UP OR DOWN!

Observation of the Day!

I've been pondering. There is something that has bothered me most of my life. That issue is one that seems to be very important to all women, toilet seat left up or down???

Women say down. The rationale I have heard that if a woman gets up in the dark she wants to have the assurance that she will be seated on the proper throne. If a man goes to the john in the dark, he is supposed to know the rules and lift the seat, hopefully.

Now who says that the burden of the rules should rest on the man's shoulders. He is required to check that everything is in its proper position, while the woman is able to march in and set her butt on the seat with confidence. Why shouldn't man be able to stagger to the john, stand there with confidence that he will hear the tinkle tinkle? If he does not hear the sound he knows he must adjust.

It seems to make sense that the seat should be left in the up position, and then everyone who has to squat, including the man, knows to reach up and lower the seat. Makes sense to me!

What am I missing? Help me out here! If my solution makes sense, it will still be wrong because I am a man. We always lose these arguments, but it is worth a ponder.

Next time I will ponder the merits of two ply and one ply toilet paper.

Have a nice day!

Sammy Carl

A GUIDE TO MAKING YOURSELF WELCOME IN MINNESOTA!

Observation of he Day!

Republicans gather in St. Paul next week for the four day political infomercial convention. Be sure to not to say it is in Minneapolis because, as several TV anchors have discovered, it really pisses St. Paulites off. Kristin Tillotson wrote this guide to conventioneers in the Star Tribune this morning. Her observations are the truth about Minnesotans, not exaggerations. This article will make them angry, just as "Fargo" did. Many Minnestotans failed to see the humor in one of the greatest Coen brothers movies.

Dear conventioneers: As you make your way through this strange, foreign territory known as the Land of 10,000 Lakes, here are some pointers to help you get your feet wet.

By Compiled by Kristin Tillotson, Star Tribune

Loving the Vikings is a safe conversation starter. Hating the Packers unfortunately is not because of all the Wisconsonites that have … read more invaded our state and are obnoxious about the Packers.

Driving and taxis

• "Uptown Minneapolis" is south of downtown.

• Most traffic lights are on the corner curbs, not overhead in the middle of the street.

• Don't take the directional indications of "35W" and "35E" too seriously.

• Minnesotans are notorious for not knowing how to merge onto freeways, finally heaving the car into your lane at the last minute while going 25 miles an hour. We brake for on-ramps -- if not for pedestrians.

• No honking! Around here, laying on your horn is the equivalent to deliberately rear-ending someone.

• "The Crosstown" means Hwy. 62, which goes east-west on the southern border of Minneapolis and is a common airport route.

• Taxi tips: You can't hail a cab from the street. You have to go to a designated taxi stand. During the convention, some of those stands may be closed or moved. Some cabs have glowing lights hard-wired on top. This does not mean they are available.

Notorious landmarks not worth the effort

• Mary Tyler Moore house. It's a private residence and has changed too much.

• Larry Craig bathroom stall at the airport. Really, what do you expect to see?

The rivalry between the Twin Cities

• Never, ever refer to St. Paul as Minneapolis.

The reverse never happens, so no worries there.

• St. Paulites say: Minneapolis is where we

play, but St. Paul is where we live. Minneapolitans say: Minneapolis is where we live and play.

St. Paul is ... someplace in Wisconsin?

• People from Minneapolis find navigating St Paul to be difficult.

People from St Paul just don't believe in navigating Minneapolis.

Eating and drinking

• Soda is "pop."

• Seltzer is "soda water."

• Casserole is "hot dish."

• Bars are places to drink, also 50 percent of desserts made in Minnesota are bars (lemon bars, pumpkin bars, etc.).

• Do try: Wild rice, walleye and lefse (thin Scandinavian potato pancakes rolled with sugar and butter).

• Try at your own risk: lutefisk, smelly whitefish cured in lye.

Minnesota expressions

• Yep. You bet.

• "Oh, fer," as in "Oh, fer nice!" or "Oh, fer gosh sakes!"

