From the Treetop

2002-11-24T15:48:00.000-05:00

Moving On

Is anyone still out there?

I know my posts have been few and far between in recent months. Much has been going on. I've moved my main web site - Home of Cyber Kat - to a new web host at ProNicSolutions and I have moved my Blog as well, so if you are looking for new entries go here. Not only did I move the Blog to my own ISP, I've also switched to MoveableType.

If any of you have links to From the Treetop, please change them to http://www.cyber-kat.com/blog

So if you've come here looking for me, or just stumbled on this blog, please come over and visit my new digs!

2002-09-11T19:39:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures." -John F. Kennedy

I know I've been AWOL these last few months. I thought I'd have more time to write once the summer got here, but I ended up spending more time reading in a chair on my deck, instead.

I started this Blog because I wanted to write about my feelings on September 11, 2001 - which I did.

Now here we are on the first anniversary of that terrible day. Once again I am overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. The lives - saved and lost. The stories, sad, hopeful, heroic. The destruction of the seemingly destructable. I mourn the loss of our security and the liberties we often took for granted. And I fear all this saber rattling and war talk.

I have much more to say on that subject, but I'll save those thoughts for another day.

Going on the wisdom that a picture is worth a thousand words, I decided to share my pictures. These are two series of pictures that I took. The first were taken in September of 1992 - ten years ago. They were taken of the NY skyline from the boat that goes to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.

I took the second set of pictures this past June from the deck of the Carnival cruise ship, Triumph. Without further ado ... you can find them here.

2002-06-06T07:38:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." -- Lucille Ball

The folks on my father's side of the family have a knack for living a long time. My paternal grandmother lived until just short of her 102nd birthday. My father celebrated his 90th birthday, this past Tuesday.

He lives with my sister near Gettysburg, PA, and she had a party for him last weekend, so I drove down there with my aunt, his sister. She's 80 - shhh - don't tell anyone, I told you!

It really is a shame that so many of those who are lucky enough to survive into their 9th or 10th decade are too often stripped of their capability to enjoy the extra years of life.

My grandmother was virtually deaf and nearly blind, but pretty much otherwise had her health and her sharp mind until the end. Without the ability to see or hear, she lost the means to exercise her mind except for living in her imagination.

My father is sailing into those very same waters. He can see, but not very well. He can hear, but not very well. And that's sad, because much of the joy he took from life came from using those two particular faculties. He also has emphysema so even breathing is a chore for him.

He loved to read, and do crossword puzzles. Today he finds both activities very difficult. He loved music and was very proud of his splendid voice. Now he can barely hear himself speak, and when he tries to sing, he can't hear that either.

He is a golfer who can't play golf, and a dancer who can no longer dance. He's a talker and a social junkie. He loved being around people, chatting, laughing, pulling a leg or two. But Carroll Valley, where he lives is a little burg in the middle of nowhere and a long drive away for all of the family, but my sister. Most of the time these days, he sits alone watching birds and squirrels out of his window.And he loved my mother. She was his rock, his safe harbor, but she passed away 10 years ago last January.

A few years ago, when he was still capable of getting around on his own, I tried to talk him into moving back to north Jersey, where I live, where many of my relatives live, where I grew up. But my mother is buried in Pennsylvania, and he felt that that is where he wanted to be. Now he is even less prepared or inclined to make a move than he was back then.

It's not fair. If you lose your sight, then you should lose your hearing. If you lose your hearing, you shouldn't lose your sight. When you get to the point where your body fails you, but your mind is still sharp and active, you should be left with one of the portals that bring food to that mind. You should be able to read or do brain teaser puzzles. You should be able to hear music, a movie, a show on the History Channel or just a stimulating conversation. You shouldn't be forced to fill your world with birds and squirrels no matter how much fun they can be to watch. It's just not fair.

2002-05-27T13:35:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." -- Golden Rule

Please note: I may not write often, but I make up for it in length <g>

Today's topic: Moral Cloudiness

In reading Shelley aka Burningbird's blog, as I do most days, I came upon this entry. Reading it, and the linked articles - (here, here and here) stirred up some thoughts that have been drifting around in my mind lately.

Shelley's blog entry points to arguments about "moral clarity." What is it? And is it simplistic or complex? I contend that it only exists in the minds of those who claim to possess it. I think it is a myth conjured up by those who need justification for their actions - no matter what those actions are.

IMO, the only morality that counts is the one stated above - Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. If you are doing anything else - treating anyone in some other manner, be they friend or foe - you have no claim to righteousness. Doesn't matter who did what to whom first. Doesn't matter who stands on the side of "right" - whatever that may be.

So where does that leave us common ordinary folk who give in sometimes to urges for revenge, to a desire to play the hero or the White Knight, to a need to convert everyone else to our point of view?

Lets face folks; we all want to be right. We all want to play on the winning team. I suspect that it's written in the DNA code of every human being. No one wants to be a loser - even the losers. And no one truly believes they are wrong unless they have come to see the light of another "right." So how do we apply the Golden Rule when the issues get cloudy? How do we let go of our burning need to be right?

Don't look at me. I don't have the answers. Sitting on the fence as I often do, I see both sides of nearly every story. From my vantage in the Treetop, I see the whole forest spread out before me, but I can't always see the answers. I have only questions, and I think asking questions is good. I think asking questions is more important than being right - but I could be wrong. <g>

I look again at that need we all seem to feel to be right - to play on the winning team. Take politics for instance. Be you Democrat, or Republican, right wing or left wing, Libertarian or Authoritarian or even independent - whatever position you espouse, you probably believe that your opinion is the only right-minded way of thinking. The others are all idiots, or mislead, or wacky.

Organized religion is the worst of all, IMO.

I was raised Roman Catholic. In that religion, believing that other religions are equal, or even worth looking into is a sin of "indifferentism." That's what we were taught. Don't eat that fruit - you might learn something that we think you're better off not knowing.

Personally, I don't understand how knowledge can be bad. Of course, knowledge makes you think, and most religious leaders would rather that their followers just blindly accept. They call it faith.

Knowledge leads you to ask more questions and if you question, if you seek the truth - you might just find it. I don't think they want that - it threatens their position on a loftier plane.

And most religions are that way. The leaders declare their religion is the one true way to righteousness and some kind of blissful reward in another life. Most religions - whether they admit it or not - look down on those who do not subscribe to the exact same system of belief.

So I ask you - how do you know you are right and everyone else is wrong? And is it really so important?

I think a more important issue to examine is where do you draw the line when one person's right to exist or to "pursue happiness" conflicts with another person's right to do the same.

I offer a few examples ?

You're in a movie theater or a sports arena. There are two armrests - one on either side of your seat. Which one is yours, and which one belongs to the person sitting next to you? I have pondered this question whenever I find myself sitting between two people who have both taken possession of the one on either side of me - leaving me with none.

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you" dictates that you look around you and make sure that you are not hogging two armrests. Everyone lean to the right or the left - but not both at the same time.

I had a debate recently with a friend of mine. I value freedom over safety. I find all of these post 9/11 searches an affront to my personal freedom. I find the idea of identity cards, and having the government or any other entity tracking my every movement to be very scary indeed.

My friend believes that safety is more important and he, like so many others these days, is willing to surrender freedoms to attain it.

I claim that intrusive searches - beyond a simple pass through a metal detector - at an airport violates my right to protection against illegal search and seizure. I'm willing to allow a reasonable limitation - like the metal detector - but I'm not willing to go much beyond that.

My friend claims that my demanding of my rights violates his right to what he values most - his safety. I claim that living life is a risk. You could get hit by bus while crossing the street. You could slip on rug and break your neck. You could get on the same plane as a terrorist no matter what safety precautions are put in place, short of requiring everyone to travel naked, with no luggage and no in-flight amenities that might be turned into weapons.

So where do reasonable people draw the line? How do I keep my right to freedom while my friend retains his right to safety? In this case, our Golden Rule dictates that I give up my quest for freedom to allow him to have safety, but he must also give up his safety so I can have my freedom. Again - where do you draw the line?

We have smoking and non-smoking sections in restaurants. Perhaps we need safe flights and free flights to meet the needs of all.

To live free requires a large measure of trust that others will adhere to the Golden Rule. I think that deep down most people abide by it. We just have to take our chances or hide deep in a remote cave for the rest of our lives.

Following this train of thought, I come to the question of the Middle East conflict, and the current Blogverse discussion of the incident at SFSU.

The Israeli supporters claim that Israel is right, and that their version of the SFSU incident is the correct one. The Palestinian supporters claim that the Palestinians are right, and that their version of the SFSU incident is the correct one. I support the truth, and claim that it lies somewhere in the middle.

Read both sides with an open mind - here and here. Eliminate the rhetoric from both sides. Eliminate the emotion from both sides. Look at the middle, and see if you can find the truth. It's there somewhere; I'm just not quite sure where it is.

The situation in the Middle East is a similar quandary. There are a number of realities in this situation that no one on either side seems want to accept.

Reality number one: Israel and the Jewish people are not going to go away. The Arab world and any other anti-Israel or anti-Jewish thinking people just have to accept that. They can try to destroy either or both, but anyone who does will either fail, or take the rest of the world down in the attempt.

Reality number two: The issue of the "occupied territories." I shake my head in wonder each time I hear someone say that Israel should withdraw from them. Why?

Should the non-indigenous people living in the US - or Canada too for that matter - withdraw from this land that we fought many nations - including the indigenous people - to acquire?

Should those living in England, Scotland, Wales or Ireland go back to wherever their Celtic or Norse ancestors lived before they invaded that land?

Should the French move out of the Alsace Lorraine region?

I could go on forever and way back into history. Whether it is right or wrong - to the victor belong the spoils - is a fact of life. A reality if you will.

In its brief history, sometimes Israel has been the aggressor, but more often they have been attacked. They won the battles and claimed the land. Unless we change the rules for everyone else - they get to keep it.

Reality number three: The issue of the Palestinian people. Where do they go? How do they live their lives as we all desire to live our lives. Are they less entitled because they have been disenfranchised by what was basically a coin toss by the British when they pulled out of Palestine/Israel in 1948?

If I recall my history correctly, the present day Palestinians are decedents of the Philistines who came to the land that is now Israel from somewhere in the Aegean region during the Late Bronze Age. So where do they belong? Who will take them in? And are they entitled to their own country?

Seems to me that throughout history, if your people want their own country they have to fight for it. Fight to keep it, or fight to take it away from someone else. That's what the Palestinians claim to be doing.

IMO - they are fighting a losing battle if they hope to take the land of Israel back. And they are going about it in a completely wrong way. They need to examine their methods.

They have no armies, no tanks, no airplanes, so for some bizarre reason they think they will win if they blow themselves up in the middle of a group of civilians who may or may not agree with their mission. They blow themselves up, taking many innocent bystanders with them. This makes no sense. It is definitely not the way to win friends and influence people.

They need a leader who will lead, not a leader who will merely allow or egg on suicide bombers. If they want to fight the Israelis and win others to the help them in their plight, they need to think in military terms. Killing civilians accomplishes nothing but making the other side more angry and solidifying their resolution. If you're going to blow something up, why not pick a tank or a fortification of some sort. Soldiers fight soldiers not civilians. Doesn't matter whether or not you wear a uniform or carry a flag, you go after soldiers - not civilians. There has to be some code of ethics no matter what kind of battle you are fighting.

So again - are they entitled to their own country? I have no answer to that question, but I do think they are entitled to live their lives in peace, to pursue happiness in peace. I also think that they are not going to find that in the land that at this moment in history belongs to the Israelis.

I don't think these two peoples can coexist. I don't think the Israelis will ever accept having Palestinians - or anyone who hates them living in their midst. History has taught them that this is not a workable solution. Nor do I think that the Palestinians could ever accept living in a country with a Jewish government.

So how do we resolve all these problems?

I think in the end, John Lennon had the answer - Imagine.

2002-05-21T07:03:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." --Robert Frost

This is just going to be a mish-mash of general stuff today. I have no coherent thoughts due to allergy season. It's a time of year I can barely keep my brain functioning. I try to avoid allergy medications because they make me drowsy and/or give me nose bleeds (more information than you wanted, I'm sure.)

To my fellow tree-related allergy sufferers, I recommend, Nasalcrom. Keeps me from getting all sneezy and totally stuffed up without feeling drowsy. It does give me a headache and the aforementioned nose bleeds though.

I read that there are more and more people suffering from tree-related allergies these days. I also read that one of the reasons is that the people responsible for planting trees in our tows, have taken to planting mostly male trees. It seems the female trees make a mess - what with their flower blossoms, and seed pods (think polly noses). The male trees, being typically male, do not directly produce tree offspring. They do however release the pollen that fertilizes the female trees. It is the pollen that irritates. Typical male behavior <g>. Thus ends the biology lesson for the day.

Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it .... writing about blogging that is. Check out the latest article on blogging at Alternet.

AlterNet.org is a project of the Independent Media Institute, a nonprofit organization dedicated to strengthening and supporting independent and alternative journalism. (from their "About" page) I check it out on a regular basis. Interesting stuff to be found there.

Speaking of interesting stuff ... here are a few more goodies from the Evolt chat list.

The Virtual Solar System is a really neat depiction of the solar system done on a web page. Check it out.

Also check out the Micro$oft commercial (spoof) at Idleworm. Some really fun games and movies can be found at this site.

In the "annoying songs you can't get out of your head" department. Check out the winner of the Star Wars fan films - Christmas Tauntauns. I saw this the other night on the Sci-fi channel and have been humming it ever since.

2002-05-18T13:09:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Imagination grows by exercise, and contrary to common belief, is more powerful in the mature than in the young." --W. Somerset Maugham

I intended From the Treetop to be a deep philsophical place, but often I don't have anything deep or philosophical to say - or I don't have time to really do justice to my more serious thoughts, so I'm thinking of doing a spin off blog where I can put my more whimsical thoughts and fun stuff. That sort of entry doesn't seem to fit in here. Since I haven't had time to really set any new blog up - watch out for the boom, because we're coming about on a completely different tack here today.

I recently got a new refrigerator - one in a series of major appliances we've had to replace because ours are all breaking down at the same time. I suppose a new refrigerator is not all that exciting, but I've enjoyed the new features and extra space (the old one was very small).

After the delivery men left, I went outside to put some stuff in the trash, and I noticed the large box they had left standing in the corner of the driveway. The sight of that box immediately sucked me into a flashback.

I can't remember how old I was, when my parents went through a similar bout of buying new appliances, but I was probably around 7 or 8. I thought it was wonderful! I could have cared less about the new frig or the washing machine with the latest gizmos, all I wanted was the box. I'd plead with my parents not to throw it away. My father, who nurtured my budding imagination from the time it first appeared, gave in easily and the box was mine. All mine!

A few cuts with a knife (under parental supervision, of course. Actually, I was the supervisor/designer and my father was the wielder of the knife) and some crayon work instantly transformed the box into a vehicle for my fertile imagination. It was a house and a fort and a castle, or sometimes a submarine. Stood on its end, it was a rocket ship blasting me off to explore outer space - where no box or kid had gone before! It was even a washing machine and I was the clothes (what can I say - I was a strange kid!)

I'm sorry I never thought of using my multi use boxes for a "duplicator" or a "transmogrifier" like Calvin in Calvin and Hobbs. Those would have been very cool to have!

Standing before this new box as an adult, I wished I was a child again with a brand new appliance box to treasure and to take me on wonderful adventures. I thought seriously about asking my husband not to throw it out with the recyclables. But as I gazed on the box with a strong yearning, I realized that my adult-sized body would require a much larger box. (I can hear the Taco Bell dog, now - "I think I need a bigger box!"). Hmmm - what can I buy that comes in a much bigger box?

2002-05-15T06:48:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." --Edmund Burke

Meryl Yourish posted this entry in her Blog. It's about a near riot at SFSU after a Peace In The Middle East Rally which was organized by some Jewish students. Meryl has asked her fellow bloggers to link to this entry in the hope that word will spread as it usually does through out blogdom.

In my last entry, I wrote that we must use extreme caution that we don't abuse this power, that bloggers have, to push things to the top rank in Google. I think this is an example of when the use of this power is not only acceptable, but necessary.

In Germany during the 1930s good people allowed evil to flourish because they didn't speak up. In Kew Gardens, NY in 1964 good people allowed the murder of Kitty Genovese because they chose to do nothing. Throughout US, too often people have been attacked and killed because of race, religion and sexual preference because good people knew and did nothing to stop it.

We must not be afraid to take a stand. Preferably, we must do it for noble reasons, but if we can't muster up a noble reason, we should at least do it because when they finally come for us, there might not be anyone left to object. Think about it.

2002-05-13T20:54:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." --John Emerich Edward Dalberg, 1st Baron Acton

In Shelley Powers' last entry ( also here), she writes about the ethics of weblogging. Knowing the effect of many bloggers linking to one story or to one site can have on that site's rank on Google, Shelley asks, "How is this not dangerous?"

In and of itself, a group of bloggers choosing to promote an idea, or a cause, or even just a bit of fun is not dangerous. It's neither inherently ethical, nor inherently unethical. What is dangerous is the power that ensues. There is power in numbers. We've seen this time in and time out. How that power is used is the key to the ethics.

Power has a way of getting out of the control of even the most well-intentioned people. Power does indeed tend to corrupt, and possessing power can become very addicting.

I offer a seemingly innocent example.

When I was in high school, my history class got into a discussion about mob rule and mass hysteria. My teacher claimed that no matter how strong willed you are, no matter how independent you may think you are, you can get caught up by the collective spirit of a mob. We didn't believe her. With the passion of youth we clung to our ideals.

She suggested we do a little experiment. At the next assembly we were to sit in different parts of the auditorium. No matter who the speaker was; no matter what the subject, at the end each member of our class would stand up and applaud. She told us that within minutes we would have the entire audience up on it's collective feet in a rousing standing ovation.

"Yeah, right," we thought, "We'll look like fools and everyone will laugh." But we agreed to try.

The assembly was about some dry, rather uninteresting topic, but at the end we stood. We applauded and soon, just as our teacher had predicted, everyone was on their feet applauding along with us. We were impressed, but not entirely convinced.

We tried it again and it worked - again. No one else even suspected what we were up to. We had the power. We were euphoric with the feeling that we could bring our classmates to their feet. We were the leaders; they were the sheep.

For the next couple of weeks, wherever we went, standing ovations followed, until our teacher put her foot down. There were to be no more standing ovations.

To this day, I remember the heady feeling that power gave us. And to this day, I can remember how hard it was to stop. How hard it was not to give into the urge to try it one more time.

We learned many lessons during that time about power, and abuse of power, and how easy it is to influence a crowd of well-meaning people.

I think most of us learned to recognize the effects of mob psychology and mass hysteria. Over the years, I've heard charismatic speakers and felt the many minds of an audience merge into one. Fortunately, none of these masses were urged to do wrong, and none of them got out of control, but I knew that they could. I knew first hand how easy it was. That kind of power is indeed very dangerous.

The question then becomes, should we ever use it. I think the answer is yes, but like anything dangerous, it must be used with extreme caution. Bloggers working together can have a lot of power and this is not necessarily bad. We must always question our motives, however, and make sure we don't surrender to the Dark Side of that power.

2002-05-12T18:21:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Housework is a treadmill from futility to oblivion with stop-offs at tedium and counter productivity." --Erma Bombeck

I'm with Erma on this one folks. I don't want it written on my tombstone, "She kept a tidy house." I'd much rather they write, "She made web sites," or "She Blogged," or "She created," or "She read," or "She learned neat stuff," or"She saw things from a different perspective." Of course, I really don't have to worry that anyone who has seen my house will write "She kept a tidy house." Far from it. I'll never win the "Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval." And I'm quite sure that one sight of my house would send Martha Stewart running off to a mountain top to pray.

I don't consider myself a slob. My house isn't messy because I'm too lazy to do anything about it. I'd just rather be doing other things. Housework is low on my priority list. I try to keep dirt at bay, but I don't bother the dust; the dust doesn't bother me. My piles of stuff, have piles of stuff. And I tend to leave things wherever I last used them, because I've moved on to something else.

So I have to say that this bizarre urge I've been having lately to put things in their place, organize and generally clean up strikes has me wondering what's up.

It started with the new stock pot I bought (Anolon Classic series, if you're interested. Normally, I would have just pushed aside some other stuff to fit it into a cabinet, or simply left it sitting on the stove, but instead, I tore apart an entire cabinet and rearranged it.

We're having a drought here in north Jersey, so I've been really trying to conserve water. My usual method of washing dishes (after there is no more room to put any in the sink, of course) is to run water in the sink while I soap and rinse without stoppering the sink. Can't do that in good conscience with our reservoirs at less than half full, so I bought a small basin. I put the dishes in there with a little water, then wash them soon after like I would if I had filled the whole sink. So the end result is that I've been washing dishes 3 and 4 times a day. Not like me at all.

We got a new refrigerator delivered yesterday. I spent all morning cleaning out where the old one was. I finished before the delivery men arrived so I moved on to the entry hall that goes from the back door to the kitchen. I also tore apart my microwave cart - which got a good scrubbing - and I had the strongest urge to tackle the cabinet over the refrigerator as well. I didn't, but only because I'd mostly run out of time. I think I'm sick. There's something wrong. This isn't like me at all. I didn't even sit down to read my e-mail until late afternoon.

Perhaps, my husband has been playing subliminal tapes while I sleep. Perhaps, he's studied hypnosis. Or maybe it's something in the water. Some plot to domesticate all women who'd rather be out conquering the world rather than conquering dust bunnies. I don't know. I just know it's weird.

2002-05-08T20:55:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Dogs come when they're called; cats take a message and get back to you later." --Mary Bly

I'm baaaaack. Did you miss me?

As usual I am doing too many things at once. I've been helping a local reporter set up a blog. He was fired by our local "Shopper" paper for digging too deeply into local politics. These little "Shopper" papers - the only source of local news in many cases - have been gobbled up recently by a regional media giant. I'm not naming names because I don't want to be sued. They have been leaning quite heavily on anyone who dares to speak out against them by unleashing their mega-crew of lawyers.

I see a disturbing trend here with big company bullies ruling the playground and running things the way they see fit. A lawyer I know told me that an opposing lawyer recently told him. "I know my client hasn't got a legitimate complaint, but we'll have your client's kid's college fund, his life savings and his house before weeven get to court."

A sad state of affairs indeed! If you want to read about one reporter's struggle to unearth the truth, go here.

I've also been trying to get Moveable Type set up on my own web space, since Blogspot is down so frequently. I know I can host a Blogger blog on my own space, but I figure "in for a penny, in for a pound," - I'll try to tame the wiley CGI application (sorry if any non-tech people are bored by this, but it's been occupying much of my mind and time lately).

The web host where I have cyber-kat.com started out as a small fish - a nice local company. They got eaten by a larger fish, which in turn got eaten by a very large fish (quite possibly a whale.). The large fish is focused on large businesses, naturally, so small guppies like myself hardly make a ripple that they'd notice.

They prefer their customers to use "trouble tickets" when they need tech help, even if you're not having trouble. It took me 2 trouble tickets (ignored), three emails and two phone calls just to find out what version of Perl they were running. The techs that handle the email inquiries had no clue what I wanted, so they "escalated" (bizarre choice of word, IMO) my inquiry to their administrators. I got an email from the administrator asking me to call. I did.

He asked what I wanted. I told him, "just what it says in my email - I need to know what version of Perl you're running."

