Tag People

Duh…

Michael 9 Comments

Not much happened last week but of what did, two occasions stand out.  Surely at some time as a child, or to a child, you were told or you said, “You’re old enough that by now know you’d think you should know better than that.” I’ve been saying that a lot lately…to myself. At least twice a week. Like last week.

I can be almost obsessive about putting things where they belong when I come into the house. Hat and coat appropriate to the season on coat tree. Keys in basket on entry table. You get the idea. The proverbial place for everything and everything in a proverb.  Except the day it wasn’t.

Every once in a while, especially if I’m just popping in between errands, I’ll leave my keys in a jacket pocket. And that’s just what I did. On that day, in the morning it was cold, and by early afternoon it was springlike, necessitating a change from a heavier coat to a lighter windbreaker. I ran in, plop the coat onto the tree, put away the groceries I carried in, grabbed the library books I intended to return, pulled the windbreaker off the coat tree, stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind. And then checked to make sure I had my keys. Right.

No problem I’ll hop in the car and stop at my daughter’s house a mere quarter mile away and get her set to my house. Except I didn’t because, yes, that required a key also. It’s only a quarter mile and a walk there and back would be welcome anyway. And at least it wasn’t raining. Until it was.

Last week I spoke at a breakfast meeting. I rarely book anything before noon. (Because, why?) (Except doctor appointments because if you don’t get one of the first appointments of the day they will get backed up and then you are there all day and who cares if you sleep through them. Worst thing that happens is your blood pressure is lower when you’re sleeping.) (Anyway…)

The meeting was nearby and, bonus, it came with breakfast. I knew where I was going. I knew how long it takes to get there. I knew what time I had to be there. Add 30 minutes to the start time (because parking, finding room, networking, caffeinating(!)), double the time it takes to drive (because why not), and I’ll step up to the lectern with my beaming smile and dazzle.

Except I didn’t because getting into the car I managed to snag the side of my pants leg. Rush back inside, change pants, transfer all pocket detritus, check mirror, gag at how poorly it goes with previously chosen sport coat, rummage through closet for more appropriate coat, transfer jacket pocket detritus, check mirror, declare myself presentable, back out to the car.

I lost my cushion time but it’s still only a 15 minute drive and I had my 30 minute early arrival time built in, it would be fine. Until it wasn’t. The 15 minutes delay while I was performing my Superman impression put me on the single lane winding, county road behind a school bus. The first three miles of travel took 20 minutes, with still 7 miles to go assuming no more delays. Like the utility truck up ahead holding traffic back while they cut trees away from the power lines.

To make a long story short (yes, I know, “too late”), I got there with 3 of the 30 early arrival minutes left. I’m not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure the first words I said after being introduced were, “No more morning meetings.” I not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure I said them in my head.

And there you have why last week was not a week I want to repeat any time soon. And that was only 2 days. The others…well, let’s just say I know better than to bring them up.

Do you recycle? Do you know you can recycle yourself? You may be surprised at what you can re-imagine out of the raw material that is you. We were too so we write about it in the latest Uplift!

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Type Casting

Michael 8 Comments

Last week I took a couple hours out of a day and put on Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  It had been forever, or as Holly Golightly would say, just simply forever, since I had last watched it. I think Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I think Audrey Hepburn sitting on a fire escape singing Moon River. It was the first song I learned to play on the piano. The first song that wasn’t a lesson. That was the perfect song in the perfect scene for that part of the movie. A frightened, sensitive girl playing the sure, knowing woman beginning to realize she might not be either of those people.

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Audrey Hepburn sings “Moon River” in YouTube

You know Audrey was never meant to be Holly. The part was supposed to go to Marilyn Monroe. Say what you will, it would never have become a classic with Monroe, who would remove all doubts of Holly’s income source and turned Moon River into a parody of itself. That is if we even still had Moon River in the movie considering it was written specifically for Audrey Hepburn. But its title notwithstanding, this post is not about Audrey’s performance. Nope. It’s about 3 others and then some.

