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Finding America

Michael Leave a comment

Happy Columbus Day. Sort of. Traditionally in the United States Columbus Day was established on October 12 commemorating the day when Columbus landed on what is now San Salvador in the Bahamas. But then the greater American tradition of moving as many holidays to a Monday to create 3 day weekends overwhelmed the quaintness of memorializing an event on the date the event happened so we are celebrating it on the second Monday of October, October 10 this year, instead.

Now we can contrast that with the traditionally traditional argument that we shouldn’t be celebrating a Columbus Day at all, on a Monday or a twelfth day, or an any day. We should instead recognize the contribution of Leif Erikson who landed on what is now Newfoundland almost 500 years before Columbus made his pitch to Ferdinand and Isabella. To that end we have Leif Erikson Day celebrated on October 9, every year. Nobody really knows exacnewworldtly when Leif wandered past Baffin Island so somebody picked that date because it is the day an organized group of Scandinavian immigrants reached New York City in 1895.

One thing that is certain is that even though Columbus made 4 trips from Europe to “The New World,” the only time he actually landed on continental soil he was somewhere around modern day Honduras, fairly far from Washington D.C. where all the fuss about what day to celebrate emanates. On at least two of those voyages, the first and the fourth, his expressed intent was to land on land bearing resemblance to Asia or India. On the second and third voyages he at least partly intended to colonize the islands he had previously visited. None of the four were huge successes but he did well enough to warrant all federal employees getting an extra day off and have a city in Ohio named after him, all from a country within whose border he never trod.

A bit less certain is if Leif even meant to sail past Baffin Island. Leif was the second son of Erik the Red, who established a settlement on Greenland in 980. We don’t know if he was born there or on Iceland from where the family moved, perhaps urgently. Around 1000, Leif Erikson sailed from Greenland to Norway, hung out with King Olaf I for a while, converted to Christianity, and was to return to Greenland to spread the new faith. Many believe that Erikson’s landing on the north coast of Newfoundland was due to missing Greenland on that return. Whether he missed it or intentionally detoured his return to find new lands for subsequent explorers, he eventually made it to the settlement on Greenland and never returned to the continent. But that one stop made him the darling of anti-Columbian agitators and gets him a day of observance and a presidential proclamation every year, all from a country within whose border he never trod.

Continuing to contrast, it can be argued that it’s inappropriate to recognize anybody’s discovery of America since there were already people living here. How they got here is somewhat fuzzy due to the lack of record keeping from 10,000 years ago but they came from Siberia, Australia, or the Middle East depending on your source and/or obsession.

Then again…archeologists can deduce American societal findings dating earlier than the 25,000 years ago that migration would have been practical and there are indeed native cultural formations.It could be that those who place original settlements in America to a time the world began its exit from the most recent ice age (and the beginning of global warming?) may be the ones who should get an extra day off in October.

Whatever camp you belong to, don’t look for mail this morning.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Picture Perfect

Michael Leave a comment

I was watching an old TV show yesterday when it was noted that the then most popular hobby was photography. Then was in the mid-1960s.

In mid-60 I was still measuring my age in single digits and picture taking was a natural extension of any structured family gathering – birthdays, Christmas, opening pitch at the local little league. After the pictures were taken the film was developed and the printed pictures camerabecame the center of attention for an evening. They were passed around among the family, mounted in (or at least stuck between the covers of) one of the many family picture albums, and that’s where there seemed to rest until happily ever after.

Fast forward 50 years. That’s when my father passed away. I don’t know when the custom began or if it was/is even a custom but then it was a thing to display pictures on French memory boards and scatter about during the viewings. My mother and sisters spent hours going through albums and boxes and envelopes to select the images that represented as many of the 8 plus decades my father walked the earth. Pictures I remembered from those family “picture shows” were there and there were also pictures from milestone events since and not so milestone events before. Faces of relatives who had died before I was born shared space with the one of a much younger father. While we were occupied fitting remembered names to forgotten visages we became caught up in remembering lives lived rather than one so recently lost.