"You don't need us to do anything?" he asked.

"Just answer my question," I replied.

He didn't know what version of Perl they were running, but promised to find out and get back to me. He did, but the whole process took several days.

As did my attempt to get them to install db_file and my inquiry into whether they support cgiwrap or suexec. In each case I had to provide more information because they didn't understand what I wanted.

I am now attempting to get them to change permissions for the db directory. We have exchanged several emails (I've given up on the "trouble tickets"), and two faxes. Such fun!

Anyone want to take bets on whether I get MT installed before my "lease" runs out in October <g>

The other thing that has been occupying my time of late is my new PC - 1.8 gig Pentium 4, Win2000 and new flat screen monitor - sweet! I love getting a new computer, but I hate dealing with reloading software, getting all my settings and customizations back in place.

So that's what I've been up to.

2002-04-18T07:07:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance." --Confucius, philosopher and teacher (c. 551-478 BCE)

This is a comforting quote. It kind of describes how I feel about the whole Israel/Palestine/Middle East situation - ignorant, frightfully ignorant.

You haven't heard from me in awhile, (unless you have a blog where I've left comments!) because I've been all over the web trying to get a handle on the situation. IMO the outlook is grim.

As I write this, I have several browser windows open to the various blogs in what I have come to think of as my home circle. When I read Meryl's passionate support for Israel, and follow the links she provides I feel her pain, but I wonder - are there no innocent Palestinians. Does every single Palestinian embrace the themes of Mein Kampf? Does every single Palestinian want every Jew gone and Israel wiped off the face of the earth?

I read BurningBird as she tries to find a middle ground. I read the comments attached to her postings and I wonder if there is a middle ground to find. I read the blog entry from Doc that Shelley (BurningBird, for those who don't know) quoted - and I'm thinking I should read Doc more often. <g>

He writes, "But we could use some peace bloggers."

If I must take a stand - I stand for peace. I'm not a turn "the other cheek" kind of person, but I have to think there must be some other recourse other than war.

It seems as though most bloggers are taking a stand on one side or another as we watch this conflict unfold. There seems to be a pervasive sentiment of "if you're not for us, you're against us." I find myself shouting - "no! I don't want to be either." I don't like true or false questions. I don't like multiple choice questions where there is no choice that fits what I believe is the right answer.

What I do believe is this ... I believe Israel has a right to exist. I believe that the individual Israeli citizens (and the visitors to their country) have a right to live in peace without worrying that they are not going to make it home from their next trip to the grocery store.

I believe that the Palestinians have a right to their own country as well. I believe that they have a right to live in freedom without fear that a tank will come crashing through their door. I also believe that their fellow Arabs and their fellow Muslims have an obligation to help them. Help them, not by making Israel go away (not that this will happen). Help them, not by paying rewards to suicide bombers families. Help them, not by goading them to fight their battles for them and by dying for them.

In one of BurningBird's comment boxes, Karl of Paradox1x wrote "Damn it. Someone offer a solution."

I wish I had one. The Solomon solution, IMO, would be for Israel and the Arab nations that surround it to sit down and each offer a portion of their land to carve a home for the Palestinians. And of course for the Palestinians to agree to move there and stop trying to push the Jews out of Israel. But that's not going to happen. And I ask myself - if this situation were taking place between the US and Canada would, I be willing to give up a chunk of the US so some separate group of people could make a new country there.

The answer is probably not. Nor would I be willing to leave New Jersey and move to Wisconsin, for instance, because I fell into that group of people. The definition of a wise solution changes as the issues get closer to personal.

This is not a decision for someone who is not Israeli or Palestinian to make. They need to decide for themselves, but first each side has to listen to the other. Unfortunately, I don't think this will happen.

I think the common ordinary individual Israeli's and Palestinians need to rise up. Pack up all their leaders, load them onto a space shuttle and send them to Saturn or Pluto or Uranus. I think they need to get a group of ordinary people together in a room - no make that two rooms (if we put them in one room they might start fighting). Give them pizza, beer and a bunch of laptops so they can communicate. Make them stay there until they have hashed out some kind of agreement.

No summit meetings. No conferences with dignitaries, and protocol, and egos the size of Alaska. Just people - ordinary people like you and me - in a room talking to each other. That's my solution.

Like so many others, I didn't intend for this to be a war blog or a peace blog, but this seems to be a subject on so many minds, how can one ignore it. Perhaps I'll start another blog so I can post some light stuff, some fun stuff that just doesn't seem to belong in the same blog as all this hard thinking.

2002-04-08T08:07:00.000-04:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up a pen to write." -- William Makepeace Thackeray

Shelley (she's back!) over at Burning Bird reminded me of a story when she wrote about her fear of spiders

When my father retired, my parents decided to move to Florida like many other retirees - a decision they later regretted, but that's a story for another day. Shortly after, my husband and I went down for our first visit. I had never been to Florida before, but I was less than impressed. If you are reading this and you're from Florida - sorry not my favorite state. But I digress - on to the spider story.

I took a shower and when I finished, the bathroom was filled with steam - not hard to do with the high humidity. Hoping to clear some of it so I could see in the mirror to dry my hair, I decided to open the window. It was one of those awning windows with a crank and the screen on the outside. As I turned the crank, I heard this ominous scuttling sound coming from the outside of the opaque glass. The moment the window reached the maximum position, the source of the scuttling sound appeared at the top of the window frame.

For a second I thought I was looking at a crab. The creature was multi-legged and bright red. In another second, I realized that it was not a crab at all (and what would a crab be doing on a window anyway - right?). It was a gigunda* red spider. Big ugly red spider.

Now I have to tell you I am terrified of spiders. Even the tiniest one crawling across a nearby surface sends me into a panic. Forget about the sight of one in my car while I'm driving. This humungous red arachnid was very scary indeed!

I nearly broke my neck as I leaped back, encountering the outside wall of the tub as I did so. And I almost ran out of the room dripping wet and stark naked. Luckily, I had a smidgen of sense left and remembered to grab my robe as I made a swift retreat.

In the relative safety of the living room, I told my parents and my husband about the horror flick creature attempting to invade their bathroom. My mother said, "Red spiders. They come in pairs," very matter of factly as though this was an every day occurrance.

"Pairs," I exclaimed. "There is more than one!"

My father got up at once and went to the kitchen. He returned holding a broom. I thought I detected a pith helmet and elephant gun, but I couldn't be sure.

My husband looked at me with a dubious expression on his face. He studied the baseball-sized shape I made with my hands to indicate the size of the creature. "How big?" he asked, knowing well my fear of spiders.

He is the one who exaggerates, I don't know why he doubted my veracity. "This big," I emphasized, again showing him the baseball-sized shape.

"Right," he said, laughing as he joined my father aka "Ramar of the jungle" on his "stalking the great spider" quest.

Ha! I had the last laugh when they returned and my husband admitted that the spider was, indeed, the biggest spider he had ever seen. He knows of large spiders, having had a Close Encounter of the First Kind with a tarantula while fixing scales in a prior occupational life. I am vindicated!

(* if gigunda isn't a word - and I couldn't find it in my dictionary - it should be!)

2002-03-30T12:33:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up a pen to write." -- William Makepeace Thackeray

I was sorry to see that Shelley Powers took down her web log. I understand her reasons, but she will be missed! I'm leaving her in my Blog role under a new category - gone, but not forgotten - in hopes that she will return.

I know it's not Monday, but I have a pet peeve for the Kurmudgeon's Korner:

I think there ought to be a law that prohibits stylized singing of our National Anthem. Some singers who perform the duty of singing the National Anthem at sporting events ought to have their vocal chords revoked. This constant warbling and dragging out the notes forever just to showcase their talent drives me nuts. And people - it's not a funeral dirge. If you visit the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. you will hear the Anthem played at its proper tempo, which is very upbeat and inspiring. Taking twenty minutes to sing it at dirge tempo does nothing to inspire me. It makes me want to throw a shoe instead. So cut it out!

Probably should change Kurmudgeon's Korner to Katmudgeon's Korner since I am Kat, not dog <g>

2002-03-28T19:41:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions." -- Oliver Wendell Holmes

I was delighted last night to find a group of old friends hanging around in my mail box. Most of us met on the Prodigy Writer's Board in the late '80s. Many of us fought in the infamous e-mail "wars," and when the atmosphere on prodigy finally grew too oppressive for us we jumped ship to Genie. From there we spread out to other services across the internet, but we kept in touch through e-mail until the mid '90's when we drifted apart. We called ourselves the "Wits." (Writers in Transition, IIRC) and this is my version of our story ...

It all started with a little yellow box. The writing on the outside of the box promised a world of fun and information. It looked innocent enough, but had I known what was inside, I would have thought long and hard about opening it. Once I did, my life changed forever. Once open, the swirling winds contained within the box were set free. They scooped me up like the tornado that caught Dorothy in the WIZARD OF OZ and carried me away to a far off land. The land of Nalps.

Just inside the walls of this wondrous city, I found myself standing before a maze. Being the curious Kat that I am, I entered it. For weeks I wandered, and encountering many of the interesting inhabitants of the maze. I played their games, answered their riddles, performed the tasks they set before me to gain entrance to the other parts of this fascinating place. Then one day, after I'd dispatched some multi-headed beast, I was granted permission to move to the third level, but instead of the familiar walls of the maze, I found a great abyss and a sign that read "next level under construction." I waited around a bit with some other maze mavens, but I grew impatient. After weeks of entertaining activity, this idleness chafed. Finally, I discovered a magic carpet tossed carelessly in the corner of the waiting room, so I unfurled it and climbed aboard.

The carpet took me out over the city. I could see all of the early settlers staking their claims and having fun while they set up their homesteads. I visited quite a few before I found a comfy niche with the Writer's Guild. These writers were friendly and quickly welcomed me into their group. They were a jovial lot for the most part and I made some real friends there. We punned and we partied on the beach. We had some serious and often heated discussions on what is or is not "art." I had found a home.

We were having so much fun, that at first we didn't heed the warning signs. The City Censors and the Topic Patrol were mere nuisances and it amused us to thwart them (which we did with astounding ease!). But suddenly Governor ByMore enacted rules regarding both public and private gatherings. He imposed surcharges and levied high taxes. This was too much. Nalps had become our home. We couldn't allow this to happen. We formed committees and a strong (or so we thought) underground. We fought a valiant battle, but in the end we lost. Bymore was just too mighty, too entrenched for mere settlers to vanquish.

I wandered into town one day in search of my friends and all I found was dust, abandoned buildings and tumbleweeds rolling in the cold wind of change that blew in from the north. As I walked along Main Street, my boot heels echoing in the profound silence, I heard a faint keening. It was the plaintive song of the Ghost Writers, who had fled Nalps after the war was lost. I followed the sound, and there at the edge of town, I found a message scribed in the dirt. It read, "Follow the light to the Land of the Lamp."

I looked around searching for this mysterious light, and found it flickering faintly in a nearby forest. With much trepidation, I entered the forest, hoping to find my missing friends. Deep in the forest, I found a small clearing. The source of the light, a small golden lamp, sat alone in the center. I carefully picked up the lamp, and remembering my legends and lore, I rubbed it. Instantly, I found myself transported to a room with high walls which were inscribed with hieroglyphics.

It took quite some time before I learned to decipher any of these signs and symbols. The Land of the Lamp was not a user friendly corner of Cyberspace. As I broke the code and read the messages on the wall, I was thrilled to see some familiar names. My friends were here!

A familiar voice called out from the darkness beyond a doorway that finally opened in the wall. I turned to see Mary, my friend and soul mate. Mary and I had spent many nights sitting around the camp fire in Nalps discussing life and common interests. I was thrilled. She took my hand and together we made our way through the darkness (just as there are no cats in catsup, no ham in hamburger, there are no lamps to light the way in the Land of the Lamp) to the place where our fellow Prodigals had gathered. They killed a fatted calf (or was it a Fatted Lady?) and welcomed us to our new home.

The situation in the L.O.T.L. was copesetic for a time. Our friends were there, the rules were loosely defined, the rent was low, but communication was difficult. Everywhere you went, you encountered those infernal hieroglyphics. We all had to learn this new language to open doors, to meet, to gather as friends do. Though, I became accustomed to this odd method of communication, it remained an annoyance. Never tolerant of such obstacles, however, Mary grew restless. She began to roam, seeking new and more comfortable lands. The inevitable happened, the L.O.T.L was finally forced to raise the rent to handle the influx of refugees. Mary split for good.

She settled in NALaland and I visited her there for a spell. They had copied the hieroglyphics method of communication from the L.O.T.L, and though the rent was low, Mary grew restless again. This time she called to me from her new home in Waola-waola. Again she invited me to visit, and I found her new place quite comfy with many of the amenities of the old kingdom of Nalps. But unlike Nalps, the rulers were benevolent and showed no inclination towards tyranny.

I considered relocating, but I didn't want to leave the rest of my friends in the L.O.T.L. Then a wondrous thing happened. Most of the kingdoms in Cyberspace began to install windows in their walls to allow the inhabitants to communicate with the inhabitants of other kingdoms, so I pulled up stakes and set off for Waola-waola.

I've been quite content here for awhile. I've made new friends and kept most of the old ones, though we don't get together as often as we used to. Each of us has found our own little niche in Cyberspace, and now Joann has given us WITS END to call home.

I'm slowly learning that navigating around Cyberspace is not as difficult as I once thought. There are vast resources and wonderful worlds to explore. Like a baby bird, I find my comfortable nest here in Waola-waola grows confining. I long to test my strengthening wings and soar through Cyberspace on my own. Look out world - here comes CyberKat!

I wrote this in 1995. We were still a bit cautious about the Big Brothers at Prodigy, so I wrote it as a fairy tale. Nalps is, of course, Prodigy. The Land of the Lamp is Genie and Waola Waola is AOL. I don't remember what NA was - another service similar to Genie - plain text and cheap!

Chatting with the Wits again brings back old memories and I have Joann to thank for this file. I lost it, and she still had it tucked away. It pays to have friends!

2002-03-27T08:03:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "You cannot speak of ocean to a well-frog, the creature of a narrower sphere. You cannot speak of ice to a summer insect, the creature of a season." -- Chuang Tzu

There are several definitions of the word understand in my Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary. The first is "to grasp the meaning of." The second is "to grasp the reasonableness of," which kind of takes the first definition a little further, yet this second definition is illustrated by "his behavior is difficult to understand." Another definition is offered - "to achieve a grasp of the nature, significance, or explanation of something." And lastly "to show a sympathetic or tolerant attitude toward something." How can we possibly agree on a definition of this word when a respected dictionary disagrees with itself? It's no wonder we quibble over semantics.

Ponder that for a moment while I look up another word - wisdom. The key definition here - or at least the one most pertinent to my thoughts is this one - "ability to discern inner qualities and relationships."

As I look at the world situation today, I attempt to seek wisdom for I don't believe that we can ever achieve peace without it. In my search for wisdom and along with wisdom, truth, I sense that neither can come without first understanding. When I speak of understanding, I'm taking the "to achieve a grasp of the nature, significance, or explanation of something" definition as my standard. I think we must understand the roots of what we face, but I don't necessarily believe that understanding leads to sympathy and tolerance. It can, but it doesn't have to.

Ponder for a moment, what makes terrorists think the way they do?

Hate, you may answer. I counter that this is too simplistic. Where does the hatred stem from? Why do they hate?

Because they are taught to hate, may be the first response that springs to mind. But I ask in turn, why are they taught to hate? Who was the first to hate? There had to be a first, an originator. What caused this person or persons to hate so passionately that they passed this hatred on for generations?

What inner turmoil causes a person to strap on a bomb, and explode it in a mall or a dance club? What warped thoughts lurk in the heart and soul of a person who can fly a plane filled with fellow human beings into a building also filled with fellow human beings? Are they mad? Insane? Evil? Warped beyond redemption?

How do those who are drawn to a charismatic, but twisted mind think? What motivated people to follow a Jim Jones to mass suicide? What thoughts went through the minds of the members of the Heaven's Gate cult that they truly believed their God's space ship would come to rescue them if they killed themselves? How are their minds different from those of us who would never even consider such a thing.

Examine your own beliefs and ask yourself, how far would you go to uphold them? Ask yourself what stops you from going too far to promote or defend them? Where would you draw the line? And why is that stopping device - if you feel it exists within you - missing from so many others?

Please don't misunderstand. I absolutely think that any act such as the destruction of the WTC and with it the killing of thousands is horrendously wrong. It is horrendously wrong by most moral standards. So is the killing of innocent people who just happen to have something you want. In this instance, the land that is Israel. But that doesn't keep me from asking why those who commit such acts think it is not only not wrong, but worse they think it is morally right. They seem to believe that their god will reward them for such acts. How do they come to that place?

Again I ask, are they all insane? I think not. So what drives these people? How do we convince someone, who holds his or her convictions so strongly that not only are they willing to kill others to serve those convictions, they are will to take their own lives to accomplish this? What do you say to such a person whose inner workings are so alien to your own? How do we "speak of ice to a summer insect?"

Do we truly think that we can simply tell them that they are wrong; we are right, and they will suddenly see the light? I don't think so. To convince someone that your way is right and their way is wrong, you must offer convincing arguments. How can you offer such arguments unless you understand that which you are arguing against. The arguments that work with people who share your values will not work on those who do not share those values.

How do you explain peace to those who have only known war? How can you explain freedom to those who have only known tyranny? How can you explain comfort to those who have only known abject poverty? How do we, indeed, "speak of ice to a summer insect?"

I can hear some shouting, "You don't - you just kill them." "Wipe them off the face of the earth!" "An eye for an eye." And I ask, do we stoop down to meet violence with violence every time? Do we kill them all?" Do two wrongs make a right?

Is revenge the only answer? Is eradication of a very large group of people the solution? If we chose this path where do we draw the line. Do we kill just those who commit the acts, or cause them to be committed? Do we also kill everyone who shares their beliefs? Even if we are able to do this, once they are gone, are we naïve enough to think that this kind of mind-set will not rise up again, like a Hydra once you cut the head off - or a Phoenix from the ashes? And if we do this monstrous deed are we really any better than they are?

On September 11, 2001 and in the days that followed, I listened to many around me, shouting, "Hunt them down and kill them all!" I heard them urge vengeance, shouting "Bomb them back to the stone age." And I cringed.

I'm not really a turn the other cheek sort of person. I too would like to see bin Laden and his followers punished - in fact I think they should bring back drawing and quartering just for the occasion - but I feared that we would go too far. I thought of innocent Afghan people - most of them women and children - who would be caught up in our search for vengeance, and I was deeply concerned. Concerned for them and concerned for us. Even the most rational and kind of us can get caught up in the mass hysteria of blood lust when it is running strong - and that frightens me.

Just this morning I read this article - on Alter Net and I shook my head. Do we never learn from our mistakes?

We aided bin Laden during the Afghan war with the Soviet Union. Did we ask what his motive was? Did we ask what he hoped to achieve? Or did we just assume that the "enemy of my enemy is my friend." Did we even care?

Now our leaders are seeking to help Turkey get into the European Union because for some reason they want Turkey more involved in Afghanistan. Because it is convenient, because it is expedient they are choosing to ignore the human rights violations the Turkish government continues to commit. Our leaders continue - even after the events of September 11 - to turn a blind eye to history and truth because it does not fit in with their plans.

I stated before that I'm not a turn the other cheek type of person. I think that attitude is far too naive. Passivity often makes aggressors more aggressive because they often see passivity as weakness.

I'm also not the type of person to puff out my chest, wave a flag and declare, "My country, right or wrong."

I love America. I love that it's founded on such noble principles. I love that our Constitution places such emphasis on Freedom. I love that we are strong and mostly prosperous. But I can not hold that we are without fault in many, many things.

I was taught that, "beauty is as beauty does" and "actions speak louder than words." I find that all too often the actions of our leaders belie the words of our Constitution and those of our Founding Fathers.

How can we convince the world that we believe "all men are created equal," and that we truly want to "keep the world safe for democracy," when we support a country like Turkey with an oppressive government. We keep giving support to such countries and it always seems to come around and bite us in the butt.

While the victims of September 11 and all the other victims of terrorism world wide are innocents caught in an ugly situation. We can not totally absolve our government's part in the current world situation. Citizens are mostly blameless, but governments too often are not.

Is this questioning "Moral Equivalence" or "Moral Relevancy" or whatever label you want to slap on it? If it is, I guess I'm guilty, but I'm never going to stop asking the questions. Someone has to.

2002-03-25T07:55:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it." -- Mahatma Gandhi

I have a lot of things I want to share, so this will be a mixed bag entry.

I saw this story on the Today show a week or so ago. Carolyn Risher, Mayor of Inglis, FL has written a proclamation intended to keep Satan out of her town. Huh?

On the Today show, the Mayor explained that copies of the proclamation have been set into posts around the town. Apparently, she believes that Satan, should he or she be cruising in the vicinity of Inglis, will see these posts and slink away in fear.

Are there really people who think like this? Boggles my mind.

If you are not reading Wockerjabby and ADropintheOcean you're really missing out on something special. Many of us write long passages that say a little. These two talented writers write about simple things, but say so much. Check them out!

This is scary because it could be real. It's not, thankfully. It's just a parody, but one that falls very close to the truth. Link courtesy of the Evolt mailing list.

I found this following a link from Rageboy. I want the one that says, "I don't have to like Bush to love America."

In the Fun and Games department, check this if you're bored, or just want to waste some time. Very addicting. Link courtesy of the Evolt mailing list.

Also worth checking out Alter Net - a project of the Independent Media Institute, a nonprofit organization dedicated to strengthening and supporting independent and alternative journalism.

2002-03-24T13:32:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "As a general rule, if you want to get at the truth, hear both sides and believe neither. " -- Josh Billings

Over the last few weeks, a number of Blog folks have blogged about the situation in the Middle-East - in particular the escalating violence between the Israelis and the Palestinians. This is a situation that concerns me greatly - because it affects the world as a whole and also because of the terrible impact on the lives of the people living there.

So you know where I'm "coming from," I should explain that I am neither Jewish nor Palestinian. As I've mentioned before, I'm white, of Anglo-Saxon descent and an "ala carte" Catholic and have no emotional ties to either side of this conflict.

Meryl Yourish and Mike Golby had been cross-blogging rather heatedly on the subject, and I considered putting my two cents in, but I wasn't able to get all my thoughts down in any coherent manner. I also hesitated about jumping into the middle of a discussion where emotions were running strong. I've learned through experience that it's often a dangerous place to be - especially if you find yourself in the middle.

In responding to Meryl's thought-provoking essay on Daniel Pearl, Mike referred to bigots, racists and Anti-Semites as "idiots."

The word kind of jumped out at me. I thought Mike could have chosen a stronger word and more appropriate word to describe such people other than "idiots." Yes, they are ignorant, but in the US the word "idiot," has come to describe those who drive poorly, or those who spill something on you, or those who get your order wrong at a fast food restaurant. It seems too weak when placed next to the true ignorance, fear and hate that infuse any kind of bigotry.

As I further read through what Mike wrote on the subject, I remembered that Mike lives in South Africa - a world away from North Jersey where I live. Could the word have a different connotation there, I asked myself, then I tried to discount it so I could get at the core of what he was saying here.

