The Oxymoron

A joke worthy of reprint.

Last year I replaced all the windows in my house with those expensive double-pane energy-efficient kind.

Yesterday, I got a call from the contractor who installed them. He was
complaining that the windows had been installed a whole year ago and I hadn't paid for them yet.

Now just because I'm blonde doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid. So I told him just exactly what his fast-talking sales guy had told ME last year ... namely, that in just ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves!

'Helllooooo,' I told him , 'It's been a year !!! '

There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up. He hasn't called back, probably too embarrassed about forgetting the guarantee they made. Bet he won't underestimate my intelligence again.

Media Dogs

Watching the Presidential hopefuls scurry through the media making themselves visible has got its risks. On the up side, there's a chance for name recognition at voting time, and on the down side the same is true. Reporters hammer them with questions designed to alienate one group or another if they take a serious stand on any issue, and the group who often screams the loudest isn't the one deciding the vote.

I question the motives of media scrounges who dredge up questionnaires filled out years earlier by political hopefuls. Do they think people seeking office shouldn't have the same rights as the rest of us to temper our thoughts by maturity and insight before it becomes political dogma?

My views certainly have changed. Experience usually deepens into a broader, wiser, more temperate view of the world. Folks hang somewhere between the far right and the far left because we eventually learn that life just isn't all one way. We seem to be a complicated blend of independent thoughts strung together: Republicans when we want to protect our earnings, Democrats when others are in need, and Independents when we want a non-partisan thinker to represent us in the White House.

The media delights in criticizing our future leaders for re-examining important issues along the way. Are they kidding?

I want a Thinking-Man's President. I want someone with the character to re-examine important issues in light of a complex, constantly changing and dangerous world. I want someone who thinks on their feet, who can react and respond when it all boils down to a keen mind that can sift through an issue and make an informed decision.

What the media is really encouraging is mediocrity and inflexibility in our political leaders. Seems to me that hasn't worked out so well for us in the past.

Fireside Chats

Just at dawn, my father's sleeping bag would rustle as he quietly rose, fumbled for warmer clothes and reached for his shoes. The hollow whirr of the zippers would fill the room, first to open the screened door and then the canvas flap. My mother would follow a few minutes later, stretching up tall into her morning, brushing her hair back with the smallest brush I've ever seen, and straightening the sleeping bags and pillows before slipping on her shoes.

I'd listen to their morning footsteps, the click and pop of the camp stove as the propane caught, their quiet companionable murmers, birds chirping and rustling in the trees, the spit and crackle of bacon as its scent filled the air. Stiff from the air mattress having gone flat during the night, my eyes would drift along the color coded tent poles, along the seams to the little windows with pockets that stored stuff like a flashlight and Kleenex we might need during the night.

My brother would be curled into his dreams and scrunched down so far only the top of his head was visible, and I'd scramble for a sweatshirt and tumble out of the tent, knowing the first one up got a taste of bacon. And that began an exploratory day of hiking trails and fishing and swimming until twilight.

At dusk, a conch shell would sound and everyone would head over to the place where rough-hewn benches and a little stage sat. The Ranger would pick a volunteer to help him light the gigantic bonfire and I'd envy the little badge or magnifying glass or little book on birds he'd give away as a thank you. My folks would laugh as we sang silly camp songs like 'we're going on a bear hunt' and pantomimes as chipmunks or raccoons.

The Fireside Chat always involved an entertaining Ranger who taught us about animals, birds and snakes from their point of view. Each night was a different topic with a different Ranger so we went more than once. And afterwards, with the flashlight leading the way in the dark, I most loved the sounds of walking back together, talking about the chat, knowing we would build a little bonfire of our own and roast marshmallows.

Alternative Fuel

It's about that time. Yep, the dreaded moment of truth when it's time to get smaller because the clothes in the closet aren't getting any bigger. Let's call it the search for Alternative Fuel.

Ya, ya, I've read the books and seen the videos. Hey, I stand in the check out line, too! I know what to do. The question isn't which diet works as much as which fits my current mood.

The most popular diet is the 'eat-with-total-abandon-notwithstanding -clogging-of-the-arteries' plan. Ya, I'm harpooning my future, but first let's get down to that dress size and THEN I'll stop eating a pound of bacon at every meal. How comforting it must be to know your friends will stand over your casket and exclaim, "I wish I looked that great! What do you think she is, a size 7?"