In order of appearance, those three are George Peppard, Patricia Neal, and Buddy Ebsen. Everybody knows George Peppard. Thanks to the A-Team. But everybody knew George even before the A-Team. He was the “name” to get people to watch the A-Team. But who was George Peppard, other than a name? The only movie I ever saw him in is Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Next comes Patricia Neal. Another name everyone knows, even before the coffee commercials.  Odd, I remember the coffee but not the brand that was advertised. Other than one other movie where she also plays a woman of questionable morals, I’d never seen her in any movie other than Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

And finally Buddy Ebsen. Best known as Jed Clampett and/or Barnaby Jones, he appeared in literally hundreds of movies and TV shows. Almost everyone identifies Buddy as the famous former stage and screen dancer. And yet, the only movie I ever saw Buddy play in is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. We could have counted Wizard of Oz but for his allergies to tin colored makeup.

It’s not odd that I watch a movie and have never some or even several of the actors in any other movie. It is odd that three famous people, names I know as well as my own, I had never seen in any other movie (or in Ms. Neal’s case, one other). A bunch of people that if you were to ask me, who were they, what did they do, even for knowing their names as well as my own, I know nothing of them. Couldn’t even write a mini-bio.

It had me wondering, some day when I’m not around anymore, and if my name should come up, will there be anything for anyone to remember, or will I have been perfectly type-casted as nobody special?

There are always people special to us in our own lives, but they will not always be here. They represent the one constant that never will change. Sometimes it takes a death for us to discover the value of life. How do we value it? You can read that in the latest Uplift, Today. Not negotiable.

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There’s no fooling Mother Nature

Michael 13 Comments

We sure pulled off a couple good ones on old Mother Nature these last couple weeks, didn’t we? First, last week we added an extra day to her natural progression around the sun because nobody who was ever important enough (or perhaps self-important enough) to proclaim this is the calendar we are going to use was smart enough to create a usable calendar without readjusting it ever 4 years. And then Saturday night we took an hour away from her because we don’t like when she decided to have sunsets. Well she got back at us for sure.  I din’t know about where you are, but here, after a week of beautiful spring like weather, she gave us torrential downpours on Saturday and snow (snow!!!) on Sunday. Of all the nerve!

The way we willy-nilly our way around physical constants you would think humans are in charge. Ha! You know what we’re in charge of? The universe’s blooper reel! We can start with the clock and calendar. Pick point, any point in space and call it Point A. Now however long it takes for this planet you are sitting on to go around the sun from Point A to Point A is one year. Period. Now… however we want to divide it is up to us. Maybe something like this, 10 months in a year, 10 weeks in a month, 10 days in a week, 10 hours in a day, 10 minutes in an hour, 10 seconds in a minute, and we can make the second as long or as short as we need to make it come out even.  No, after a variety of questionable decisions we finally land on 365.25 days in a year made up of, 12 months in a year, 28, 29, 30, or 31 days in a month, let’s forget about weeks in a month but put 7 days in them, 24 hours in a day except for twice a year when we make one 23 hours and one 25 hours (but make those changes at night so nobody will notice), 60 minutes in an hour, and 60 seconds-ish in a day except on those days we randomly add a “leap second” or two so everything comes out even.

People have a hard enough time dealing with other people, do we really want to pit man against nature? Is it because we know we can’t amicably deal with other humans that we decide we’ll just make up stupid “laws of nature” and that will show everybody else how masterful we are. Guess what? We aren’t! As a species, man is selfish, stupid, and stubborn. People see things right in front of them but claim it didn’t happen. You don’t like the facts? Make up alternate facts. Don’t like what somebody says, make up a catchy insult. Don’t like that it gets dark so early? Push the hours around on the clock.

Nature isn’t like a mousetrap that you can make better. We can argue with each other as much and as long as we want. Chances are, neither side is right. But let the natural order of things go on naturally. Or else, don’t complain when next year there are more hurricanes than last year, that lakes appear and disappear in the dessert, and when eventually the Yellowstone volcano erupts. Until then, be happy you got to wake up this morning. Many didn’t and now what will they do with an extra hour of daylight. (By the way, you know you can get that “extra” hour by just waking up an hour earlier.)

Now, let’s talk about the genius who put 128 ounces in a gallon and said the metric system is too confusing?

It’s time to make a New Year’s resolution. What now? See why we say “Yes, Now!” in latest Uplift!

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I’m so bored

Michael 11 Comments

Yesterday, at our weekly Dad and Daughter get together, Daughter mentioned to Dad, “The problem with kids today is they don’t appreciate boredom. They don’t know how creative that time can be. I used to stand in the line at the grocery store waiting for you to check out reading the headlines on the magazines thinking I can write a better line than that.”

