I got this e-mail recently and found it amusing. I am posting it as follows. Kermit said it about as well as it could be said, " It ain't easy being green." I have been aware of the green thing for awhile. I could, if I wanted, pay $500 and sit in a class room and become a "green" realtor. There is actually some sort of certification for that. I still am puzzling over just what that means. I am of the personal opinion that it is a byline or buzz word to drive acceptance of a radical point of view. Every phase of the neutralization of human thought patterns carries it's own buzzword. I will let you play the list in your mind. I can put together a sizeable list dating back to the early 60's.
In the line at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment.
The woman apologized to him and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."
The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment."
He was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.
Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store.. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized
and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled.
But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.
We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb
into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.
But she was right. We didn't have the green thing in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.
But that old lady is right; we didn't have the green thing back in our day.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana ..In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.
But she's right; we didn't have the green thing back then.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.
But we didn't have the green thing back then.
Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?
Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart ass young person.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Real estate and alchemy
It seems to me that the practice of real estate is getting more and more like alchemy. You know the mystical art from the middle ages wherein a wizard, sorcerer, mostly schizoid types that thought they were such, try to turn iron into gold using various methods.
Now before you write me off as a lunatic just think about it. We mix together buyers and sellers in a chaotic market and try to align the elements of a transaction. Buyers are loosely connected to reality because they have been told that they are in charge as it is a buyer's market. Most sellers are in denial that the market is as bad as they read and hear so they set their prices beyond reasonable expectations.
Now the realtor is supposed to take all those elements and bring them together into a viable transaction that gets to the closing table and laces everyone's pockets with gold. You have to in many cases turn the lender's scrutiny into a positive element knowing all the while that it has never been harder to qualify for a loan. The seller's lender, in many cases, has to agree to take it in the shorts on the loan that he made to the seller all those several months ago when we were all living fast and loose. They have to agree to accept cents on dollars in short sale arrangements otherwise they own a piece of property in a distant city that they could care less about.
If that is not bad enough, once you get those elements looking lively then you have to endure the appraisal. That process has become a minefield. Mix in all the foreclosure and short sales, comparables are so diluted that not even a sorcerer can divine what a property is worth. Yet we press on in this mystical process we call appraisal. We accept their opinions as if they were the Rosetta stone of truth and accuracy. The truth of the matter is that they ain't got a clue. The old process has been "improved" by the government that now employs clearing houses that are assigned to retain an appraiser for a transaction. You could possibly get a Moultrie, Georgia appraiser coming into Leon county to perform an appraisal. They have no basis in experience or knowledge of a market that is foreign to them. Ala-Kabatra, Ala-kazam..........your property is worth zip! End of process and usually the sale.
Now we bring in the element of property insurers. If you are fortunate enough to get one of these guys to return your call then you are subject to all sorts of Harry Potter sorts of intepretations. From the four point inspections that they do to their interpretations as to how wind worthy your house is. After you have negotiated this complicated maze then you are off to the title search.
The title search turns up all sorts of strange manifestations, ranging from mechanic's liens to estate disputes amongst surviving heirs. You can apply all the eye of newt you wish in some of those challenges but you can likely forget getting a clear title to hang your hat on.
Add in covenants and restrictions of homeowners associations, surveys, home inspections, wood destroying organism inspections and just the general orneriness of all parties involved you had better have some elements of an alchemist within you.
To quote the wizard of Id, " Frammin' on the jim jam and frompin on the fritz !!! ". Turning iron into gold or spinning straw into gold is akin to trying to successfully get many real estate transactions to closing in our present day scheme of things. Wish it were not so, but it is and will be for some time to come.
Now before you write me off as a lunatic just think about it. We mix together buyers and sellers in a chaotic market and try to align the elements of a transaction. Buyers are loosely connected to reality because they have been told that they are in charge as it is a buyer's market. Most sellers are in denial that the market is as bad as they read and hear so they set their prices beyond reasonable expectations.
Now the realtor is supposed to take all those elements and bring them together into a viable transaction that gets to the closing table and laces everyone's pockets with gold. You have to in many cases turn the lender's scrutiny into a positive element knowing all the while that it has never been harder to qualify for a loan. The seller's lender, in many cases, has to agree to take it in the shorts on the loan that he made to the seller all those several months ago when we were all living fast and loose. They have to agree to accept cents on dollars in short sale arrangements otherwise they own a piece of property in a distant city that they could care less about.