Mike seems to take issue with Meryl's assertion that Anti-Semitism is different from other forms of bigotry and hatred. I'm not quite sure why, but I lean towards Meryl's opinion on this issue. Perhaps it's because it's roots go back so far in history and throughout that history, it seems that the Jewish people were constantly beset by the people of other nations - the Egyptians, the Babylonians, the Romans and into modern times, by the Russians, the Germans and now the Arabs. It just seems to me as I look back through history - and remembering that history is more often written by the victors - that the Jewish people have been persecuted more often and by more different groups than any others. I'm not quite sure I understand why, but it does seem to be the case.

My biggest objection to Mike's assertions is my disagreement with this statement:

"Those who hate are victims of self-abuse. I'd ask Meryl to follow the path she and her Polish friend took in their childhood, that most sensible time of our lives. Wait until they stop behaving like idiots, because, most of the time, and if South Africa is anything to go by, they eventually do."

Can the Jewish people afford to wait? Can the world afford to wait for this nebulous eventuality? I don't think so. I don't think we can take an ostrich approach to hatred, racism and bigotry of any kind. We can't merely stick our heads in the sand and hope it will pass. Nor can we just keep chopping at the parts we can see.

Deep hatred is like a Hydra or weed. You cut one head off a Hydra, it grows another. Cut the top off a weed it will sprout again from the root. We have to get to the roots of hatred. Learn where it comes from and why it is so persistent. Until we do, we can't hope to combat it let alone defeat it.

All too often we tend to simplify it. We don't want to look at the causes, because quite frequently examining the causes too closely forces us to look at ourselves and to question ourselves. In the interests of doing just that, I followed a link to Daniel Ord's Stereopticon piece.

Both Jonathon Delacour and Mike Golby found the piece disturbing because it "leaves little room to carve a middle path." I agree with that, but what also disturbs me is that the people in the photograph that Daniel Ord deconstructed seem so little disturbed by the deaths of thousands of fellow humans. They seem pleased with the destruction of the symbols of Western ways, but not at all concerned by the horrendous insult to humanity.

Those who hate or are consumed by racism and bigotry always forget - or refuse to remember - that the objects of their enmity are fellow human beings. They are not faceless objects - yet those who hate see them as such.

They don't see mothers and fathers. Sisters and brothers. Sons and daughters. They don't think the others feel pain. They forget that the others bleed when they are injured just as they themselves do. They fail to consider that the blood is always red, as it is when they themselves bleed.

How do we get around this? How do we open their eyes and our eyes to that fact? And how do we resolve differences when two groups lay claim to the same piece of land. Where do we draw the line when the rights of two people or two groups intersect? Who takes precedence?

I wish I knew the answers, but all I seem to have is heavy questions. Perhaps if we all put our heads to considering these questions without pointing fingers and assessing blame we could come up with the answers. Perhaps if we examine all we have in common instead of the differences, we could lay aside those differences that separate us into groups at odds with each other and find a way to bring about peace and harmony..

It's taken me awhile to get all this down - which is why you haven't heard from me in awhile. Also, I've been bloghopping - bopping around leaving comments on various blogs and following links to other blogs. Hopefully, I'll get back onto some sort of regular schedule in the coming weeks.

2002-03-17T11:16:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Perceived truth is more powerful than truth itself." -- Unkown

I started to respond to Shelley's (BurningBird) latest blurb in her comments, but I saw that I was going to ramble on for too long, so I'm responding here instead.

daveski(@adelphia.net) wrote:

"Women constitute about 51% of the adult population in this country. Are they 51% of the federal legislature? Are they 51% of the working IS population? NO! Are there conscious efforts made to keep the status quo in certain spheres? CERTAINLY"

Not to mention that men generally get paid more than women do for the same type of job. I don't have the stats handy, but concrete evidence exists to substantiate this statement.

Let me tell you some tales of male bias - men who firmly believe that women are not up to the task and so should be kept barefoot and pregnant ...

Early in my working life, one of my bosses came to me and asked me to type a letter for him. Being not secure enough at the time to tell him, "go jump in a lake. Typing is not in my job description," I told him, "Okay, but I hope you don't need it in a hurry."

He asked why.

I told him, "Because I can operate a typewriter, but I can't type." He looked aghast. "What do you mean you can't type?" he asked. "All women can type."

I smiled sweetly in an attempt to mask the grinding of my teeth, and replied, "No, only the ones who took typing in school. I didn't."

He stalked off in search of a more "normal" woman who could type, grumbling in his wake that there ought to be a law requiring schools to teach women to type.

I had another boss who insisted that the women working for him all take turns making him coffee. I refused, and the only reason I got away with it is because he was at least smart enough to realize that I was very good at my job. A job - btw - that required considerable math - something he wasn't very good at <g>

Further along, I worked for a time in the heating and a/c business. Basically, I did customer service and order entry (still can't type, but I'm a whiz on a keyboard <g>).

Being the curious kat that I am, and somewhat mechanically inclined, I learned a lot about the products and how they worked. I could easily answer many of the technical questions as long as they didn't have to do with electrical wiring - my mind can't deal with the concept of electricity for some reason.

One customer called in with a simple question about how the system operated. He listened patiently, then said, "Thanks honey, but I'd rather speak to one of the men."

Furious, I transferred him over to one of the guys who told him the exact same thing I had said. Only then did he accepted the explanation as valid.

Same company. The owner took all the women out for lunch on Secretaries Day, despite the fact that we didn't have a secretary in the company. He also said he wouldn't hire a woman (or promote one of several qualified women from within the company) to customer service manager because "women don't have the balls to do the job."

If I had a dollar for each time I have told computer tech support people or auto repair people about a problem, only to have them discount what I've said, I'd be rich. My husband calls - tells them the same thing, and they trip over themselves trying to help him.

And guys ... dress up in a wig and a dress, and then try to buy a car. See how you get treated. Car salesmen are among the worst!

Some social stuff ... My sister lived in Maryland for awhile - a transplant from NJ where the men hide their chauvinism for the most part . Not so down south, apparently.

The men would get together and go "pillaging" - basically going to bars, hanging out and getting drunk. Why they called it "pillaging" I have no idea. Guess they thought it sounded "manly," or more exciting than it was. The women were expected to stay home cooking or cleaning or something ::batting eyelashes:: feminine.

My sister quickly tired of this and enlisted some of her women friends to have a girls' night of "pillaging" as well. Her friends asked, "but what will we do?" She told them that it didn't make any difference what they did, so long as they gave the guys a taste of their own medicine.

Her husband and the husbands of her friends spent the whole night trying to find out where they were and what they were doing. Convinced that the women were all just hiding out in one of their houses, they went from house to house in search of their wives. Needless to say, they didn't find them.

Drove them nuts that none of the wives would tell them where they had been or what they had done. But that was the first and only time the women got to go "pillaging."

Another time, my husband and I were down visiting her. We - my sister, my husband and I - had been out antiquing with one of her friends. When we dropped her friend off at her home, we saw that my sister's husband was there. Her friend invited us in.

Inside, we found the friend's husband sitting in a big old chair with his feet up, chatting with my sister's husband. We said, "hello," and found ourselves seats.

The friend's husband grunted, "Git us some beers." No hello. No please.

The friend obediently got up and headed for the kitchen. When she returned, she handed her husband, my husband and my sister's husband each a beer. She then turned to us and said, "I'm sorry girls, I'm all out of soda."

Kind of puzzled by that statement, I said, "That's okay. I'll have a beer."

She looked at me astounded. I checked to see if I'd grown another head or something. Then she said, "The beer is for the men."

Boggled my mind.

In all fairness, men are at fault for planting these seeds in the first place, but too many women perpetuate the myth. Maybe they find it easier, I don't know.

Mostly I consider myself a feminist with a sense of humor. I don't get all riled up because those things in the road are called "man-hole covers," and the like. But I do get riled up when I'm treated like a second class citizen or I'm paid less for the same job or same type of job. And I really get riled up when I'm treated as less intelligent because of my gender.

I see far too many women who find it convenient or easier to appear helpless.

At one job - a mail order house - we had gotten in the new edition of our catalog. Each employee was given one as a reference and also because we could order at a discount. I'd handed out all of the ones I'd been given, but I was short of what I needed. I went over to the store room and found the cartons of catalogs. I moved one to see how heavy it was, and determined that I could lift it. As I came down the hall, one of my female co-workers said, "You shouldn't be carrying that. Get one of the men to do it."

I said, "It's not that heavy. I can handle it." She scowled at me and said, "But you're making it bad for the rest of us." I quite felt like throwing the carton at her, but I resisted.

When I first started working for that particular company, they were about to move their offices to another location. The VP of our areas paired up all the managers and directed us to tag all the furniture with the department name so that the movers would know where it belonged. All the tags had to go in the upper right hand corner, so it frequently meant we had to move the furniture around. I was partnered with one of the guys and we set out on our task.

At the end of a long hard day, we were sitting around one of the offices having a much needed break. My male partner - remember, I was new so he didn't know me very well - said, "I'd like to say something by I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

I laughed and said, "Okay."

Clearly nervous, he said, "It's really a complement. I want you to know that."

Again I laughed. I said, "Just say it already!"

He said, "You work like a man."

I had to laugh and I did take it as a complement.

He went on to explain that he thought when he saw that he'd been paired with a woman that he thought he'd have to do all the hard work like moving the furniture around so we could slap the labels on the upper right corners. Never occurred to me to stand around helpless while he did all the work. I simply pitched in and moved furniture right along with him.

Women like the one in the anecdote above, are just as much to blame for furthering the notion that women can't handle what needs to be done - mentally and physically. So those of you who are sitting around pretending to be helpless, get off your butts and do your share.

Men and women are different. There's no doubt about that. But not all men can fix a car. Not all men are good at sports. And not all men refuse to ask for directions. <g> And not all men are chauvinist "pigs."

Just as all women are not incapable of lifting heavy objects or doing the math or hooking up the computer. We're not all helpless and we're not all bra-burning feminists either. We all need to shuck the stereotypes we seem to cling to so ardently and so unreasonably.

As far as Blogsisters, I agree with Meryl Yourish when she writes, "Blogsisters is sexist. Is it hypocritical? No, because its theme isn't sexism. It may touch upon it, but it wasn't started as any kind of reaction to sexism in the blogging world."

I also agree with her idea that Blogsisters is, "A more public version of 'Girls' night out.'" When we're lounging around and letting our hair down, it's girls only - sorry guys <g> I also understand that there are times when you feel the same.

Though I was inclined to join my sister bloggers, I didn't for the same Meryl gave. - I simply don't have the time to do justice to two blogs. I see no harm in it. though. Women need to commune with their own gender in the same manner that men do.

The harm comes when either gender is excluded so that the included gender can maintain some hold on the power structure. That may not be the original intention of "men's clubs." or the "old boy network," but too often that becomes an important function - consciously or sub-consciously - nonetheless.

Dave Winer wrote, "If you want to be treated with respect, start by giving it." That goes for both sides of the equation.

Happy St. Patrick's Day All!

2002-03-11T07:48:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." -- Nietschze

6 Months. September 11 to March 11. It feels like it happened yesterday. It feels like it happened a life time ago. And I still can't believe it happened.

Last night I watched the CBS special. As I found it difficult to express my feelings coherently in those weeks after September 11, I find it difficult to describe my reaction to this show.

In June 2001, two photographers (who were also brothers) began making a film about a rookie firefighter's first 9 months on the job - the probationary period. They followed him through the routine initiation and the teasing. They recorded his yearning for his first real fire - his first chance to prove to his fellow firefighters that he was worthy to be among them. And they were with him on the morning of September 11.

Someone had reported a possible gas leak and the company responded. One brother went along with them, while the other stayed behind with the rookie.

As the fireman checked with their meters to find the source of the gas leak, the roar of a plane flying above them broke through the normal morning traffic noises. The roar of a plane low overhead. A sound you don't hear in downtown Manhattan where planes fly high to avoid the tall buildings.

Everyone looked up including the photographer with his camera. He recorded the first plane as it exploded into the gleaming facade of Tower One and then it began.

What followed was an amazing account. The photographer stuck with the fireman as they rushed to the scene and entered the building. He captured the last moments in Father Judge's life and the sound of Tower Two's collapse. He stayed with Ladder 1, Engine Company 7 throughout the whole horrendous day. The second photographer, rushed to the scene to find his brother, but was turned back, so he turned his camera to record all he could see.

Unlike most NY fire companies that day, Ladder 1, Engine 7 lost none of their members. One by one they made their way back to the firehouse to be greeted by shouts of joy and hugs from their "brothers." One of the firefighters told one of the photographers. "Yesterday you had one brother. Today you have 50."

I still can't feel anger or rage or hate, like so many others do. I feel only a vast sorrow at all that was lost. All that was taken away from us on that day. The lives that were lost are, of course, the primary consideration, but so many things have changed as well. So much that I find it difficult to catalog it all.

There's been a a lot of talk among bloggers lately about the meaning of life. Today seems like an appropriate time to ponder this.

The Meaning of Life in capital letters or italics is not something I've spent much time contemplating. I guess I wonder why it has to have a Meaning. Mostly I think it just is. Some ask, "Why?" It's not very comforting, but I don't think there is an answer to that question.

I think life is shaped as much by fate as by anything else. I don't believe that it's set in stone. I don't believe that there is a script in place on the day we are born and that we are destined to play the role that has been written. But I do believe that fate has an influence over what happens to us.

I see fate as the confluence of forces that puts us in certain places at certain times. I see life as a series of rooms; each room has several doors. You must continually chose a door, and then move into the next room where you are again faced with more doors.

Sometimes you choose a door, and that decision affects what happens next. Other times you are forced, by circumstances beyond your control, through a door not of your choosing. This is the "fate factor," if you will.

I often ponder my own choices and those of fate that forced me into one room instead of another.

My parents were considering a move to another part of the state, but we didn't move. I would have gone to a different school, met different people, made choices far different than those I made in this life path.

At the same time I met my husband, I met another guy as well. I made a choice between the two. What would have happened to me if I had made a different choice? Where would I be today?

Fourteen years ago, we accepted Prodigy's offer to try their online service. No one else I knew was online at the time. We were pioneers of a sort. What if we hadn't accepted that offer? Where would I be? Would I be doing web design? Or something else?

Would anyone one of those choices made differently have put me in the World Trade Center that day? Or on one of the planes? Or in the Pentagon? I'll never know.

Dieter Limeback of AdropintheOcean wrote, "If you're standing over there in this moment, you're okay. If you're standing over there in that moment, you're not. It's all in the timing. Everything else, not much you can do about it."

That about says it all.

My thoughts after 9/11

2002-03-10T13:03:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking." -- H. Jackson Browne

A few days ago, Gretchen Pirillo blogged about insecurities and she bravely listed some of hers.

I've often thought about insecurities. Lord knows, I certainly have enough of my own. Whether it be a party, work situation, a convention, I go out among people at gatherings, and I feel like the emperor wearing new clothes. Whatever confidence I had (and I do have some), seems to vanish. I'm left naked, standing in the middle of the rink with no hand rails to hold on to, and I've just learned how to stand on my skates.

I lean on people who I know, people with whom I'm comfortable. I lean on them as if they were crutches, and hope that they will get me from one place to the other. If I don't know anyone, I tend to glue myself to a wall, or a support column, or the chair I'm sitting in like it's the last life preserver on the Titanic.

From this safe vantage point, I look around and I see many other people who seem utterly confident. They breeze around talking to different people with no apparent trepidation. They mingle with aplomb and others seem drawn to them. I wonder why they are so different from me. I also wonder - are they really so different?

Over the years, I've come to the conclusion that these supremely confident people have the same insecurities as the rest of us, but they are simply better at hiding them. Oh, I suppose there are some who are truly ignorant of their own faults, or so egotistical that they refuse to acknowledge they even have faults, but I think most people who appear to have mastered self-assuredness 101 are just like the rest of us beneath their thin veneers.

A number of years ago, a friend said to me, "You always have it all together." My reaction was, "Huh - me? Not me."

Her assessment certainly wasn't in line with my own. Mostly I'm holding things together with spit and safety pins. I don't think I'm doing such a great job of it either, though I'm really good at building a house of cards. As I thought about this, I remembered something I'd read about the three "yous."

There is the "you" that others see. The "you" that you see yourself as being. And lastly the real "you" - which is usually something in between the other two.

I've often thought it would be very helpful to be able to get inside someone else's head and see how they see me. When I was in 8th grade, my teacher attempted an experiment that could give us a hint of that.

She had us put our names at the top of a sheet of paper that had two columns - one labeled positive, the other labeled negative, then she collected all the papers and redistributed them. She instructed us to write one positive comment and one negative comment about the person whose name appeared at the top of the paper we had now been given. After we completed the first, she collected and redistributed them twice more, so we would each have three different people's opinions when she finally returned our own to us.

With more than a little fear, I held mine folded over for awhile. I knew I was not among the most popular in the class. I was a bit shy (BTW - no one who knows me believes this), but I didn't think everyone in the class disliked me. What if I was wrong? What if they really did dislike me? What if there were no really nice complements on the positive side, and what if the negative side was really bad?

I finally opened it and was relieved to see that there were no extremes on either side. I don't remember now what they even were, but I guess they were less than memorable. I do remember one of the negative ones, though. The person had written, "You always wear your beanie in class."

Now I have to explain, that this was a Catholic school and we wore uniforms. Part of the uniform was a beanie hat with the school emblem on the front. We had to wear them outside, but not in school.

I usually just forgot mine, and so I often left it on. I certainly wasn't the only one. But that particular comment really got me thinking - and thinking about it long after I graduated. In fact, you can see that I'm still thinking about it ::mumble, mumble:: years later.

Did this mean that the person simply couldn't think of one negative thing to say about me? I found that difficult to believe. Since the other comments were overpowered by this one, did no one have anything really significant to say about me either way? Had I really just faded into the woodwork so no one noticed me at all? Had I become a non-person in the eyes of my classmates. That was really scary.

I do remember my very young self as being more confident, but as I got older, I lost that confidence somewhere along the way. As I've analyzed it over the years, I have come to believe it had something to do with the timing of my sister's birth. She was born in June and in September, I began first grade (I didn't go to kindergarten).

I think some how in my child's mind, I connected the two events. I couldn't understand why my parents needed another child - after all, they had me. I also couldn't cope with the fact that I could no longer stay home and play with my mother.

As I look back, I remember getting up to sing and dance before groups of people when I was only 4 or 5 years old. I've always had a good memory and I could recite the whole of "T'was the Night Before Christmas," not to mention most nursery rhymes. People apparently thought it was cute. I liked being cute. I enjoyed being the center of attention. But I can't ever remember being comfortable in a crowd, once I'd started school.

I never really had the confidence to be myself. I was always too busy trying to please people. Trying to be the person I thought they wanted me to be. Trying once more to be cute and to win their approval. In the process, I lost myself.

Somewhere along the way as I got older, I began to see that this didn't work. I wasn't that person. I couldn't be that person comfortably, confidently. I realized that squeezing myself into a shoe that didn't fit wouldn't make me Cinderella. It didn't win me any approval prizes.

Slowly, I began reassembling the bits and pieces of who I am. I am now at the point where I can say, this is me - take it or leave it. It still hasn't won me any popularity contests. I'm still ill at ease in a crowd, but oddly enough, I feel more confident with a crowd of strangers than I do with a crowd of friends. With strangers, I mostly don't have to care whether they like me or not. Once I start to care, I have to hold on, lest I slide right back into seeking approval mode.

But mostly, I'm just glad to be me and hang the consequences.

I've frequently thought I'd like to write a book about self-confidence. I'd like to show that people who seem to have it are just as insecure as the rest of us. I've thought that it would be helpful to find people who seem to have it all together - celebrities, leaders both political and corporate - and have them list their insecurities as Gretchen has done.

Would people believe them? Would it help to know that some celebrity has the same concern about being liked and accepted as the rest of us? Does misery truly love company?

I remember identifying so strongly with Sally Field's, "You like me, you really liked me!" comment. I thought, "Wow - we have something in common!" Here she is an Academy Award winning actress and she's worried about acceptance. I felt comforted by that thought.

Unfortunately, I have no idea how to go about soliciting comments for the book. I can see myself writing letters to various celebrities and having their agents or protectorates tossing the letters into the trash. I can't imagine any of them thinking this is a good idea. I can hear them laughing about it now.

Therein lies the rub. I don't have the confidence to ask, "are you insecure?"

2002-03-09T12:34:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Be master of your petty annoyances and conserve your energies for the big, worthwhile things. It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out - it's the grain of sand in your shoe." -- Robert Service, writer

I'm not politically correct. If you are using the letters P and C together, you'd better be talking about something that has a hard drive and RAM. If you're looking at me down your nose and speaking to me in a haughty tone about acceptable (to whom?) language, get away from me.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not insensitive (at least I try not to be). I'm mostly aware that certain terms are loaded bombs. I do my best to avoid dropping them, but I'm not going to bend myself into an advanced yoga position just to appease what some unknown person or organization has decided is the correct term du jour.

A few years back, when I was attempting to start my own business (long story), I belonged to the NJ Women Business Owners. When they held their annual convention in Atlantic City, I carpooled and roomed with the president of our local chapter. Every time I used the word "girl" - as in "I know this girl," or "This girl at work," she would say, "woman, you mean woman." Well, if I'd meant "woman," I would have said "woman." It got very annoying.

I'm not comfortable with "woman," when I'm talking about people I know. "Women" are strangers, and always older than me. They are someplace else, separate from me. I can't explain it - it's just a concept in my mind. I don't think of myself as "woman." I'm one of the "girls," no matter how old I get.

Another woman (definitely a "woman"<g>) who belonged to the same organization, used to speak of "gals" to avoid, I presume, the word, "girls." She would say, "a gal I know."

Sorry, in my mind a "gal" is someone who wears a cowboy hat, boots and a fringed vest. Dale Evens was a "gal" - not me.

The problem is that we girls/gals/women have no nomenclature equivalent to "guys" - a friendly word that implies camaraderie. I use the word, "girls" in that sense, even though in meaning it's more equal to "boys." But men use "boys," with no negative connotation - "one of the boys," and "old boy network." Why can't we use "girls" in the same way?

Another thing that bothers me about "politically correct" terms is that they change with the seasons. What was correct yesterday, is now incorrect. What was incorrect last year, is now correct. How can these terms have meaning or imply respect, if they change with the capriciousness of hemline length?

When my mother was growing up, those people whose skin is brown or black, and whose ancestors most likely came from Africa (or more likely were kidnapped from Africa) were politely called "colored." I'm quite sure this term was not at all satisfactory to those who were called this, but at the time it was "politically correct."

When I was growing up, these people were referred to as "Negroes." Probably a more apt description since it is a race term, but I suspect it was too close to that other word, which I won't mention because it is legitimately an emotion-loaded word bomb.

IIRC there was a time in the late 60's early 70's when the term "Afro-American," came into use, but it was short-lived and then replaced with "Black."

At the initial transition I wasn't really comfortable with the term, "Black." It wasn't really an apt description in my mind. Not all people of that ancestry, have black skin, or even dark skin. It seemed a misnomer. But it became accepted, and "politically correct."

James Brown sang, "Say it loud, I'm Black and I'm proud!" That became an anthem and I became more comfortable with it because now the term had an association with pride. But I also came to learn that not all people of that race were equally happy with it.

At work (previous job), I spoke with a guy from Jamaica. I asked him why he had come to work on Martin Luther King's birthday when all the other workers of his race had taken off. He told me, I'm not Black."