• "Ish" = "ick" or "gross."

• "Not too bad" = Amazingly great! not to be confused with ...

• "It's not that bad,'' the stock answer to any question about living here.

• DFL stands for the Democratic Farmer Labor party.

• You want to come with?

• A "hockey haircut" is a mullet. Even our governor used to have one.

• Can you borrow me five bucks?

• Schmoozing: In Minnesota, this means brown-nosing, not just chatting (we're suspicious of extroverts).

• "We'll be up at the lake" or "the cabin." Like there's only one. And it's always "the cabin," even when it's a house.

• "Up North" is anywhere north of the Twin Cities, but "the North Shore" is along Lake Superior between Duluth and the Canadian border.

• "The Cities" is the Twin Cities metropolitan area to anyone who lives outside of it.

Social customs

• Start saying goodbye at least 15 minutes before you really have to leave.

• Replying to an RSVP request is considered an optional courtesy.

• When in doubt, be indirect.

• Be prepared to face passive aggression around every corner. If a Minnesotan tells you something is "interesting" or "different," you can be sure you've been insulted.

Have a nice day!

Sam

REMEMBERING OUR DAD!

Our father died August 29, 1994, fourteen years ago today. You never forget your father, no matter what your relationship was. The greatest tribute to our father came not from our family, but from a local Marion, Indiana sports writer.

Ken Hill, the publisher of The Sport’s Hotline, a weekly newspaper featuring local sports in and around Grant County, came to the visitation and later wrote in the September 9, 1995 issue of his little newspaper the following wonderful column about Ward Arnold. I think it captured him perfectly. It symbolized a lot about who my father was in the eyes of a person in the community. It said more about him than anything I have written about him. The column came from a person who knew, admired and respected my father at a different level.

It’s too bad there’s not a Super Fan Hall of Fame because if there was Ward Arnold surely would have been one of the first to be elected. Ward was more than just a fan. He was a super fan just like some athletes are super stars, only without all the ego, fame, money and publicity. He died last week at the age of 82 and with his passing closed the book on one of the greatest supporters of Marion High School athletics ever had.

He never scored a basket or a touchdown. He never hit a home run or pitched a no-hitter. He never ran a 100-meter dash and he never pinned his opponent in the first period. He never won a 100-meter freestyle or took first place on the balance beam. He never hit an ace serve and never scored a winning goal. He never crossed the finish line first and he never made a 25-foot birdie putt. Nope, he never did any of those things but yet he probably saw others do them more than anyone in the history of Marion High school sports. Ward Arnold was a fan’s fan.

Basketball was his big thing but he would follow all the other sports as well. For so many years as long as a Marion Giant team was playing there was a good chance Arnold was there. The year was 1975. Marion hadn’t won a state basketball championship since 1926. The Giants got to Market Square Arena that year for the Final Four. Ward was vacationing in Arizona at the time. But he didn’t let a few miles stand in his way of seeing his Giants go for the state title He got on a plane and was at MSA when Marion took it all. Arnold was in the eighth grade when the Giants last won the state championship.

He was a rabid fan but not a very vocal one. At basketball games he would sit there with pencil in hand keeping score. More often than not, right beside him, too, would be Maxyne, his wife of so many years. Maxyne became ill a year or two ago and was unable to make the games. In fact, she became ill at a Marion Giant home game one night. Ward and Maxyne were pretty much inseparable. One can’t recall seeing Ward at a Marion basketball last season because Maxyne was unable to be there, and he didn’t want to leave her and go alone. Yet, he kept buying season tickets. Last year marked the 66th straight time that he had season tickets to Marion High School basketball games.

They were a lovely couple that seemed to depend on one another quite a lot. Arnold didn’t yell out like some fans but he would voice his opinion rather quietly, giving either words of praise or criticism as he saw fit. There are a lot of adults who attend Marion basketball games. They don’t have kids playing, but they are there to support the Giants. But once the season is over most of them aren’t to be seen at another athletic event until the next basketball season rolls around. But that wasn’t the case with Ward. He had no son or daughter playing but he was there at other events just the same. He saw his share of sports besides basketball or football. He was a genuine fan. He went to games because he loved sports and young people. He went because he was a true blue Marion Giant fan.