There's the 'eat-one-thing-for-two-weeks' diet. ANYONE can lose weight if they only eat one thing, even if it's avocadoes. Your kidneys may have a thing or two to say about that.

The 'write-each-thing-down-and-count-points' diet is hot. What, do people have nothing to do with their day other than develop an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of this stuff? This is waaaay too complicated, especially with the exchange thing. They did come up with a nifty game board like the ones you used to play on long trips when you were a kid, but it's still hard to get all the sliding doors closed for the win.

The 'liquid' diet is clever. I did that recently when I had to prep for a colonoscopy. I wouldn't recommend it, even though I did lose three pounds.

There's the 'diabetic' diet but that's for -- um-- diabetics. Non-diabetic dieters on this need to be speed readers for all the labels you have to read. I recommend you hit the frozen aisle last.

The 'better-living-through-modern-chemistry' diet involves a doc giving you B-12 injections and pills so you can down size. While the rest of us are doing the fight-to-the-death struggle with willpower and facing down those fierce moments of temptation and discouragement, they are using enhancements. I'm warning ya: dieters are less kind than baseball fans about stuff like that.

I enjoy TV infomercials about pills that magically capture fat so you can eat anything you want and not gain weight. I wonder how many of those little pills you'd need to take in order to eat a funnel cake at the State Fair. HELLO.

The 'buy-our-food-and-we'll-make-you-thin' diet is in vogue. That combines convenience and small portions but it's expensive. Hey, I've got an idea: if you put small sensible meals in little Tupperware containers in the freezer, you'd lose the same amount of weight AND have money for that new wardrobe you'll need when you thin down. Of course, if any of us were disciplined enough to do that, we wouldn't be having this discussion.

So that brings us to 'the-free-and-easy diet' which doesn't involve a membership fee, a charge for weekly weigh-ins, counting points, or taking shots in the cheek. Eat sensibly, walk more, eat natural foods, slow down at meals, drink more water, plan meals better and not take seconds.

Hey! Let's start a new fad.

ChoreBoy

Every parent wants their kids to grow up to be productive members of society. Loosely translated, that means: if they are taught to cook some, clean some, work some, save some, love some and laugh some, they'll eventually move out.

The lower-division coursework began at three, with refilling toy boxes and straightening beds. At seven and eight, they helped prepare meals and sweep the garage. Upper division began at ten, with mowing and trimming the yard and rotating through indoor chores. By twelve they had advanced to laundry and money management.

I thought I was on the right track until one evening I observed one of my teenage sons doing laundry. We were companionably standing together in the laundry room, the way you do when you're both busy, and he chatted about practice and school as he turned on the washer, filled it with filthy boy togs and tossed in a capfull of liquid. I waited and watched him close the lid and start down the hall.

Hey wait up, mister. What about soap?

He heaved a weary sigh and returned to the washer, pulling the container down from the shelf to show me what he had added to the water. I opened the storage container from between the appliances and pointed to the granular soap dispenser of Tide.

Now I had his attention! He peered over my shoulder at the dry soap and then lifted the bottle in his hand to read the label. It was Downy.

Advancing Up

I know you're shocked by this disclosure, but I'm stubborn. No, no, really I am! I just love getting wrapped up in making things happen according to my schedule. The weight of the reins feels good now and then, and it's fun to lose track of the fact that individual achievement is only a small part of success.

Like too many Bounce sheets in the towels, stubbornness blocks the absorption rate of life lessons. Tools for our belt, like persistence and empathy, compassion, integrity and humility, are hard to learn because we don't want to -- or can't -- admit we're not the Puppeteer.

Heck, even the Super Mario Brothers illustrated the rewards of pushing forward. By mastering each level, we earn the win to experience the next rung on the ladder, learn new things and encounter new worlds.

And as for those game levels that take a few extra tries -- and you know what I mean -- I like believing there's someone with the alternate routes already mapped out, who knows the hidden passages when we're locked a dungeon, who is standing by.

The Secret(s)

There's a lot of talk about a little DVD making a splash by that same name. To say it is a short course in empowerment is to underestimate its value and purpose, but let's start there. For me, it was a reaffirmation of the power to redirect your life by practicing conscious thought. God already encourages us to know the participatory joy and rewards of mining for inner strength. The Secret just ratchets it up a notch or two.