Took me a moment to register this because his skin tone was very black, indeed. Seeing my puzzled expression he added, "I'm Jamaican." He identified with his country of origin rather than his race, and I found that very interesting. I thought it was somewhat profound, a very freeing notion.

Over the last few years, there has been another shift. Those who I had come to think of as "Blacks," or "Black Americans" - as some preferred - began to adopt the hyphen. They joined the ranks of "Italian-Americans," "Irish-Americans," "Polish-Americans" and now it seems that they prefer to be called "African-Americans."

Does that make me an, "English-Irish-German-Scots-Norwegian-American" or an "Anglo and something else-American?" Have we gone too far with this referral to ancestry syndrome? Why can't we all simply be Americans and stop at that? Why do we feel this need to sub-categorize ourselves?

Speaking of Americans, we then come to "Native Americans." Sorry, I don't get this. I understand why those descended from the original people who were here when the Europeans arrived don't want to be referred to as "Indians." That, after all, was a genuine misnomer.

Columbus was searching for a shorter route to India, didn't realize that there was a whole other huge land mass in the way, and thought he'd landed in India. He thought he was dealing with "Indians," as in those people who live in India. I can understand the confusion, but I can also understand why the people indigenous to this continent rejected the term.

The invading ones didn't give them much choice over the next few centuries. They were Iroquois, and Sioux, and Algonquin, and Apache and Seminoles and Lenni-Lenape. All separate tribes with separate cultures bonded loosely by a respect for nature and the land, yet the upstart conquerors called them all "Indians," and had little respect for anything it seems. But today we lump all the various tribes of those remaining into one term, "Native Americans" - another misnomer.

My Webster's defines the word "native" variously as "belonging to a particular place by birth," and "one born or reared in a particular place." By those definitions, I am also a native American.

Calling those who can trace their ancestors back to this place from before Columbus (or Leif Erickson, if you are so inclined) "Native Americans," strips them of whatever pride in their tribal origins they have left. They are no longer Iroquois, or Sioux, or Algonquin, or Apache or Seminole or Lenni-Lenape, they are lumped together under the term "Native Americans" just like they were under the term "Indians." Same insult, different word.

If we are talking about pride, let them pick one that restores the pride we have taken away from them or call them simply Americans like everyone else who was born here no matter where they trace their ancestry to. Let us not continue to condemn them to terminology reservations as their forebears were to real time reservations.

I think back to my Jamaican co-worker and I think he has it partly right. We need to think less in group terms if we are ever to accept and understand one another.

As we take small steps into the 21st century and the 2nd Millennium, we need to stop grouping ourselves under racial, national and religious banners and start thinking of ourselves in a more global manner. We all have one thing in common - one common starting point - we are all human beings. Doesn't matter what color skin we have or what our national origins are. Doesn't matter what religion we subscribe to. We are all citizens of planet Earth.

Our earth is in danger now more than ever. We are using resources way too fast. We are pushing what is probably a natural climate shift too fast. Global warming? Another Ice Age? Pollution in vast amounts. Tampering with nature. Ignoring large areas of poverty and ignorance.

If we lose the earth, we may also lose ourselves as a species, and yet we quibble over "politically correct" terms. If we stop quibbling and start thinking of ourselves as people, human beings, perhaps we can put our collective minds to other uses. Like addressing global problems instead of nits.

I think we choose to deal with the nits because the nits appear easier to deal with. They are less threatening. Less overwhelming.

But we can only hide the nits under new names or pretend they no longer exist once we've renamed them, for so long. We can't really solve any problems with a fashionable name. If we forget about the nits, they will blend into the whole picture. But we have to see the whole picture, not just the nits.

We need to look at the forest and forget about the trees.

2002-03-08T19:10:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "One nice thing about egotists: they don't talk about other people." -- George Carlin

Figures - just when I have a bunch of things to post, Blogger is down for maintanence. Oh well, hopefully, I'll get to post this today

I've added a new link - Trout Thursday - and a new blog - ADropintheOcean. Both sites are by Dieter Limeback whose father posts on the Evolt web design list (if you're in web design, you should be on this list!). Not only is the content of both sites worth reading - funny stuff here - the design is clean, well-organized and just plain great.

Dieter writes, "My domain name is also my first name. If you came here looking to get thinner, sorry." That's just an example of what you will find there. I don't know about you, but I plan to celebrate the next Trout Thursday - January 30, 2003

Be alert! The world needs more lerts!

Check out this fun waste of time - CatGame. Too bad the creator doesn't know how to spell.

People, people - I know the English language is difficult. We have rules, but break them regularly. We're in consistent and arbitrary. But we all went to school. We learned spelling - please reach back and remember what you learned.

Lose - one "O" is when you don't win. Loose - two "Os" is when you're hanging free. Just remember when you "lose," you also lose one "O." Okay? Can we do that please, so I can stop hearing those fingernails run down the blackboard? TIA

Lots of Bloggers blogging about blogging and metablogging - BurningBird, Jonathon and some others. Reading through these blogging about blogging posts, I was reminded of an old tongue-twister rhyme we used to say as children:

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

A woodchuck would chuck all the wood he could chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood.

Inspired, a wrote a Blog version:

How many blogs would a blogchic blog if a blogchic could blog this?

A blogchic would blog all the blogs she could blog if a blogchic could this.

Hey what do you want from me - it was early in the morning!

Just heard a story on the Today show about a woman in Texas who struck a man with her car. The man was lodged in her windshield, yet she continued to drive to her home. Once there, she pulled the car into the garage and left the man there until he died. Unbelievable!

The WFAA website has the story if you want the whole thing. So does this site (I wrote this in the am, now I understand the story is all over the web.)

Katie Couric interviewed her lawyer. He claims that the man was only in the garage for 24 hours, not 3 days as the police have claimed the woman told them. Huh?? Like that matters. She drove home with a man lodged in her windshield, then left him in her garage! Does it matter whether he was there one hour or 3 days. The act in itself is mind boggling!

Her lawyer also claims that she was distraught and that she is fragile. Hello - what about the poor man bleeding to death with two broken legs and his head stuck in a windshield.

The police report also claims she was high on drugs and alcohol. Her lawyer says she only had a few drinks. That makes it even worse!

Even more bizarre, though the incident happened a few months ago, the police only found out about it a few days ago. It seems that the woman told someone at a party and that person called the police.

And more weirdness ... the woman allegedly called some friends while the man was still in her garage bleeding to death. These friends apparently did nothing until the man died and then they helped her dump his body in a nearby park.

What kind of people are these? Okay, I can buy that maybe the accused woman has mental problems (seems like that's where her lawyer is going with this), but what about these so-called friends? Not one of them called the police, a doctor or anyone. This whole story just boggles my mind.

2002-03-07T08:01:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind." -- Rudyard Kipling

I need a day stretcher.

A few years ago some on line friends were talking about this product. It let you add hours to the day. Sounded wonderful. Unfortunately it doesn't exist.

Twenty-four hours is simply not enough - especially if you have as many interests as I do. Or children. Or a job. Or a husband. Or children, a job and a husband. Did I mention a house?

Work takes up seven hours of my day. I do get an hour for lunch, but there's not much you can squeeze into an hour. If you want to eat - forget it.

I like my job, but that time belongs to the company and not to me, so I can't pursue any of my other interests while I'm there. It also takes me an hour to get ready and then there's the 20 minute drive, both ways. And of course I never leave promptly at 5, so that leaves about 14 hours.

I love to sleep and I wish I could do more of it, but it seems so non-productive, so I get about 5 hours of it on any given week night - a bit more on the weekends.

Now we're down to 9 hours.

I've been trying to get back into the habit of exercising. I used to take a dance class and I belonged to a gym, but the dance teacher got another job and the gym went out of business. Time went by and I got out of the habit of exercising regularly. I've made a few abortive attempts, but something always seems to get in the way.

So now I bought a treadmill and I've been doing 20 minutes a day to work into it gradually. With stretches that takes up another half hour. We're down to 8.5.

I have some TV shows I like to watch. West Wing, Survivor, Farscape (when it's on), Sex and the City, The Sopranos (when it's on), The Great Race (new this week!), ER. These are my can't miss shows. There are a few others that I catch when I can. My husband likes most of them, so it's something we can do together. That's at least an hour out of most days, so that leaves 7.5

I usually read for at least a half hour - 7. I'm guessing I spend at least two to three hours doing miscellaneous chores, so that leaves only 4-5 hours to fit everything else in.

So what's the everything else?

Hockey (we have season tickets - 2-3 games a week during the season - 3 hours per game), Blogging/writing - can't live without it. Do most of it between 5 and 7:30. E-mail - gotta stay connected. Working on several of my personal web sites - love it, love it, love it. More reading. Taking photographs. Walking in the park. Graphics/art work. Playing with my cats. Travel - be it a trip to NYC or across the ocean.

How do I fit it all in? How do I fit in time to participate in our local Public Access TV group? I'm a camera person, producer, sometime editor and web designer

How do I find time to keep up with local politics? Trust me, your local governments need watching more than the central governments. Ours plans to add a mounted horse patrol to the tune of $75,000. Do we need this in a crowded suburb? Plastic palm trees were to be add to our town swimming pool. My tax dollars at work. Our school rating is slipping and many of our shopping districts are looking shabby, but we need horses and plastic palm trees.

Something's got to give. Usually it's housework. I hate it anyway. I'm allergic to dust, but I don't think dusting helps. It just moves the dust around; it never goes away. So I don't bother it. It doesn't bother me.

My cats think the dust bunnies are their playmates.

I can't have company, because my guests would stumble over the floor files (I've recently bought baskets to corral them somewhat) and my dining room table is home to two computers. There are two more - one in each corner. So I do save time by not entertaining. And you wonder why I have more friends on line than off. At least I don't have to worry about them dropping by for a cup of coffee.

So I need a day stretcher or I need to win the lottery so I can reclaim the 8 hours my company gets and I can hire a maid. The Big Game lottery is up to $30 million. I'm buying a ticket.

2002-03-05T07:59:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I've been thinking about the Cluetrain Manifesto, which has led me to think about TV commercials and ads.

So many talk down to us like we were idiots - which we would be, if we actually believed what they say about their product or service was true. Various hair products, deodorants, toothpaste are a few that come to mind. Others are so vague no one but the ad agency and the company have a clue as to what the product or service is. For instance, MLife and for a long time Cingular - now at least they admit to being a wireless company.

The only kind of commercials I can tolerate are those that are humorous. My favorite one right now is the Blockbuster commercial with the hamster and the rabbit. I love when the hamster is dancing and he's shaking his bonbon. He says, "See if you can do this." The rabbit responds, "I don't want to see anything do that." Cracks me up every time. But ... it does not make me want to run to Blockbuster and rent a movie. It wouldn't make me drive further to rent a movie, if I had another video rental store that was closer.

I like the Visa check card commercial with Kevin Bacon, but it doesn't leave me longing to sign up for one. The funny Budweiser commercials make me laugh, but they don't convince me to switch from Newcastle Brown Ale.

So how effective are these commercials really? My husband never watches them. He channel surfs when a commercial comes on. They cost a bundle to produce, which adds to the price of the product. Makes no sense.

Other than the funny ones which are amusing, I think I'd much rather have an ordinary person - not a model or an ad pitch person - do the commercial. They could come on, tell me a little about themselves and why they use the product. Very simple. No big ad agency fees. Lower cost for a quality product. Wouldn't that be nice?

So I've decided to do something about it. I'm working on a project called Cyber Kat's endorsements. I'm going to make a list of products I use and tell you why I use them. I figure the best way for us to really know whether a product works is to tell each other.

The list will grow as I get to work on it. We'll see how it develops. Maybe I'll set up some comments so others can endorse them too, or maybe I'll just post what responses I get in e-mail. Perhaps other Bloggers will also put up a list of endorsements - think of the possibilities!

2002-03-02T11:50:00.000-05:00

Seeds of Wisdom: "A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep." -- Josh Billings.

Yesterday on one of the New York radio stations, they were discussing some new kind of panty hose called "revolutionary new shaping panty hose." I don't recall what the brand was. Anyway, these "revolutionary new shaping panty hose" are constructed so they "lift and separate" your butt - in other words they end what a friend of mine calls "flat butt syndrome."

My question is - two questions, actually - do we need this? And why?

I can't speak for other women, but most of the ones I know seem to feel they have more butt than they care to have. What we really need is "revolutionary new butt reducer panty hose."

If there are any women out there who really want more butt, come and see me. I'll gladly give you some of mine. In fact if you have shoulders that are too wide or a neck that is too long, perhaps we can work out a trade. I'm tired of bra straps that end up around my elbows because they've fallen off my too narrow shoulders. Racer back is the only way to go and they are soooo hard to find. I'm also tired of turtle necks that bunch up because my chin practically meets my collar bone. I long for a long neck.

Are there any women out there who are truly happy with their bodies? I'm looking for a show of hands, here.

And why is it that those women who have nearly perfect bodies in the eyes of the rest of us, are the least satisfied? I've heard some women say they're happy with their bodies, but I think mostly they've just come to accept them. I find it hard to believe, that given the choice, they wouldn't make at least some changes.

Men on the other hand supposedly don't consider this. They are supposed to be happy with whatever nature provided. Do not believe this either. They just don't talk about it.

If they were all perfectly satisfied with the hand they were dealt, there wouldn't be so many spam e-mails floating around offering products to increase penis size, or bulk up muscles. It's just a facade, ladies - they feel the same way we do, trust me on this.

A few years ago, I was taking a fabulous dance exercise class. I'd still be taking it, but the woman who taught the class was studying to be a sports trainer. When she graduated from the school, she got a job with the NY Giants football team and no longer had time. I miss that class.

This teacher had a fantastic body - a dancer's body, but not too skinny. We all hoped that if we took her class long enough, we'd look like her. She quit teaching before we were able to test this theory out.

We were discussing body shapes and sizes after class one day, and the discussion wandered into the area of liposuction. I said that I wished they could suck the fat from one part of the body - where you didn't want it - and pump it into another part where you could use it. Mostly, I'd like to take what's in my butt and on my hips and pump it into my boobs. (that was back then, now I have more than enough to spare - they can take it all away, thank you very much!)

The teacher said, "But that fat knows where it came from, and it would just go back home. And think what you would look like as it traveled!"

Rats! Just when I thought I'd found a perfect solution - foiled by homing fat!

Our dear teacher also assured us that everyone has a little pot (no not that kind of pot - the kind that makes your stomach stick out). We looked at her perfectly flat tummy and asked, "Did you leave yours at home, today?"

Some interesting things to check out ...

On Inside Gretchen's Head a few days ago, Gretchen was experimenting with a brain test. Someone sent me this awhile back, or I got it from an e-mail list. It's really neat. It tests to see if you are right-brained or left-brained. Also to see if you are more auditory or visual.

As I knew before I took the test - because I've taken such tests in the past - I'm visual and middle-brained (I know it sounds like addle-brained, which many people think I am, but I won't go into that - not today anyway) - but I lean toward the right brain hemisphere.

My score was 55% right, 45% left - 58.8% visual, 41.2% auditory. The really interesting aspect, however, was the analysis of the results. It was dead on.

"You have a distinct preference for creativity ..." it stated.
Me - Yep!

"You tend to see things in "wholes" without surrendering the ability to attend to details. You an give them sufficient notice to be able to utilize and incorporate them as part of an overall pattern."
Me - you have to see the forest instead of just the trees - that's why my Blog is called From the Treetop!

"It is most likely that you will gravitate towards those endeavors which are predominantly visual, but include some logic or structuring."
Me - took me long enough to find a career which fits this description. The first time I made a web page, I knew I'd found a home.

You can find this test here, here or here. Thanks to Bob - bob@aol.com (wow - he must have joined AOL the first week it came out.)

Also check out this new Blog, I've been reading - MLWebblog- thanks to Jonathon Delacour. I haven't been reading it long enough to add to my Blog Roll, but it's very interesting so far.

Truck on over to Blogsisters, if you get a chance. It's an interesting group of women called together by Jeneane Sessum. Kind of a wild free-for-all going on there at the moment, but I suspect that once things settle down, it will be a good place to hang out. Jeneane has issued an open invitation to all women bloggers (sorry, guys Jeneane says - "men can link, but they can't touch."). I haven't quite decided whether or not to join. I constantly have to ask myself, "do I really have time for this?" Unfortunately the answer is usually, "no," but I go ahead and do it anyway.

I once read a sign somewhere that read, "Stress comes from your mouth saying, "yes," when your stomach says, "no." So true, so true.

2002-03-01T08:02:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep." -- Saul Belloe.

I should warn you that this is long and rambling. Generally a brain dump <g>

Meryl Yourish has written a very thought-provoking piece on hatred, that also speaks of tolerance and understanding titled, "Yes, I am a Jew" - the title taken from Daniel Pearl's last words.

Elaine of Kalilily Time responded with an account of growing up Polish.

Both of these pieces inspired me to examine my own childhood environment, and to think about how the formations and foundations of childhood become so much a part of us, even if we rebel against them at some point.

I am 3/4 WASP. I'm white. My ethnic lineage is predominantly English, Irish and German with a dash of Scot, a pinch of Welsh/Cornish and a drop of Norwegian - so that covers the Anglo-Saxon part. But I'm not Protestant; I'm Catholic. I guess that makes me a WASC.

When I used to ask my mother what nationality we were, she'd usually answer, "American." To which I would respond, "That's not what I mean." I'd go on to talk about Italians or Swiss or French to explain that I meant background, ethnicity, cultural make-up. She would, then, tell me I was a mutt - a little of this, a little of that. I never found that a very satisfying answer.

I grew up in a very homogenized, plain vanilla environment. I don't ever remember seeing Blacks, Asians or Hispanics on the streets of my town. I went to parochial school from first grade to twelfth with children who were very much like me from a cultural perspective. And I always felt there was something missing.

I had friends who were fiercely Irish. Their father and mother were both either born in Ireland or were the children of immigrants. To them, St. Patrick's day was the most significant holiday and green was the only accepted color. Though about a quarter of my cultural heritage is Irish, I never felt much affinity with them. Looking at them through my child's eyes, they were uninteresting (no offense intended to those of you who are proudly Irish.<g>)

About the only thing that happened around our house on St. Patrick's day was an annual teasing contest between my father and my mother. My father, from whom I get the English blood, would put on a green tie. My mother, who lays claim to some Irish blood, would look at it scornfully and tell him that he was a "limey" and had no business wearing green on St. Patty's Day. My father would laugh and tell her, "On St. Patrick's Day everyone's Irish." And if my mother felt like making it, we had corned beef and cabbage.

Again as a child, I found the mostly English part of me boring. They had no interesting ethnic costume. No exotic national food. No national dances or music. And they spoke the same language as we did. Shallow, I know, but I was a child.

I guess my childhood was too close to the end of WW II to make much of the 25% German blood running through my veins. It was mentioned in passing but that was about it. We had neighbors who were from Germany, but I never felt any affiliation with Germans either.

I wanted to be Dutch. They had windmills and wooden shoes and cheese. I thought French would be interesting. Good food, berets and an interesting accent. I thought I might like being Swiss. Yodeling, dirndls, cheese and chocolate. I was fascinated by the Orient, so I thought it would be neat to be Japanese (loved the kimonos) or Chinese (again good food). But mostly growing up, I think I wanted to be Italian. There were a few Italians in my school. My aunt married an Italian. They certainly had great food. They had Venice and the Tarantella. I thought it would be good to be Italian.

Basically, I wanted to be something other than what I was. I longed for that ethnic connection, but I never considered the consequences of those ethnic connections.

My parents had both grown up in culturally diverse environments. Neither one of them held any prejudices that I noticed, so I didn't feel any myself. I did feel a strong attraction to anyone who was different from me. And I had a thirst for knowledge of these other cultures.

When I graduated from high school, I went on to the NY School of Interior Design. I loved going to school in NYC. I was in a state of sensory overload. I couldn't take it all in fast enough. At the same time, I went to work in an art gallery. The owners, two sisters and a brother, were Hungarian Jews. They had fled Hungary when the Germans invaded, then went to France, which didn't turn out to be the safe haven they'd hoped for.

They were fortunate though. They found very kind and very brave friends who hid them, when the Germans also invaded France. I was fascinated and horrified at the same time. I had learned about the Holocaust and the persecution of Jews in school, but it seemed some how distant and impersonal. It was numbers, dates and dry facts that really didn't penetrate or equate to real personal suffering.

Through the gallery owners, I learned how much it involved real people, real suffering. But I could not understand, and I began to ask why.

I went on from there to a job at a buying office in New York. The majority of the people working there, and in the fashion industry where I found myself a few years later, were Jewish. From them I learned of the bias against their people. And the persecutions and the hatred. I still couldn't understand it. "Why," I asked, constantly. I found few answers that made sense.

I grew up during the Fifties and the Sixties with all the racial issues in the news, but they didn't affect me. With the introspection and self-absorption of youth, I didn't quite understand the full impact of the hatred.

Even today, when I know better and I have seen and felt the evidence of hatred between ethnic groups, I don't understand it. How can you simply hate, with such ferocity, a whole group of people without knowing them, without meeting them as individual people?

Through the years, I've met Blacks, Jews, Asians, Arabs. Some I've liked, and others I haven't, but the reasons I liked or disliked them never had to do with what ethnic group they belonged to. It had to do with who they were as people. I see them, have always seen them as individual people. I find it difficult to understand how others can not only judge a person by what ethnic group they belong to, but hate them so vehemently when they don't even know them.

I expressed these thoughts to Meryl in an e-mail and she responded that they are taught to hate by their parents. While I know this to be true, I don't understand how any parent can teach an innocent child to hate.

Often it is not a conscious thing. I know that. The parents don't tell the child, "this group of people are bad," but they teach by example. Sadly though, far too often, parents do just that. They actually teach and encourage their children to hate whole groups of people. This totally confounds me. I really don't understand the roots of it or the reason for it.

I can understand disliking or maybe even hating an individual who has done something to hurt you grievously. But I don't understand how so much hatred builds up between ethnic groups and races.

On occasion, I've felt the hatred from some Blacks, who hate all whites. Now I understand the reasons for that hatred in the abstract. Whites were responsible for slavery and all the abominations that have taken place since, but I'm not responsible for that. Me personally. As an individual member of the human race, I've never treated a Black person any differently because of the color of their skin. Why send hatred in my direction?

My family never owned slaves. Most of my family seems to be tolerant and free from prejudicial thought. Yet we are white, and some will hate us for this. Some will hate us because their history has taught them to expect hatred in return. But others - especially those I've come to know, don't hate me. I hope some even like me, because they have come to know me as an individual as I have come to know them.

Since September 11, I've seen and felt the hatred the Arab world seems to feel for those of us living in the West - in the US in particular. Why? Because our cultures are different? Because our values are different? Why can't they just accept that there are differences in belief structure, culture and skin tones? Why can't we all just see each other as individual people? As fellow members of the human race?

I understand it at an intellectual level. I've studied the history, so I've learned all the so-called reasons for it. Some valid, perhaps - at the time - some not. But at a visceral, gut level, I really can't understand this lumping together of people, this stereotyping that seems to be the basis for all this hatred. It is simply outside my sphere of comprehension.

2002-02-27T07:54:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Our lives improve only when we take chances -- and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves." -- Walter Anderson

I've just finished visiting a bunch of my favorite Blogs. On my travels, I left comments here and there. I feel like Johnny Appleseed.