None of us will live forever. Ward Arnold had a good long life. Marion High School was blessed to have such a dedicated fan. There are fans such as Joe Blow and then there are fans like Ward Arnold. People, there’s a world of difference. The Hotline’s sympathy goes to wife Maxyne and the family. There have been few fans like Ward Arnold and there won’t be too many more like him down the road either.

Have a nice day!

Sam Arnold, son of Ward and Maxyne

A FEW COMMENTS ON THE OLYMPICS!

Observation of the Day!

I must admit I didn't watch the Olympics door to door. I did watch much of the swimming and track. These are my limited observations.

1.There is no question China launched itself on the world stage. it had arrived. Chinese citizens went about their business in Western clothes,and they were just ordinary people. The Opening and Closing Ceremonies were spectacular. No expense was spared, and it was pure creative genius. I don't think London or anybody could come close to this show. Nor do I think London should try. Just put some sparklers on the big Ferris wheel and get on with the games.

2. When I was doing my training seminar, my closing contained the story of Mark Spitz and his great feat of winning seven medals. To make my point I told the audiences that his final Gold Medal was in the relay, A TEAM EFFORT! Now the name changes to Michael Phelps. What a performance. His body was custom made for swimming, 6'7", long waste and big flexible feet. However, it was the work that ultimately made the difference. It is not the tools, it is what you do with them.

3. I was intrigued by the synchronized diving. It was just amazing. Absolute mirror images.

4.How could everybody drop the baton?

5. Lightening Bolt.

6. Synchronized swimming always gets my attention. I wonder why? Heh! Heh!

7. The woman's discus thrower is a big woman. She set a new record. Nobody will mess with her.

8. The Redeem Team redeemed. The played as a team, not the prima donnas of the last Olympics. The Chinese love basketball.

9. What the hell happened with the woman's softball team. 22-1? The one loss being the Gold Medal game. However, they did have Jenny Finch. Heh! Heh!

10. Tennis should not be an Olympic sport. They already play on an an international stage.

11. Todd Bachman, the father-in-law of the men's volleyball coach was randomly stabbed to death by deranged Chinese citizen. Bachman's is a well known 100 year old floral and gift shops in the Minnesota area. Doe works at the Bachman's store in Eden Prairie. Their was much sadness because everyone who works at Bachman's is a family. The men won the gold when they were ranked fifth at best. Barbara Bachman, Todd's wife, was also slashed. She was brought home to Mayo's and has now been released. you don't think of these things happening so close to home.

12. I love woman's beach vollley ball. Heh! Heh!

11. NBC reaped big rewards.

I am glad it is over, and we can move back to the pennant race.

Have a nice day!

Sam

HELLO CHINA!

Observation of the Day!

When I was writing my family history, my research on the Spanish-American War and the Philippine Insurrection and my grandfather's service in both ends of the war, I learned that the reason we did not give the Philippines their independence as we did Cuba was the fact that the U.S. viewed the Philippines were the gateway to China and the Far East and the vast markets. It has been a slow evolutionary process, but now a hundred years later it would seem that China has finally made it. The Olympic Games were the coming out party to the world.

Yes, China is communist country with an authoritarian government, but it seemed to me that the people in China were relatively happy and going about their lives. The entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well. The athletes were all getting along fine in the spirit of the games. There was some questionable judging occasionally, but that isn't something new to the Games.

It further confirms in my mind that ordinary people are ordinary people and bear few hostilities toward each other. Once again it is governments that create wars, not the people. In the government controlled world former enemies become friends and old friends become enemies.

Not long after I go my way to another world, China will be the next truly world power. The U.S. will continue to wither away. Their education system works,. Ours is failing. Foreign countries are buying U.S. assets until we won't own much.