I wasn't mulling that over as I approached the task of cleaning up and organizing a big box of photos. Sitting cross legged on the floor, I began sorting by topic and year, thinking of making album piles for my sons, my brother, myself. Midway through the several hundred pictures, the memories suddenly became overwhelming and all organizational hope was lost.

A snapshot of my mother-in-law smiled proudly as she held my eldest on his first birthday. Remember how how hot it was and how the barbecue smoked and we set up that little plastic pool on the lawn so everybody could stick their feet in it? My eyes welled up with tears at the sound of the voice I had not heard in over a decade, the memory was so fresh and sharp.

There were pictures of my husband and me on a catamaran off the coast of Puerta Vallarta and, another time, under a Banyon tree in Hawaii, smiling and carefree. How glad I was to remember moments like that as the marriage now sits in decay.

I moved on, looking at the terrified glee as my kids headed into their first solo roller coaster ride, and seeing their tender expressions on that Christmas morning when Santa gave them pet rats. I laughed aloud at the goofy Halloween costumes and Olympic scoring swim parties, scouting events, neighborhood get-togethers and cheesy sports pictures that stilled a life anything but still.

My folks and in-laws, beloved pets, a few dear friends ... they are gone. But look at how much remains! The years have changed and drawn us along on its timeline, but faces I see in these bent edged, faded photos are still with me: you -- and you -- and you.

There are so many secrets to learn in life. One is that love makes it possible to magically feel again the warmth of a vacant hand around the Christmas table. Another is that a messy box of pictures can be a profound reminder that trust keeps those we love in our lives, timeless and true. Those are pretty big secrets, too.

Learning To Dance

You want to learn something new about someone, just take them to a picnic. Maybe others pose questions we don't think to ask or that we tend to live our lives as individuals rather than in clusters. It just blows me away that someone I have known for 30 years can invariably pull out a surprise or two.

For a new couple unaccustomed to socializing in each other's world, it's pretty wild. Observing what they say, what they do, and how they share with a large group of friends tells volumes about them. What do you think happens with old married couples sitting together at a picnic? Do they still listen to each other talk, turn in surprise at a reply and companionably join in, or do they turn away in their own conversations, assuming they know the answers already?

I like that we're prisms in the sun, able to simultaneously curse the continuity of life and feel gratitude for the strength it provides. For newbies who don't yet know the quiet of each other's thoughts, we're just starting to know if we hear the same music, let alone if we can dance to it.

A Hole in the Bucket

I'm not sure I like technology. As it infiltrates society and roots itself in our lives, people seem more lonely. It bombards us with instant, effortless entertainment but look at how impatient and intolerant we have become.

We spend most of our time interacting with work people who aren't part of our inner circle. At home, there's so little left of us that we flip on the TV or fire up the PC. Our social skills atrophy because technology fills the gap. Or does it?

It takes effort to plan events with the people we love. That's never been more true than in this day and age of friends living farther away and family schedules with working couples and less time. Perhaps get-togethers have gone by the wayside because we lose track of how wonderful it feels to sit across from people we love over a game of cards on Saturday night. Technology does not satisfy us the way being together does.


One of the best Far Side cartoons is entitled 'Before Television'. It shows a family sitting on two livingroom sofas arranged in an L shape facing a blank wall. That's not that far off.

Technology can be a pretty amazing tool. It provides a connecting link we wouldn't otherwise have. It broadens our global vision and educates and enlightens. But it also has barbs. It indiscriminately delivers whatever we want whenever we want it. It offers up filler rather than protein - a supplement, not a substitute, to life.

I wonder if our kids know the difference.

Altruism

In this dizzingly fast paced me-me-me world lives a true altruistic friend. Her mother-in-law had been raising her grandson, my friend's nephew, for most of his life. She'd done a good job, but age has a way of necessitating change and they had approached that point.

She was feeling a little discouraged when she phoned. She'd been mulling over the idea of taking him in and her local friends hadn't been all that encouraging. They wondered aloud why she'd risk adding a troubled teen to her well ordered life. What she essentially wanted to know was if I thought she was nuts.