I've added two more Blogs to my Blog Roll - Halley's Comment and Paradox1x.

I found Karl through BurningBird, but I'm not sure where I found Halley's Comment. I just loved the name, and I like what she writes.

Just a few comments about the Blogs on my Blog Roll. I read most of them every day. They're the ones I enjoy for no other reason, than I do. There's not much rhyme nor reason to the order. I change it from time to time, depending on where my interest lies.

I found Meryl Yourish while searching for Bloggers in NJ. I found BurningBird from there. They are still my two favorites. I follow links on Blogs and I never know where I'll end up. It's an adventure. I love it.

Check out this little laundry story on Wockerjabby. So simple, yet it says so much more.

Hockey tonight. Devils vs Philly. Karl, are you listening down there in Philly? Go Devils! <g>

2002-02-26T08:06:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." -- H. Jackson Browne

This is a rerun quote, because it is so appropriate.

After I posted yesterday's blog entry, I had some time to reflect on it and I realized that I'd missed making an important point. This bright light shined down on me and the words blinked on in bright pink neon (not really, but it sounds good, doesn't it?)

It doesn't matter!

I realized that it doesn't matter whether John Dvorak gets it or not. It doesn't matter if any of us gets it. It only matters to those who do. Could be the Cluetrain Manifesto. Could be Blogging. Could be something else.

For instance, there are thousands of people who love WWF wrestling. I don't. Frankly, I don't get it. I don't see the fascination with people pretending to beat each other up. But that's okay, because many others do. Why should I tell them to stop - unless they are hurting someone. (and in the case of wrestling, I guess that's debatable <g> - but that's JMO). Why should I belittle something they seem to enjoy, but something I don't understand.

I like hockey. So do all the other hockey fans. Non-hockey fans don't get it. They think it's all about the fights. Real hockey fans don't care about the fights. If they happen, they happen. If they don't, they don't. But the non-hockey fans don't get it. No problem. Go watch baseball or football or curling. There are plenty of sports to go around. It is not required that you like them all.

Some people believe in Buddha, others in Yahweh, still others in Jesus Christ or Allah. Does it matter? Your beliefs are your beliefs. Your likes are your likes. As long as they don't infringe on mine, why should I care? As long as your likes or beliefs please or comfort you, and don't harm others, why should anyone else care?

That's where the problems come in - when we try to tell others that the things they value, have no value. We are not being fair or wise, when we dismiss that which we do not understand as valueless. Why would anyone think they have the authority to do that? Is there some kind of commission out there that appoints people to decide what has value and what hasn't? Did I miss something?

2002-02-25T20:38:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "You cannot speak of ocean to a well-frog, the creature of a narrower sphere. You cannot speak of ice to a summer insect, the creature of a season." -- Chuang Tzu, Chinese Philosopher

If I thought John Dvorak would read this, I'd send it to him (I'm not going to give him a link - you all know where to find him <G>), but after reading his last column in PC Magazine, I doubt very much if he'd set much store by anything I said. I am, after all, one of those people - you know, the people who Blog.

So this is an open letter of sorts to John Dvorak, should he happen to find himself in Blogspace. Or perhaps someone will send it to him. <VEG>

I actually found his column on the Cluetrain Manifesto quite amusing. First off, I have no idea why he chose to review a book that was published back in 1999, but he did. Clearly this book has been on his mind for a long time.

I don't know about Mr. Dvorak, but if I thought something was as insignificant and preposterous as he seems to think the Cluetrain Manifesto is, I certainly wouldn't bother writing about it several years after the fact.

He claims there is "cult thinking" involved, then he exclaims, "But, of course, 'I don't get it.'" This last phrase leaves a puddle of sarcasm and condescension oozing down the screen.

His superior tone indicates that he really does get it, but the rest of us are simply too dumb to see that he gets it. We're not smart enough to understand that he just doesn't want it. He's not buying into the philosophy.

Hey, no problem. Different strokes for different folks. But he can't let it go so easily. He continues to belittle those who do find merit in these ideas - because, of course, in his mind he knows better than we do. (Why he thinks this, I have no idea!)

I think Mr. Dvorak is like "the well-frog" or the "summer insect" in today's quote. He really doesn't get it, because the ideas behind the Cluetrain Manifesto are like the ocean to the well-frog and ice to the summer insect. They are simply beyond his sphere of comprehension. He doesn't have a clue <G> He has missed the train.

I should like to suggest that Mr. Dvorak get a copy of the Cave allegory from Plato's Republic, then I suggest he read it.

The people in Plato's cave are chained so that they can only see the wall in front of them. There is a light source behind them that casts shadows on the wall. The shadows are all they can see. Because this is all they know, they have come to believe that the shadows are what is real.

It's been awhile since I've read it, but IIRC, some of the cave people get outside the cave. They see light and real things, not just shadows. When they go back to the Cave, they try to convince those inside the cave that what they have been seeing is not real. Needless to say, they are scoffed at and scorned. The Cave dwellers do not "get it" because they have known nothing else but the shadows. Anything else is simply beyond their comprehension.

I don't know if those of us who understand what the authors of the Cluetrain Manifesto are saying are the Cave Dwellers or if Mr. Dvorak is, but I strongly suspect that he is the one who has not ventured outside the Cave.

It was clear to me when I first read the introduction to the Cluetrain Manfesto some time ago, that it contained a large measure of truth. Corporations have lost contact with the people who actually use their products or services. In fact they don't even think of us as people. To them we are indeed, eyeballs or seats or bits of data in their demographics. All you have to do is spend some time watching TV commercials to know this.

They care not what we think, or feel or, dream. They care only what they can get us to buy or use. They care only where we fit in their collection of numbers.

The established media outlets are being rapidly bought out by these same corporations. Our government representatives are too often bought by them as well. None of those behind these corporations want two way communication. They want products out - dollars back in. And they care very little about the products, only the dollars. Can you say, "Enron?" I'll bet you can!

The internet scares "The Powers That Be" behind the scenes. We might talk to each other - horrors!. We might dare to expose the little man behind the curtain who pretends to be the Great and Powerful Wizard. We might find that in this web world, where we can't even see what the other person looks like, we might find real people instead of shadows. Arabs might meet Jews, and find they like each other. Blacks and whites can't see the color of the other person's skin, so they don't know who is and who isn't. Old and young cross the age barriers society has erected. We might just find that we, the people, are more alike than we are different.

That's a scary thought to those who profit from keeping us all in our separate little boxes, or in a Cave staring at shadows.

Perhaps that sounds idealistic, but I've seen evidence of it in my 14 years on the internet. And I'm willing to bet, there are many who would close the floodgates before it overcomes their tidy little worlds.

I'll leave you with two more quotes. The first is from Will Rogers, "Narrow-minded people are a lot like narrow-necked bottles. The less that's in them, the more noise it makes coming out." The second is from Emmanuel Goldstein, a computer hacker, "On the Internet, everyone is an equal until they prove themselves to be a moron." Mr. Dvorak, are you listening? BTW, Like Meryl Yourish, I like your music, better. The New World Symphony is rather nice (kind of an ironic title as well). Perhaps you should stick with what you know.<G>

2002-02-24T15:41:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Don't take life too seriously. You'll never get out of it alive." -- Elbert Hubbard

After all that thinking yesterday, I need a break or I'll get a headache, so today I thought I'd just give you all some fun things to do.

From the Evolt Chat list ... You can take the Web IQ test. Kind of fun. Good timewaster. There is a trick. See if you can figure it out.

And from the Web IQ test, I found The Useless Pages. Read what Wired had to say about this site or see it for yourself.

I have time for one quick story.

I never met my maternal grandmother because she died long before I was born, but I think I would have like knowing her. She came alive for me through the stories my mother told about her.

My grandfather worshipped her. When she died the sunshine went out of his life and he was never the same man, afterward. He would do anything for her, and I have letters he wrote to her to prove it.

Shortly before they were to be married, her mother died. She was quite disheartened and sad, so a friend of hers (whose father was the skipper of the Vanderbilt's yacht) invited her to spend some time up in Providence, RI with her family. My grandmother went.

I have no idea how my grandmother spent her time up there, but I do know she wasn't much of a letter writer. My grandfather wrote her nearly every day, and every so often he would ask her to write back. She may not have been much of a writer, but she did save all my grandfather's letters all nicely tied up with a blue satin ribbon. I found them years later when my mother's sister died. They were in a little wooden trunk with some old pictures at the top of one of my aunt's closets. My cousin had said that we should take whatever we wanted, because he was just going to throw it all away. I'm so glad I was there, or this treasure would have been lost to my family for all time.

After my grandmother and grandfather were married and had four children, they settled into a big Victorian-style house in Staten Island. My grandmother went into the parlor one night after dinner and asked my grandfather if he wanted to go to the movies. My grandfather, who had settled down in his Morris chair to listen to his favorite radio program, said, "No."

My grandmother told my mother to get ready to go to the movies. My mother, said, "But Daddy said he didn't want to go."

My grandmother responded, "He wants to go, he just doesn't know it, yet."

So my mother and her two brothers and sister would get ready to go. My grandmother would meet them in the hall outside the parlor in her coat and hat. After she'd checked to make sure they were all bundled up properly, faces washed, hair combed, she would go into the parlor and call to my grandfather, "Charlie, we're ready to go to the movies now."

My grandfather would look up, see his wife and children standing there in their coats, then he would get his coat and they would go to the movies.

According to my mother, this happened on a regular basis.

2002-02-23T13:32:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "I have one share in corporate Earth, and I am nervous about the management." -- E.B. White

I've been following the "Axis of Evil" discussion on BurningBird's Blog. While Shelley is on the road somewhere (safely, I hope) between St. Louis and San Francisco, the discussion has gone on without her.

Tom Graves, an Australian, seems (from his comments) to be seriously concerned about where the world is heading with all this rhetoric. Dave (no web site), a staunch America-supporter, took exception to Tom's comments, as did Karl Martino. Meryl Yourish also disagreed with Tom's remarks, namely this one - "In Islamic law, usury is not just a crime: it's considered evil, a destroyer of the soul. The 'Western' economic model, of which, as Dave says, the US is the primary promoter and (for those higher up in the pecking-order) the primary benefactor, is founded on usury."

Starting here, I'm going to ramble on a bit, since I have more to say than would fit in a blog comment.

Tom's reference to usury and the Islamic beliefs on the subject made me think (thinking is a good thing). I seem to recall reading sometime over the last few months something along those lines - that Islamic law prohibits usury. In my mind, usury is practiced primarily by loan sharks, but I looked it up in my trusty Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary (the best IMO) and the first definition says that usury is "the lending of money with an interest charge for its use." The second definition gets into the exorbitant interest charge issue.

So following Tom's reasoning, I can see why a devoted Muslim (if my recollections on Islamic law are correct) would not look favorably (to say the least) on a nation whose economic model is based on usury. BUT (big but) ... as I understand it - and I'm not an economist by any means - our American economic model is based primarily on supply and demand. Usury may enter into the equation, but that's not the primary focus.

I have a product or service. You need or want that product or service. How badly I think you need or want the service/product determines the price I set for it. Supply and demand - a simplification, if you will. And yes I know it's more complex than that <g>

You should also know that I don't wholly endorse the system, because it allows for price gouging. Honorable people/companies will set a fair price in spite of the demand, while greedy and dishonorable ones (especially in a short supply situation) will set as high a price as the traffic will bear regardless of that price's relationship to the cost.

Short of finding a way to mandate honor, I don't have a real solution to this problem. Oh, yes, I know there are laws, but I also know that too often they are ineffective.

So what I'm saying is that while Tom's allegation has merit because it made me consider another point of view, I don't think it's accurate.

Tom said another thing, however - "Getting outside of our own 'obvious' mindset and worldview can be damn hard work: but often it's the only way to understand why people suddenly seem angry with us for no apparent reason" - that I happen to think is not only valid, but worth serious consideration.

I really do believe from the bottom of my heart that we all - every citizen of every country in the world - has to do this if we ever want to achieve a lasting peace. We need to do whatever we can to look at the world situation from as many different angles as we can.

We can not just dismiss even the most radical idea until we have examined the issues that gave birth to that idea. If we just dismiss ideas that are extreme (at one end of the spectrum), or simply don't mesh with our own (at the other end), we will continuously butt our heads against a wall. We will never understand, never get to the root of the problem, and therefore never find a resolution to our differences of thought.

I know there are mad men, psychopaths and sociopaths in the world - probably far too many. One is actually far too many. But they often take the lead, and others too often follow. I don't believe the followers are insane or psychopathic or sociopaths. They are people with problems and they see this particular leader as a solution to those problems. What we need to examine are these problems and their sources.

Blaise Pascal wrote, "We are usually convinced more easily by reasons we have found ourselves than by those which have occurred to others." Unless we examine the path that led other people to their current state of mind, we can never get them to see that perhaps they have been following the wrong path. Unless we understand (not accept, simply understand) their point of view, we can never hope to get them to understand ours.

The risk in undertaking such an examination, is that one may suddenly comprehend that one's deeply held beliefs are no longer valid. We all - each and every one of us - cling to our beliefs with ferocious tenacity. They are our rock, our foundation. When you learn, through whatever means, that your belief is not valid, you are set adrift on an unknown sea. You no longer have a safety net, or a life preserver. Such a journey is very perilous and rather formidable. It is understandable why most of us do not wish to take such a risk. But take it, we must.

I often think about Third World Nations and the countries that seem locked in past centuries, and I wonder why they have not made the advances that Europe or the US, Canada, Japan, etc. have made. Why do they always seem vulnerable to dictatorial and authoritarian governments? Why do their governments fall from one coup to the next? Why do the people seem to simply accept what happens?

While I'm still seeking the answers, I have found some common links. Mostly the population of these nations are poor - poorer than we in the US can even imagine. They are also mostly uneducated.

If you take a look at Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs you will see that these people haven't gotten past the first two levels. How can you think about educating yourself and your children to the level of caring, let alone doing something about your system of government when you don't have a decent supply of food and drinkable water? How can you begin to move beyond these basic needs if you barely have shelter from the elements? The answer is, you can't.

Those of us fortunate enough to not only have; food, water, shelter and education, but to also have computers and access to the internet, have an obligation, IMO, to keep open minds. To talk to each other. To (stealing a line from Tom Graves) get outside of our own mindset and world view. Find out what others are thinking. Not their governments. Not their media. But the people themselves. Keep an open mind and listen - really listen to what they are saying. You don't have to embrace their ideas. You don't even have to agree with them, but it is imperative that we understand, or at least attempt to understand where they are coming from.

As I've said before, I'm neither a liberal nor a conservative - neither left nor right. I'm somewhere in the middle looking at both sides from a seat on the fence, or more often up in a tree looking for the path to wisdom. Down on the forest floor you can only see trees, and they won't tell you where the path lies. You have to climb to the top of the tallest one and look out over the forest from that lofty position. Then and only then can you find the path and the place where it leads. Of course, then you have to climb down from the tree and follow it. That's the hard part.

I'll close here with one other thought. There is a song, I first heard many years ago, by Sy Miller and Bill Jackson. I think it is called simply "The Peace Song." The last line is, "Let there be peace on earth. And let it begin with me."

A great ocean starts with one tiny drop of water. In Alice's restaurant, Arlo Guthrie speculated that if three people do something it's an organization. If fifty people do it, it's a movement. We can do it. Those of us who blog. Anyone with a web site. Anyone with an e-mail account. We can reach out. We can talk to someone who's life experience is different from ours. We can set the first foot on the path to understanding. We can begin the journey.

If you want to do just that. Start here at BurningBird and continue on to Waeguk is not a soup aka Stavros the Wonder Chicken.

If it works, I've added a comments feature. Try it out! Also, I've added some new Blogs to my Blog Roll - check them out. Good stuff to be found there.

2002-02-21T07:49:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Imagination is more important than knowledge." -- Albert Einstein

Just rambling today. I was going to get back to the whole "Axis of Evil" discussion, but I'm too tired today. Check out BurningBird on the same subject. Be sure to read the comments.

Everyone on the Evolt chat list has been taking the GE color test. It's a fun waste of time, but I'm only telling you this because I got all 24 right. <g>

I just saw that weird commercial (Today show on in the background) for Sprint's talking e-mail. I don't get it. Why? Why would you want talking e-mail? If you want to talk to someone, make a phone call. Many times when I'm reading e-mail, I wouldn't want it talking to me. Most times, actually. Dumb idea, IMO.

And just what are those people in the silver suits supposed to be?

I've been watching the Olympics sporadically. I don't get calling that forward facing Luge thing "Skeleton." I heard someone say that it was because the original sleds looked like skeletons. Why not just call it "sledding?" After all that's what it is. In fact, why not call the "Luge" sledding as well? Luge sounds like a Scandinavian or German word.

Hope the US team can beat the Russians tonight. Khabibulin, the Russian goalie is hot right now, and it's always hard to beat a hot goalie.

I want those Scandinavian sweaters Matt and Katie have been wearing at the Olympics.

2002-02-20T19:08:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats." -- Unknown

Okay, it's time to talk about cats.

The two who have chosen to live with us are Domino (tuxedo kitty on your left) and Dusty (grey stripe kitty on your right). They are sisters who will be three in April, and they came to us via the Bergen County Animal Shelter.

When they were kittens, they were inseparable. Their foster person had put a sign on their cage that read "Adopt Together." We were looking to adopt two kittens, but there were three in the cage. We didn't want to break up a family, but since we'd never been a multiple cat family before, we weren't so sure about having three.

The woman from the shelter who was helping us said, "Wait an minute, there's only supposed to be two cats in there." After taking a few minutes to place the interloper in his proper cage, she handed my husband and I the two kittens.

The kitten to be named "Dusty" looked absolutely terrorized, while TKTBN "Domino" climbed a tree who happened to be me. She made it all the way up to my head before we were able to corral her. Once we had them in our hands, of course, they were destined to go home with us. You have to know that I am a person who can't even put a stuffed animal back on the shelf, once I've picked it up. Trust me those kittens had found a home.

Figuring they would need some time to get used to their new surroundings, we set them up in the bathroom with a litter box, food, toys and a nice towel-filled box to sleep in. When they came out to explore a few days later (they spent the first few days huddled together behind the toilet), they were glued at the hip. If one strayed out of sight of the other for even a minute, much meowing ensued until they were once more reunited. I tell you all this because, Dusty has developed some odd habits as a result of her initial stay in our bathroom

We figure that she must not have been ready to leave her mommy cat. She's rather tiny (at least compared to Domino (it's hard to tell in the picture), so we figure she was probably the runt of the litter. Anyway, whenever the two kittens were cuddled together, Dusty tried to nurse on Domino. For a time, Domino allowed this, but as she grew older and more independent, she put a stop to it with a few well-placed whacks of a paw.

Dusty decided that we were an acceptable substitute. She will meow pitifully until one of us goes in the bathroom, and pets her while she sucks on an arm or article of clothing. Grudgingly she will accept pets elsewhere in the house, but sometimes you just have to go to the bathroom whether you want to or not.

Dusty is definitely our neurotic kitty. Since Domino would no longer allow her to nurse, Dusty decided that a second cat was no longer necessary. She fought with Domino over everything and took to marking her favorite spots, we presume so that Domino would know to stay away. Not fun.

Domino on the other hand is a most catly cat. She wants her bowl full, a warm place to sleep and a very old (belonged to our previous cat) and very ratty pink flannel mouse to play with. She's a happy cat.

If Dusty wanted her spot on the couch, Domino moved. If Dusty wanted the spot in the window or the top of the kitty condo, Domino moved. Dusty wasn't interested in the pink flannel mouse, thankfully. But Domino claimed the food dishes as her personal domain. Don't mess with her food.

To this day she will eat from her dish, until Dusty (who is picky eater) walks away. Then Domino goes over and eats all the food in Dusty's dish, saving her own for later. I'm not quite sure if she knows that Dusty comes back later, and just eats from whichever dish has food in it.

Today, three years later, they've worked out most of their differences and each have their sacrosanct spots, but lately they've begun a tug of war of sorts over my lap. For the longest time, Domino wasn't much interested in being a lap cat. She loves to be petted, but she prefers laying on her back on the floor so you have to bend over. Dusty, on the other hand, jumped into my lap at every opportunity.

My husband would try to get her to sit on his lap, but nothing doing. He felt left out. We would tell them, "two laps, no waiting," but that didn't matter.

Now suddenly Domino wants my lap too. Sometimes they both try to lay on my lap, but that doesn't work out too well. As I said, Domino is a big cat, and Dusty wants the whole lap and nothing but the lap. No sharing allowed.

Stay tuned to find out who wins the battle of the lap. More Dusty and Domino to follow.

2002-02-19T19:42:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "A man who is 'of sound mind' is one who keeps the inner madman under lock and key." -- Paul Valery

I'm somewhat amused at all this blogging about blogging about blogging. Kind of reminds me of those three pane mirrors. When you look in the one on the right and angle the one on the left so it's opposite, you can see yourself reflected into infinity.

Oh well, on to other things ...

Although, I am quite aware that I march to the beat of the proverbial "different drummer" (drummer nothing - I have a whole different band!), I have a rather strange habit of thinking that everyone thinks like I do. I also tend to think that if I know something, everyone else knows it too. When I come up against something that disproves these two theories, it often leaves me smacking myself in the head and saying, "Duh!"

Yesterday I was surfing around, reading blogs, and I came across these two sites - Keep Trying and News From Storybook Farm. My immediate thought was - whoa, someone has nicked someone else's design. I took a look at the source code of each site, and saw that they were nearly identical, then I spotted this reference "bloggertemplate59." Duh! Of course they looked alike - they are both using Blogger templates.

Though I use Blogger, I had forgotten all about the Blogger templates. When I signed up for Blogger, I just picked the first one in the group to get the Blogger code, then set about making my own page. I never gave using the templates a second thought. And of course, I just presumed that everyone else would do the same. Out of curiosity, I took a quick look through the templates and I recognized many of them from Blogs that I've been reading. I guess not everyone believes in doing things the hard way, like I do.<g> And I'm an inveterate tinkerer to boot! In fact, I've been known to tinker something to death.

Just rambling along similar lines ... A few months back when the Harry Potter movie premiered, I heard an interview with the author. She told the reporter that the publisher had made her change the title from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher Stone" to "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," because the publisher didn't think Americans would know what a Philosopher Stone was. I thought, "how ridiculous and insulting." After all everyone knows what a Philosopher Stone is.

When I told the story around work, I got a lot of strange looks. "Ehr, Kath," someone said, "What is a Philosopher Stone?" I looked around and everyone was looking back at me with the same question glimmering in their eyes. They didn't know either. So I explained that alchemists believed that the Philosopher Stone was the key that they needed to turn ordinary metal, usually lead, into gold.

They didn't believe me <g> They went to look it up on the internet and found out I was right.

How do I know these things? Where do they come from? I don't honestly know. My mind seems to suck up totally useless facts like a Hoover.

One of my teachers told me that I had a very broad knowledge base. The implication being that it wasn't very deep. One of my former bosses told me she couldn't understand how I could possibly think with all the nonsense that filled my brain. She didn't mean it kindly. At least I don't think she did.

I don't set out to learn all these things, they just collect in the corners of my mind, like cat hair collects in the corners of my home. (I think my cats are secretly trying to build another cat, but that's a story for another day.)

