advancements, any better than dope? i think not...all are designed to provide a competitive edge for someone purportedly trying to demonstrate athletic superiority.

we have kids in tennis classes before they enter elementary school. little kids learn to ride on bikes that have shocks and gears and hand brakes. it is all about advantage.

dopes

to that which we are loyal

my general perspective is that everyone is loyal to something. for the most of us, we encounter someone's loyalty when we find someone stubborn. i tend to have a great deal of respect for those folks i find stubborn. i did not say i liked it...i am not always that patient or understanding...until i realize that person who irritates me with what i believe is stubbornness is actually a person with an incredible amount of loyalty. i struggle with finding that to which they are loyal...and therefore find them stubborn. but when i find that to which they are loyal, i am filled with awe, and that leads to respect. obama and mccain have opposing loyalties...so did obama and hillary. does does bush and much of the questioning public. bin ladin is an incredibly loyal man. those of the islamic faith are incredibly loyal. i can't quite get there...not sure i want to go in that direction with my spirit and life focus (and i believe this nation of ours will, within 20 years, be islamic by majority)...yet i am incredibly impressed by the energy that is expended toward that with which they believe. my wife and i were somewhat surprised by all the people...in two separate line-ups...waiting to get their new iphone at the local mall. for people to line up in one wing of the mall, just to be able to get into a second line in another section of the mall, just to be next in line to enter the section of the apple store to purchase an iphone (all the while chatting on their verizon and motorola and att phones while in line)...that is a level of loyalty in which i can find respect. my superiors would call those folks stupid. i would contend opposing loyalties...and a bit of connective ignorance

merge

traveling to work via the expressway requires me to merge from u.s.45 southbound to i-94 westbound. this occurs at the zoo interchange. generally this is an easy process. when traffic is heavier it can be more of a challenge. today the traffic was heavier. the ramp lane ends by merging into the right-most westbound lane. you have to merge or else run the shoulder. there are no other options. today, i encountered yet another instance in which someone finds it unnecessary to allow a driver to merge. for some reason it is more important for the driver in the right-most lane to prevent a merge. the result is an incredible amount of head-turning to find a way to merge, as well as the need to slow down in the merge lane, which causes folks behind trying also to merge to also have to slow down.

to the gentleman driving the gray p.t. cruiser with the orange sticker on the left side of the rear window...the driver with the driver's side window down...the driver with is arm out the window opening...a cigarette between the thumb and index finger...yes, you...dude, you are curious sort, perhaps either a bit silly or with a bone to pick with the world or perhaps with a major bee up your anal cavity...what's the beef? it's not like you are winning a race...i still passed you 2.6 miles later...i remained smiling though i have to admit, being impeccable, i pondered what it would be like to pull in front of your vehicle and slow to a 45 mph crawl (within legal limits on the expressway)...but opted not to do so for want of a desire to not perhaps stoop to a level of intelligence that may be equal to the depressed and bored two-toed sloth that grows moss on it's fur particularly when held in captivity.

actually, to you, fine sir, i hope you are blogging about the drivers you challenged today. i hope you are cogitating upon your need to exert your inalienable rights to be you. i salute your humanness...and doing so i salute that part of me that understands your need to be loyal to a set of values that others find stubborn.

give it to the children

i read an article that purports children are getting expelled from preschools at a rate higher than teens are getting expelled from high school. the article did not claim, though hinted, that the problem seems to stem from attention deficit disorder.

i am on record that the true meaning of attention deficit is a person having too little attention from predictable and stable and non-confusing people...mostly parents...in their lives. the rise in the diagnosis of 'attention deficit w/without hyperactivity disorder is both a sign of the behavioral health profession once again jumping on the 'make a buck' scene, and also a sign of parents who are too busy with the other aspects of their lives at the expense of time with their children. i dare say that modern american parents spend more time in the following non-work activities than they do spending time with their children: watching t.v., engaging in physical self-care programs.

children don't get enough attention from the people best suited to caring for their needs...their families. while i believe most day-care settings are helpful...good attentive staff, enabling parents to balance needs and life in a costly world...i also believe day-care settings are first and foremost a resource for parents (not the child) and, in a close second, a business. thus stated, day-cares don't provide care for children at a commensurate rate in which they meet the needs of the parents; the child while helped, is the secondary recipient. further, children are not a business...they are lives. life is not a business....life is primary.

children in modern american society are more like commodities. if that contention is indeed true, such a sad state of united americans.

now, if i am a child spending 6 - hours in a day-care setting, starting at an age of a few weeks and even if starting at age 3, i am not sure i can find meaningful and trusting connections with attentive workers...people...who are both running a business and tending to the needs of a dozen or more children. even children born into large families had a different experience...older children in parenting roles who were better able to provide the emotional safety and security that would typically come from mom/dad. without those strong emotional attachments, children are free far too soon. children free far too soon are independent before they have finished learning how to be dependent. children free far too soon are the centers of their own universes, rather than having mom/dad to ground them. children free far too soon are going to strike out and be unruly and not be attached and will always be wary...and these are the roots of what we safely categorize as attention deficit. children of modern american culture don't like people...they haven't learned how.

all ye all ye in free

ok, i've done my part. i will now accept guests. or, you can always catch my website @ www.crankyourshorts.com