We have become arrogant and lazy. We will wither.

A few years ago I heard my management hero, Peter Drucker, tell us that the intermingling and codependents of business being global will do much to prevent wars in the future. There will be too much to lose on all sides.

China is out there and the Olympics added the exclamation point.

Tomorrow I will give you some of my observations of the games themselves.

Have a nice day!

Samuel

WHOOPS!

This is the first post on the Olympics. More to follow, but I thought these were priceless.

Olympic Blooper

Here are the top nine comments made by NBC sports commentators so far during the Olympics that they would like to take back: 1. Weight-lifting commentator: This is Gregorieva from Bulgaria. I saw her snatch this morning during her warm up and it was amazing. 2. Dressage commentator: This is really a lovely horse and I speak from personal experience since I once mounted her mother. 3. Paul Hamm, Gymnast: I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father. 4. Boxing Analyst: Sure there have been injuries, and even some deaths in boxing, but none of them really that serious. 5. Softball announcer: If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again. 6. Basketball analyst: He dribbles a lot and the opposition doesn’t like it. In fact you can see it all over their faces. 7. At the rowing medal ceremony: Ah, isn’t that nice, the wife of the IOC president is hugging the cox of the British crew. 8. Soccer commentator: Julian Dicks is everywhere. It’s like they’ve got eleven Dicks on the field. 9. Tennis commentator: One of the reasons Andy is playing so well is that, before the final round, his wife takes out his balls and kisses them... Oh my God, what have I just said? Have a nice day! Sammy C.

DOG DAYS! OR BORING MYSELF TO DEATH ONE DAY AT A TIME!

Non-Observation of the Day

I am sure all my regular readers have noticed my posted have dwndled to a trickle. I am truly sorry, but the dog days of summer are upon me. I just haven't observed much happening around me because it would seem that the dog days are dogging everybody.

Let's see what I can muster up about the summer that is rapidly winding down.

It has been a good summer weather wise in Minnesota. It got off to a wet and cold start, but ended in good shape. Very few days over 90 and few nights under 59. God that's boring!

I didn't play too much golf. Once a week and no practice in between. I guess I play golf in California more now. I did learn that the highest handicap I have ever had over the last twenty years is not so bad. It has been very rewarding. In my senior league I have won more money in the last two years than I ever did with lower handicap. Golf stories are also boring.

Those are the highlights of the summer. WOW! That's it? That's the best I can do! I hope to get back on track as the observation business picks up this fall. I have plans.

Have a nice summer day.

Sam

RULES TO LIVE BY!

My friend Gina Robalino sent me this. Rather than forward it, I decided to share it with you on the Blog. Click the panel to enlarge. This is a public service to the older folks.









Have a nice day!

Samuel

SONG OF THE WEEK!

Tom Jones an Oldie but Goodie

I saw Tom Jones the one and only time at the Las Vegas Hilton in 1967, the peak of his early career. I have always loved his voice. My friend in Coronado, Cece, went to his concert last month in San Diego and fell in love with him. I told her when I saw him in Vegas she was two years old. How time flies.

Have a nice day!

Sammy

THE DIVINE ONE!

Kind of clever, I think, but I am sure some will be offended.

Have a nice day!

Samuel

SONG OF THE WEEK!

MAMMA MIA! The Movie: Dancing Queen FULL SONG!


I have not seen the movie, but I did see Mama Mia live on stage. It was one of the most fun evenings I ever had in a theatre. People who saw the movie rather than the stage show enjoyed every bit as much. It is just fun and uplifting.

BEST OF THE WORST!

Observation of the Day!

As an amateur writer, I am always interested how an author weaves words around to form descriptive phrases that capture the imagination and interest of the reader. Every year the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest offers prizes to whoever can write the worst opening paragraph to a non-existent story. It is named after the author of the first paragraph below. From the Minneapolis Star Tribune comes a few this year's winning entries.

*****

"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."

