Tag Life

one of one-plus

Michael 11 Comments

Last week I took a shot at regaling you with tales of spending a week in the hospital and coming home alone. Naturally the perfect followup to that would be (to take a shot at) regaling you with tales of spending that recovery week not quite alone. Yes, even though I made a big thing out of how hard it is to not be well and be alone, versus when you are a one of two, I wasn’t completely alone in my recovery week. Not quite not alone but definitely not alone.

I closed last week’s post with, “When one of two is missing, the void seems bigger than when one of one is gone. And when one of one returns, the welcome home is much less welcoming. I can probably write an entire post on that. Maybe I will someday.” Never to not pick up such a tempting gauntlet as that, I will accept my own challenge. Sort of.

First, to those who had asked, I am fine and anticipate I will grow even finer as the days march by. I made it through the first week out of the hospital without returning to the hospital and that’s not something I can say about all of my discharges. Fortunately, I had a lot of help. As I said, I was not completely alone last week. I had help. Not “one of two” help, maybe more like “one of one-plus.” Between my daughter and my sisters for some physical assistances and a handful of friends for mental, emotional, and at times even comical support, the week moved along faster than I figured it would.

It is a big boost when someone you typically connect with primarily through text messages makes time in her schedule to call at least once a day every day to check on how things are going. It is as big an aid to recovery as having someone stop in to do the heavy lifting portions of the never-ending household chores that one with a newly prescribed 5 pound lifting limit and prohibitions against bending and stretching cannot take on alone. Yes, it is not a secret that physical recovery does not happen, or happens very slowly, without mental and emotional recovery tagging along.

I recall that first discharge from so many years ago, the physical helpers were there but there was a distinct void where someone, some ones, or anyone who might call just to see how things were going could have been. What was most disheartening was that there should have been at least one someone, but the call that came rather than a message of support was of the “I didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid” type. And with it a rather rapid descent from the stratospheric one of two to the heartbreaking loneliness of a one of less than one.

Fortunately, over the years I discovered a handful of contenders willing to be part of my one of one-plus entourage. True, the other one of a one of one-plus won’t be there to help you into bed, or to wake you when your due for medication or a dressing change, or tell you, “Sit still! I’m perfectly capable of making us breakfast,” as I imagine the other one of one of two would, somehow it is easy to imagine they would if things might had been just a bit different. And a one of one-plus will always be there on the other end of a phone call or text message, or email, or even a card or letter when you least expect it, or at least when you least are thinking about it for a while and add to your emotional recovery.

The best one of one-pluses are those who take their role seriously, as seriously as a one of two partner would. Maybe even more. Let’s face it, a lot of one of two partnerships exist because of some compromise or even a little unspoken quid pro quo. Sometimes a lot of quid pro quo. A one of one-plus is more selfless and unconditional. There is nothing you are getting back for your love and concern except maybe someone’s love and concern. A friend of mine, a one of one-plus with me, said “Being one of one can be isolating. Being one of two is ideal. But being one of many makes a community. We all need each other and do better when we feel cared for and important to somebody.” I suppose if we put all my one of one-pluses together we can make a “one of many” community. (Now that might make for an interesting blog too. In fact, that sounds like just the thing we’d post at the ROAMcare blog, Uplift!  Maybe you should make a note in your calendar to check that out this Wednesday.)

Speaking of Uplift! In the latest post we wondered, if “In case” added to your declaration is a positive account of caution and a potential response to a situation, is “just in case” just a poor excuse for a poor choice? Read it here to see what we had to say about that.

Hey, here’s an extra thought if you know someone who could use a hand and you’re feeling one-plus-like. Dinners that can be heated and eaten are great but think outside the oven. Rides to labs or tests are great stress relievers and don’t often run unpredictably late like a doctor appointment may. And back in the food arena, if your someone is a big breakfast eater, a prepared morning meal is just as appreciated, if not more than an evening meal. A French toast casserole, or stack of frozen waffles makes a nice change for someone who may be too unsteady in the morning even to work a bowl of microwave oatmeal. My best meal “gift” ever was a bag of frozen breakfast burritos my daughter worked up. A few minutes in the microwave and a cup of yogurt with fresh fruit and I had a breakfast that kept me well through lunch and the only thing I needed to work was a spoon.