The interesting thing was that after the funeral and things returned to their normal paces and places, those pictures didn’t. Every time I stopped by at my mother’s house a new old picture found its way into a frame on a wall, a spot on the mantel, a corner of a mirror. “Who is that,” was answered with who, when, where, what was happening, what happened next, what everyone else in and not in the picture thought about it, turning a simple question into a wonderful story.

Today the most popular hobby is, depending on what site you pluck out of the 2 million or so that a search returns, either gardening or fishing. Photography is still pretty high on all the lists. A quick peek at Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, or any other social site confirms that. Hopefully some of those images will last for 50 years so when today’s generation fast forwards the next mid-60s they will turn into their own stories. And rest happily ever after.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

The Road Un-Traveled

Michael Leave a comment

Boy the United States is a big place. I realized that when it hit me that the farthest I have ever traveled to get somewhere didn’t even get me out of the country. In fact, I had traveled farther more times when I hadn’t left the country than when I had gotten outside its borders. That’s a big place.

Becauseworld I have that kind of time, I took a few minutes over the weekend to figure this out. The greatest distance I’ve traveled from home to somewhere is a few miles over 2,500. That didn’t even get me completely across the country

I’m not complaining about any of this. I think Americans sometimes forget how close other countries can be to each other and how much of a challenge that might sometimes be. We can go pretty far and still be in a part of the  world where people speak the same language, eat the same food, and respect the same routines. We may have come from different places but we have a sameness that is quite comforting. If you live in the middle of the United States you have a long way to go before you leave home. But if you live in the middle of Europe, you’re never more than a day away from a different world, often from several different worlds.

Sometimes I envy a European version of me who can step across borders and immerse himself in other cultures as easily as I travel from state to state seeing few changes other than the colors of the license plates. While we take pride in our backgrounds and traditions it’s very likely the customs we observe in our families and friends may be our only exposure to different cultures. From generation to generation our ways of life mingle and meld becoming even less different. Other times I recognize how wonderful it is that I can sample fairly authentic foods and dances, customs and costumes of so many nationalities just by visiting nearby nationality days celebrations.

Yep, the US is a big place. It’s not the only one of course. Canada, Russia, China, India, Australia, and Brazil are all big with lots of space from end to end. Iceland isn’t so big but it’s so isolated that it’s still a trip to get anywhere else. And then Greenland is big and isolated.

I suppose this like many other things in my life if I could change I probably wouldn’t. I may not get to see a different country every time I want to take a trip somewhere but then I haven’t had to add any pages to my passport.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Falling in Line

Michael Leave a comment

It’s officially fall in my living room. I have the previously posted about fall peanut butter cups (see “Caution, Fall(ing) Pumpkin Ahead,” Aug. 29, 2016) and pumpkin spice Hershey’s Kisses (which in two years I’ve neither previously seen or really even wanted) spilling out of their candy dishes.  It won’t be much longer before I’ll start seeing the Fall Fifteen around my midsection. Certainly you’re familiar with the Fall Fifteen – every bit if not much immutable as the Freshman Fifteen yet not restricted to young college goers.

It’s no wonder that by the last week of December so many around the world consider “lose weight” a leading New Year’s Resolution candidate. We’re just barely into fall, not even to October, and cooking magazines, Internet sites, and television shows are expounding on fall 20160928_193516flavors, all of which come in hearty (aka “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing”) stews, soups, and sandwiches. From classic cassoulet to common casseroles, from homey hashes to homemade pot pies, calories are on the menu!

Just a week ago I was grilling salmon with peach salsa and roasted corn with fresh fruit for dessert and yesterday I was roasting a whole chicken with potatoes and beans, followed by a maple, brown sugar, spice cake with butter cream icing for dessert. That would make it about 150 calories versus 8,574. (I made those numbers up. You may recall just a few weeks ago I listed calories among those things I just don’t know. See “I Didn’t Know That,” Sept. 12, 2016.)