Honestly, a lot of thoughts jumped to mind. Had she considered how it would unbalance her world and the world of her only child? What about the importance of a peaceful home to someone that needs to decompress? How about the educational goals she has in place, about her finances that hover from paycheck to paycheck? What pressures would it put on the marriage? Instead, I asked her what she had to offer.

She told his story first, about a splintered family life and a grandmother out of her league, about his willful spirit that was becoming more pronounced as he approached the teen years, about where a boy heads when he has no anchor.

Then she offered up what a difference she could make, the stable and loving home with ample food and room enough for him. I was struck by her voice cracking just a little as we talked, feeling honored to have her as a friend and believe the passion she felt for her nephew.

Most of us have altruistic moments where we want to help a little and sometimes do. But how many of us would throw ourselves into an open-ended, lifetime commitment with a lot at stake. What a courageous, selfless thing to do! What a shining example of living large. She got my enthusiastic two thumbs up and an offer to help.

It's been over a year since we had that talk. The state of Nebraska called during the background check and has indeed awarded my friend and her husband custody of their nephew. Sure, there have been some bumps in the road. Rules and boundaries have taken a while, respect and family cohesion issues, too. But all in all it's been a great ride.

Now her calls brim with news about 'the boys' and their activities. Her nephew is flourishing but so, too, is her son. My friend is blossoming as a person, a mother, a teacher, an aunt. Every day, she is a reminder that true altruism thrives, even in this world of ours that seems to have forgotten what that is.

Talkies

It's pretty weird to be telling you this as a non-media fan, but I've been going to the movies. Three times in the last week, as a matter of fact. I know: I think the last movie I saw was Music and Lyrics with a girlfriend for a mercy cheer up but before that it was probably Lord of the Rings or maybe the first Pirates movie. I really prefer live performances.

What started this kick is that someone I love loves to go to the show. I'm trying to acclimate myself, you know, like immersion therapy, but boy has the movie experience changed. How come previews are inappropriate for some of the audience who have shelled out nearly $10 of their hard earned money to see something else? We're sitting there with our jujubees waiting for a comedy and on comes previews filled with violence and horror. And what's up with the crossover advertising for TV shows? Not cool, people.

We saw Rush Hour 3 first, which was so bad we had to get the taste out of our mouth by going the following night to see No Reservations. That was good. The story line has been over-produced: you know, the professional-woman-turned-mother-unexpectedly-and-has- to-adjust scenario. But I like Catherine Zeta-Jones and the characters showed no immoral behavior or swearing. I liked that people who loved each other struggled to put each other first and I always like happy endings, so that hit the spot. I do wonder how come the theater was empty. I hope it's not because of the very things I found refreshing.

Hairspray was fun. The concession stand even good naturedly let me buy a little kid snack pack which included a few handfuls of over-salted, greasy and stale popcorn, a sour rope and a lemonade which cost less than the admission price. Score!

Hairspray satirizes the zany optimism of the 1950s and the audience was really into it. They clapped and laughed aloud all during the movie, we looked at each other and shared our enjoyment of it. Some nodded in remembrance of life before integration, and some pointed excitedly. We participated. I think the last time a movie felt like a live performance was when we waited in line for four hours to see the first Star Wars movie at the Coronet Theatre in San Francisco in the summer of 1977.

Ok. Maybe I can give this going to the movies idea a shot. But I really wish they'd drop the previews.

The List

I'm a list maker. Going to the store lists, things to do lists, details for the party lists. It's how I keep myself intact.

Pretty much guys think we're nuts, although I do know one whose inside kitchen cabinets look like a butterfly bush. Everything that keeps him on target is listed on those scraps of fluttering paper taped at the top: who he lent books or DVDs to, when he bought things and when it's time to reorder stuff. It was actually kind of gratifying to see.

Some time ago, I took to heart some advice about partnering. I was told: write down the qualities I love about people in my life, roll them all together, and when I find someone with those qualities, hang on tight. So here goes, from one hopeful visualist to another: my five fingertip match.

Intellect and wit. This is because of dad. Thinking inspires curiosity, challenges us to grow and integrate. Wit is the icing.

Humor. Humor is ballast. I picked this up from everybody in my life. Everything is better with a smile. Laugh lines are proof of a life fully enjoyed.

Spirit. A life of authenticity, founded by love and integrity, that focuses on quietly listening to God with humility and faith. My mom, Aunt, and friends taught me that.