If that is not bad enough, once you get those elements looking lively then you have to endure the appraisal. That process has become a minefield. Mix in all the foreclosure and short sales, comparables are so diluted that not even a sorcerer can divine what a property is worth. Yet we press on in this mystical process we call appraisal. We accept their opinions as if they were the Rosetta stone of truth and accuracy. The truth of the matter is that they ain't got a clue. The old process has been "improved" by the government that now employs clearing houses that are assigned to retain an appraiser for a transaction. You could possibly get a Moultrie, Georgia appraiser coming into Leon county to perform an appraisal. They have no basis in experience or knowledge of a market that is foreign to them. Ala-Kabatra, Ala-kazam..........your property is worth zip! End of process and usually the sale.
Now we bring in the element of property insurers. If you are fortunate enough to get one of these guys to return your call then you are subject to all sorts of Harry Potter sorts of intepretations. From the four point inspections that they do to their interpretations as to how wind worthy your house is. After you have negotiated this complicated maze then you are off to the title search.
The title search turns up all sorts of strange manifestations, ranging from mechanic's liens to estate disputes amongst surviving heirs. You can apply all the eye of newt you wish in some of those challenges but you can likely forget getting a clear title to hang your hat on.
Add in covenants and restrictions of homeowners associations, surveys, home inspections, wood destroying organism inspections and just the general orneriness of all parties involved you had better have some elements of an alchemist within you.
To quote the wizard of Id, " Frammin' on the jim jam and frompin on the fritz !!! ". Turning iron into gold or spinning straw into gold is akin to trying to successfully get many real estate transactions to closing in our present day scheme of things. Wish it were not so, but it is and will be for some time to come.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
American Jurisprudence
Well, the Casey Anthony verdict is in. I first detected that fact when I saw a blistering barrage of cries of FOUL PLAY on Facebook. I know, I know why do you waste your time on Facebook? I really don't spend a lot of time on it because most of the traffic there begins with " Sally done clobbered herself a gopher out in the pea patch." But there is the occassional declarative statement that is pithy and borderline meaningful. I also sometimes find pictures of friends and family that I enjoy perusing.
The facts and whys and wherefores of the case are deplorable. Little Caylee Anthony's death goes unsolved and justice seems to have slipped away. The verdict replays American sentiments at the OJ Simpson verdict. I still remember the collective gasp that OJ's acquital brought onto America. What was that twenty years ago? I still remember the CNN replays of Johnny Cochran's, " If it don't fit, you must acquit !" I suppose that in the case of the prosecutorial team, they just flat out did not present evidence that led the jury to render a verdict that left reasonable doubt in the rear view mirror. Beyond a reasonable doubt !!
Have you ever served on a jury? I have been the victim, uh, er...........I mean the chosen citizen charged with rendering a verdict on whether someone committed a crime or not, on four occassions. There is a lot of focus given to the fact that the prosecution and evidence must present a case that the accused is guilty " beyond a reasonable doubt." That means if there is one little whit inside you that is not convinced that the accused is guilty, it is your honor-bound duty to render a verdict of not guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt. That is what makes our judicial system stand muster.
This example does not stand as a reasonable comparable to the Anthony case. I will offer it just because it makes the case for what a state attorney must do to bring the guilty verdict. I was called to serve on a jury about 25 years ago. I was one of 6 jurists empanelled to determine the guilt of 2 FAMU football players who had switched the labels between a six-pack of Heinekens and a six-pack of Budweiser. The difference was 85 cents. Warehouse Foods convinced the state of Florida to go to the time and expense of trying these kids on theft charges to set a standard. I suppose they had reached the threshold of tolerance in a flurry of shop lifting in their store.
I and 5 others took two days to listen to the state make its case. We heard from the arresting officer, the store manager and countless other people who had seen these two thirsty young men do what the state was trying them on. At the end of the second day the defense attorney, Roosevelte Wilson, in his concluding defense argument, asked the state to produce the evidence. The judge then turned to the state's attorney and asked for them to produce the evidence. The state admitted that they were unable to produce the evidence. It had been removed from the evidence room by a thirsty bailiff or trustee of the sheriff's office and been consumed. The judge pounded his gavel and said " Since the state of Florida cannot produce the evidence then this case is dismissed." The jubilant accused and their defense attorney almost skipped out of the room.