Often people will justify that by saying, “But winter’s coming. You have to prepare for it.” What are we, polar bears? The only prep we need to do is making sure the car has enough gas to get to the megamart. Well, and that we are appropriately attired for the weather, whether it’s weather out there or not. (See “Winter Rules,” Feb. 17, 2014.) But if that’s what it takes to get you to justify all the yummy soups, stews, casseroles, and roasted beasts, I say go for it.

As for me, I’ll just enjoy the extra calories and won’t even fret about putting “Lose Weight” on a New Year’s or any other resolution list. In fact, I resolve to enjoy all things fall. However, I do reserve the right to try the pumpkin spice kisses first.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Trust Me

Michael Leave a comment

Tonight, across America, viewers will be avoiding the season’s most unrequested multi-station premier of the new situation comedy, the U.S. Presidential Election Debate. Like all good comedies the magic starts with the scripts. Since this show was written primarily in Politispeak, the RRSB is thrilled to present to you this Politispeak-English dictionary. You may find it also handy for everyday use particularly if your day involves interactions with bosses, workers, children, parents, friends, siblings, enemies, or aliens (legal, illegal, or extraterrestrial).

 

We begin with some key phrases.

Connect the dots – I have no idea how these things go together but I’m pretty sure they are right, good, or otherwise suitable to whomever I am speaking so let’s go for broke and put all our eggs in one basket.

Hard work pays off -or- It takes hard work to get the job done – You do the work, I take the credit and/or reward, preferably monetary.

I approve this message – Although there is little if any truth in this message, my legal team tells me that there is little to nothing that anyone can prove is at all to completely untruthful.

I got your back – You really are gullible.

In all honesty – I have no idea what I’m talking about

No offense intended – You suck

People are our most important asset – People who agree with me are sort of tolerable; people who disagree with me are scum.

Together we can make a difference – I need your vote/approval to accomplish my personal goal. If you happen to get anything out of it, isn’t that a happy accident?

Trust me – Yeah, right.

What you think matters or Your opinion is important to me – You’re kidding me, right?

With all respect -Boy, you really suck!

With great power comes great responsibility – with great power come large book deals and obscenely high speaking fees.

 

In addition to key phrases, professional misleaders also rely on certain words to confuse, confound, or bewilder the listener.

Actually – “I haven’t given it any thought.” When a speaker uses “Actually” as in “this is actually what writers of the Constitution intended,” they are really saying “My advisers/handlers/trainers told me that this would be a good place to interject something thought provoking but I haven’t given it any thought myself.”  Everyday users probably recognize this as a common phrase uttered by spouses, partners, or persons otherwise of interest to yourself as in “That’s actually a good idea.”

But – Everything before the “But” is bullshit. Examples include, “You are the most wonderful person I have ever met, but I think it’s best if we never see each other again.”

Honestly – In its most basic meaning, everything after “Honestly” is bullshit as in “Honestly, I value your opinion.” Occasionally “But” and “Honestly” will be used together to create a compound incredulity. Thus, “I have the greatest respect for you but honestly I feel we need to explore this idea a little deeper” translates to “You suck and your idea does too.”

Really – When used to indicate degree of something positive as “I had a really good time,” the speaker means the opposite. To imply a good time was had, the correct phrase would be, “I had a good time.” Likewise, in Politispeak, “Really” interjected into an otherwise positive phrase such as, “I am really the best option,” means, “I question my own press releases.” Note that “Really” interjected in negative phrases can be successfully removed from the phrase without changing its meaning. “You really suck,” generally translates to “You suck.”