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one of one

Michael 13 Comments

The chances are very good that while you were reading last week’s post, I was in the hospital. I don’t know how I ever decided on the time, but for years I have had the posts scheduled to published between 4 and 4:30 prevailing eastern time Monday mornings. Last Monday at 7:30 in the morning I was in route to the emergency room. I’d say don’t worry, it’s nothing serious, but seriously, can you ever say that with a straight face with an emergency room visit a part of the equation. But I can say, don’t worry. I’ve been down that road before.

There are parts of me that pretty much resemble a high school science experiment and to be perfectly honest, work just about as well. Things leak, things creak, sometimes things need a better tightening than the local mechanic, er the office physician can provide. So please don’t worry. In fact, that’s kind of the whole point to this post.

I have a feeling I’ve said sometime before that I had never been inside a hospital other than to work or to visit someone in one for the first 55 years of my life. No broken bones, no falling off bikes, no unexpected allergic reactions. Once I did take a nasty fall while rappelling but that was dealt with in a first aid tent so I’m not going to count that. No, that first part, probably first and second parts of my life, involved minimal medical management. But man did I make up for it since. And all that time, I’ve done it without a significant or even insignificant other at home, rolling bandages, and preparing for my return with anxious anticipation, overflowing TLC, and bowlsful of chicken soup. Nope. Just me.

Oh, please don’t mistake that for self-pity nor misunderstand that nobody is in some home, some where worrying a tad that I return to my home. And they will even stop by with chicken soup or its 21st century equivalent. But there will not be that person who when she might step out into the porch for the day’s mail, holler back to the neighbor “No, he’s not on a trip but was admitted to the hospital a couple days ago. How nice of you to notice and ask. I’ll be sure to tell him you did.”

Kind of funny isn’t it.  An odd thing to think about. But it’s been thought before. I had one hospitalization that went on for several weeks. At the time, it wasn’t unusual for me to be away for some days at a time for something work related. No one might have even realized I wasn’t at a conference in Las Vegas until the priest on the second Sunday I was in the hospital included me when he asked for prayers for our sick parishioners. I know no one would have noticed because that’s exactly what my next-door neighbors said when they popped in to visit that Sunday afternoon.

When one of two is missing, the void seems bigger than when one of one is gone. And when one of one returns, the welcome home is much less welcoming. I can probably write an entire post on that. Maybe I will someday. Not today. Today I’m going to try to get to sleep a little earlier than usual. Yesterday was my first full day home. Hopefully whenever you get around to reading this, I am still home.

Gene Kranz was the director of NASA mission operations and is noted for the modern mantra, failure is not an option. Or is it? We say what we think in the latest Uplift!

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Happy Places Revisited

Michael 12 Comments

I presented a program last week based loosely on a blog post from last year. I had titled the speech “Finding the Happy Places,” and right from the start I wanted to make it clear that you could be right thinking I meant happy places as a plural because I was speaking to a group of people, but in fact, I would have still referred to multiple places even if I was speaking to a single person.

I publicly eschewed the notion that there is a happy place we strive to reach where we escape the world and its problems. In fact, the premise to the presentation was that each of us has many, many happy places that are of the world, and there are where we relive happy times even though consciously, we may not remember the event that led to that happy memory. “The memory may have long faded while the space remains a special place for you,” I said more than once. An example I shared is a large, overstuffed chair in my bedroom. This particular chair is old, maybe older than I am (gasp), but my daughter cleaned it, repaired it, refurbished it, just for me. At least once a day I sit in that chair, and at least once a day I smile to myself and feel good about it. While I sit in that chair I may or may not associate it with the work and the love my daughter put into it, but each time I sit in it I feel welcome, warm, loved. I feel happy. It is one of my happy places.