I and my fellow jurors walked away scratching our heads pondering how a judicial system could allow such a waste of our time, courtroom time not to mention the cost to the court in such a case. The state's attorney must have known that the evidence was missing all along. Such is the state of affairs with our judical system.
Like it or not, our system bears the burden of proving guilt beyond any iota of doubt. It is far better for us to err on the side of a guilty person being freed on occassion than allowing an innocent person to lose their freedom or lose their life. Such is the system we live under. Less civilized countries presume your guilt. They then lop off your hands or your head sometimes on the weight of very flimsy evidence. Pardon me but I like our system better.
The facts and whys and wherefores of the case are deplorable. Little Caylee Anthony's death goes unsolved and justice seems to have slipped away. The verdict replays American sentiments at the OJ Simpson verdict. I still remember the collective gasp that OJ's acquital brought onto America. What was that twenty years ago? I still remember the CNN replays of Johnny Cochran's, " If it don't fit, you must acquit !" I suppose that in the case of the prosecutorial team, they just flat out did not present evidence that led the jury to render a verdict that left reasonable doubt in the rear view mirror. Beyond a reasonable doubt !!
Have you ever served on a jury? I have been the victim, uh, er...........I mean the chosen citizen charged with rendering a verdict on whether someone committed a crime or not, on four occassions. There is a lot of focus given to the fact that the prosecution and evidence must present a case that the accused is guilty " beyond a reasonable doubt." That means if there is one little whit inside you that is not convinced that the accused is guilty, it is your honor-bound duty to render a verdict of not guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt. That is what makes our judicial system stand muster.
This example does not stand as a reasonable comparable to the Anthony case. I will offer it just because it makes the case for what a state attorney must do to bring the guilty verdict. I was called to serve on a jury about 25 years ago. I was one of 6 jurists empanelled to determine the guilt of 2 FAMU football players who had switched the labels between a six-pack of Heinekens and a six-pack of Budweiser. The difference was 85 cents. Warehouse Foods convinced the state of Florida to go to the time and expense of trying these kids on theft charges to set a standard. I suppose they had reached the threshold of tolerance in a flurry of shop lifting in their store.
I and 5 others took two days to listen to the state make its case. We heard from the arresting officer, the store manager and countless other people who had seen these two thirsty young men do what the state was trying them on. At the end of the second day the defense attorney, Roosevelte Wilson, in his concluding defense argument, asked the state to produce the evidence. The judge then turned to the state's attorney and asked for them to produce the evidence. The state admitted that they were unable to produce the evidence. It had been removed from the evidence room by a thirsty bailiff or trustee of the sheriff's office and been consumed. The judge pounded his gavel and said " Since the state of Florida cannot produce the evidence then this case is dismissed." The jubilant accused and their defense attorney almost skipped out of the room.
I and my fellow jurors walked away scratching our heads pondering how a judicial system could allow such a waste of our time, courtroom time not to mention the cost to the court in such a case. The state's attorney must have known that the evidence was missing all along. Such is the state of affairs with our judical system.
Like it or not, our system bears the burden of proving guilt beyond any iota of doubt. It is far better for us to err on the side of a guilty person being freed on occassion than allowing an innocent person to lose their freedom or lose their life. Such is the system we live under. Less civilized countries presume your guilt. They then lop off your hands or your head sometimes on the weight of very flimsy evidence. Pardon me but I like our system better.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Big Oak
If you travel roughly 30 miles north on US 319 to Thomasville, GA. you can visit one of the biggest trees on the east coast. The Big Oak is over 319 years of age and the span and girth of this large plant is "sun burn your tonsils" astonishing. You can imagine that this tree dates back in history to the late 1600's. True it was just a little sapling then but imagine the stories it could tell of our American history.
I have been to the Joyce Kilmer national forest in North Carolina. There you can see some virgin pines. As you will recall the early settlers cut down every tree in sight as they settled our country. They either built buildings with those trees or used them for fuel and warmth. The Joyce Kilmer forest contains a few trees that escaped the settlers axes and saws. You remember Joyce Kilmer penned the poem I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree. Those trees are pretty impressive.
I have also been to California and observed the Seqoiuas, Redwoods whose girth is awe inspiring. However I am here to suggest to you that none are more inspiring than the Big Oak of Thomasviile.
I had a real estate client who told me an interesting story about the Big Oak. It dates back to when Dwight David Eisenhower was running for re-election to the presidency of the United States. He was running a whistle stop tour by rail. They were due in Thomasville and the people had all gathered around the train depot to hear Ike give a campaign speech. This would date back to roughly 1955.