Seriously – When used as an adjective it means the opposite of what is being modified. For example, “This is a seriously important issue,” means “This has no bearing on life as we know it.” You may be more familiar with “this is seriously good coffee,” meaning “this coffee tastes like brown toilet water.” When used as an introduction, “Seriously“, connotes a desire for the listener to consider the speaker as a personal friend of the listener as, “Seriously, you can count on me.”

 

There you have it – the official, first ever Politispeak-English Dictionary. This is seriously the most fun I’ve had writing a post. I have researched this topic thoroughly but I’m sure there are some words or phrases I have left out. In all honesty, I value your opinion, so if you think of any really fabulous examples, add them in the comments section.  Actually I know our hard work will pay off and people will soon be able to completely understand what others are saying. Honestly, I look forward to continuing this discussion. Together we can make a difference. Trust me.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Pressing My Luck

Michael 1 Comment

Today marks the first day of autumn and the transition from those lazy, hazy days into the dark, blustery days. It’s a day to reflect on what I didn’t do on my summer vacation. I’ll warn you right now this post is just a tad long, but I think you’ll find it fun and interesting.

For the purposes of this discussion, the vacation season began on the unofficial beginning of summer in May sometime during the Memorial Day weekend and not the actual but much too late first day of astrological summer in June or the anticipatory but much too early first day of astrological spring in March.

Actually, for me, every day is a vacation. I have no urgencies in life nor engagements to keep but those imposed upon me by me. The list of things urgent or imposing this summer was pretty short. One thing both of those was wear long, adult-style pants. And save for a few hours in June, I didn’t wear long pants for the entire summer. It was a great summer to let your legs hang out. A pair of shorts, a golf shirt, some comfy footwear, and I was living the great outdoors. Adding to the comfiness of my summer attire comfy, it was iron-free.

I mentioned there were a few hours that I had to dress like an adult. As much fun as I had hanging out at the pool, using much less sunscreen that I really should have, there were a few hours in June that required a traditional shirt, tie, jacket, long pants, and uncomfy footwear. No, it wasn’t a wedding. It wasn’t a graduation. It wasn’t a life-event celebration of epic proportions. It wasn’t even a night of champagne, caviar, and cocktails at a mid-summer gala. Nope, none of those. For a few hours in June I dressed and acted like an adult in order to witness two evenings of my state’s daily lottery drawing.

You’ve probably seen them or something like them. Three or four machines blow some bingo balls around and then a vacuum cleaner sucks up a few numbered balls and somebody becomes rich. All in 35 seconds of bingo ball madness. You’ve probably never wondered if somebody is watching what’s going on there. Somebody at the state lottery office did more than wonder and required that each drawing be witnessed by a member of the public. That’s why they do it. Why I wanted to was because it seemed fun and interesting.

The 35 seconds of the actual drawing probably don’t need a “member of the public” witness. In my state each drawing is conducted under the eyes of two on-site lottery officials, two on-site auditors, two cameramen (camerapeople?), one floor director, one off-site lottery official, one announcer, one off-site auditor, and the two (yes, two) “public” witnesses. In addition, each ball is tagged with a RFID chip read by a sensor as it passes through the capture tube and transmits its ID number to a computer receiver. That confirms the number you see on TV is actually the number that got sucked out of the pack. And all that is just for those 35 seconds.

But the actually witnessing started a couple of hours before those frantic on-air seconds. It took three different people to disengage the alarm and unlock the room and cabinets where the machines and balls are kept at the television station where the drawing was held. Once inside, the witnesses select the machine that will be used for each game and the ball set that will be placed into the machine. One lottery official verifies the weights of the balls and the operation of the machines. Another official places the selected ball set into the chosen machine for a particular game. On the first night that I witnessed, six games requiring six machines and 16 separate ball sets were scheduled. Six machines out of a possible 12 were selected for the four daily number games and 14 sets of 10 balls each were picked from 30 possible locked sets. Four two additional games two machines out of a possible 8 and two different sets of balls (one of 42 and one of 47) were chosen from 6 possible sets of each. All of the ball sets were confirmed to be complete and properly weighted. Each chosen machine was loaded and confirmed intact. Then all the machines were moved from the storage room to the studio by lottery and studio employees under the eyes of the auditors and witnesses. And under the eyes of at least a dozen security cameras that I was able to spot plus who knows how many other.