Yet, I keep figuring that everyone has such a collection of trivia. Don't they?

Mind your head, major change in tack coming. Don't let the boom knock you over board. I have a bunch of jumbled thoughts and I just have to get them down while I'm thinking about them.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm getting a bit tired of hearing about all this "Axis of Evil" talk. It makes me very uncomfortable. I know we're all supposed to be thinking George W. Bush is the greatest thing since sliced bread - patriotic duty and all that, but I didn't like him before the election. Didn't vote for him. Didn't like his father either. And much of what he's done since September 11, has left me very uncomfortable, as well.

I guess it's all part of the whole different drummer thing (and you thought there wasn't a theme!). I quite frequently find myself with very ambivalent feelings on significant issues. I often see both sides of an issue. Finding myself sitting atop a fence much of the time, could explain the uncomfortable feeling.

I'm neither a conservative nor a liberal. I'm not a Democrat nor am I a Republican. I'm mostly an odd mixture of the two.

I'm not entirely convinced that the US of A should be the guardian of the world, though George W. apparently feels we are. I mean really, who died and left us boss, anyway. I don't quite buy the, "We are the last superpower" bit. I was taught that might doesn't make right.

I know I'm not a "my country, right or wrong," kind of person, nor am I a "love it or leave it kind of person." In my opinion, the best thing about living in the US has been our freedoms, but as I look around in post 9/11 America, I see far too many of those freedoms being eroded away slowly with not enough people noticing. I see far too many Americans willing to surrender freedoms and liberties our founding fathers fought valiantly to secure for us. All to secure a very thin margin of safety. And I wonder how we will ever get those lost freedoms back once they are gone.

But to get back to the "Axis of Evil" business. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a turn the other cheek kind of person. Nor do I consider myself a pacifist. It just seems to me that if you want to win someone over to your way of thinking, you don't start out by labeling, not only the governments of 3 sovereign nations but the citizens of those countries as well, "evil."

Evil is one of those words that carries a whole lot more emotional weight than its dictionary definition would indicate. Many people who live in the Middle East and the East clearly think we're the ones who are evil. I don't like them thinking that, so I assume that they don't like us thinking of them in this manner either. Not exactly the way to "Win Friends and Influence People."

For far too many centuries countries, and tribes and clans before them have settled their differences by waging war. Perhaps it's a male thing, but I'm not so sure we women would do much better. Still I can't help but think that there has to be a better way.

I don't have the answer, but communication comes to mind. Breaking down the barriers that separate us all into little clusters, all eyeing the other clusters with suspicion, would certainly help.

We need to learn how the other folks think, and why they think that way. We need to teach them how we think and why we think that way.

I don't think we'll ever make any progress with the learning process if we stand on opposite sides of the world pointing fingers and calling each other names. We teach our children that this isn't the way to settle an argument, and yet it seems our leaders never learned these simple school yard lessons.

It takes two to Tango, two to wage war. How many does it take to make peace? My guess would be at least two, as well. Indira Gandhi said, "You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist." Seems like a good starting place.

2002-02-18T14:45:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost." -- H. Jackson Browne

I usually try to pick a quote that has to do with the day's ramblings, but today is going to be a mishmash so I just chose this quote because it is something I think we should all remember. It's that celebrating the differences thing again. Think how boring the world would be if we were all alike.

If you've been here before, you'll notice the new look. I've said before this is a work in progress. I didn't really like the green. It's not high on my list of favorite colors. Purple is my favorite, but it doesn't go with the whole treetop theme. I don't suppose the blue does either, but I like blue better than green.

And for anyone who's interested the layout uses CSS rather than tables. It's one of the things I love about making webs, the learning process never stops.

Kurmudgeon's Korner - Though I'm off today, it is a Monday and I haven't done one of these in awhile.

I hate trucks. All kinds of trucks actually, but mostly I hate tractor trailer trucks. I guess it is because they are so big, the drivers (not all, but waaay too many) seem to think they own the road and parking lots too. Yes, I know, it's a tough job and someone has to do it. I also know that most truckers work very hard. But that still doesn't excuse them driving like cars don't exist.

It doesn't excuse changing lanes suddenly without signaling. And yes I know cars do it too, but one car is not as likely to wipe out as many other cars as a tractor trailer could.

It doesn't excuse tailgating when you know you need more room to stop. If I'm doing the speed limit (and I'm usually going faster than that, unless the car in front of me is going slower), back off. Riding in my trunk isn't going to make me - or the car in front of me go any faster. (and that goes for car drivers who do the same thing)

Truckers are not careful enough when they back up. They figure that any car behind them should just get out of the way even if that car has nowhere else to go. Yo, truckers - open your window, and turn down the radio when you back up, so you can hear a horn if someone honks at you.

I once was following a truck on a local street - and yes I left plenty of room (at least 2 car lengths) between me and him. And I could see his mirrors. Whether he used them or not is another issue.

He discovered that he had missed his turn, and he just started backing up without so much as a by-your-leave. I couldn't back up any further because there were at least 4 cars right behind me. I leaned on my horn - a very loud air horn - but he just kept coming. He hit my car (and it's a good thing I was driving a Jeep or I'd have been under him) and continued backing up, pushing me toward the cars behind me, who were also scrambling to back up.

He finally cleared the intersection, and began to pull around the corner. Not thinking rationally, I got out of my car and chased after him. I ran alongside the truck shouting and waving my arms. He ignored me, or didn't see nor hear me. Finally I got his attention by whacking at the door with my keys (I carry a lot of keys on a long leather strap). When he stopped, then got out of the truck finally. He said, "What the hell is the matter with you?" I told him that he'd hit me and pushed in the front end of my car. He said, "I didn't feel anything. I couldn't have hit you."

Well, luckily I had a witness. Several in fact - all the cars behind me. I mean - how do you prove that someone backed into you?

But you see that's the problem. How could he not know he had hit something and pushed that something backwards for 10 feet - with that something's brake peddle pushed to the floor?

We need some way to separate cars and trucks. They don't belong on the same roads.

The local roads are the worst. Most of the time, trucks can't make the corners. They often end up knocking down light poles or riding up on sidewalks. Pedestrians don't have a chance.

Where I work, we have trucks coming into the parking lot all the time. They come barreling around a very steep, very tight curve without any consideration that there might be something in the way ... like another car or truck coming from the other direction. They stop, start, back up or turn without letting cars - or other trucks - know what their intentions are. And they don't even bother to look half the time to even see if there is anything in their way. They just assume because they are bigger everything else should get out of the way. It's that I'm bigger than you are, bullying type attitude that really fries my bacon. Like I said, we need to separate cars and trucks somehow. And don't even get me started on buses!

The discussion of what should or should not be in a blog continues. Shelley Powers aka BurningBird asks, "...how much is too much? How much can a person share in their weblog before some line is crossed between a healthy catharsis and sharing of emotions and experiences, and a complete and uncontrolled dump of self. What's your opinion? I really want to know. "

I was going to use Shelley's comments function to answer the question, but my answer would probably be too long. I hate monopolizing, though I often do it. <g> Besides those little boxes in the comments forms always make me feel claustrophobic.

This whole line business - whether it be drawing them or crossing them - fascinates me. I just don't know the answer - can't find the answer no matter how hard I look for it. It's an eternal question in my world - where do you draw the line. When can you cross a line drawn?

Mostly I've come up with - that depends on the circumstances. I don't think you can make rules that cover all situations. I see rules as a guideline or a measuring stick - never as an absolute. Circumstances can change a rule or make it null.

A few years ago, I worked for a company that was considering using an "honesty test" to screen job applicants. They gave a copy of it to those of us who were managers to get our opinions. I looked through the multiple choice questions and found a big problem - at least from my point of view (from the treetop, of course!). My answer to every question was, "depends on the circumstances," but that wasn't one of the choices.

We had a meeting on the test, and much discussion ensued. The representatives of the company that would be administering the test told us that any score over 85 would indicate that the testee was fairly honest. I asked, "what happens if someone scores 100?"

The rep assured me, that although it was unlikely that someone would score that high, if they did, the testee would be a very desirable candidate, indeed.

I said, "I don't think so. I wouldn't hire someone who got a perfect score, because that would mean that not only were they smart enough to figure out how the test worked, they were most likely dishonest as well." I also added that someone that smart and that dishonest could probably figure out a way to steal the company blind and not get caught.

I stumped them. No one had asked that question before and they hadn't even considered the possibility. They quickly changed the subject without addressing my concerns.

Using that test to screen candidates in my opinion, required drawing lines that couldn't be drawn so simply. Drawing lines is a most complex of processes. Where do my rights end, and yours begin? I don't think there is an answer to that question without examining the individual circumstances. The rich man who manipulates a stock so that he makes money while others lose, and the poor man who steals a loaf of bread to feed his children are both thieves in the eye of the law. But who is more culpable? Who can more easily be forgiven?

The value of a weblog's content lies, like beauty or art - in the eye of the beholder. It's very subjective. Who is qualified to judge such value? Not I, that's for sure.

I'm a maverick. I'm not a square peg in a round peg world, I'm more of an octogon shaped peg in a world of round and square pegs. I learned awhile back that I don't generally think the way most people do. I find my logic perfectly clear and well ... logical, but I get a lot of funny looks.

When I was young that bothered me. I wanted to fit in and I sacrificed a lot of myself in the process. Now that I'm old enough to "wear purple" (note: to self - put the poem somewhere others can read it, easily), I don't worry as much about what other people think of me. They will either like me, or not. Such is life. The most important lesson I've learned is that if I change myself so that others will like me, I am no longer me, so who they like is someone other than me - if that makes any sense. So what you see is what you get. This is me - take it or move along. I'm through with compromising who I am.

I'm still not absolutely sure of who I am. I'm still on a journey of discovery, but that too is who I am. Discovery of new things and exploration is what keeps me going.

I'm also a Gemini, so you can't possibly expect me to be consistent - unless it's consistently changing.

I'm not guaranteeing anything here with my blog - except that it will change. Like all good mavericks, I'm not following the herd, but sometimes I'll run with the herd as long as it suits me. Often I've found the herd or part of it following me. I'm not leading, nor am I following - we're just headed in the same direction for a time.

So I can't really answer Shelley's question for anyone other than me. I do what I feel is right for me, and if I make a connection with someone else - fantastic! I love it! If I don't, oh well, better luck next time for both of us. It's never time wasted because it's an experience, and how else can we learn except by trying, by taking a chance.

Wayne Gretsky said, "You miss 100 percent of the shots you never take." (speaking of ice hockey - way to go Team USA - we are now beating Belarus 4-1! Big time ice hockey fan here.)

So I'm here, taking a chance. Sticking my neck out, reaching for the best fruit at the end of the branch.

If you're up here in the tree with me, welcome! Pull up a branch and set a-spell. If what you see here is not to your liking, I wish you well on your journey and hope you find a better fit some place.

Oh - one last thing before I go ... there was some discussion in BB's comments about whether a blog has comments or not. I'm not about to make a judgement about whether someone else should or should not have comments. I figure that's their perogative.

I would have comments, if I could figure out how to do it. I'm working on it - it's a learning thing <g>. But until I figure it out, anyone who feels like making a comment on any content here, can always e-mail me - topkat@cyber-kat.com. If you give me permission, I may even post them as well.

2002-02-16T13:48:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self." -- Cyril Connolly, critic and editor (1903-1974)

For the past couple of days, I've been following a cross-blog discussion that is basically about whether one has the right to write whatever one wants to in their blog.

The fracas all started with Jonathon Delacour writing about the changes to the format of his blog and his adventures with CSS. Interesting to some (Moi, included), but obviously not to others, namely Matthew Thomas.

Such is life - if it's not interesting, move on. Surely with all the blogs out there, one can find blogs that are more to one's liking.

Apparently, MT was not at all happy with the recent content of JD's blog. Writing in his own defense, he claims his criticism was an Aussie vs NZ kind of thing, but I don't know about that, not being an Aussie nor a New Zealander. Just seemed kind of rude to me.

Meryl Yourish (aka NJ Meryl) jumped to the defense of her blogging buddy (as I probably would have done, if I were Meryl), and then the slings and arrows began to fly all across Blogdom.

You'll have to read the various blogs if you want to follow the discussion. I'm not providing links to the individual posts.<g> (sorry Meryl, don't like smileys, but I'm not giving up my <g>s - they are sooo much a part of me. After all, no one can see the silly expressions on my face over the web.)

In following the discussion, which was also mentioned in Texas (not to be confused with NJ) Meryl's blog, I happened on a comment to her posting from Madhu "MadMan" Menon, whose blog I read on occasion. In the comment "MadMan" referred to an article he wrote in his Blog that was similar in nature.

In his article, he mentions another article (are you following this convoluted path?) - Why Blogger Empowers Mindless Nits , by Morbus - which made me angry ... and that's the whole purpose of this round about posting.

In this article, the author lambastes, not only bloggers, but personal web page makers as well. He says:

"Yes, those worthless waste's of bandwidth where desperate and self-indulgent people would shove pictures of their dog down your saturated pipe, or little Mickey in his 'cutest outfit yet', or the equivalent of endless slide shows about their most treasured vacation."

He goes on and on about what a pointless waste of time all these blogs and personal pages are. He concludes by saying ...

"If it's useless, you're wasting resources. The Internet is full. Go away."

Well, excuse me, how rude and arrogant can you get! Psst Morbus, did it ever occur to you that some of us might consider your blog a "worthless waste's of bandwidth?"

I could even pick on your grammar or lack thereof, but I won't stoop to that level. <hint> there shouldn't be an apostrophe in wastes - among other things. </hint> Nor will I throw grammar and spelling stones when I know that I occasionally dwell in a glass domicile myself <g>. I have been known to use some creative grammar on occasion, however one must keep in mind that it is necessary to know the rules, before you break them on purpose.

It's like the spam thing. I just don't get the whole ruckus.

If people want to make a web site or blog that that contains chatter about babies or cats or dogs or vacations or adventures with CSS, that is their inalienable right. No one ... I repeat, no one has the right to tell them to "go away" or stop writing about such subjects.

Don't get me wrong - you certainly have the right to your opinion on whether such content is worthwhile or simply tripe, and you have the right to express that opinion - but you don't have the right to tell others to stop writing or blogging.

Like Voltaire, "I may not agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it." I'm not telling anyone to stop condemning that which they do not like, I'm simply expressing my opinion that telling them "The Internet is full. Go away," is rude and arrogant.

If the page you're on isn't to your liking (mine included), move along. One click in your bookmarks will take you someplace else. It's a big internet. There's room for everyone. No one is forcing you to read any web page or blog that you don't want to.

No one forced me to read Morbus' diatribe. I chose to read it because IMO, the path to wisdom is through knowledge - knowledge of all things, not just the things you like. By exposing oneself to all viewpoints one might even discover that the viewpoint you hold most dear is out of focus.

And so I celebrate the differences. I celebrate the variety of content that can be found on the web. I celebrate the most erudite, and I celebrate the most banal as well.

In my opinion, that is the glory of the web. It is a place where you can be free to be who you are ... even if you don't know who you are, but are still on a journey to find that person.

Perhaps Morbus doesn't want to read about the dogs or Mickey or vacations, but I'd be willing to bet the farm, that someone does. Maybe it's just Mickey's grandparents or aunts and uncles. Maybe the dog lovers want to see pictures of other people's pets. Perhaps someone considering a vacation is looking at the vacation pictures. Possibly someone stumbled across them and it brought a smile or a tear. They made a connection and that matters.

And perhaps no one is looking at them at all, and they are just out there, like the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one to hear it. So what. They are not harming anyone and I'm quite sure they matter to the person who put them there. I'm quite sure that person feels what they have to say is just as important as Morbus and Matthew Thomas think what they have to say is important.

In case you missed it, I shall repeat today's quote - "Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self." (Cyril Connolly) - and I shall add William Shakespeare's - "This above all; to thine own self be true."

That's about all you owe anyone ... that and respect for the right of others to be true to themselves as well.

2002-02-14T19:06:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection." -- Buddha

Today is Valentine's Day - a day to celebrate relationships. But somewhere in all the hoopla about couples, an important factor of relationships gets lost. In my opinion, it is far more important to celebrate oneself. Before you can form a relationship, you have to love yourself.

If you are alone and you truly love yourself, you won't be as likely to feel adrift without a significant other. If you don't love yourself, no matter what kind of relationship you're in, it won't be enough. There will be something missing - something in all probability you can't quite put your finger on. If you are not comfortable with yourself, with who you are, how can you possible give a part of yourself to someone else?

So I say we need to change February 14th to Love Yourself Day. Go ahead, do something special for your sweetie if you have one, but do something special for yourself as well. Everyone can join in Love Yourself Day! It's a non-discriminatory holiday. It doesn't leave any one out. Buy yourself some flowers and don't be ashamed to tell everyone you bought them for yourself because you deserve them.

If you don't have a significant other to celebrate with, go out with a friend or family member. Treat yourselves to a special dinner or a movie you've been wanting to see. Be even more daring, take yourself out to dinner! Take a long bubble bath or buy a special bottle of wine.

But however you celebrate or not - because that should be a gift to yourself as well, the ability not to celebrate if you don't want to - remember to love yourself. You deserve it.

If you're watching the Olympics or just a junkie for behind-the-scenes trivia, check out this blog. The guy is working the Olympics and his blog is full of little tidbits. Some funny, some surprising, some just interesting.

2002-02-13T07:59:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." -- Albert Einstein

Writing about the phone scam the other day, got me thinking about scams in general. If you believe what you read in the papers, there seem to be quite a number of popular scams. I can only think that people must fall for them, or there wouldn't be enough profit in it to keep the scamsters at it.

Easy money they call it. Must be called that for a reason, but I don't get it. I suppose you could get someone with a home repair scam. A widow perhaps whose husband handled that sort of thing. But the scam I really don't get at all is the "found money" ploy.

It goes like this. Someone claims to have found some money - the circumstances vary - but they pick a stranger and offer to share.

Now why would they want to do that? Why would anyone who found money offer to share it with a perfect stranger? That should tip you off right away. Share it with friends. Share it with family. Give it to a charity. I don't get it.

After offering to share, they they demand that you put up some sort of security bond. Huh??? Why? What is this bond for? Let me get this straight. You found the money. For some bizarre reason you have chosen to share it with me - a perfect stranger. Don't know you from Adam. But I should put up a bond so you can trust me. Right about now you should be smelling a rat! If you aren't, there's something seriously wrong with your olfactory glands (and don't look now, but if you are seriously considering it, get your brain checked out as well because it has obviously short circuited.)

Doesn't anyone find this odd? My response would be, "If you want to share it. Let me have it, thank you very much. It's been nice doing business with you. Sorry, but I'm not putting up any bond."

Who are the people who fall for this scam? What can they possibly be thinking? Are they that greedy? That stupid? I just don't get it.

A few years ago, I read about a man who put an ad in the paper. It read simply, "Send me a dollar," and included a post office box number. Apparently 500 people sent him a dollar. Several of them complained to the better business bureau and the post office that they didn't receive anything in return. Duh! The ad didn't say he was going to send you anything. Why would people respond to something like that? It wasn't even a scam. It was just fancy begging. He couldn't even be prosecuted. He said, "Send me a dollar," and people did. Boggles my mind.

I read in Meryl Yourish's Blog that she has sworn off emoticons - including the simple <g>. I say "Brava" to her courage, but I'm not that confident. I figure people are often not quite sure what I mean. And sometimes I just want to grin just for the heck of it. You can't see me doing it behind my computer screen, so I have to throw one in now and again. It's a very old habit - one I'm not sure I want to break. But that's all you get from me. Just the occasional <g>. No fancy emoticons or happy faces (though I must take some credit for the proliferation of those happy faces - I gave away bunches of them in the early seventies <g> - long before they were so ubiquitous.)

I envy Burningbird her wanderings, but I miss reading her multiple postings.

Almost forgot. I've been meaning to tell you about a movie I watched when I was sick. It's called "Where the Heart is." It's the kind of treacley story, I don't usually like these sweet little stories, but this one was kept from being overly sweet by a strong kookiness. There's a lot to be said for kooky. And the characters are ... well, characters. The pregnant heroine gets dumped by her boyfriend (father of the baby) at a KMart in Oklahoma. She ends up living in the Kmart. Many humorous and poignant tales follow as she finds her way through life trying to avoid the number 5.

It's on HBO this month. Check it out if you get the chance. Girls only - no guys - this is definitely a chick flick.

2002-02-10T11:57:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Worry is like a rocking chair - it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere" -- Dorothy Galyean

I don't quite get the brouhaha over spam. What is the big deal? You don't even have to open it. You can tell it's crap just by looking at the headers. Would I really be interested in a product that guarantees to increase the size of my penis? Neat trick if you can do it folks, especially since I don't have one in the first place. I'll pass.

Hot teenage girls? Farm Animals? I don't think so folks. Don't want to spy on anyone. Not interested in magical weight loss programs, a new mortgage, nor am I interested helping the ex-financial minister of lower Uganda launder his ill gotten gains. So what do I do with all these unwanted e-mails?

Simple. I highlight each and every one of them along with the sale notices from Barnes & Nobel, Victoria's Secret, E-bags and Chadwick's then I hit the little trash can icon on the Eudora menu bar. One extra click on the Empty Trash icon and I've assigned them all to the ether. Gone. No more spam.

I don't need fancy filters. I don't need e-mail watch dogs sniffing out the spam in my e-mail. I don't need the privacy seal group, Truste putting their seal of approval on ads that I might want to read. I can make these decisions myself. Two mouse clicks and all the spam is gone. So I ask again ... what's the big deal?

Why do we need anti-spam legislation? Do people really read this stuff? Do they really believe that the aforementioned ex-financial minister of lower Uganda has money for them? Do they really need protection from their own stupidity?

I've heard people claim that it's a violation of their privacy. Well, let me tell you, you have a lot more important privacy issues to worry about post 9/11 than the fact that someone has your e-mail address. The FBI is reading over your shoulder, spam and all - how's that for a violation of privacy? And what about all the junk snail mail that you get? Those people have your actual home address, folks. I worry about that a lot more than I worry about someone having my e-mail address.

Why are there no groups taking up arms to fight the battle against junk snail mail? Not only are they killing trees with all their unnecessary paper products, after you toss it away it fills a landfill somewhere or must use energy so it can be recycled. All spam does is use up a few bits of bandwidth.

And while we're at it. Where are the people rising up to prevent those folks from trying to sell me replacement windows at dinner time? Why is no one protecting me from the phone scams? (remind me ... I have a story about this) Or the credit card pushers? Or the people who want me to switch long distance carriers?

These annoying pests call at the worst possible moments. I swear they have tiny cameras in all our homes so they know the moment you sit before a plate of hot food or sit down to watch your favorite show. Where are all the privacy advocates then? Never mind about the spam. I'll deal with the spam. Get the ads out of my snail mail and keep the phone sharks away. IMO, they are much more of a problem than a few bits of spam.

The Story Thought I'd forget, didn't you?

I was home from work one day and I got a phone call from a very chipper young lady who informed me that I'd won a prize. Kind of strange since I hadn't entered any contests.

I usually respond to such phone calls by interrupting the spiel with "Sorry I'm not interested," then I hang up before they get a chance to recover, but that day I didn't. Guess I was bored or something.