I’m not sure how I got interested in these miniature moments of happiness and their attendant places of lasting good will. I think I am more sure of why we experience them. And to be clear, I’ve never heard this explanation before although I’m sure someone much smarter than I already figured it out and perhaps even wrote one of the perennial bestsellers in one of the many sections of the local bookstore I rarely walk through. But I think, I think, they are there to keep us if not young, at least upright and moving forward.

Every now and then I’ll reveal some small part of me although I can’t imagine anyone reading these words having a complete picture of me. For the record, I’m feisty enough (I suppose that is the polite word) to be certain I will live to be 100, but realistic enough to question whether I will be around to blow out the candles on my seventieth, and that is coming up, just past the next couple stop lights. Although for almost all my adult life I have worked in hospitals or their related clinics, I was 56 before I ever experienced a hospital from a patient’s point of view, and it was 8 months after that first admission that I was eventually discharged to home, all that just the first in a series of ins and outs over the next 6 years. So you might be correct thinking happy places may not abound in my recent life. You might be.

Very few would mistake a hospital as a happy place except perhaps those visiting the maternity wing. But of all those nights I spent sleeping in a hospital bed, there were very few when I would say, “Ugh, another day and another one like it to look forward to tomorrow.” No, no! Most nights I know I fell asleep thinking, “this wasn’t a bad day, and I know tomorrow will have to be better.” Yes, maybe for the first few weeks I grumbled and groaned myself to sleep, but after a while, even the hospital held its places of positivity. Where were they? I don’t know. More correctly, I don’t remember. As I said (more than once), “The memory of the event may have long faded while the space remains a special place for you.”

Is there a point to all this rambling? (Other than it’s Monday and you’ve come to expect to see ramblings from me on Mondays.) The point I tried to make, that I wanted to make while I was speaking, is to stop running away! You don’t have to escape the world to be happy. Happiness is within your reach and comes from how you interact with the world. You won’t find happiness “out there” at that mythical place where society wants to escape. It’s “right here” at the mystical places where our memories live, where our loves live, where we find the good from all the days past, and where we know it will be there in the days left.

I closed my speech with this. “Someday you will be walking along with someone and for no clear reason you will start to feel a warmth about you, a glimmer will hit your eye, and a smile will break out across your face. Whoever is with you will look at you and say, “What?” And you will answer, “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” And that’s how you know – you just walked through a happy place.”

So tell me…where are some of your happy places?

There is no shortcut to success and the most successful are those most passionate about being patient. That’s why we say Patience is a Passion in the latest Uplift!

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End of Summer Spring Cleaning

Michael 11 Comments

Perhaps it’s because it is the end of summer and I am naturally doing some brain cleaning (I always empty my brain as the seasons change) (don’t you) but even though I recently de-cluttered, I still have more random thoughts I need to clear out. Maybe even more randomer than usual.

Last week was a busy few days for my mail carrier. Every day (Sunday and holiday excluded) he brought me nearly a handful of solicitations for credit cards and personal loans. Here’s what I think happened. The week before I had made a fairly large purchase and was offered a same as cash for a year deal if I opened an account with that store. I could have paid cash but I more likely would have used a credit card and stretched it out over a few months anyway, so why not use their money and save the interest. Now I think that turned on some switch and all the algorithms got together and said “Hey! We got a live one over here! Let’s get him now while he’s in a spending mood!” For as much as I detest spam email and unwanted phone solicitations, regular old junk mail doesn’t bother me. For one thing, it gives the post office some income, and I’m going to recycle it so it’s not like that paper is wasted. But what is annoying me are all the envelops that come with the little windows and you can see “to the order of” and then your name through them, yet when you open it and unfold the letter it tells you “This is NOT a check.” Well then, stop telling it to do something to my order, like I don’t know, maybe pay. Sounds like a clear-cut case of liar, liar pants on fire to me!

This reminds me of something you may not know about your letter carrier. The National Association of Letter Carriers sponsors a program to keep an eye on older Americans through the USPS Carrier Alert Program. The carrier places a placard in the mailbox to alert all carriers to watch for signs of distress such as accumulating mail. If they notice anything unusual they will try to connect with the resident or notify local social service agencies of their concern. Interested parties can inquire if the program is available in their area by asking at or calling the local post office.