Wise words from a 30-something, and yes, she did end up writing better lines than those come-on headlines, now running her own copywriting business. And it all started because when she was parked in the seat of a shopping cart during the weekly grocery runs instead of staying home with her child’s-app-loaded iPad in heavy duty protective case. It was after she dropped her adult appreciated iPad that she spouted this wisdom, noting the colorful protective covers sold to minimize damage to the children’s themed tablets would certainly have inflicted more damage than a mere week’s long bruise that her lightly protected covered unit inflicted upon her toe. And thus, we were off on to an hour’s long discussion of the things your mind can do when it seemingly is doing nothing, and of which we are robbed because parents would rather perpetually occupy their children’s time with electronic babysitters rather than risk answering a question like, “What’s that word?” several times while waiting to unload their haul onto the conveyor belt for the cashier to total the bounty.

We decided that although creatives intentionally turn their brains on when they write, or paint, or film, the ideas that lead to those compositions are often born from idleness. Filling up every moment of a mind’s time is actually a great way to suppress moments of mental creativity and might have led to the loss of some of the world’s greatest creative works.

When are you at your creative best? Something to think about the next time your child or grandchild or strange child looks to you and asks, “What’s that?” and how you choose to answer.

Valentine’s Day was celebrated by lovers around the world last week. We celebrate love for everyone everyday. Read about why we say All We Need is Love in the latest Uplift!

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Valentine, Oh Valentine, where did you come from

Michael 10 Comments

I had no intention of writing about Valentine, neither Saint nor Day. To tell the truth, my intention was to write about how now that January is behind us, the gym has gotten so less crowded. But a few days ago, I was researching material for an upcoming presentation (itself having nothing to do with Valentine (neither Saint nor Day)), when I ran across something I wrote for this blog in 2013, about Valentine, the Saints. Yes, plural. I said to myself, maybe it’s a sign and I should bring that post back. Val hasn’t changed much in the last eleven years. Oh, but I have. I still liked the idea of bringing him back, so with a fair amount of editing to keep those who might have read it back in an earlier decade from getting bored, here is my Valen-tale.

When you sit across the table from your one and only later this week, you will certainly flash to Saint Valentine, considering it may be Valentine’s Day, and you may, just for a moment, ask yourself, who is this Valentine guy who made greeting card companies, florists, jewelers, and restaurants so much money over the years. You may even ask your one and only what he or she or it or they know about him, assuming that Valentine himself is a one and only. Oh, how wrong you are!

The most common story is that of Valentine, a priest and martyr of third century Rome during the reign of Claudius II, also known as Claudius the Cruel.  He believed that his army was not giving its all because the men were more attached to their wives and families than to their emperor. (Oh, the horror of it all!) To solve that, he banned marriages.  No marriages, no families, strong fighting men. He should have been also known as Claudius the Stupid because as we knew even in the 200s, no marriages and no families eventually leads to no subjects and no empire, and thus no need for an emperor.

Claudius didn’t get a chance to think that far ahead because Valentine continued to perform marriage ceremonies, ban or no ban. Well, old Claude finally caught on to old Val and Valentine was imprisoned and ordered to be executed.  While in prison, Valentine became enamored with the daughter of his jailer and legend goes on to say that on his last day in prison, he wrote her a farewell letter and signed it, “With Love, Your Valentine.”

I like that story.  It has a love interest, a creepy villain, a secret plot twist (priests aren’t supposed to fall in love with women, even in the late 200’s), and a story that would have made a nifty second bill on a Saturday double feature down at the local movie house. And for a little dark side to it, it is St. Valentine’s day of execution, February 14, that we celebrate.

But there are other stories.

There are other stories because there were other Valentines, other Valentines who were priests, and other Valentines who were martyred and became saints. (There was even a Pope Valentine.  He served for only 40 days in 827.)  In all, there are twelve St. Valentines, the most recent, St. Valentine Berrio-Ochoa, a Spaniard who served as bishop in Vietnam until his beheading in 1861, was elevated to sainthood by John Paul II in 1988.