Heart. A heart that expands but not contracts, that's how my children taught me to love: in a criticism-free zone.

Body. Love with all that you are. No bumper guards.

Tripping Up

I was nervously walking back to my car from the courthouse in downtown Stockton. The overflow juror parking lot was four blocks away and it was winter so it was nearing dusk at 5pm. It's a rundown part of town, with people hanging around, and trash, and boarded up and barred windows. I was lost in thought and hurried on ahead, alone.

As I crossed a street coming up to a long block with a bus stop and some street people who were hanging around at the corner, I felt conspicuous in my jury duty dress and heels. No one said anything, and I didn't cast my eyes in their direction other than a sideways glance at their feet as I approached. It suddenly felt like all eyes were on me.

Maybe that's what contributed to tripping as I stepped from the street onto the uneven sidewalk. Man, I went flying. My purse opened and the contents spilled, including my wallet holding the credit cards. My stockings split open and I scuffed my shoes and my hands. No one offered to help me up and there was that seizing moment of panic when I scooped up proof of my financial security and double-stepped it back to the car.

A man I know has broken his son because he was unwilling and unable to forgive himself for resenting his little boy. His son was expected to yield to his father's unresolved issues about his own childhood. His son did nothing wrong. The father could not find a way to put his son first or strive to discover new ground to bring them together. Over the years, callouses formed on their hearts. The man's need to control his son mattered more than the soft heart of the little boy desperately wanting his love.

Tripping up is part of our journey. We're clumsy. We make mistakes. We overplay our hand. We struggle through failures and triumphs. God is the stabilizing bar to our humanity. When we let ego rule, we don't feel for an outstretched hand.

I've thought about that day in Stockton. I didn't bother acknowledging the downtrodden people milling around that corner. How many times a day do you think that happens to them? Would one of them have stepped forward, do you think, if I had humanized them with a look or greeting? Me, too.

When life knocks us out of whack, we need a compassionate steadying hand. Maybe if I'd given them the dignity of a nod, they might have helped me up. And when they did, and I brought their faces into focus, perhaps they may have even noticed and mentioned the silver Visa card lying on the sidewalk that I overlooked.

Buying Dinner

My son is moving into his own place on Saturday. It's a nice place. Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed having him home as an only child for the first time since 1985, but there are clues when it's time.

He settled here after college, for a few months until he found his niche. A few tactical shifts and a slight derailment lengthened his stay to 16 months but he recovered nicely and is now working in his major field with a solid framework as a future. We're at T minus 3 days ... and counting.

There's pluses to the big heave-ho. I get my garage back, for instance, and one of the bedrooms and my dog, who has a love affair going on with him and all but ignores me except at mealtime.

I'm sure my son will appreciate not living here. I've been actively dating for the past year and he watches over me with a mix of concern and dread as the dinner dates and card-playing evenings and hikes have come and gone. He seems caught between wanting to leave me alone and not being able to.

He's coming along, though. He and his girl survived a double date with my sweetheart and I. We had a ball during dinner at a Mexican restaurant but I did catch his assessing expression at times. And when he picked up the tab, WELL ... that was a thrilling moment for me. Hey, I recognize the international symbol of adulthood and appreciate the obvious importance my eldest son placed on the evening with a man I care for.

People ask me how it feels to have him moving out. Like a double cartwheel on soft cool grass, I say. There is important stuff happening here. You bet I remember how exciting it felt to be net free (even if it IS on microfiche).

Living with an adult son has given me something unexpected: an opportunity to glimpse his core self, his heart, and his spirit from the full height of adulthood. I wouldn't have a chance to know some of these things if we hadn't been roomies, and I'm not talking about just learning he is awesome at whipping up a perfectly seasoned stir fry at a moment's notice.

Thanks again for that dinner, and all the others we've shared. You make me proud.

The Odometer Chick

I have another update in the teen-seeks-a-car series. I swear, these stories write themselves.

My son, after the first two fiascos, was undaunted. Immediately he found another Ford Ranger, nice shape, nice price, and called. The woman who answered gave him the rundown on the ex husband and needing to sell it (What IS this with ex's leaving their cars behind? My ex took everything he wanted when he left - including the chain saw). Anyway, she told him the mileage was 120K and could show the truck at 8pm.