Now Ike loved his golf and he also was quite a good photographer. On this particular occassion he and a secret service agent sneaked out the back of the train because Ike wanted to find the Big Oak and take a picture of it. They were able to find it and Ike was looking for just the right camera angle to capture its grandness. It worked out that the camera angle was from the front porch of one of the fine homes near downtown Thomasville.
Ike and the secret service agent went to the door of this home and knocked on it. The housekeeper opened the door and was astonished to find the president of the United States standing at her door with a secret service agent. The president introduced himself and the housekeeper assured him that he needed no introduction. Ike asked for the owner of the home. The housekeeper advised him that everyone who lived in the house was down at the train station waiting to hear him speak. He then asked her if she would mind if he shot some pictures of the big oak from their front porch. She assured him that would be fine and asked him if he would like some lemonade. Ike said that sounded very inviting.
After the president shot his pictures he and the secret service agent lingered on the front porch on a lovely summer afternoon sipping lemonade with the housekeeper. They lingered so long that Mamie, the wife of the president, had to make his speech for him. After a while the president and his guardian sneaked back on the train just as it was pulling out the station.
I have verified that the story is true from friends that I have in Thomasville. So the big oak is worth a drive up the road to visit. Even presidents have taken time to admire its stately branches.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The Invisible Man
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be invisible? What a cool concept. You could get into every kind of fee paid event absolutley free. You could fly on any airplane to anywhere in the world, stay in the finest hotels and eat absolutely free in all of the world's finest restaurants. Invisibility, now that could be a really exciting gig.
There are numerous ways to test the waters of invisibilty. Go to any busy mall and stand anywhere with a clipboard and tell people that you are taking a survey and would they have time to answer a few questions. If you elicit an occassional, " Get out of my way." comment you have had a pretty good day. Otherwise you will absolutely see into the world of invisibility.
Take up a cause. Wear a name tag that espouses your allegiance to a certain religion, political candidate, cure for a disease or anything else that comes to mind. Everywhere you go people will avoid you like you have ebola.
Become a sales person. Better yet a door-to-door sales person. Pick out any neighborhood and start to knock doors and ring door bells. You will see the occassional curtain pull back and maybe even an eyeball looking out at you. But they cannot see you because you, my friend, are invisible.
Go anywhere looking shabby. I mean put on your worst sneakers, tee shirt, shorts and don't comb your hair. Pretend to have a myocardial infarction in some busy place. People will step over you like you are not even there. Total and rapt invisibility.
Now here is a sure fire way to test the world of the unseen. Get old. I am telling you that is tantamount to if not total evolution into the non-reflective. There are numerous reasons for this chronologic descent into the world of invisibility. First off you don't look so good anymore. You can only stave off old and ugly so long, even with the best microsurgical intervention. Your stomach is going to sag. Your hair is going to lose its luster and when you lean over your teeth could actually fall on the floor along with your chin and facial muscles.
You don't move as adroitly as you once did. Nor do you think and verbalize things as efficiently. Don't believe me? Try getting up in a theatre as the movie ends and move to the exit. See how many 13 year olds either run over you or through you. Remember, they cannot see you because you are invisible. Try telling one of your many memories of life and how it was when you were a boy or a girl. Watch your own children roll their eyes and try to make an excuse to leave the room.
I recently took up playing golf with a septogenerian. He is a very capable golfer and a pleasure to be around. He and I both have difficulty finding golf partners because younger folks do not have the flexibility of time that we do. Also they choose to not play with oldsters because we are a little slower and more methodical and we get to hit from the senior tees. And there is also the fact that I cheat.
There is a huge advantage to being invisible. I remember in my 30's, 40's and 50's being worked to death in my church. I always had a measurably important assignment. I belong to a church that is totally run by volunteerism. Now that I am 65 I don't have anything to do that is weighty. Also in the community. Whereas I used to be asked to serve on this and that committee or teach a class or give a speech no one calls me. I can just see the speculation in those private moments that someone might remember me as to whether or not I am even still alive.
Well I suppose that it is just a matter of time to when I am totally invisible and subterrainian. I suppose that what I am experiencing presently is more a fading away. I have to say that it is not too bad. No one cares what you think or what you did back in the 60's. They are much too busy worrying about themselves to put a lot of time into using me up.