*****

"The hardened detective glanced at his rookie partner and mused that who ever had coined the term 'white as a sheet' had never envisioned a bed accessorized with a set of Hazelnut, 500-count Egyptian cotton linens from Ralph Lauren complimented by matching shams and a duvet cover nor the dismembered body of its current occupant."

*****

"Mike Hummer had been a private detective so long he could remember Preparation A, his hair reminded everyone of a rat who'd bitten into an electrical cord, but he could still run faster than greased owl snot when he was on a bad guy's trail, and they said his friskings were a lot like getting a vasectomy at Sears."

*****

"Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped 'Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J."

Here is my potential offering!

The morgue was cold and damp. It was always cold and damp. The coroner pulled open the stainless steel drawer to reveal a dingy gray sheet, covering all that remained of the unknown victim. The crusty old coroner carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal all that was left of this poor man was the portion of the body below the waist line and above the top of the thighs. There he was dead balls and all. The only clue I had to his identity was that he must have had really big feet.

Have a nice day!

Sam

THIS JUST IN!

News You Need to Know, or Not!

JACKSONVILLE, Fla. (AP) - Jacksonville police say Reginald Peterson needs to learn that 911 is not the appropriate place to complain that Subway left the sauce off a spicy Italian sandwich.

Police said the 42-year-old man dialed 911 twice last week so he could have his sub made correctly. The second call was to complain that officers weren't arriving fast enough.

Subway workers told police Peterson became belligerent and yelled when they were fixing his order. They locked him out of the store after he left to call police.

When officers arrived, they tried to calm Peterson and explain the proper use of 911. Those efforts failed, and he was arrested on a charge of making false 911 calls.

They walk among us!

*****

PHILADELPHIA (CBS 3) — Eddie Ortiz Jr. and his father have been living on a street corner since Saturday morning—waiting for sneakers.

Not just any sneakers, but a pair designed by Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson, drummer for the Grammy-winning hip-hop band, The Roots. Thompson designed the $225 red, green and gold Air Force 1 sneakers as part of the shoe company's 1World collection, which will feature 18 designs over eight months.

The sneakers are being released here Tuesday at the Ubiq footwear store in downtown Philadelphia. By late Monday morning, 26 people had lined up in a makeshift sidewalk campsite.

The Nike sneakers, dubbed Air Questo, are the fifth pair to be released in the 1World collection. And while sneakerheads—as sneaker collectors call themselves—regularly camp out for new releases, Ubiq has never had this many people waiting in line, said store supervisor Kyle Dunn.

It's a bit of a misunderstood hobby, said Eddie Ortiz, REALLY? who came with his 17-year-old son from the Poconos. The Ortiz duo got there Saturday morning and were first in line.

"People look at you like, 'A pair of sneakers?"' the elder Ortiz said. "But they don't understand, it's a culture." Culture????

$225 for sneakers? Are economic times really tough?

*****

My niece in New Mexico sent this disturbing news. STARBUCKS TO CLOSE 50% Of ROSWELL OUTLETS. I guess they will have to get along with one as best they can.

*****

The Minnesota Health Department, through good detective work, was the first to isolate the fact that the recent Salmonella outbreak came from jalapeno peppers from Mexico. They called themselves the "Diarrhea Team." There were other names suggested before they settled on the name.

The Gut-Grip Group

The Montezuma Mounties

The Trots Troop

The Kaopectate Korps

The Pepto Patrol

Yeah Team! Way to "GO"!

*****

The Wichita Eagle says two people called police Monday night to report that they were robbed ... while trying to buy marijuana. The paper says officers took a report from the victims and then arrested them "on suspicion of attempted possession of marijuana with the intent to distribute."

Dude, they walk among us!

*****

NEW YORK, (Reuters Life!) - A New Jersey man trying to exterminate insects in his apartment blew it up instead, the New York Daily News reported on Monday.

Isias Vidal Maceda was unhurt in the incident, but 80 percent of his apartment was destroyed, Eatontown, New Jersey police told the newspaper.