Twelve Valentines, twelve months? Hmm… enough for a Valentine’s Day every month of the year. Hopeless romantic that I am, I am really considering distributing a petition for just so many holidays. But then, that would be twelve times a year instead of just one that rather than celebrating with my one and only, I’d been an one only celebrating alone. [sigh]

I hope you learned something new about love’s favorite holiday. Learning is good. Learning whets your appetite for life! Did you know it also can extend your life? Read how we came to that conclusion in the latest Uplift! Hungry for Learning.

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Ahoy Matey!

Michael 10 Comments

Okay, first things first. Do people really say that? Ever said that? It seemed an appropriate title because this post is about sailing, although sailing is a poor choice of verbs because the boats I am talking about don’t sail. I was on a sailboat once, in the Gulf of Mexico off the Florida coast and it was fun, lots of fun. But even that boat had a motor. I suppose if the winds died, those who paid for the privilege of pretending to be Blackbeard, or Bluebeard, wouldn’t die along with them. I don’t remember if I ever wrote a post for this blog about that experience. That’s the closest, and I’m sure the only time I will be even that close, to a real sailboat. And I dare say, will most everybody I know who has ever gone “sailing.”

But I digress. Let us talk about sailing, and the boats that do, even though they don’t. I have been on only a handful of boats: a 35 foot fishing boat in Lake Erie a few times, always to do battle with the walleye. I’ve been on the sightseeing cruise ships that ply the rivers around my town and a few others, although “cruise” seems as inapt a verb when talking about these vessels as “sail” does when we (eventually) get to the big boats I mean to talk about, which to be honest, really isn’t the real subject of this post but it makes a nice vehicle, or vessel. And then of course there have been the odd human powered boats including, row, outboard motor, canoe, and paddle. Oh and twice on the boating equivalent of public transportation to get from mainland to nearby island (ferry boat?). I guess that actually is four times because I got back each time also.

Now then, about that sailing I had started with, the one that isn’t actually sailing although they always say sail, which is I suppose more attractive sounding that telling someone, “I went dieseling last week,” when you return from a cruise. And now we got to the crux of the matter, or of the vessel. Those big cruise ships. I have never been on a “cruise” (unless you want to call any or all of those other boats cruising which only seems fair since the big cruise boats seem to insist that they sail) and although I honestly don’t believe I have missed anything, I now find myself considering one but a very specific and particular one.

You should have read enough of these posts to know I am close to fanatical when it comes to old movies, as in older than me, which means movies from the 30s, 40s, and some of the 50s. The definitive stops for old movie buffs for routine viewing are television’s Turner Classic Movies (TCM) and The Criterion Channel. Of those, TCM also sweetens the cinephile’s pot with an annual film festival and – drum roll please – a cruise. The cruise alternates coasts and this year it “sails” from Florida. Not in my backyard but at least on the same side of the country.

I have never considered splurging on a TCM festival either on land or on sea, and I started thinking, I should go ahead and splurge on a vacation I would truly enjoy (because if there are old movies involved I will enjoy it) and on something I’ve never done (which is sailing on a diesel powered floating hotel). You know, I’d not be so reticent about big cruise ships if they weren’t so big. What ever happened to the Love Boat? So I thought I should consider it, fear of floating hotels notwithstanding.

Well let me tell you something! I always thought I was one of sufficient means. To paraphrase the dialogue of what I consider to be world’s greatest movie, Casablanca, when Rick tells Sam that Ferrari would pay him twice as much if he were to work for him, I don’t have enough time to spend the money I do have. Then I got a look at what it costs to watch a couple old movies while bopping along the Caribbean Sea and/or Atlantic Ocean. It doesn’t sail until October and already the luxury and not quite that fancy cabins and suites are sold out. The only space left are mostly interior cabins and a few small mid-ship ocean views and they are going at better than 5 grand a cabin! Do you know how many movies I can see at the local theater showing classic films for $5,000? About 500 – with popcorn!

Not to be all Scrooge-like about it, I could still be talked into considering it. If anybody out there would like to “sail” the Caribbean and/or Atlantic and watch some old movies, presumably in swim and vacation wear (I’ll bring my tux for dinner just in case), please let me know in the comments. We can discuss financing.

Can an egoist be redirected to a more sharing and caring lifestyle? We say yes, you, and they can be someone’s sunshine. Read how in the latest Uplift, Out of the Shadow.

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Go to…where?

Michael 12 Comments

Oh you can just go to…where?