Once in the studio each game was simulated three times to confirm proper operation and allowed the auditors to confirm that all drawn numbers were within appropriate randomness limits. Then a rehearsal was held, the 35 frantic seconds played out, a final round confirming each machine’s operation run through, the machines locked, returned to the storage room, and the sequence reversed where the machines were emptied and put into their places, the removed balls were re-weighed, reset in their cases and lock away and the three people locked the various cabinets and doors, and the alarm was reset.

Twenty-one hours later I returned to the studio for day two of my witnessing obligation which was more of the same except that there was one less game and thus one less machine and one less set of drawing balls required.

Because on one of those days I would appear on camera I had to be dressed at least a little less like Ernest Hemingway on Key West. And because the TV station where all this was taking place is about 200 miles from home, those clothes made the trip in a suitcase. So wouldn’t you know it, the only times I had to not only be in long pants and a real shirt I also had to iron them.

It was still fun and interesting.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

And now, the start of the story…

Michael 4 Comments

Let me start right out of the gate and say this post is going to be a little different. Not much humor, useless trivia, or sarcasm in this one. Depending on how long you’ve been following this story you might know that a couple of years ago life was interrupted by a bout with cancer. It seems that for so many today, cancer is just an interruption. Cancer strikes this celebrity, that athlete, or this actor and they recover, return to their former lives with an even greater performance, voice, or achievement.  For me, cancer was maybe more than an interruption. But one thing it was for sure, it was inevitable.

Fifteen years ago I was diagnosed with one of the rarer immune system abnormalities. Not one of the many rheumatoid conditions that today have so many wonderful drugs advertised on TV so you can get back to golf, fancy restaurants, delightful carnivals, volunteer work, or unashamed workouts from high energy spin classes to meditative yoga. Nope, the one I got wasn’t even in researchers’ microscopes looking for a sometime-in-the-future remedy. Treatment for me meant high doses of prednisone and immunosuppressive agents once used in the early fight against cancer. I knew from the start that over several years the treatments themselves could cause problems like renal failure, heart failure, liver failure, or the cancers they were initially developed to treat. I also knew from the start that left untreated, over several months my condition could cause problems like death and dying.

I chose Door Number One.

Then three years ago I found out I had cancer. I knew that I most likely wouldn’t come out of it with an even greater performance, voice, or achievement. For me it wasn’t that one thing I had to overcome. It was just another thing in the yet increasing number of things that had happened, and will continue to happen to me.

Over the years I’ve had so many pieces of me removed, replaced, or rebuilt that I could give Lee Majors a strong run for the Six Million Dollar Man title role.  Over the years it’s gotten harder to say if the latest ache, pain, or procedure is due to the condition or the cure. Last week I spent a day in an outpatient surgery unit having an artery and vein in my right arm tied together to form an entry and exit site necessary for dialysis. It was inevitable and got me thinking about that cancer diagnosis from three years ago.

By then I had already been given about a dozen extra years since choosing Door Number One. In those 12 years I had gotten to see my daughter graduate high school and college and discovered the difference between being a father and being Dad. I had met new people who I would never forget who before I could never have ever imagined. I had earned national recognition in a field that itself is rarely recognized. I had earned about a million dollars, spent about a million and a half, and probably would do it the same way all over again.

The more I think of it, the more I think how lucky I am to have gotten to that cancer diagnosis. I got to hear a doctor tell me that I had a potentially terminal condition long before I had cancer. By the time I heard a doctor tell me “You have cancer,” (though more delicately than that) I had 12 years that I wouldn’t have had if I had chosen the path that didn’t include the possibility that treatment might cause cancer.