Did you see in the news last week that Nany Pelosi is planning on running for office again. She’s 84! Did you see in the news last week that Mitch McConnel hosted another episode of the Twilight Zone. He’s 81. Let’s not even talk about the guys who want to be President. Don’t these people ever retire. Have they no hobbies to occupy their remaining minds, no friends to meet at McDonalds for coffee? And it’s not just the politicians. Harrison Form is out exploring at 81! Eric Clapton just began a new world tour at 78! The Rolling Stones just released a new studio album. The band is 61 years old. Mick Jagger started with the band when he was 19 and he is still performing. I’ll do the math for you. (Hmm, I have a calculator somewhere nearby.) Let’s see… 61+19 = EIGHTY FREAKING YEARS OLD! Maybe he’d like to run for Senate over here. We could use some young blood. I’m 67 and I’ve been retired for 5 years. Sort of. I admit I still work a day or two a week, but my pension is being handled by the firm of Dewey, Cheatham & Howe and to be honest, I like eating. I’ll like eating at 81 too. But I’ll want a few days off to enjoy dinner for gosh sakes!

Speaking of old people, I saw an article from NBC News stating seniors were the victims of internet scams in 2022 to the tune of $3.1 billion dollars. That’s almost the net worth of the average US Senator. Somebody please tell me the collective members of both houses of Congress are actually doing something besides trying to get re-elected. Yeah. I didn’t think so either.

My daughter has a dog. He’s a cute dog. Around here people are so used to seeing him that not many IMG_7850people make a fuss over him. He was recently on vacation (just him, but the humans went along to carry his food and toys), and when they returned she told me everybody was fussing over him and he just ate up all the extra attention. He’s cute and all that, but to be the center of attention for a week in places where people generally went to soak up sights, see magnificent architecture, swim in the ocean – that’s where he was high point of perfect strangers’ days. And I get it. It’s his coloring. If you put a gold car in the middle of a show room of black and gray cars, they could be BMWs and Mercedes and people will still be drawn to the different one, the gold one, even if it is a 40 year old Pinto.

Okay, my brain feels lighter now. Thank you for your help!

There is no reason the world must be black or white. We come up with some good reasons to embrace the many shades of gray in life and take the first step in creating a more colorful world in the most recent Uplift! Take a look!!

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A day of laboring

Michael 14 Comments

Given that today is a day from labor for laborers in observance of Labor Day, I thought I too would take off even though my labors hardly qualify as labor, and labor to reduce the clutter that so laboriously filled my brain since I last labored to lessen the load.

Did you know you are not the only potential victim of identity theft? That’s you as the general, plural you not the specific, singular you that you are as you read this. Yes, it’s true. Your car may be a potential victim of identity theft. I recently read about the increasingly prevalent crime of falsifying VIN plates, metal stamping, and ownership papers for antique and collector cars. Because I own a classic vehicle, I read that article with more than just an academic interest. I probably did not need to do that because I’ve owned my classic since the days it was just another old car, so I am more than fairly certain that what it’s in my garage is what the title and tags claim it to be, but there is a growing business among criminals to falsify records and sheet metal to make just some old car seem to be more than it is. Why you ask? Because the collectible car market is a huge business. The classic car specialty insurance company, Hagerty, estimates there are 45 million classic vehicles registered just in the United States valued at over $1 trillion. Auction sales for 2022 were nearly $3.5 billion dollars. When a single fraudulent transaction can net a bad guy a seven figure take, they are willing to spend a few thousand of those $$ to pull it off.