Before you start reading, please be warned this post contains some dramatic and often controversial concepts. Words like forgiveness, repentance, and hope are used, and not ironically.  We may even talk about politics and religion. Certainly, about the religious.

It has been a week and a day since Pope Francis was asked in an Italian television interview, how he imagined hell. He answered “It’s difficult to imagine it. What I would say is not a dogma of faith, but my personal thought: I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” It would seem, as Cindy Wooten wrote in an article for the Catholic News Service, to be an answer we should have expected. She wrote, “An emphasis on God’s mercy has so dominated Pope Francis’ pontificate that it should surprise no one that he said he hopes hell is empty.”

As of yesterday, social media is still buzzing. Perhaps people had to take a week to check out how their followers, connections, fellow former Twitterites, and “friends” felt about this, because we know that in the world of social media, we must all take a stand in every subject imaginable, especially after we find out what stand the loudest of the loud are taking. I won’t go into all of the ridiculous excuses people came up with to garner their 15 seconds of fame, suffice it to say that as with most issues from the Bill of Rights to the Las Vegas odds on the NFL playoffs, the loudest of the loud also demonstrated how easy it is to formulate an opinion before, and often instead of looking at obvious facts. The most often cited arguments against hoping hell has a lot of vacancies are what about Hitler (and other examples you don’t have to go back 80 years to find), what about serial killers, what about justice, and what about the devil himself.

“I like to think hell is empty; I hope it is.” None of those 11 words states nor even suggests there is no hell or there are no people bad enough to be worthy of hell, nor the existence of the devil if that is what you believe. The statement can be twisted into a more secular aspiration, “I like to think no newborn ever is sick enough to have to be admitted to a neonatal intensive care unit,” or “I like to think there will never be a car accident so bad the fire fighters have to cut an injured person out of a burning wreck.” It is a statement of hope, of desire, even of a challenge made to mankind to admit wrongdoing, confess and repent and rely on God’s mercy to save you from the sure damnation to the hell that we’d rather see empty.

I bring this up because it so reflects how far people will go to argue a point. It is not a matter of religion. We do this with statements from religious leaders, world leaders, celebrities, pretend celebrities, politicians, athletes, anybody we perceive as trying to “tell us what to do.” The arguments are universal. Much too often people don’t read, don’t listen, don’t know what’s been said before they start arguing a point, often the point they want to argue rather than whatever has been said, or to only parts of what had been said. (Note Pope Francis’ qualification “my personal thought.”) Just as big a concern are the people who have no stake in the discussion. Continuing with the Pope’s statement, there were many social media posts along the lines of “what does it matter, there is no Heaven or hell.” In that case, why even address the situation.

We do this with religion, with politics, and for too many even within our own families. It is easier to argue a point than defend it or to logically challenge it. Just look at the convoluted arguments surrounding the First and Second Amendments. People want to interpret to fit their expectations rather than read and understand what was intended.

Every religion believes in repentance, contrition, and mercy. Each has some dogma that says we can be forgiven for whatever wrongs we’ve done. Stepping outside religion, most societies also have systems of repentance and forgiveness. (“I’d like to think we are good enough to each other that prisons are empty.”) Every religion also has some prophetic personages. Ask most people of the role of the prophets and the response most probably is to foretell events. And although some prophets sometimes did, most carried messages to the people to repent. Now, ask most people what it means to repent, and the most common answer would be to express recognition of transgressions. Repentance also includes remorse and acceptance, and then recognize and correct the offensive action.

Without sounding like the street preachers of the 1960s, when you understand the process that has been created for us, the us who believe in Heaven and hell, who believe in God, a merciful God, we see it is possible to “repent and be saved,” and the Pope’s desire to see an empty hell is possible. It is improbable because there are too many people who believe themselves to be the center of all creation.

Likewise, it will be forever impossible if we never release our petty desires to always be right and if we can’t be right, do all we can to prove someone else wrong. It we can’t do that, we don’t have to worry about hell being empty. We will find ourselves already there.

You cannot make anybody like you, but you can make a place where they might. Read our take on how being honest, available, and caring can maintain healthy relationships in the most recent Uplift If You Insist.