The accident occurred as Maceda was spraying for pests in his kitchen. Somehow the bug spray ignited a blast that blew out the apartment's front windows and triggered a fire that quickly spread, the newspaper said.

I think it was a cockroach booby trap.

Quote of the Week!





'It isn't pollution that's harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it.' 
--Al Gore, Vice President 


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Have a nice day!

Sammy C.

MY OLYMPIC MOMENTS!

Observation of the Day

Today is the opening of the Beijing Olympics. How much the games have changed not only from their renewal in 1896 after a fifteen hundred year absence, but how much they have changed even in my life time. I have seen about half of them through the media. The games reflect the times of sports today -- commercialism. Everything is sponsored, and I think we are still in the beginning of total commercialization of all sports. The Olympics now allow professional athletes. They are particularly prevalent in the popular sports. It is hard to get into the spirit of the worldwide games when some of the participants are millionaires several times over. But there are still beautiful moments of drama and accomplishment as well. That being said, the opening ceremonies are still great pageantry and are indeed spectacular.

I admit the following is a real stretch to find a personal note about these Olympic games, but it also shows that if you live long enough you do brush greatness in person sometimes. One of the highlights and well kept secrets of the opening evening of any Olympic Games evening is always who is going to carry to torch and light the Olympic flame. Atlanta was special for me. Al Oerter carried the flame from the streets of Atlanta into the bowels of the stadium. Al was a four-time Olympian gold medal winner and a graduate of the University of Kansas (I think). I remember seeing Al perform at an indoor track meet at Michigan State. He handed the torch to Evander Holyfield, an Atlanta native and former heavy weight boxing champion and he carried into the center of the stadium through a tunnel to come out in the middle of the field. I remember Evander being escorted across the field just in front of where we were sitting at the sixth game of the World Series in 1991. He ran from the center of the field to the track and ran around the track where he eventually picked up a female Greek athlete (a distance runner), and they jointly carried it further around the track. This was the symbolism of the ancient Greek origins of the games and I think the coming of age and recognition of the female athletes.

Then came Janet Evans an American Gold Medal winner in swimming from Placentia, California. Plancentia is the town next to Yorba Linda, where we used to live. I remember Tim telling me about a swimming meet he attended between Esperanza High School (his first high school) and Placentia High School where Janet Evans Olympic and worlds record holder was a member of her high school swimming team. There is something a little strange about the feeling the Esperanza swimming team must have had about swimming against a world record holder, but it also exemplified that Janet was just an ordinary kid from Placentia with extra ordinary talent.

Janet carried the torch the rest of the way and ran up the long ramp to the top of the stadium to pass it off to the final recipient. From over the top of the back of the stadium through a fog of smoke emerged Mohammed Ali, the greatest heavy weight champion ever. A chill went up my spin and a tear came to my eye. Ali was a gold medal winner in boxing when he was known as Cassius Clay, and most popular man in the world, particularly in his hay day. He suffers from Parkinson Syndrome and his hand shook violently as he took the flame from Janet and reached to light the flame that would be carried to the top of the stadium to light the giant Olympic Torch. It was sad, but at the same time exhilarating.

In 1983, I was co-chairman of the winter conference of the American School Food Service Association held at the Hotel Del Coronado. There was a group that held a panel introducing a world hunger drive and had enlisted Mohammad Ali as a spokesman. There was the greatest champion of all time attending this convention of humble school lunch ladies. No one at least in our group realized that Ali was showing the first signs of his Parkinson’s Syndrome, but his speech was slow. It was painful to watch his slowness of speech and movement. This was the man who in his own words could “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee” and it was true. He was loved the world over and is loved today. Ali stayed for the meeting and breakfast the next day, entertaining the crowd with his magic tricks. He sat at table after dinner and signed all the autographs asked for. I got one each for Tim and Mark and shook his hand.