Here’s another did you know. Did you know that 8 of the 10 drugs Medicare care can begin negotiating lower prices for are also 8 of the most advertised prescription drugs in the US? Actually in anywhere because the United States is one of only 2 countries in the entire world to allow direct to consumer prescription drug advertising, and they do it to the tune of over $6.5 billion dollars. (That’s almost twice what Americans spent on classic cars last year and they don’t need somebody’s permission to buy them. Except perhaps a wife’s or husband’s.) Why would drug makers spend that much money advertising something to people that the people can’t just walk into the store and buy? Because American people are stupid. (And I say that lovingly.) Only in America can somebody watch a commercial for a diabetes medication then rush to the doctor and ask to have it prescribed for them, demand to have it prescribed for them, even if they don’t have diabetes. You say that’s crazy. It is but it’s also true. I know. Trust me, I know. According to a March 2023 release by the USC Schaeffer Center for Health Policy & Economics, “As much as a third of drug expenditure increases can be linked to the prevalence of drug ads.” Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health reported in February 2023 that while direct to consumer advertising is associated with increased patient requests for advertised drugs and the increased chance that clinicians will prescribe them, most of those drugs are rated as having low added benefit compared to other drugs. As someone who has spent over 45 years working with drugs and the people who prescribe them, I say to America (or to the small part of it reading this blog), we know what we’re doing. Please let us do it.

Finally, I’m always harping on losers and big men with small manhoods who “forgot” they had a loaded firearm with 2 extra fully loaded clips, let’s give them a break although they hardly deserve one. Because it’s a holiday and even losers and big men with small manhoods deserve a day off, let’s check in with the TSA and see what the most commonly confiscated items at airport security check points are. The most often removed items from carry-on baggage screened at airport check points are liquids, and the most often of the most often are plain old water, shampoos, sun-block, and peanut butter (yes, per TSA rules, peanut butter is a liquid (and is also the most common hiding medium for firearms but we aren’t talking about those things that losers and big men with small manhoods “forget” in their carry-ons). After liquids come, those things that losers and big men with small manhoods try to sneak by with by claiming they forget about them, then knives and other weapons, drugs, multi-tools, and screwdrivers. What are some of the more unusual things picked up by the TSA screeners? How about a boa constrictor, a pair of ceremonial scissors used in a ribbon cutting ceremony, canon balls, a chain saw, frying pans, and a taser built into a lipstick tube. (I wonder if that was a big woman with a small… nah.)

That’s it for today. I’m going to make sure the garage door is closed and my VIN tag is still attached to the car. Happy holiday!

Words alone are not an effective means of communication but when that’s all you have you better use them wisely, and that’s why we say to say what you mean what you say what you mean in the latest Uplift! Go on and read it. It only takes 3 minutes.

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Hack no

Michael 13 Comments

After last week’s mini diatribe (would that be a monotribe?) I started thinking about word usage more than usual. As one who writes and speaks, words are my tools, and usage has to be precise if I expect to be understood. I decided if I could bump off any word, have it struck from all dictionaries, pulled from thesauri, and eliminated from internet searches, the one that stands out more than any other as offensive to my ears, more so than even the inappropriate use of weaponize, practicability, and disenfranchisement that will escalate over the next 15 months, that one word would be “hack” when used as a tip, hint, or suggestion. (A word I’d like you to consider not considering is “run-on” as in sentence.)

The word hack comes to us from Middle English, hakeney, a horse used for riding. It has been in common use as hackney, a horse of small stature appropriate for riding or pulling a small carriage (versus one used for plowing or pulling wagons) since the 1600s, perhaps earlier. Hack, the obviously shortened version, it along with its adjectival form hackneyed, almost immediately took on more sinister uses.

The hackney pulled carriages became a favorite for rides for hire throughout London, the horse and carriage combination commonly called a hack (which is why we still call taxis, cars for hire, hacks), and anything or anyone offering himself or his property out for hire, also was considered a hack. At this same time, the hackney pulled carriages became so prolific, hackneyed was coined to describe anything commonplace.

Hack continued to grace the pages of English dictionaries as a carriage or vehicle for hire or, in a pejorative way, one of common upbringing, skills, or expectations, and it continued without much controversy as such until Americans got involved. Through the early twentieth century, hacks here were also cabs and commoners but we expanded hack to refer to one who did the bare minimum to earn his pay in almost any field, whether a hack writer or a hack surgeon. And then, just about mid-century, something weird happened. Hack took its turn as a verb in American verbiage, as in, “That’s too much for me, I just can’t hack it anymore.” And that may (MAY) be its entry into computerese.