The young lady went on to explain that I had a choice of prizes. Oh goodie! I could have a Chevy Blazer, some sort of boat, a dream vacation or $50,000. All I had to do was agree to accept a catalog they would send me, then purchase some merchandise from it ... and pay the shipping on whatever prize I chose.

While I was mentally calculating the shipping charges on the Chevy Blazer or the boat, it hit me. The perfect solution. A no-brainer, really.

"Okay," I told the caller. "I'll take the $50,000. Pick me something out of your catalog, deduct it from the $50,000. Also deduct the postage - hey send it Fed Ex. I can afford it. Then send me a check for the balance."

There was utter silence on the other end of the phone. I had hit the jackpot. Stumped the band.

"Ehr ... I don't think you understand," Ms Phone Scam person said. "It doesn't work that way."

"Why not," I responded. "Makes perfect sense to me. Fits all your rules. I like it. I'll take it. When can I expect my check?"

"Well it doesn't work that way," the young lady stammered. I had her. She couldn't explain why.

"Well, then I don't want to play," I said and hung up.

A few minutes later, the phone rings again. Same scam. This time it's a young man. He patiently explains all the rules like he is talking to an idiot. I patiently explain my interpretation. He patiently explains that the contest doesn't work that way. I patiently explain that if they want me to play - those are the rules I'm playing by. We agree to disagree and hang up.

A few minutes more pass by. My phone rings again. This time I am speaking with the senior Vice President of the ABC Phone Scam Company. I'm suitably impressed - NOT!

"There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding," he says. "No," I reply, "There's no misunderstanding at all. If you want me to play, I have explained the conditions under which I will participate. If you don't like them, we have nothing to discuss. Have a nice day."

"But wait," he says, trying desperately to explain. I'm laughing at him going over and over the same rules like I'm some kind of simpleton who just doesn't understand.

I can't make up my mind if they were all just passing me around the scam shop because my response was a first for them and they were getting a charge out of trying to challenge my logic - or did they really think they'd caught a live one who needed some convincing. To this day I'm still not sure, but I never got the check. Hey it was a way to pass a half hour. What can I say? I'm easily amused.

2002-02-09T12:45:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it." -- Mahatma Gandhi

A friend of mine once told me that I should write my autobiography or memoirs. This was after we spent the evening exchanging tidbits of our lives. I laughed and said, "Who would be interested?"

"You'd be surprised," she answered and reminded me of the popularity of such collections of life stories such as "I Remember Mama," "Life with Father" and Garrison Keillor's "Lake Woebeggon" tales.

Somehow, despite her assurances that my stories were funny and entertaining, I didn't see myself in that category. I kept remembering someone else who used to groan each time I'd say, "That reminds me of a story ..." I got the distinct impression that she was less than enthusiastic about my storytelling abilities.

Still I have thought about it from time to time, collecting my favorite tales and putting them in one place. Perhaps my family might want to read them someday ... they are for the most part family stories, after all. Even thought about a title. I'd call it "Life in the Slow Lane," or more likely, "Life in the Wrong Lane," since it seems I have a knack for not being in the right place at the right time. I definitely have a knack for being in the wrong lane, that's for sure. Whenever there is a choice of lanes/lines, whether they be traffic, check out, ticket information, etc., I invariably chose the one that will take the longest. It's a gift, I know. So it seems an appropriate title.

Anyway, I thought that perhaps here in my web log would be a good place to try some out. If I start getting e-mails that say, "enough with the stories" I'll stop. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Story Number 1 - I once got hit by a car.

When I was a senior in high school, I got hit by a car while crossing a street. But to fully understand the whole story, I must go back a ways for it is quite significant that I got hit on the day of the gym show.

I went to a Catholic high school, Immaculate Heart Academy, to be precise. Now if you also went to Catholic school, you will know that there is always some sort of fundraising activity going on. IHA was no different.

We had a gymnasium, but no gym equipment to speak of beyond a few basketball hoops, so at this particular time in my academic life, we were holding a fundraiser to raise money to purchase gym equipment. Our teachers had put their heads together and came up with this brilliant idea to hold a Gym Show. All of the gym classes would participate in different gym-type activities and our parents and relatives would come to watch their little darlings shine. Ugh - can you think of anything more boring?

My gym teacher decided that our class would do precision marching. Oh fun! She also decided that we would wear our gym suits while doing so. I had a problem with this ... actually I had several problems, but my main one had to do with my gym suit - a lovely faded blue, one piece number with bloomer pants under shorts. I was a senior, and so I'd had it for awhile. I wasn't about to get a new one 3 months before the end of school, but mine was very sad. I had worn out the seat - probably from sitting on the bench too long. Did I say, I'm not very athletic?

To get it to last until the end of term, I had put a rather large iron on patch on it. Looked mahvelous! Who cared? Not my classmates, but I wasn't about to be seen in public in that outfit. I have some pride, you know.

I also had one sneaker in my size 7 and one that was about an 11 with an old sock stuffed in the toe. Why you ask? Because I'd lost one of mine about two weeks before and there was only one sneaker in lost and found - the size 11. Can you say, "clown foot?"

I did not want to be in the gym show. No one wanted to be in the gym show. The excuses were pouring in. My gym teacher sat us all down and read us the riot act. She didn't care what excuse you had, unless there was death or serious bodily injury involved, if you didn't participate in the gym show, you would fail gym and have to go to summer school. Oh joy, just what we all wanted to spend our post-graduation days doing - attending summer school because we failed gym.

All during the bus ride home, I was trying to think what I could do about the bottomless gym suit and mismatched sneakers. Would she accept me marching with a bag over my head so no one would know who I was? These thoughts were with me as we got off the school bus at our usual stop.

The intersection was a main one in the town I grew up in. Two main streets with the junior high school on one corner.

We needed to cross to the diagonal corner to get to the candy store where we always stopped for a soda or snack before walking home. We being the six or seven of us who got the bus at the same stop. Sometimes my father would pick us up there, then we would get to ride home. This day, we were hoping for a ride because it was raining.

Because the junior high school is on the corner, this intersection was different from most. The lights went red for all four streets entering the intersection so that pedestrians could cross diagonally across the street. The cross walks were even marked that way.

The light changed and we started across. I was on the far right of the group. One of my friends suddenly shouted, "Watch out!" I stopped and turned to see what she was shouting at. Good thing too, or I would have stepped right in front of the car that jumped the light. Instead it hit me a glancing blow with the front right bumper.

Books flying everywhere, I landed flat on my butt in a puddle. Oh the indignity!

My friends rushed over. "Are you all right?" they asked anxiously. I answered with the first thought that popped into my head. "I don't have to be in the gym show!" I exclaimed. "She must have hit her head," I heard them whisper. "No," I insisted. "This is great! I don't have to be in the gym show!"

Cops gathered me up and put me in their car. I guess either they didn't know what they were doing, or they could tell I wasn't seriously hurt, because they asked where I wanted to go. "Home, I guess," I responded. What did I know. I don't get hit by cars every day. I didn't know the drill. I was in this bizarre kind of out of the body fog. Besides thinking about not being in the gym show, I recall thinking, "I just got hit by a car." And being the rational robot in an emergency, person I usually am, I also recall asking about witnesses.

The cops asked for my address, which I gave them and we headed off - without the sirens to my great disappointment. Hey, I got hit by a car. Don't I at least rate a few sirens.

Unbeknownst to me, my friends had called my mother. As we were driving up the road, I saw her in our neighbor's car heading toward the scene of the crime. "Hey that's my Mom," I told the cops. The cops did a u-ey, but so did our neighbor. Now we were each going in the opposite direction again. They don't write scenes better than this for the movies. Finally the cops and our neighbor found a place to stop and my mother joined me in the cop car. We took off for the emergency room finally. Hey - I could have been dying back there for all they knew.

After a few hours of fooling around in the emergency room - I got to ride in a wheel chair at least. I learned I had contusions, abrasions and lacerations - sounds so much better than cuts scrapes and bruises - and strained ligaments in my knee.

We never heard from the person who hit me from Friday night until Monday night. She never called to see if I was alive or dead. My father went down to get the accident report and despite the fact that all my friends and an independent witness told them the woman drove through the light, the police had the accident down as my fault. A woman jumps a four way stop to hit a student who has just gotten off a big yellow school bus, but it's the student's fault. I don't get it.

When the woman finally called Monday night, she asked for the name of my father's insurance company. Needless to say, my father was puzzled. His car was nowhere near the scene. Why would she require our insurance information? He asked. "Because I have damages to my car!" the woman answered indignantly. She hits a pedestrian in a crosswalk, but she expects to collect for damages to her car. Boggles my mind what goes through other people's minds. I didn't even break a leg - what could she have anyway, a few scuff marks? And if she stopped at the light like she was supposed to, she wouldn't have any damages at all. Duh!

The addendum to all this is that my gym teacher said, "Leave it to you to go to extremes to get out of the gym show." The police wouldn't change the report. We settled out of court for the price of the doctor's bills and a color TV set.

Other people get millions because they were stupid enough to drive with a hot cup of coffee wedged between their thighs. I get a TV set for getting hit by a car in a crosswalk while minding my own business. Like I said - life in the wrong lane. But I did get out of the gym show.

2002-02-07T07:52:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "The supreme accomplishment is to blur the line between work and play." - Arnold Toynbee

I'm baaaaack! No, not from the dead, but from the seriously bitten by the latest bug to be going around. Ugh! Did ya miss me? <g>

This whatever it is bug has been circulating around where I work. It's terrible. Everyone has caught it. They need to close the whole place for a week and fumigate or something. Yesterday, I was talking to a co-worker, who's about a day behind me in the recovery department, and he said he went to the doctor. Nodding the whole time, the doctor listened to his list of symptoms - scratchy cough, aches and pains, bad headache (the worst!), horrible metallic taste in his mouth, loss of appetite - then confirmed, "Something going around." He'd obviously heard that same list of symptoms far too many times, so I guess it not just a Winebow company thing. If you're sick and you have those symptoms, you've got it. Welcome to the club, we miserable ones do love our company. Ibuprofen anyone?

At least my cats were happy. They had a warm body to lay on for three solid days and nights. Of course they had to move when I shifted position. They weren't happy about that, but I don't think they were looking this particular gift horse in the mouth.

I'm looking for a ray of sunshine here ... the one good thing about this is a total loss of appetite. I want to eat. I made chicken soup. I made noodles with butter. Two spoonfuls and that's it. I'm done. The only thing I've been able to manage is rice pudding. I had a craving for it and figured, what the heck, I'm not eating anything else. Even had to force that down, but it didn't take as much effort. Now you know I'm sick, if I have to force down rice pudding. I just love rice pudding. Maybe I'll lose some weight if my appetite stays away a bit longer.

I've been trying to get caught up with some of my Blog reading, so far the only two I've managed are Meryl Yourish and Burningbird. The above quote is a hat tip to BB for her essay on fun. It's great - check it out! I loved the bit about the red Doberman - really cute!

Seems many bloggers are talking about fun these days - that and TubCat (I'm not going to go there! Poor kitty). Some years ago someone asked me what I like to do for fun. I told her that I consider anything that's not work -fun. I further explained that my definition of work is anything I don't want to do. So from that you can conclude that - in my world, anyway - work = what I don't want to do and fun = anything I do want to do.

I've always held, however that work and fun are not mutually exclusive. In fact throwing in a little fun with an unpleasant chore can make it seem a lot less unpleasant. I like my current job. In fact, I love what I'm doing. I'm a web designer for the aforementioned Winebow. It's always fun. But the people I work with make it even more fun. They're a great bunch and we all get along for the most part. Someone is always teasing and the teasee takes it in stride. Someone always has a joke to pass around. Someone will invariably do something silly. I think that's the key. We all seem to have a large silly quotient and we're not embarrassed to display it.

I think far too many adults feel it's no longer okay for them to be silly. They suppress their natural silliness and that's not healthy. I say we need a National Silliness Day. Perhaps instead of having April Fools Day be a day that you make someone else a fool, lets proclaim this April Fools Day - be a fool yourself day. Go ahead let your hair down. Set your inner child free and do something silly. Don't wait for April Fools Day - do it today!

2002-02-03T11:32:00.000-05:00

Quote du Jour: ""Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It's already tomorrow in Australia." - Charles Schulz

I'm sick, and I hate being sick. I have too many things to do to be nursing a cold or whatever this bug is I've got. It's been going around work, but in the other part of the building from where I work. I've been carefully avoiding going to that part of the building. I've been taking Echinacea and vitamin C. I've been resisting it since before Christmas, but it's finally caught up with me.

I had an annoying tickle type cough all day Friday, and by the time I went to bed, it was your garden variety full blown cough. Yesterday I woke up with a stuffed nose, aches and pains, and of course the cough. I know that's more information than you wished I'd shared with you, but at least you can't catch my cold from reading my Blog. Did I say, I hate being sick?

I'm just going to do a genuine ramble here, but after all that's what it says in the header isn't it? I saw that BurningBird mentioned my Blog in her Blog. And gave me a link! Thanks for the Blogpliments! We love Blogpliments! ::Taking a bow::

I love this whole Blog culture. It reminds me of the olden days - way back in 1995 <g> when I first had access to the web. I've had internet access through Prodigy since 1988, migrated over to Genie along with my online friends, then I had AOL for awhile. I got it for free because, I was working with one of their content providers - On Computers radio. At the time AOL didn't provide web space - not much of a browser either, so I signed on with a local ISP and built a home on the web.

One of the things I really enjoyed about surfing the web in the good old days <g> before the commercial sites seemed to take over, was all the personal sites people put up. They weren't slick. They often had ugly backgrounds (my own site included ::shudder::). And often the content was nothing more than links to other sites. But we were pioneers. Moonwalkers in cyberspace. Voyagers on a strange journey.

We came together and formed communities much like the Bloggers are doing today. We communicated. We exchanged ideas and we learned more about other cultures than we could ever learn in a life time off line. Bloggers are renewing that sense of community and I rejoice in it. Bloggers of the World Unite! (have to check Blogstickers and see if that's been taken)

Hey if you are seriously into Googlewhacking - check this out. It's a neat little form called Auto-Whack that checks to see if the word is in the dictionary before sending it to Google. You also get a score if you get a googlewhack ... With a Nick Nack Googlewhack give a dog a bone, this old man came rolling home (see web site for an explanation of why I'm singing this song <g> -- Still googlewhack-impaired in NJ.

2002-02-01T07:52:00.000-05:00

Quote du Jour: "Everything in moderation; nothing in excess." - ???

I don't know who authored the above quote. I looked in Bartletts, but I couldn't find it. If you know, tell me. If not - I'm claiming it.

It pretty much sums up my philosophy and outlook on life. Excesses - particularly fanaticism of any kind - really bother me. I can't really understand the mind set that takes people that far into any belief or activity.

A few years ago I got myself involved in Highlander fandom. I watched the TV series, and liked it very much. I came into it in the second season, so I went searching through the internet to find out what had happened in the first season.

During my search, I joined a discussion list. Through the list I made friends - as will happen when you participate in a list discussion. When several of those friends persuaded me to go to Syndicon '97 - a Highlander/Forever Knight convention, I went to meet them. But I went with great trepidation.

I had seen film clips taken at Star Trek conventions, and I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the weekend with a bunch of people who had a very loose grip on reality.

Now, don't get me wrong. It's okay, even recommended, to take a short trip to Fantasy Land on occasion, but you need to remember where reality is, so you can come back home when you're through.

To make matters worse, at a Highlander convention, these people are all carrying swords! Lord only knows what happens at Buffy tVS cons. I can guess, though, because Forever Knight was a show about vampires, and so there were a number of people running around Syndicon wearing fangs. It was the ones with the fangs ... and the swords that really worried me.

You can tell, as you observe these people, which ones are just having fun and which ones have gone over the edge. There were a few too many over the edge for my comfort zone.

I'm a people watcher so I did a lot of observing that weekend. I listened to people who really believed that they had some kind of psychic connection with the actors or the characters - then I took a few steps back from them. I just found it difficult to do the proverbial, "walk a mile in my shoes," with those people. I didn't even want to share airspace with them. What if it's catching?

There are all kinds of fanatics out there. Health nuts. Religious fanatics. Sports fans. There are sports fans and then there are sports fans of the in-your-face variety. You know the kind. The ones with their faces painted in team colors. I read about a Denver Broncos fan who painted his house blue and orange! Glad I'm not his neighbor.

Health nuts will gaze at your Boston Creme donut and coffee with disdain. They will tell you ad nauseum how bad all that caffeine, processed flour and refined sugar are for you. The avid diet folks will ramble on about calories or Weight Watcher points. Get away from me. If I want my donut, I'm going to eat my donut. Don't you people ever eat a snack? Do you know what you're missing

My diet does not consist of mainly donuts - so get out of my face. I strive for balance. For every donut I eat, I have some veggies or a banana. If I eat a salad with balsamic vinegar and a little olive oil, I get to eat a cookie. Balance - that's what it's all about - balance.

Life should have balance. One third mental food, one third physical food and one third spiritual food. One half fun. One half work. Some sunshine. Some rain. A little snow. Pleasure and pain - because pain makes the pleasure half again as pleasurable. Despair is necessary so that we can appreciate the joy.

All in all, life's too short to skip dessert. Go ahead, eat the dessert. Just make sure you eat your veggies as well.

Oops ... almost forgot. I wanted to mention that I'm Googlewhack impaired. The best I can do is two entries. It's really bizarre the weird combinations of words people will mention on a web page. I think we need a reverse Googlewhack category. To get a reverse Googlewhack (that's 3 mentions of the word Googlewhack <g>) you have to put in two really weird words and see how many hits you get instead of how few hits come up. How many people have the kind of minds that will combine these two words ... inquiring minds want to know. Can you reverse Googlewhack? I'm issuing a challenge.

2002-01-31T20:50:00.000-05:00

Quote du Jour: "There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do." - Anais Nin

I like doing the Blog thing in the morning because for some odd reason I'm more creative in the morning. I say odd because I'm not really a morning person. I get up at 5:00 am and sort of veg out here at my computer until 8:00. It takes me that long to wake up. If I got up at 7:30 or 8:00, I wouldn't wake up until it was time for lunch.

This morning I spent too much time vegging, so I didn't get a chance to write anything. So here it is 8:12 pm EST and I'm finally writing.

I seem to do my best thinking while I'm in the car driving to work which is very frustrating because I can't stop to write anything down and I usually forget the most brilliant of these thoughts once I get to work. They were brilliant, weren't they. I didn't just imagine that? Nah!

I bought one of those little tape recorders awhile back, but that's as bad as trying to use a cell phone while driving. Doesn't work very well - especially if you're like me and can't walk and chew gum at the same time without biting your tongue or tripping over your own feet.

I used to take a highway route to work - Route 4 east to Route 17 north if any of you are familiar with the area - but they've been doing construction where 4 and 208 meet and it's been a nightmare. I had found a back way during the reconstruction of the 4 and 17 interchange last year, but I only used it to come home at night. In the mornings I'm usually operating on auto-pilot, and changing the route seemed to be too much of a challenge. Now I like a good challenge, mind you, but not in the mornings. I can't concentrate on driving and creativity at the same time. Usually, it's the driving that loses.

So now I take this back route and I'm finding it far superior. It's relaxing. There's no one driving so close they can honk my horn for me. There's no one (well, almost no one) cutting me off. There's no trucks. No buses. No fender-benders to tie up traffic. It's wonderful.

Yesterday, I saw a cardinal sitting in a bush. There are often ducks swimming in the brook that runs along the road at one point. One street is very narrow and lined with big old Victorian houses. Tall trees create make a canopy over head. Bare branches trace black patterns over the sky right now, but I know that soon they will provide a bright green bower.

As I drive along, I wonder about the people who live in the houses. I wonder why they've chosen this color paint, or that kind of trim. I wonder why the owners of the very large home at the corner of Spring and Irving have chosen to build a whole other house at the back end of their existing house. Why do they need all that room? I'm disappointed that the new owners of the grey house with the purple door painted it black. Now the house is just another house, while before it made a statement. Guess they didn't like what it said.

I wonder if the people who live by the brook like living near the water enough to put up with the occasional flood. I watch the people jogging or walking their dogs and wonder which house belongs to them. And by the time I get to work, I'm in a much better frame of mind than I would be if I joined the throng of cars jostling for space on the too-crowded highway. Once they finish the construction, I don't think I'll be changing my route. It's become too much of a stop and smell the roses kind of thing

2002-01-30T15:25:00.000-05:00

Quote of the DayHousework is a treadmill from futility to oblivion with stop offs at tedium and counter productivity. -- Erma Bombeck

I always have lots to say, but today I don't have time enough to say it. Busy, Busy. So I'll just post a few hit and run items.

I got my first Blogpliment today via NJ Meryl. ::Blush:: Thanks!

As I've mentioned before, I collect quotes. Yesterday I found a really great source for them. The ONFOCUS site is verra nice as well.

I also really like the design of this site --> Mark Howells Online. He has some good CSS tips - check 'em out!

Quick Meal Tip: Ronzoni tomato basil linguine topped with Knorr pesto sauce and grated cheese (I prefer Romano). Takes about 15 minutes. Yum!

2002-01-29T07:36:00.000-05:00

Quote of the Day: "Cats aren't clean, they're just covered with cat spit." - Anonymous

I'm still tinkering with the design and code of this template I made. I just doesn't say "me," yet. Bear with me, please - it's a work in progress. I want to include a comments pop-up, but I haven't quite figured out how to do it. I know there's a hard way, but I'm hoping to find an easy way. I'm hoping to win the lottery too - we'll see which comes first. Which reminds me of something my mother always said, "Spit in one hand and wish in the other and see which you get first." Well she didn't say "spit," but she didn't say say the other four letter word that has three of the same letters either. She hated that word, so I won't say it here either, just in case she's sitting on my shoulder reading as I write this.

In case you hadn't noticed, I put a "Soul" button at the bottom of my BlogRoll. Don't be afraid to click it. It's kind of a neat little pop-up window that will take you to some really great personal sites. I agree with them that personal sites are indeed the Soul of the Web

Thanks to Martin from The Evolt Chat List I found this note on Google this morning. Very cool, Google people. BTW - they're hiring if you live or want to live in the San Francisco Bay area.

I started to write about my Self-Reclamation project the other day, but Blogger didn't want me adding what I wrote to the previous post. I had places to go; people to see, so I didn't have time to wrestle with it. I shall continue today.

I finally got to pick up my treadmill from Sears on Saturday. It's key element in my Self-Reclamation Project. This is half health-consciousness and half weight loss effort, and I really need it.

I used to be thinner. I also used to be healthier because I used to exercise a lot, but then I got involved with the internet and the web <g> - and then my health club went out of business. Now I'm a mess.

I also used to be one of those annoying people who could eat like a pig and never gain an ounce. I guess it's payback time. Big time.

When I was a kid I was skinny - all arms and legs. Mostly because I wasn't interested in food. I was one of those picky eaters. Long about high school, I decided that food was a good thing, but I was still skinny. I could drop 10 pounds during a 3 day cold (stuffy noses = loss of appetite). I hated it. Clothes looked better on the hangers than they did on me.

As I got older, I could still lose any weight that I did gain without much effort. But I guess now I'm at that age (I'm not telling - you have to guess) where the metabolism starts slowing down. They tell me it does that. There's research to prove it, so it's not just an excuse <g>. For whatever the reason, as each year passes I keep adding more and more inches to my waistline, kind of like a tree adds rings. I really think they need some serious medical research into this problem. Why does metabolism slow down? Makes no sense to me.