Our breakfast speaker the next day was Rafer Johnson, America’s greatest decathalete in his time. As Co-chair Doe and I got to meet and sit with him at breakfast. Doe was thrilled and absolutely fell in love with him. It was a great thrill when in 1984 Rafer lit the torch in Los Angeles. As we like to say, “Our close personal friend."

While we were eating breakfast Ali entered the room and sneaked up behind Rafer and put his hands over his eyes and said “Guess who?” When Rafer turned around he quickly got up and embarrassed Ali. They had been on the same Olympic team and they apparently had not seen each other in person since. I will never forget the snap shot in my mind of that tender moment of two of the greatest athletes of all time embracing in the banquet room of my favorite spot on earth.

So as I watched that dramatic moment when Muhammad Ali lit the Olympic torch and remembered that Doe and I had met both Olympic torch barriers and actually shared a brief moment between the two former Olympians. It was our Olympic moment even though it was only a brief brush that created a lasting memory.

I hope the Olympics go off in the spirit that they were intended. Maybe I am asking too much.

Have a nice day and enjoy the Olympics!

Sam

A MOMENT!

Enjoy The Moments Of Your Life.

All of my possessions for a moment of time.

Elizabeth l

Lasting memories come from a collage’ of small moments that occur everyday you spend living your life.

In earlier times, time was more of an approximate thing. Time was estimated by the sun as farmers worked their fields. Accurate time was within twenty minutes or so. “It’s around three, I guess.” Travel was by horse, train, steamboat or just walking along. Going any distance was an all-day thing anyway. No appointments necessary. Expecting someone to arrive was always within a day or week or two. They arrived when they got there. Later, time could be measured by listening to the factory whistle at noon, or the chime of the clock on the square or mantle.

While driving a cross country with a friend in 1962, we stopped for the night in a little town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico on historic Route 66. After we checked in to a little motel, we went down to the local bar for a beer. We asked the bartender, “What time do the bars close in New Mexico”. “Well, legally we close at one”, he replied. “Oh, you mean sometimes you lock the doors and keep on going?,” we inquired. “No, sometimes we close up at ten or eleven,” he answered as a matter of fact. Closing time was a non-specific appointed hour in Santa Rosa. In a small town things tend to go with the flow. Maybe we should be more like that.

Time zones were created by the railroads to unify a patch work of independent miniature time zones at local option in order to set some sort of order as to how what time it is. Of course this too has been altered by man with daylight savings time, of which Indiana does not participate except in the northwest corner near Chicago that does follow daylight savings time. So Indiana is the same time as we in Minnesota are sometimes and sometimes they are an hour ahead. Do you see how time confuses otherwise sensible people, and it is of our own doing not god who made the original product. Does crossing a time zone border really change the way you feel as you lose or gain an hour by crossing an imaginary line? Sometimes God must just through up is hands in confusion, himself.

God and the universe gave each of us twenty-four hours in everyday by man’s calculation. The difference is how each of us use those precious hours of our life. Time has become an issue of economics, rather than a simple fact of living and enjoying our God given life.

The work day is measured: We punch a time card; Extra work and hours are measured in overtime; Holiday and vacation time is accrued ; Quality time is our buzzword to our family and friends because we don’t have quantity time to give. Business appointments are made for specific times -- don’t be late.

Measure, allocate and accrue is what we do. We are always on the move with a deadline to meet, real or imagined. We have time management seminars, to help us be more effective in the pursuit of maximum time utilization. We have become a slave to time. Time, not money, is society’s most valued commodity, but we only think in terms of time is money. Time to our families and our selves has more real value because it is the more scarce, almost non-existent in today’s world. We have modern technology available to us that was supposed to lead America to a four-day workweek. What happened? Information, acceleration of change and competition took it away. We live in an age of the frantic pace -- harried and hassled to our heart and mind’s end.

We no longer take time. Time takes us.