I wish everyone who ever has to hear a doctor say “You have cancer,” (hopefully more delicately than that) all the best things that life has in store for you. And although I can’t argue that having cancer is ever one of the best things that life has in store for you, there really are some things worse than having cancer. Sometimes, even not having it can be worse.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

5-1/2 Reasons that Numbers are Better than Letters

Michael Leave a comment

Do you remember the Top 40 Countdown? Do they still have a Top 40 Countdown? Who decided on 40? Why not 50? Was it perhaps a conscious attack on the Top Ten? We all have some fascination with numbers. Sometimes that fascination becomes an obsession, sometimes a compulsion, and sometimes a headline writer’s dream.

I noticed something the other day while perusing the headlines on a national news web-site. Once I got past the REALLY BIG BANNERS IN LARGE, BOLD FONTS, about half of the headlines were counting something.  22 Terrible Songs by Terrific Artists, 5 Hottest New TV Shows, 7 Things that Trigger Alzheimer’s. Again, once you get past the REALLY BIG stories, these are the articles that get mouses clicking. Why is that?

I proposed these reasons why we are fascinated with numbers.

1. Numbers are universal. There is no question that numbers are everywhere. And wherever they are, they are almost always the same. “Five” might be “five,” “cinco,” “cinq,” “cinque,” “fimm,” “viisi,” “besh,” or “ezinhlanu,” but “5” is just plain “5.”

2.  Numbers are easier to read than letters. Until they get really, really big, like 1,817,654,427,003 your brain sees, reads, identifies, and processes “117” much faster “one hundred, seventeen.”

3.  Numbers play favorites. Go ahead, ask someone what his or her favorite number is and you will certainly get an answer. Favorite numbers end up in passwords, on security keypads, on roulette tables, and being played in the daily lottery drawing. Ask someone what his or her favorite letter is and you will get a blank stare.

4.  Numbers are memorable. Spirit of 76, Apollo 13, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. All you have to do is think of the number portion and right away you know the significance of what you’re seeing. That’s why ATMs use PINs, not PILs.

5.  Numbers are pleasing to the eye. Seriously, numbers are attractive little devils. Rattle off 36-24-36 and everybody knows exactly what picture to paint in your imagination.

5-1/2. Sorry, there is no 5-1/2 but it sure did make the title of this post more memorable, didn’t it?

Numbers. As the Science Officer aboard NCC-1701 would say, “Fascinating.”

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

I Didn’t Know That (Ooops, corrected copy)

Michael 1 Comment

I recall a time when a graduate student would say something and by gosh, that was the way it was. It was sort of like the 1970s (ugh) equivalent of the Internet. You know darn well that 99.9% of what is on it would be disallowed in a court of law as hearsay, unfounded, or speculative, yet there is that part of you that is sure if you read it there, just as we used to be sure if we heard it from them, then it must be true.

There is no end to the things that I am sure are true. Well, that’s probably a bit overstated. I’m sure there is some end but I figure my end is closer than that end so to me it’s all endless. However, there are still some things that I don’t know that I want to add to the things that are true before one of those ends shows up around the bend.

For example, I know exactly where dust comes from. (If you don’t, don’t look it up, it’s disgusting! Ok, I’ll tell you. It’s mostly sloughed off skin. Yuck.) But I have no idea how I get dust inside a closed cabinet. Is that where the kitchen fairies who clean up the messes and put the dishes away hang out and let their skin hang out with them. If so, why are they just hanging out in my drawers and cabinets and not wiping the kitchen experiments gone awry off the counters and walls.