To combat this, I've been reading up on metabolism and I've learned that there are foods that will nudge your metabolism up a bit - namely fruit and veggies. An enzyme complex like Enzymatic Therapy's Mega-zyme will help too. So they tell me. We'll see. I do seem to have more energy.

So I've been eating more fruits and veggies by making a daily trip to Whole Foods Market. They have the best salad bar with all kinds of goodies - not just your ordinary salad fixings. They also have a phenomenal bakery - but that's kind of counterproductive if you also want to lose weight.

I also know that if you exercise it increases your metabolism - especially if you work with weights, because muscle burns calories at a higher rate. So that brings me full circle back to the treadmill. I hope to increase my stamina and aerobic health with all the energy I've been getting from the fruits, veggies and enzymes. If this self-authored program works, I'll put some tips here and in the Kitchen of my Victorian house - once I finish the renovations, that is. On the web house - not me <g>.

You should know that I'm not getting fanatical about this. I'm not on my way to becoming a "health nut." I'm just not the fanatical type. Fanatical types kind of scare me, if you want to know the truth, but more on that some other day, or I'll never get this posted.

2002-01-28T07:27:00.000-05:00

Today's Quote: "Don't take life too seriously. You'll never get out of it alive." - Elbert Hubbard

Kurmudgeon's Korner^tm
They don't make store clerks like they used to. Grocery store clerks seem - to me anyway - to be the worst. Doesn't anyone outside of the high priced stores like Nordstrom's practice customer service anymore?

I used to do all my grocery shopping in the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite. I think everyone in Bergen county shops there. I've met people in there that I haven't seen in years. People who don't necessarily live that close to Rochelle Park. People who have grocery stores in their own towns. Yet they all come to the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite. I have a theory that if you stand in front of the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite long enough, you will meet everyone you know. Even if they live in Australia or Timbuktu.

Did I mention that I hate grocery shopping? I do. The RP SR used to make grocery shopping a bit more tolerable. They kept it fairly well-stocked. They had all the brands I wanted in the sizes I wanted. The meat department was pretty good and the prices were reasonable. Lately, I've been leaving there muttering under my breath about one thing or another. This is not a good sign.

A couple of months ago it got harder to find a paper bag in that store. The clerks didn't ask, "Paper or plastic?" anymore. They just dumped everything into those flimsy plastic bags without even hesitating long enough for a customer to say, "I want paper, please."

I hate those plastic bags almost as much as I hate grocery shopping. You need twice as many. They are not as recyclable as paper bags. And when you put them in the trunk of your car the contents spill all over the place. I want paper bags - preferably the old thick double bag kind, not these thin puny bags they give you now. I'll take them stuffed inside the plastic bags, if I must, but I really wish the stores would go back to giving us real bags.

So as I said, they're getting scarce. I usually pack my own groceries because that's another thing they don't do right anymore. They throw a pound of ground beef in the bottom, then throw a few cans on top so it gets all squashed down and the plastic wrapping breaks. Hey it's already ground. What's the big deal? Or they'll put a super gigantic size bottle of detergent in with 3 liters of seltzer. Arnold Schwarzennegger couldn't lift that bag! Or a 6 pack of toilet paper and nothing else. I'll pack my own groceries, thank you very much - but I digress. I was talking about the bags.

If there aren't any paper bags at the end of the check-out counter, I look at the counters on both sides first, then if I don't see any there, I ask for them. A few months ago, I did just that. The clerk rolled her eyes. "I don't have any," she says. "Can you get some, please?" I ask. "I prefer paper. Perhaps one of the other cashiers has some." But that would be too logical, wouldn't it. To ask one of your co-workers if they have extra.

"They don't have any either," she replies, throwing my groceries into yellow plastic bags. "Well, can you get the manager, please," I ask. "I don't want all my groceries in plastic bags."

She continues to throw my groceries into the plastic bags. "I think he's over in the produce aisle," she says, waving her hand in that direction. My mind is boggled. I, the customer, have to go find the manager in the produce aisle - which means I have to go out of the store, then back in because it's the only way to get there at this point - and ask for bags - which are supposed to be here in the first place - and then what am I supposed to do? (does that sentence win an award for the ramblingest sentence ever?) Am I supposed to repack my groceries right there in produce? I think not.

I tell the cashier, "No, you can get the manager." - I'm all out of pleases now, and what do they have those flashing lights for if not to call the manager. In the mean time, I'm warning people trying to get on line behind me, that they probably want to rethink their choice of check-out.

With heavy sigh and a harrumph (people really do harrumph - I've heard them. It's not just something you read in books) - the clerk signals the manager that she has a problem. Moi? He comes over. "What's the problem?" he asks gruffly. "There are no paper bags," I say. Are you no longer providing them?" ( I really suspect that the stores would like to do exactly that to cut down costs)

"Go get some paper bags," he tells a stock clerk. "Are you happy now?" he asks me in a sarcastic tone. No actually, I'm not. Due to this incident and a few others - like having no Friskies cat food (my cats' preferred brand) because "it just went off sale" (This is an excuse?) - I'm doing a lot less grocery shopping in the Rochelle Park Shop-Rite. I've begun to take much of my food-shopping business up to Whole Foods Market in Ridgewood. Like Nordstroms, this is a high end kind of store, but they have quality products to match the higher prices. They go out of their way to help you and they always ask, "Paper or Plastic?"

The cashiers there still hand you the receipt and the paper money first, then put the coins on top of it which makes it very difficult to put in your wallet without spilling the coins all over the place. But at least they hand it to you nicely, and with a smile, instead of just throwing it in the general direction of your hand while they chat with the cashier at the next check out.

2002-01-27T12:20:00.000-05:00

Today's Quote: "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword." - George Bulwer-Lytton

I started to write a long rambling account of my relationship with my mother including bits and pieces of her life, but it got too long and too rambling, so instead I'll just tell you about Marge's Mighty Sword. George Bulwer-Lytton wrote, "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword." My mother took those words to heart. She was always writing letters. Mostly she wrote to friends and relatives - chatty little letters brimming with tidbits of news and daily events. But every now and then she would ply her pen to more militant issues. She wrote to manufacturers to express dissatisfaction when one of their products did not meet her expectations. Occasionally she would write to tell them how pleased she was with their products as well. This often resulted in coupons, free samples and replacement products. She wrote to senators and congressional representatives to share her thoughts on various topics, and she sometimes wrote letters to the editors of newspapers, but she preferred to correspond with individuals rather than the mass media. Once she heard the owners of a no-kill animal shelter on a radio talk show. They were there to solicit support for their cause - money to keep the shelter going. She sent them a few dollars, but felt she had to do more. The thought occurred to her that while she didn't have a lot of money to send them, she did have an abundance of time ... and her trusty pen. She recalled reading about several celebrities who were associated with various animal rights groups. Thinking that perhaps, they would be willing to support the local shelter's efforts, she wrote her letters. She sent letters to Doris Day, Cleveland Amery, Betty White and a few others. She did her part, but she didn't really expect much in the way of results. To her great surprise, Betty White responded. She sent the shelter a very generous donation, and she answered my mother's letter. To my mother's even greater surprise, the shelter folks told the radio station, who in turn called my mother for an interview. Not to be out done, the local paper called as well. My mother was suddenly in the spotlight. Her fifteen minutes of fame had come at last! Margie's mighty pen was most effective, however, when she wielded it in the name of a campaign. When fired with a just cause, she was relentless. In her finest hour, she took on the US Postal Service. In 1990, having finally abandoned South Venice, Florida as a retirement location - too hot and crowded in the summer, too cold in the winter and too far from loved ones - my parents moved to Emmetsburg, MD. My sister lives near Gettysburg, PA, so the move to Emmetsburg allowed my parents to be near their grandchildren once again. They found an apartment building just outside the main street area of town and settled in. After a few days, they noticed that they hadn't gotten any mail. One of them went down to the row of mailboxes at the driveway entrance to the building every day to check, but no letters graced their box. No bills. No Modern Maturity magazine. No junk mail. Nothing. Finding this rather odd, my mother mentioned it to one of her new neighbors. "Oh, you don't get your mail here," said the neighbor. "You have to go down to the post office to pick it up." Pick it up? My mother couldn't believe what she was hearing. In the course of her 70+ years, the post office had always reliably delivered her mail. "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." that was their motto, right? She and my father got in the car and drove to the post office. "Yes, indeed," the postal clerk confirmed. "You have to come to the post office and pick up your mail. We don't deliver in town." "But the mail truck goes right past our building every day," my mother replied. "Yes, ma'am, but that's the rural delivery truck," the clerk explained. "He doesn't deliver in town." He went on to explain that they could come in during the post office hours and pick up their mail, but if they wanted to pick it up when the post office was closed, they would have to pay for a postal box. My mother found this completely absurd. "Do the people who mail me a letter get a discount on the stamps because you don't deliver." The clerk looked puzzled. Apparently no one had ever asked this question before. "No, ma'am," he said. "Well they're not getting the same service, because their letters are not getting delivered to me. I have to do the rest of the job, so there should be some compensation," my mother explained her reasoning. This logic was beyond the clerk's comprehension. He just told her that's the way it was. Welcome to life in rural Maryland. Undaunted, my mother asked to speak to the postmaster. They had a similar conversation with the same results. "Why can't the rural delivery truck just drop off our mail on his way?" my mother asked. "He passes right by us." "You're not within the rural delivery zone," he explained. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." Well, not for my mother. She went home and dashed off letters to her Congressional Representative, her Senator, the Postmaster General and the President of the United States. She got a form letter in return from the President, but her Congressional Representative and the post master general Postmaster General wrote back. The Congressional Rep said he would look into it, and the Postmaster General told her pretty much what the postal clerk and postmaster said - those are the rules, lady. There followed an exchange of letters among my mother, the Postmaster General, an the Congressional Representative which resulted in little progress. My mother took to including the local newspaper editor and the Mayor of Emmetsburg in her correspondence. She also began circulating a petition. Were the residents of Emmetsburg, MD second class citizens? Were they not entitled to a simple service such as delivery of mail to their very own mailboxes? This went on for several months, but finally my mother began to win her battle. The Postmaster General agreed to have the mail delivered as long as certain conditions were met. The main condition being that the mail boxes at my parent's apartment building had to meet the Post Office's strict criteria. I didn't even know the PO had strict criteria. The things you learn. My mother met with her landlord, who was willing to cooperate. He set out to make the mailboxes Post Office compliant, but they ran into another roadblock. In order to bring the mailboxes up to code, he needed a building permit and variance of some sort. So it was on to the zoning board. More letters, more paperwork. But finally my mother prevailed. In November of 1991, the post office began delivering mail to my parent's apartment building. Unfortunately, she didn't have long to bask in her success. She died in January of 1992. In loving memory of Margaret Dawson 1916-1992

2002-01-26T15:20:00.000-05:00

"Life is what happens when you are making other plans." - John Lennon (1940-1980)

I've been looking around at what other people have done with their Blogs - the sheer variety is amazing - and I'm starting to form a more solid idea about what mine will be like. If any of you are old enough to remember the original Mickey Mouse Club, you will probably remember that Wednesday was "Anything Can Happen Day." That's what my Blog is going to be, except every day will be "Anything Can Happen Day." You'll never know what you might find here, because I don't know what you will find here! You will find a daily quote, because I like quotes. You will probably find the Kurmudgeon's Korner^tm on Monday's. And you will most likely find stuff about cats, books, ice hockey, house plans, trees, and water from time to time. You will also see some changes in the style as I get more comfortable with CSS layout. I've been doing fonts and colors and the other basic stuff for some time, but I'm really jumping into the more advanced layout features. I'm also not quite happy with the design, so I'll be changing that as well. If you're reading this in an old browser (Netscape 4.7 or less, or older versions of Internet Explorer -5) it's not going to look pretty, but you should still be able to read it - I hope! So that's all for today. Tomorrow is the 10th Anniversary of my mother's death, so I'll be telling you a bit about her as a tribute.

2002-01-25T08:03:00.000-05:00

Today's quote: "If you obey all of the rules, you miss all of the fun." -Katherine Hepburn

As I said yesterday, there are so many things I want to write here, but I keep letting them rattle around in my head and I never seem to get them written down. My thoughts beg to be let out of my brain, but I keep them penned up. Could be like Pandora's box, you know. Once they are out here, I'll never get them back. Some of the things I've been thinking about lately belong in the Kurmudgeon's Korner^tm (<g> - if it hasn't been claimed, I'm claiming it), but I've decided to only do that on Mondays. It seems appropriate. Probably the reason I've been feeling kurmudgeonly^tm, is because it's January. February and March are usually the worst, but because it's January, means February and March can't be far behind. I hate this time of year. It's just so grey (my preferred spelling - seems greyer than "gray"). It's not just the fact that it gets dark early (even though at this time of year it's already starting to stay light longer). Nor is it the fact that it takes longer in the mornings to get light. It's the greyness of the days that get to me. The sky in winter is so often that dull steel color with no blue in sight. Without the brightness of the sun everything else just looks grey as well. It can get depressing. I like the sun. The sun is my friend <g>. I feel so much more energized when the sun is shining. The colors are rich and vibrant and I love the way the light filters through the trees and sparkles on the water. I can't wait for spring. I'm not sure what got me off on that. I suppose it was because it rained all day yesterday, and as I look out my window this morning the sky is grey once again. It seems to be clearing though, so perhaps we'll see some sun today. On to other things ...

I love floor plans. I know it's weird, but I collect them. I have a whole shelf full of plan books and a scrap book full of ones I've snipped or copied. I was thrilled to find that the This Old House program has the plans of their latest project online. This is a great house with a great view. I want it. <g> When I found this, I decided to see if HomeTime had plans for their House with Character - and they do! Yay - two great house plans to add to my collection. I don't know why I have this fascination with house plans, but I've always had it. It's not so much the actual plans that keep me enthralled. It's imagining what the house would look like. If I was very, very rich, I'd have several houses in different styles. It would be sooo cool <g> I also love house tours and decorators show cases, because then I get to see inside the houses as well. My favorite house tour is the one the Eastside Neighborhood Association in Paterson, NJ. If you're like me, and you wonder what some of these fantastic houses look like inside, this tour is a house voyeur's dream. <g> I drive through Ridgewood, Ho Ho Kus (yes, this is a real town in NJ) and Glen Rock on my way to work, and I have this urge (don't start that Herbal commercial - please!) to knock on some doors and ask if I can tour their house. Somehow I don't think the homeowners would find this amusing. I keep thinking I should get a job with House and Garden or Architectural Digest, then I would have an excuse. Perhaps I missed my calling. So if you're reading this and you live in a fabulous Victorian, Tudor-revival, shingle-style or other really interesting home and you don't mind giving a stranger a tour - drop me a line Was this too weird <g>?

2002-01-24T07:26:00.000-05:00

I keep writing stuff in my head for this, but I never seem to get the thoughts transferred to pixels. Today's the day. I've been busy looking around for more Blogs and other neat home page links to put here. As I've been doing this, I've discovered all sorts of verra cool stuff <g> For instance, this little "Stortrooper" that I made on the Stor site. These little characters seem to be popping up on personal sites all over the web. Visit their site and make one for yourself! Too cute! Speaking of cute - check this out if you like cats and kittens. It's a kitten generator. It's one of those things like the potato chip commercial - bet you can't do just one! As I said, I've been wandering around checking out some personal sites, and I marvel at the design ability and creativity some people possess. If you visit the Independents Day (see logo - bottom right column) site, you can find out more about why people make a personal site or keep a Blog. The Independents Day mission is to celebrate "independent content and design from Toledo to Timbuktu." I agree wholeheartedly with them. As someone who has been wandering the web almost from the start (long about April of 1995 - and using the internet since '88), I have always thought that the people to people connection was the true wonder of the web. Yes, I shop online, and I read the news at all the big sites. I check TV programming, the weather and sports scores at the major providers of such information, but I truly marvel at the number of people who have put themselves and their lives on line. There is such a huge amount of sharing going on, it amazes me and restores my faith in human nature. The sheer number of sites offering tutorials and advice on any subject is astounding. You can find free graphics for your web site or wallpaper for your desktop. Search for kindred spirits and find hundreds, perhaps thousands of like-minded people in the far corners of the world. These are people you could never have met in the narrow circle of a normal life. And then the internet evolved from the scientific exchange medium that was its original purpose into the marvelous communication tool it is today. So here we are at the brink of world bonding. Long after the dust of the dot-com boom and bust has cleared, I'm sure there will still be commercial enterprises conducting business over the internet, but the real value of the web and its true heart and soul can be found by following the line of personal sites from link to link. Stop and say hello. Send an e-mail to the site owner. And possibly find a new friend.

2002-01-21T20:17:00.000-05:00

I keep intending to write stuff here, but I keep running out of time. Time and I do not get along at all - there's never enough of it. There's too much I have to do and too much I want to do and the two are always in conflict. I've been searching for some Blogs that click, that make a connection. There are a so many interesting ones, but I want to be selective. That takes time. I've been working on a web site for our local public access TV production company - Fair Lawn Creative Cable. The first amendment is in serious jeopardy here because the town council wants to control what gets aired. So that takes up time. Guess I should write an essay about time - Eh? And with that I've run out of time

2002-01-16T13:37:00.000-05:00

I think a lot about luck. Mostly because I don't seem to have any. Not just good luck - thankfully, I don't have much bad luck either. I guess you could say that I'm stuck in luck neutral. I look around and I see people who have spectacular luck - whether it be good or bad -and I wonder how that happens. How does it happen that someone is either in the right place at the right time ... or the wrong place at the wrong time? So many of the stories I read after 9/11 were about people who were not normally in the World Trade Center, but were there on that fateful day. And then there were the people who should have been there but weren't because some circumstance delayed them. A flat tire. A missed train. A lost job. And I wonder why. Many years ago there was a mid air collision between two planes over New York. My cousin was supposed to be on that plane. He had his ticket to return home from college, but he changed flights over the objections of his friends and family - even the ticket agent - so he could fly home a day earlier. Everyone told him to wait and take the morning flight the next day. He had an afternoon exam and would really have to rush to make the evening flight, but he was homesick and did not want to stay in Ohio one more night. Had he listened to everyone else, he would have been on that doomed flight. Afterward, we all asked him if he had some sort of premonition, but he said, "No." He just wanted to come home. Luck? Fate? Something else? Who knows. Who knows why someone buys one "Quick Pick" lottery ticket and wins 10 million dollars, while others buy tickets faithfully and never win more than a few bucks. Some people have even won prizes over a million more than once. How do they do that? So many actors, artists, writers labor in anonymity for years before they get a break, but some else gets a major movie on their first audition, or their first book is sold to the first editor who reads it, then becomes a best seller. Wrong place; wrong time. Right place; right time. I hear people talk about hard work paying off. Or they proclaim that you make your own luck. Perhaps this is true in some cases, but I don't think it's true in all cases. So what happens with luck? Why do some seem to have it in abundance - either good or bad - while others seem to have none? I've come to the conclusion that luck flows like the jet stream or water, leaving some people in a desert, while others flourish in verdant splendor. And others like me stranded somewhere in the middle. If you live in a desert, you can move to an area with more rainfall. If the jet stream brings you freezing temperatures and lake effect snow, you can move to Arizona or Florida. But what can you do to change your luck? Is luck, or lack of it, something we can change at all? I ponder this question as I head for the convenience store to buy yet another lottery ticket, but at the same time I look over my shoulder warily because I certainly don't want to trade my neutral luck for bad.

2002-01-13T10:58:00.000-05:00

I should have the temporary home page up at my web site shortly. It's almost done - just a few finishing touches. I'm renovating and redecorating it, finally, so these pages will be there until I'm done. There are links to my other sites and links to some of the content from Home of Cyber Kat - check it out, if you're so inclined.

Kurmudgeon's Korner

I was feeling rather curmudgeony yesterday, so I decided to set this up as a place to express my dissatisfaction with things in general. Every so often my pet peeves get tweaked and I go off on a rant. When you see the Kurmudgeon's Korner show up, you'll know there's a rant coming. I went to the stores to get a few things. The trip was mostly unsuccessful, which is probably why I was feeling grumpy. People were cutting me off all over the place - must have been National Cut-Off Day. I hate that. Why do people who have eons of time to pull out in front of you wait until you are right on top of them before they decide to do so? And they always do it when there is absolutely no one behind you. They could simply wait another minute for you to pass, then pull in behind you. Are they just naturally discourteous? Do they do it on purpose? Are they such poor judges of distance or do they just live in a permanent state of Oblivion? Inquiring minds want to know. Speaking of a permanent state of Oblivion ... What about those people in the supermarket who just plunk their cart in the middle of the aisle while they stand next to it and read the label on every can and jar. They block the whole aisle so no one can get through, and when you say "Excuse me," so you can pass, they look at you as though you were the one being rude. How dare you interrupt their shopping experience! Sheesh! And don't you love those people who ask if they can go ahead of you in line because "I'm in a hurry" - like you're not? I had a woman do that on a very long line for the ladies room in Macy's Herald Square store at Christmas time a few years ago. "Can I cut in front of you," she asked. "I really have to go." I said, "So do I or I wouldn't be waiting in this long line. And I'm quite sure that all these other women," - I waved a hand to indicate all the women on line behind me - "do as well." "I could just push in front of you," she said getting all huffy because I didn't acquiesce. "Then what would you do?" I looked her right in the eye and said, "I'll pee on your foot." The women behind me broke into spontaneous applause and laughter as the interloper stomped off to the back end of the line. My sister, who was with me at the time, has never forgotten the incident and she has probably told everyone south of Gettysburg, PA and north of Thurmont, MD.

2002-01-10T14:14:00.000-05:00

Okay - I finally got my Reflections on 911 coded and mounted, so you can read it if you are so inclined.

Its one of those defining moments, like when John F Kennedy was shot - you remember for the rest of your life what you were doing at the moment you heard. Thirty-eight years later, I can remember every detail of that day as though it happened yesterday. I can still see the art room, still hear the radio voice that was played over the PA system saying "Three shots were fired." I remember how quiet the halls were as we all walked to our next class in a state of shock and firmly in the grip of disbelief.

So much of that tragedy came rushing back to me as I stood watching smoke stream out of the gaping holes in the Twin Towers.

2002-01-07T13:32:00.000-05:00

Okay - I'm starting to get the hang of this now. As usual, I've taken on learning/doing too many things at once. I'm trying my hand at tableless web layout and learning all about doing weblogs and trying to do a massive redesign of my web site at the same time.

This morning I converted my September 11 recollections and reflections into a web page, which you will see here shortly. It's not really an essay, but an account of how things evloved for me that day.

Since it is snowing here in Northern, NJ, I'll post a link to "Reflections on Snow" which I wrote a few years ago.

2002-01-05T14:09:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am 3 days later and I'm still trying to get the hang of making this work with my template.

Guess it's going to have to wait a bit longer, because I'm running out of time today. But like everything else on the web it's going to be a work in progress.

Have to give credit where credit is due ... I couldn't have done this three column tableless layout without the help of Eric Costello's CSS tutorials - check it out!

2002-01-02T14:27:00.000-05:00

Well this is the first post to my new Blog. I've been thinking about setting one up for some time, but events since September 11 have prodded me into publish the series of essays running around in my head.

Stay tuned ...