When we do get some time off we are just as busy and time starved as we were at our work. We need vacations to recuperate from the never ending pace of the rat race. Living should not be a rat race. This is our lives we are talking about. We even need time to recuperate from our time off to recuperate because of a frantic pace to “get it all in”. Exhaustion seems to be our middle name. We hardly have any time for ourselves any more. We are no longer in control of our time. Time is allocated.. Time is scheduled.. Time is accounted for. Time must be made. Our economic worth is now determined by how we spend our time. Things other than the disciplines of economics should determine our worth.

Months, weeks, hours, minutes and seconds are the measures of time artificially constructed by man. Moments and memories are not. Moments and memories are experienced. By themselves, moments may not seem like much until we bring them up from our memories. In order to capture these moments of your life, you must simply become more aware of them. Take time to experience your moments. Our moments are ours alone. Moments are in our mind’s eye. Moments must be taken in, absorbed and savored. The way we look at time clouds the experiences of our moments. Moments get lost in our economic pursuit of time. Don’t be confined by your hours, experience the freedom of your moments.

Enjoy the moments of those little pursuits of happiness and pleasure. Hemingway once said that things in your daily life just happen, therefore, your pleasures must be planned. Moments may be little or big. All moments may not even be good moments, but they may serve as learning and growing experiences never to be forgotten. All lives contain good and bad moments -- it’s part of living. Our problem is that we don’t take time to enjoy the good and often simple moments. Simple pleasures. A cup of coffee and a warm fire on a cold and rainy day. A leisurely read of the newspaper. A hot bath. A good book. A wonderful short story. A walk. Watching the birds at your feeder and the squirrels in the trees. Listening to the roar of the ocean or the gentle rush of a brook. A snow capped mountain in the distance. A pleasant conversation and time spent with a friend or even a stranger. The serenity of a calm lake through the cool mist of an early morning. A warm spring day or a summer rain. A garden. A fresh snowfall under a clear crisp blue sky. A game of golf. A nap. A delightful meal. Holidays. A moment of reflection -- of remembering. Time with a hobby. A random act of kindness. A hug. Add your own moments to the list. Take a moment.

Take time to enjoy the living of your life, and do the best you can. Concentrate on what you are doing. Experience the moment. At first it will seem hard. Make yourself drink in and absorb the moment you are experiencing. Take time to slow down the pace of your life. As time passes, these small daily experiences will add meaning to your life, and it feels good.

Have a nice day and take a moment!

Sam

REMEMBERNG JACK PRENDERGAST!

Jack Playing Rugby into His Sixties!

I worked with Jack at Fred's Frozen Foods. Jack passed away a week ago at the age of eighty-one. He died from Alzheimers. He may have forgotten, but those who knew him never will.

Jack Prendergast was a friend to everyone he ever met. The guest book notes of sympathy in the Philadelphia Inquirer catches the very essence of Jack. He was Irish through and through. Jack was a pure salesman and natuarally born mentor to many. He was a story teller. In his sixties he played senior hockey and believe it of not rugby. I remember putting my hand on his shoulder once, and it was hard as a rock. He was sixty-two at the time. Now at seventy, myself I don't think he was old at all. Jack and I had our arguments, but it was all in the sincerity of our points of view. We laughed just as hard as we argued. Everybody who knew Jack loved and respected him and sought him out for the tall tales of sales and advice. I remember most that being with Jack were always good times with lots of laughs and a few beers. He thought the best of everybody.

I hadn't talked to Jack in years, but I have thought of him many times. The lesson to be learned is not to neglect old friendships. They all go away and are unretrievable except for the memories.

His son, John, is very involved in the issues of Darfur. There was a profile of John on Sixties Minutes last Sunday and he interviewed on MSNBC later in the week.The obituary asks that memorials can be made to Project Enough. In an article about John (JP), he said that his inspiration of service was instilled in him by his Catholic parents, Jack and Claire. I remember Jack being so proud of JPs work in the inner city of Philadelphia.

On the back of the picture above, Jack wrote the following note,

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he alone hears, however measured and far away.

To Sam: A guy who is also a little out of step. Signed Jack 2/25/88

Jack Prendergast was an original

God rest his good soul.

Sam