I have also not been sleeping all that well lately. I suppose when I assume that subterrainian posture I can catch up on all of that lost sleep.
There are numerous ways to test the waters of invisibilty. Go to any busy mall and stand anywhere with a clipboard and tell people that you are taking a survey and would they have time to answer a few questions. If you elicit an occassional, " Get out of my way." comment you have had a pretty good day. Otherwise you will absolutely see into the world of invisibility.
Take up a cause. Wear a name tag that espouses your allegiance to a certain religion, political candidate, cure for a disease or anything else that comes to mind. Everywhere you go people will avoid you like you have ebola.
Become a sales person. Better yet a door-to-door sales person. Pick out any neighborhood and start to knock doors and ring door bells. You will see the occassional curtain pull back and maybe even an eyeball looking out at you. But they cannot see you because you, my friend, are invisible.
Go anywhere looking shabby. I mean put on your worst sneakers, tee shirt, shorts and don't comb your hair. Pretend to have a myocardial infarction in some busy place. People will step over you like you are not even there. Total and rapt invisibility.
Now here is a sure fire way to test the world of the unseen. Get old. I am telling you that is tantamount to if not total evolution into the non-reflective. There are numerous reasons for this chronologic descent into the world of invisibility. First off you don't look so good anymore. You can only stave off old and ugly so long, even with the best microsurgical intervention. Your stomach is going to sag. Your hair is going to lose its luster and when you lean over your teeth could actually fall on the floor along with your chin and facial muscles.
You don't move as adroitly as you once did. Nor do you think and verbalize things as efficiently. Don't believe me? Try getting up in a theatre as the movie ends and move to the exit. See how many 13 year olds either run over you or through you. Remember, they cannot see you because you are invisible. Try telling one of your many memories of life and how it was when you were a boy or a girl. Watch your own children roll their eyes and try to make an excuse to leave the room.
I recently took up playing golf with a septogenerian. He is a very capable golfer and a pleasure to be around. He and I both have difficulty finding golf partners because younger folks do not have the flexibility of time that we do. Also they choose to not play with oldsters because we are a little slower and more methodical and we get to hit from the senior tees. And there is also the fact that I cheat.
There is a huge advantage to being invisible. I remember in my 30's, 40's and 50's being worked to death in my church. I always had a measurably important assignment. I belong to a church that is totally run by volunteerism. Now that I am 65 I don't have anything to do that is weighty. Also in the community. Whereas I used to be asked to serve on this and that committee or teach a class or give a speech no one calls me. I can just see the speculation in those private moments that someone might remember me as to whether or not I am even still alive.
Well I suppose that it is just a matter of time to when I am totally invisible and subterrainian. I suppose that what I am experiencing presently is more a fading away. I have to say that it is not too bad. No one cares what you think or what you did back in the 60's. They are much too busy worrying about themselves to put a lot of time into using me up.
I have also not been sleeping all that well lately. I suppose when I assume that subterrainian posture I can catch up on all of that lost sleep.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
PFC James Clayton Reed
My thoughts are turned this Memorial Day weekend to my first cousin, Jimmy Reed. He is one of 3 children born to my aunt Delores and Uncle Clay who lived in Los Angeles, California, light years from where I lived in West Virginia and later Montgomery, Alabama. We shared some happy childhood experiences. We did not see each other often but when we went to visit them or vice versa it was for extended periods of time. I remember him as being funny and entertaining. He was my younger brother's age almost exactly. They could always make me laugh.
Well here I am turning 65 in two days. I had a thirty year career with DuPont and got to travel a lot. I was able to carry some important assignments for DuPont and achieved some degree of recognition. I met a wonderful girl and we fell in love and raised 3 children. We have 7 grand children. I used to coach softball and baseball, volunteer in scouting, work in PTA, go on family vacations and just generally have had a great life.
Jimmy died just west of Khe Sanh during operation Purple Martin March 20,1969. That was just a little more than 30 days before his 19th birthday. He was a member of the D Company, First Battallion, Third MarDiv, USMC. He died that day along with 2nd Lt. Mike McCormick of Wellston, Ohio; LCpl Max Baer of Goshen, Ind; LCpl Steve Byars, Lakeland, Florida; LCpl Ernest Elders of Shelby, NC; PFC Norman Beck of Rockford, Il.; PFC Jeffrey Forry, Marion, OH and PFC Larry Knox of Harrisonville, MO.