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Fit to be untied

Michael 14 Comments

It’s been a year and 2 months, roughly 14 months, almost exactly 1 year, 2 months, and 2 days depending on if you consider the day that you start counting day 1 or day 0. No matter which way you want to count it, it’s been a while since I brought this up here. Why does one shoelace always come untied while you’re walking? Or sometimes even just sitting. Of course, if that happens while you are sitting, I suppose it really matters on how actively you sit that could determine just how often “sometimes” might be. Or is it just me?

Surely you remember the quandary I expressed those 429 days ago (or 428). If not, allow me to summarize. Both feet are going the same place and at the same pace. Both shoes and both laces are made of the same materials. The temperature and humidity at my left foot are pert near identical to those at my right. All things being equal, why aren’t the laces? Why does one shoelace always untie itself? And in my case, it’s always the left shoe. With one exception.

This might be why I started thinking about this all over again. That one exception is with my newest pair of footwear, which actually are slippers. (Is slippers?) (Hmm) Yeah, yeah, go ahead and question it. Why do slippers even have laces? In the world of are you a “shoe person” or a “socks or barefoot person” at home. (Bare feet?) (Bare foot?) (No, barefoot but definitely with no space.) (Whew!) And yes, feel free to question that also, although I can assure you that a detailed examination of this hypothesis revealed that the vast majority (over 50% at least) of those questioned answered one or the other. (Now where was I?) (Oh yes…) In the world of are you a “shoe person” or a “socks or barefoot person” at home, I fall squarely in the center. (Middle?) (Center?) I fall right in between. I am a “slipper person.” (Or “slippers person” if you prefer.)

I have several pairs of slippers. (several pair?) (Whatever!) I have my “nighttime walk around the house when I can’t sleep slippers.” I have my “to and from the shower so I don’t get the carpet all wet slippers.” And now I have my “wear during the day at home but look more like casual shoes but are actually slippers for a little more formal look slippers.” (I see where this post is starting to get a little personal but at least I can say I don’t have any “these are really too racy to discuss in public slippers” so you can be comfortable sticking around for the rest of the story if there are children (or not) about (or around).) And that’s how I came to have slippers with laces. Faux laces because they really don’t do anything but sit there and look lacy. (Not that kind of lacy. I said this post wasn’t racy and if it was racy lacy I wouldn’t have even brought it up.) And those are the exception. If you’ve forgotten what they are the exception to, please feel free to go back and re-read the first, no second paragraph. (I did.)

So among the shoes with laces that untie the left foot (left shoe?) (left foot shoe?) themselves… So among the shoes with laces that all by themselves untie the shoe that goes on the left foot, there is one exception, those slippers, and they untie both left and right foot. (Feet?) It totally defeats the purpose of getting slippers that look like shoes (sort of) when you end up walking around with your slippers (that look like shoes) untied. Like how is that formal? The only thing I can think of that looks less formal is walking around in a tuxedo with your left shoelace untied. (And those little waxed laces they put on shoes they expect you to wear with your tux are the worst! (worse?) (worst!)) (Hahaha. I just thought of something funny. There really are places that expect you in formal wear that let me in! Sometimes even by invitation!!) (Heeheehee)

Anyway, If anybody has any hints as to how you keep your shoelaces from untying themselves, please feel free to comment.

Prior performance may not guarantee future results, but present desire can! Read how we feel determination should be your go to asset in the most recent Uplift!

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Non-Wishes for the New Year

Michael 9 Comments

Happy New Year! Did you wash your hair this morning? I do hope that wasn’t too personal. I ask only because if you did, you are pressing your luck. Just as you would be if you swept your floors this morning. Odd superstition those two are. You don’t want to wash away the good luck of the year. Or sweep your good fortunes outside. It’s equally odd “they” have no qualms with vacuuming or taking a shower, presumably while wearing a shower cap. What other bad luck omens should we be avoiding this New Year day?

On the good side of the omens, there are plenty of options for leveraging luck and prosperity. Are you wearing red underwear? Oh darn, there I go again. Too personal. If you have already selected your undergarments and they aren’t of that shade you can still almost guarantee good luck by having lentils for dinner or are you sticking with the old standby of pork and sauerkraut. Whatever you eat be sure to serve pomegranate for fruit course. And don’t forget to roll an empty suitcase around the house if you’re looking to fill the year with travel. Ah, travel. Where would I go? Where would you go?