Mid-century computer programming was a long, difficult, and often trial and error experience. Those who were successful at programming proudly claimed they could hack it. And hack, hacker, and hacking became positive references to those proficient with the inner workings of computers and programming languages. About the time Matthew Broderick was changing grades for him and his high school sweetie, hacking with reference to computers, regained its negative connotation.

None of this explains why today, hack is synonymous with a handy dandy household hint. Etymologically there is no connection. Yet today there will be no less than 48 billion headlines in cyberspace addressing life hacks, kitchen hacks, productivity hacks, dating hacks, health and beauty hacks, and probably hacking hacks. Perhaps 48 billion is a tad hyperbolic. I’ll check for a writing hack on how to get large numbers across in dramatic fashion.

Perhaps it is as one Quorum user suggests, “It sounds edgier. “Tips” are merely interesting and useful. “Hacks” sounds as though you’ve been devious and insightful, perhaps even forbidden. “Hacker” used to be somebody with exceptional skill at computers. “Hacking in” to a computer system was something that required a lot of knowledge and cleverness. “Hacks” carries some of that sense of astuteness, along with some of that sense of having inside information that others don’t have. So it makes people feel important.” He goes on to say, “To me they just sound like a…” but I’ll stop there. This is a family blog. I’d had to get hacked and have my posting privileges revoked.

Etymologically, bias is assuming something. Cognitive biases, nobody listening or discussing, assumes outcomes based on past behavior and can have significant consequences. In the most recent Uplift!, we discuss how with respectful communication we can live, work, and play well together. Take 4 minutes to read it and see if you agree.

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No more word smithing

Michael 7 Comments

I was building discussion points for a project in another part of my life and I got stuck for a word. I needed something to describe what someone who originates an idea does – or did. I thought “introduce” didn’t capture the work involved, “create” sounded too supernatural, “instigate” seemed somehow sinister, and “initiate” was much too formal. Well that exhausted the listings in my mental thesaurus. Time to dig up Mr. Roget’s best seller and see if I could find just the right set of letters to satisfy my word quest. I was actually out of the chair when I slapped myself in the forehead, fortunately not wearing a heavy ring, when I sat back down, keyed in o-r-i-g-i-n-a-t-e, hovered, and right-clicked on it.

  • Create (already eliminated that one)
  • Invent (no, not the feeling I’m after)
  • Initiate (again, I thought of that one without anybody’s help)
  • Instigate (still sounds sinister)
  • Make (dull)
  • Devise (wouldn’t have thought of that in a million years but that’s ok because I don’t like it anyway)
  • Patent (I’d argue that’s the same as originate but that’s just me)
  • Coin (ooh, good word – not the right word but a good one)
  • Begin (blah)
  • Derive (again, I argue that derive and originate are not synonymous)
  • [ ] (notice, they didn’t even come up with “introduce” like I did, not that it mattered)

In the end, or actually middle given that I’m still working on the project, I went with “originate” knowing I’ll never be completely satisfied that I did my best at creating an original set of discussion points. (See what I did there? Hmm?)

Although my mini-search hadn’t satisfied my curiosity for an appropriate substitute for “originate,” it raised my curiosity about words. I seem to end up with three of four posts about words and language each year. That’s a lot of words! I’ve gone back and forth to suggesting we need more words to we have too many words to we need better words. I know we need still need better words and I offer my ambivalence toward “originate” for proof. I’m not so sure we need more words, yet we keep inventing them. In one of those posts up yonder (or should I say heretofore mentioned), I wrote, “The English language is said to have close to a million words in it. I’m not sure who counted that but the most complete, or as they would put it unabridged dictionary of the English language, the Oxford English Dictionary, has about 620,000 words. But language doesn’t equal vocabulary. And vocabulary doesn’t equal language. The average educated English speaking person knows around 20,000 words and uses but about 2,000 words in a week.”