Another thing I can’t figure out is radio. I’m an educated person, a science educated person, who actually understands (and can spell) gluconeogenesis. I understand the theory of radio waves and how transmitters excite the air and receivers replicate the original wave patterns. But I have no idea how they know which is which. They say (“They” being the grad students of the 70s from whom I first heard this and “They” also being the Internet of the new millennium where I confirmed this just yesterday) that radio waves never stop. Whatever has been still is. So if everything ever transmitted – radio, television, cell phones, CB radios, walkie talkies, blue tooth, satellite radio, GPS, and the thousands of other things that I’ve forgotten or never knew about – is still floating around out there, how does my car always know what station to pluck out of the air for me? Personally, I think it’s magic.

They (there go them again) claim that it takes more calories to eat celery than celery contains making it a true negative calorie food. Assuming that you consider celery food. I’ll buy that because I can read how many calories celery contains (6 calories per stalk according to some sources) and how many calories it takes to chew, swallow, digest, and -ummm- eliminate celery (8 calories based on a University of Warwick study when extrapolated per stalk). I even know what a calorie is. That is, the energy needed to raise one gram of water one degree centigrade. And I know that the US FDA wants to require that calorie content of food be included in labeling, menus, even on vending machines. What I have no idea of is how you figure out how many calories a food has. Does burning that one stalk of celery raise one gram of water by six degrees? Or to make it more easily measured would you burn 1,440 stalks of celery to attempt to raise the temperature of one cup of water 240 degrees? And how would you even do that with a Quarter Pounder with Cheese or an Extra Crispy Chicken Little Sandwich, or a pack of Grandma’s Famous Chocolate Chip Cookies (the vending pack)?

So, in an Internet filled with people proclaiming all the things that they know, there you have a few things I am willing to admit that I don’t know. If you do, please feel free to add your comment and add to the things that I know and help me get the end a little further away from that other end. One thing though, even if you do know, I really don’t want to know how to measure how many calories are burned by digesting a bowl of chocolate moose tracks ice cream. Some things are best left a mystery.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Bridge for Sale

Michael Leave a comment

Labor Day has come and gone and you know what that means. No more white shoes or Seersucker! Uh, no. It’s the start of a new season. I don’t mean the change from unofficial summer to unofficial fall. What with meteorological autumn and astronomical autumn and autumnal equinox and the fall TVseason the last thing we need is any unofficial season. No, the period after Labor Day is the beginning of a new festival season.

Ok, those of you who have always suspected that I’m closing in on batty it’s probably official – or maybe even unofficial. I’ve been marking the seasons by the changes of festivals for years. Winter heralds holiday festivals, spring brings my beloved maple festivals, summer is the season for arts festivals, and fall is the time for covered bridge festivals. This should be nothing new for regular readers of RRSB. I’ve brought up the local covered bridge festival before. (See “Passages of Fall,” September 15, 2014.) (Come on, give me a little break. I’ve been doing this for almost five years. We’re going to revisit some things every now and then.)bridgeforsale

But let’s digress here for just a moment. Festivals have morphed terribly from the traditional definition. That is, “a day or time of religious or other celebration, marked by feasting, ceremonies, or other observances.” Modern festivals often include feasting, otherwise the corndog and kettle corn industries would be in shambles, but around here they’re known more for jamming as many hand-made and/or ersatz hand-made crafts, foods, clothes, and furniture into any open field and for the greatest concentration of the Square point of sale app per vendor per acre.

And that’s what I love about them! You can buy anything at a festival – and I have. Chain sawn eagle yard ornament? Bought one. Framed, numbered, signed pencil sketch? Bought one. Metal sculpted snowman family. Bought one. Commemorative newspaper front page parodying offspring’s eccentricity? Bought one. Hand-hammered silver jewelry ensemble featuring recycled place settings? Bought one.  Hand-made left-handed wooden kitchen utensil set? Bought one. Full scale carved wooden Jack-o-lantern? Bought two!

Oh sure, you can buy maple syrup at the maple festivals and real art at the arts festivals and traditional Christmas decorations at the holiday festivals. But you can get that stuff at lots of places. But where else can you find a four foot, hand carved, wading flamingo carrying a surfboard under its wing? What can I say? I live for kitsch.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?