I graduated from college in 1969 and rode a student deferrment to avoid military service. I also pulled a 344 as my draft lottery number. Were it not for those two happenstances I well could have had my name engraved onto that war memorial wall in Washington, DC. I have been there and was able to find Jimmy's name on that wall. It is a somber and eloquent memorial fitting as a requiem for those who gave their lives on various battlefields of the Vietnam war. For whatever purpose that war served I honor his memory this Memorial Day. I wish I could pick up the phone and call him and tell him a joke or two but that opportunity was nullified by the winds of war. His Mother, my aunt Delores, has grieved every day for her fallen son for 42 years now.
It is pure irony how some of us end up pursuing the military option. Today we have a totally volunteer military. You press the statistics on the makeup of our armed forces and you will see a lot of people who just seemed to have no other option than to join the military. The impetus is largely economic with job prospects being what they are. In mine and Jimmy's youth the draft was rampant. The selective service boards were steaming at full speed. In my case, had I not been a student it was a certainty that I would have been drafted into the miltary.
I recall that in those days you would report for a college class and two or three of the people that had been in the class the day before would be gone. You had to maintain a class standing to keep your draft exemption of 2-S. In order to do that you had to be in the upper 1/4th of your freshman class in academic performance. Fail to do that and you were draft fodder. Sophomores had to be in the upper 1/2 and Juniors in the upper 3/4. If you made it to be a senior then they left you alone. Along about my freshman year they administered the selective service standardized test. The guys at Harvard made the claim that the students in the bottom 3/4 of their freshman classes were superior to the upper 1/4 of the freshman class at State College X. So the selective service came up with the standardized test and administered it to us all in the second semester of my 1st year. You either had to maintain your academic standing or have scored 75% or better on the test. I remember scoring a 78 and my worries were ended.
There was also a point at which I was thinking I needed to drop out of college. I checked with the draft board and I was told the day after I did I would be reclassified 1-A and almost certainly drafted into the military. I do not know of Jimmy's circumstances but while I was studying Mark Twain in English 301 he was most likely doing basic training at Paris Island. Talk about worlds apart.
When I ponder the freedoms under which I live and also ponder the 58,220 war dead from the Vietnam war, the 405,399 from WW2 and the 116,516 from WW1 I feel guilty and appreciative at the same time. I do believe that those fallen willingly sacrificed their lives so that we could continue to breathe the free and unfettered air of liberty. I have to ask myself what sort of life have I led to justify the single death of my cousin Jimmy, not to mention the 100's of thousands of war dead who made similar sacrifices.
I suppose I have made small sacrifices but the bumper sticker I read once that said "All gave some but some gave all" makes me realize what an investment we all have in our freedom. Just about every American can tell a similar story as mine about my cousin, Jimmy. I contemplate why he had to lay down and die that day in Vietnam. It was because he felt the call to duty and like others of his family before him felt the obligation to serve. Pure and simple.
May we take a little time to really remember those who sacrificed their lives and well being to keep us safe and free this Memorial Day weekend. God bless you Jimmy. You were way too young to die. I hope to see you again someday, if I am worthy, and shake your hand and say thank you in person. I hope that you will see someone standing in front of you who you can feel justified your sacrifice. I need to work to become such.
Well here I am turning 65 in two days. I had a thirty year career with DuPont and got to travel a lot. I was able to carry some important assignments for DuPont and achieved some degree of recognition. I met a wonderful girl and we fell in love and raised 3 children. We have 7 grand children. I used to coach softball and baseball, volunteer in scouting, work in PTA, go on family vacations and just generally have had a great life.
Jimmy died just west of Khe Sanh during operation Purple Martin March 20,1969. That was just a little more than 30 days before his 19th birthday. He was a member of the D Company, First Battallion, Third MarDiv, USMC. He died that day along with 2nd Lt. Mike McCormick of Wellston, Ohio; LCpl Max Baer of Goshen, Ind; LCpl Steve Byars, Lakeland, Florida; LCpl Ernest Elders of Shelby, NC; PFC Norman Beck of Rockford, Il.; PFC Jeffrey Forry, Marion, OH and PFC Larry Knox of Harrisonville, MO.
I graduated from college in 1969 and rode a student deferrment to avoid military service. I also pulled a 344 as my draft lottery number. Were it not for those two happenstances I well could have had my name engraved onto that war memorial wall in Washington, DC. I have been there and was able to find Jimmy's name on that wall. It is a somber and eloquent memorial fitting as a requiem for those who gave their lives on various battlefields of the Vietnam war. For whatever purpose that war served I honor his memory this Memorial Day. I wish I could pick up the phone and call him and tell him a joke or two but that opportunity was nullified by the winds of war. His Mother, my aunt Delores, has grieved every day for her fallen son for 42 years now.