That was in 2017. Now things are even more confusing. The OED still contains over 620,000 listings, listings not words, many are duplicates because we use the same word for different uses. (See that. I did it again.) It lists (yep, again) 171,000 different words. But now those same sources say the average American English speaking person knows about 40,000 words. How did we double our word count in six years? For comparison, Classic Latin is composed of (comprised of?) 39,500 words.

There’s something not right here. I’m just not sure exactly how to express it.

Looking for your own perfect word? Practice your vocabulary. They say practice makes perfect, no? No! If no one can be perfect, why practice? Practice has to make something. What practice makes is a more positive you! Our most recent Uplift! digs into how that can be.

Go take a look for yourself. You can be there and back in about 3 minutes.

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Things people didn’t say

Michael 13 Comments

I’ve spent much of the last week out, in public even! A variety of appointments and a need to replenish my gas tanks and cupboards has had me at more offices, stores, and service centers than usual (and even some fast food drive thru lanes and coffee shops). And all of them presented some great opportunities to make us aware of some things that desperately need said.

Before I start down the path from which they may be no return, here is something I never hear anybody say and you all really should be saying. “Let’s see what’s happening on the Blessitude Instagram page.” Blessitude is run by a most dear friend of mine who since January of 2019 has been posting images of hearts out in the world, proof that we are precious and loved. She describes Blessitude as the art of being gratefully blessed. Her photography is as special as the imagines she captures. There’s nothing for sale, nothing being asked for. It’s just a place to see His beauty that surrounds us, the precious and the loved. Here are a couple samples of her latest finds.

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Now, on with the rant, errr I mean discussion. Actually not so much a discussion, just the thoughts you know these people are thinking and would probably show up in a little balloon above their heads if they were in the comics section – where some certainly belong!

  • “Do you think it’s a good idea to wear a nose ring, especially one that looks like it was last used by a large bull, while I wait on tables?”
  • “Yes, the ad says buy three tires, get one free, and that’s why we have to charge you $75 for the valve stem for each wheel and naturally if we put that in the ad too, you’d realize you just paid $300 for that free $250 tire. Did we also mention balancing is extra?”
  • “Thank you for filling out this 8 page questionnaire. If you have a seat someone will take you to another room and ask you all the same questions.”

The above on the way in, the below on the way out.

“And here’s your reminder card for your next appointment. Don’t worry about getting here on time let alone the fifteen minutes early like that card says as the doctor is always running late. Next time ask for the first appointment of the day. That one he’s at least ha a shot of getting close to.”

  • “Of course there’s a lot more ice cream in the back, and probably even the flavor you want. Come back tomorrow when it’s not on sale. We’ll have it out then.”
  • “Please don’t try to confuse me giving me 8 dollar bills and two pennies to pay $7.27. If I knew math I’d have been an engineer like my mother wanted me to. Besides, it gives me a headache.”
  • “I really should stockpile some generic posts for when life gets busy because of a variety of appointments and a need to replenish my gas tanks and cupboards that had me at more offices, stores, and service centers than usual”

You know something else people say but don’t say often enough. “Hi. How are you. Nice day, Isn’t it?” We talk about how kindness counts, that it is a natural part of living, never out of place, and should be a habit, not just some random act, in the latest Uplift!  We write them to take only 3 or 4 minutes to read so there’s always time for an uplifting message. Nothing for sale there. Just some motivation to help you  through your day.

Rewriting the dictionary

Michael 14 Comments

Most of you know I have a passion for old movies. I likewise enjoy old books, not old classics, but old popular fiction of another day. Although it didn’t start when I decided to make a quest of reading the source material for the movies I watched, it took a good, strong hold then. I’m currently working my way through the works of Erle Stanley Gardner, mostly those written under his name and most of them of  the famous “Perry Mason” series, and most of his “Cool and Lam” detective series published as by A. A. Fair. I’ve also read all of Raymond Chandler, and Dashiell Hammett, and good deal of S. S. Van Dine, and Michael Arlen, writers reaching from the 1950s back to the 1910s. Some recognizable, others not quite household names, most standing up well to the ravages of time.