No problem! My son re-arranged his evening plans and gave her a call around then to arrange a meeting spot. Eight wasn't good for her now but 9 was, so he bided his time and called just shy of 9. Gee, could they make it Saturday at 11? She didn't realize 9 was so late...

That really should have been his first clue.

On Saturday, boy did eventually meet truck around noon - and the woman behind it. The truck was a beaut and he eagerly looked it over as she chattered on about how it should have been listed for $1K more and what a bargain it was. He had checked the blue and the price was about right for 120K, and he told her so, and was just about ready to arrange for our mechanic to put it up on the rack when he noticed the miles: 205K.

What the heck? He challenged her on the price and miles, and she hedged, and then finally 'admitted' the mileage really is 120K but 'the odometer sticks and that's why it shows 205K'.

She should have paid attention in math. (He passed.)

This Relationship is Over

This is wonderful -- found anonymously - where else? - on CraigsList. ENJOY!
-----------

Dear Silver Mercedes C280 in front of me on Oak Street,

I'm sorry, but this relationship simply isn't working for me. Among other things, relationships are built on trust and mutual understanding, and frankly I don't see those qualities in you. I
respected your right-of-way when you entered the same lane in front of me on Oak Street from Masonic, but with that right-of-way comes certain responsibilities.

Surely you've been down this road before, Mercedes. Surely you must appreciate the synchronized traffic signals that allow us to glide through town unfettered by the block-by-block stop-and-go of our freewayless city. Yet still you seem oblivious to the appropriate rate of speed necessary to keep pace with the synchronization. Do you not recognize all the other car-on-car relationships around you? They all seem to understand how this whole thing works. Don't think I can't see you sipping your latte up there, and is that the New York Times folded against your steering wheel? I have needs, Mercedes -needs you seem in no rush to fulfill. So help me, if one of these lights turns red before we reach it, I'm not forgetting it any time soon.

Have you any idea how embarrassed and frustrated I am when the other traffic on our little thoroughfare see how you're holding me back? I'll tell you right now, I know what lies in my future -Octavia Boulevard, the Central Skyway and eventually I-80 East to the 4th Street exit. Frankly, I just don't know that you have what it takes to be in front of me through that.

So let's be adults about this. I need this lane for the upcoming turn, so please just quietly change lanes or turn on to a side street, and let's put this all behind us. Don't make me honk.

Regretfully,

The Silver Volvo XC70 behind you

CraigsListforCars

This has been an educational experience watching my son look for a used vehicle online. He has his parameters. It has to run, of course, and have all the hardware like doors and a windshield and a radio antenna. Tires would be good, and brakes, and an engine. And it has to be as cheap as possible.

But there is one more critical component: it has to have 'the cool' factor. For me, cool means air conditioning, in addition to being affordable, reliable, and clean. For him, cool means it is lowered to scrape height, with two mufflers (neither of which seem to work), a great stereo system, no back seats, a souped up engine and painted an electric blue. It has no a/c - meaning, when it's 104 out, the wind blowing at you is just as hot at 25 as it is at 110 when you're chasing an ambulance.

When I declined their very generous - and value priced - sale offer of $4,000, the owner (who was a Sheriff's Deputy) said, 'it's because of his age, huh'. Of course not. It's because it comes with its very own book of tickets and a tshirt bearing a radar gun with the words PICK ME.

Astonishingly, this was a step up from the last vehicle he saw. He found a 2001 Ford Ranger in cherry condition with 50K miles for $2000 ($8000 under fair market price). The woman selling the vehicle had a deadline of Friday before having to hand it over to her ex and wanted to meet any interested parties in an anonymous parking lot at 6pm on the 4th of July. Oh and bring cash.

I'd bring a Rottweiler, too, if I were going ... and back up ... and maybe a gun...

Option E

My son wants to buy another vehicle. He needs one because the truck he didn't license, insure or register was tagged and towed. He bought it from his brother at the bargain price of $500 which, when you take into account it gets 8 mpg and consumes a case of oil a week, was grossly overpriced. It looked like it had been shelled and then survived a Basenji being locked inside.

Before the great 'towing incident of 2007', we had discussed his options: a) register and license the vehicle; b) register and do a non-operational use permit; c) park it in the driveway off a public street; or d) let me donate it to charity for the end of year tax write off.