Good omens, bad omens, good and bad luck. New Year’s, Halloween, and Fridays the Thirteenth have to be the most superstitious days on the calendar. The most superstitious superstition may be the least well known. A wish made exactly at midnight between New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day will surely come true. Most people are too busy looking for someone to kiss and trying to remember the words to Auld Lang Syne to worry about making wishes. The wish making doesn’t happen until hours later when many are wishing they hadn’t opened that last bottle of champagne.

It’s a terrible thing to know you might have had a wish come true and missed your chance. But that chance is a lot chancier than you might think. It must be made right at midnight, the magic moment. It’s the most chancy of good luck omens because nobody knows exactly when midnight is. That’s more obviously true this year than most. This is a leap year so we are more aware that man’s idea of a 24 hour day and a 365 day year are no match for nature’s more exact timing. Even our quadrennial intercalary addition of a spare day in February isn’t enough, hence the random “leap second” inclusions from time to time. The wish grantors aren‘t going to accept man’s claim of when midnight happens. No, it must be the one, true midnight, and even when that happens changes with every westerly taken step.

Perhaps it is just as well. Wishes are no way to go through life. I know. I’ve spent the equivalent of a lifetime wishing for a better life, not knowing then the one I have that was made by hope and faith and hard work, positive energy and prayer and meditation, beats the heck out of one built on wishing. Knowing wishes rarely come true, and never without exacting some price, has been freeing. Among other things, freeing me to find someone to kiss and to remember those darned lyrics.

Happy New Year. May all your wishes never come true.

It’s time to look back at 2023. Will you be wishing for any do overs. In the most recent Uplift we look at the perils of the redo versus the practicality of the refine. Read it here!

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Can I have that in writing

Michael 9 Comments

Last week I bought a set of book ends. Plain acrylic book ends you put on a bookshelf to hold the books that don’t stretch all the way across the shelf. Not fancy. Not decorative. Plain L-shaped hunks of plastic designed to do nothing but hold other things up. Although not patented until 1877, they have certainly been around since there have been books. They are as utilitarian as doorknobs or shoelaces. Things that just are. Why then am I devoting so much space to the humble bookend? It wasn’t the bookends that caught my attention when I first opened the box, aquiver with anticipation that finally I can keep my books from toppling over. It was the piece of paper within the box. The – ahem – instructions for use.

I saw a post on one of the social media sites (which I don’t remember for they are becoming like 1980s era GM cars), “in a 1960s a car’s owners’ manual had instructions on setting the gap on the spark plugs; today’s warns you not to drink the battery acid.” I thought that was cute but it could be accurate. Oh, not the 1960s reference. I do indeed recall those cars. In fact, I remember a time when on the driver’s door post, in addition to the sticker indicating the recommended air pressure, there was one also noting the recommended carburetor fuel flow, the manual including details how to make those adjustments. No, I was certain the reference to not drinking the battery acid had to have been hyperbole. And then I discovered instructions for how to use book ends.

About a month ago I bought a new easel. Artist easels have been around about as long as book ends. Although they have more parts than bookends, and moving parts to boot, there are not many ways to incorrectly stand an easel. In fact, I can think of no way to get it wrong. Yet, when I opened that box, sitting on top of the collapsed wooden frame was a four-page instruction booklet. I poured over those instructions looking for the secret to paint like Rembrandt but all I found was that I should “secure the painting surface securely.” You would think if they were going to go through the trouble of hiring someone to write operating instructions, they could have at least hired someone who knows how to use a thesaurus.

I get it. The people who make car batteries really don’t want you to crack open the battery case and suck out the “juice” no matter how long you’ve been on the side of the road waiting for service and how thirsty you got while waiting. That’s a dumb idea. And I get that somebody somewhere must have gotten exactly that thirsty, or we wouldn’t be discussing ways to discourage people from drinking battery acid. I don’t get it. Even if you used it wrong, what fate would befall you from the incorrect use of a bookend (a plastic bookend!) that would get a personal injury lawyer kicking his lips?

My warning to all of you, check those scissors, tape, ribbons, and bows before you do any gift wrapping this week for instructions. You don’t want to be the first one at the emergency room trying to explain you did what with your ribbon!

So little of this year is left. Was it as you expected or did it take a different turn? We tell a tale of how unexpected things turn out to be most welcome in the latest Uplift! (It’s just a quick 3 minute read.)

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