Believe it or not, that was a tangent I got in. What I really want to talk about is how language changed. Or more appropriately, the words. Not how we have added words to our vocabulary, but of how we just quite willy-hilly change the meaning of a word for seemingly no good reason other than that’s what someone wants.

Quite a few changes have had to do with sex and sexuality and are well known. When Hammett wrote of visiting a gay night club, it was a place where people went for a fun night out, perhaps dining with dancing or a floor show. If Chandler wrote that something was queer, he meant Phillip Marlow was puzzled over something. When Arlen had a character make love (and it was always one as he made love to her, not they made love together) he had a male character lavish a woman with flowers, gifts, and nights out, perhaps holding hands or sneaking a goodbye kiss on the front porch. As people became more comfortable discussing sex and sexuality, they did not become more comfortable using the words to describe sex and sexuality so they borrowed these seemingly innocent words and gave them their more blushing, new meanings.

Some words changed meaning because they evolved into their new meanings, somewhat related to what they previously represented. Prior to World War II, when one retired, one stopped work for the day and went to bed. After the war it took to meaning leaving a room at any time of day, and eventually to the now most familiar term describing one who has quit their life’s work and entered their post-employment phase of life.

Many words changed because of the burgeoning computer age. These words did not change as much as they took on new meanings. Cloud, footprint, and firehouse are among words that have added to their definitions to include computing actions or activities. It is likely that 100 years from now, people will still refer to a visible mass of particles of condensed vapor suspended in the atmosphere as a cloud and by then maybe even still to a remote, digital storage system.

While I’m talking about changes, I’m proposing no word changes but I am considering changing the blog name. I am consolidating some personal projects under one umbrella site, iammichaelross.net. I expect that to be live within the next 10 days. My next blog post made be delivered to you as you are used to, The Real Reality Show Blog by WordPress or via the new site, also hosted by WordPress. (If you’re wondering, this change won’t affect ROAMcare.org which is an arm of a separate not for profit education foundation that I just happen to be partnered with.)

Speaking of ROAMcare, and talking about words, we mentioned a word not usually mentioned around the dinner table, propinquity, whose meaning also changed over time. We mention when we talk about why some people work so well together, seeming to mesh effortlessly as we talk about strange forces at work (and at home too) in the latest Uplift!

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A real job for Artificial Intelligence

Michael 7 Comments

A few months ago I came up with a few suggestions for how to work Artificial Intelligence into our lives. I have a few more, starting with making some sense of my WordPress subscriptions.

Most of the blog posts I read, I read in my email. For me it’s just easier as I can read a post, review the morning headlines, read a post, see which neighborhood was the scene of a shooting, read a post, check out the daily specials at Keurig, Lowe’s, and the local garden center, and then wrap up breakfast with a read of one more post. Last week I noticed my mailbox was quite thin on blog posts.

Given that it was Memorial Day week, the official day of remembering mattress sales, propane grill specials, and summer vacation deals, I thought a little more than nothing about it and assumed some of my favorite bloggers were taking a needed break. As the week went on, a few posts popped up, but the offerings were not even close to meager. A quick check on the WordPress Reader revealed some of the posts were there, but not in my mailbox, the couple that showed up in mailbox were not there in my Reader feed, and three lucky souls had their blogs in neither place. A quick back search through my subscriptions found them still active. Further investigation found I was no longer subscribed to many of the blogs and I began the arduous process of figuring out to which I was still subscribed, of those which was I still to receive notice, and of those was my contact information intact and correct.

So if you noticed some bizarre activity like me subscribing, unsubscribing, or maybe even doubly subscribing to your blogs, I offer my apologies while I continue to rebuild my subscription list.

And I offer, blog subscription maintenance as a fantastic job for some overachieving AI assistant.You know, maybe that’s the only one for this week.I mean, if it can figure out WordPress, it’s done plenty to earn my respect!

Can you be happy without being joyful? Can you be filled with joy and not be happy? The most recent Uplift! takes a closer look at these emotions.

Approximate reading time – 4 minutes

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