Apparently he chose Option E. Option E? ...Ah yes, the do-nothing plan. I discovered Option E the day he informed me his truck had been stolen from in front of a friend's house. Stolen? The most valuable part on the truck was the toolbox and that could be unbolted. I recommended he call the city.

Ahhh, Door #E opens up into a black market economy! Once the city takes possession of the vehicle, the towing company can charge anything it wants (per day) until the owner attends to the issue. They have it GOING ON!! So THAT'S how they fund those big fancy tow trucks with all the gadgets.

Towing companies aren't choosy about little things like matching up registered owner names, I guess: they gladly took from a 19 year old the $530 to untangle their fees for a vehicle not technically his. He had no choice but to pay the fees, because his much older, much bigger, and much stronger brother was the registered owner and the lien would be have been in his name.

But wait, there's more!

In the all-or-nothing world of Option E, he also had to bring the registration current before the vehicle, the one he didn't own, would be released. Since the truck wasn't even worth the $530 he had already paid, let alone the additional $239, he left it with them. He probably could have gotten a $15 non operational permit, but at the risk of getting the truck back, I decided not to mention it.

Is anyone in the market for a used toolbox in perfect condition?

Sitting Still Enough to Listen

We want to be successful communicators to have a life of connections to our friends and family, work and world. But communication is a genuine challenge when how we express ourselves is as unique as our experiences, education, upbringing, and the conclusions we've drawn in life. When we're not 'on the same page', building bridges can be tough.

Being misunderstood is one of the hardest things to solve. What's inside isn't always easy to express. We teeter between being tedious and vague, in a place where what is said is not always what is heard.

Written communication is even worse. Lost is the inflection and conversational rhythm of active communication. Playful sarcasm is wonderfully funny live but loses most of its punch in print. Things can be read literally or misread altogether when you've only got one eye turned to the page.

I've misunderstood and been misunderstood at times and I wonder if the speed of life makes it easy to not take the time to listen and process. Admittedly, I am restless to get to the heart of the topic and sometimes miss the subtleties that tie the bow.

So here's my plan: hone a more focused listening style. That means minimizing distractions like driving, washing dishes, paying bills when I'm actively communicating. It also means being present in the moment with the communication itself, listening to what's being said rather than what I want to hear.

That should keep me busy for a while. What was that? Oh sure, let me know how I do.

Dollars with Sense

You know, I've had just about as much of Paris Hilton as I can stand. Say it with me: people who take ethical shortcuts in life end up somewhere they don't expect. Even worse than the choices is the lack of remorse other than being caught.

The media barrages us all the time with the lowest common denominator without qualification. Filling our heads with sensational stories of corruption and violence, during family hour, without the insightful parables of goodness coming out of moral decay, is wrong. Whose fault is it all this crap is being shoved down our throats? Ours.

All we seem to be able to manage is idly standing by wringing our hands in despair at the decay of this country when we spoon feed our children these examples to live down to. I resent having to explain to my 8 year old about the Gay Freedom Parade before he is old enough to hear the talk about the birds and the bees, because I had the misfortune of turning on the 6:00 news while making dinner. Where is the national conscience and common sense to put that on the 11:00 news?

Children are sponges and we are their filters -- not just their parents, all of us. Parents struggle to monitor and qualify what is seen and heard, set family boundaries and steadfast values, and the media undermines them, as though they have no moral obligation to its society. Where is the protective cultural framework that gave us our strength, the deep roots in God, Family, Country? This is why our societal fabric is shredding. HELLO?? Everywhere other than church and at the dinner table, we're shown how to take what we want without consequence.

But I was thinking ... what might happen if we only endorsed entertainment and news with values-based story lines? What if we bit the bullet and sacrificed the immediacy of our no-holds-barred entertainment fetish to establish a baseline here? In other words, practice personal restraint by not buying it at the movies, on DVDs or computers or TV. Free or not, we control market share, and that makes the world go round.

I'd like to see the day when PBS, Disney, History, Discovery and HG TV dominate the ratings for 60 consecutive weeks. Watching the media scramble for funding sources would be so entertaining, we probably wouldn't even miss all the murder and treachery. If we play our cards right, we might be able to also jettison all the sexual dysfunction ads...

Social reform is easy in a country driven by greed. Our voices wouldn't be a whisper, they'd be a shout. America would respond in a hurry if we leveraged our dollars with sense. The ball's in our court.