It is pure irony how some of us end up pursuing the military option. Today we have a totally volunteer military. You press the statistics on the makeup of our armed forces and you will see a lot of people who just seemed to have no other option than to join the military. The impetus is largely economic with job prospects being what they are. In mine and Jimmy's youth the draft was rampant. The selective service boards were steaming at full speed. In my case, had I not been a student it was a certainty that I would have been drafted into the miltary.
I recall that in those days you would report for a college class and two or three of the people that had been in the class the day before would be gone. You had to maintain a class standing to keep your draft exemption of 2-S. In order to do that you had to be in the upper 1/4th of your freshman class in academic performance. Fail to do that and you were draft fodder. Sophomores had to be in the upper 1/2 and Juniors in the upper 3/4. If you made it to be a senior then they left you alone. Along about my freshman year they administered the selective service standardized test. The guys at Harvard made the claim that the students in the bottom 3/4 of their freshman classes were superior to the upper 1/4 of the freshman class at State College X. So the selective service came up with the standardized test and administered it to us all in the second semester of my 1st year. You either had to maintain your academic standing or have scored 75% or better on the test. I remember scoring a 78 and my worries were ended.
There was also a point at which I was thinking I needed to drop out of college. I checked with the draft board and I was told the day after I did I would be reclassified 1-A and almost certainly drafted into the military. I do not know of Jimmy's circumstances but while I was studying Mark Twain in English 301 he was most likely doing basic training at Paris Island. Talk about worlds apart.
When I ponder the freedoms under which I live and also ponder the 58,220 war dead from the Vietnam war, the 405,399 from WW2 and the 116,516 from WW1 I feel guilty and appreciative at the same time. I do believe that those fallen willingly sacrificed their lives so that we could continue to breathe the free and unfettered air of liberty. I have to ask myself what sort of life have I led to justify the single death of my cousin Jimmy, not to mention the 100's of thousands of war dead who made similar sacrifices.
I suppose I have made small sacrifices but the bumper sticker I read once that said "All gave some but some gave all" makes me realize what an investment we all have in our freedom. Just about every American can tell a similar story as mine about my cousin, Jimmy. I contemplate why he had to lay down and die that day in Vietnam. It was because he felt the call to duty and like others of his family before him felt the obligation to serve. Pure and simple.
May we take a little time to really remember those who sacrificed their lives and well being to keep us safe and free this Memorial Day weekend. God bless you Jimmy. You were way too young to die. I hope to see you again someday, if I am worthy, and shake your hand and say thank you in person. I hope that you will see someone standing in front of you who you can feel justified your sacrifice. I need to work to become such.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
A contentious world begets contentious activity
I would like to post about contention. Does it have a place in our world and in our hearts? Our country has been in an advanced contentious mindset ever since 9/11/01. Most of that contention has been directed towards Al Quada and specifically Osama Bin Laden. Now we have a president named Obama who set the Navy Seals on Osama and now we no longer have a primary outlet for our national contentious spirit, bummer.
Wonder where it is going to be directed now? Will we take on a kinder aura now that Osama has assumed room temperature? Do you think they will disband the Seals? Somehow, I don't think that is in the offing. It is just a matter of time that we all direct our innate contentious leanings towards something or someone new. Gas prices, illegal immigration, same sex marriage, taxes, etc. Those are most likely all worthy targets. But we usualy need to vent more specifically on a person. It looked like it was going to be Charlie Sheen for a while. I suppose that there are all sorts of likely candidates.
We just live in a contentious world. I don't know about your job but most people work where there is contention, either overt or mitigated. Office politics is a classic medium for contention. There is always someone who is a little less extraverted than others and may have some quirky mannerisms. They become irresistible targets. Why it even spills over into our schools even down to elementary schools. Little children bully one another. It is so bad that state legislatures intervene with anti-bullying laws. Enforceable? Hardly so. I remember when I was a kid, and I am now 65, there were always bullies around. Somehow you learned to deal with them. You either handled them yourselves or got some friends to help you handle them. It was sort of like in the wild west.
One overt symbol of our addiction to contention is our fascination with reality television. If we can sit down in front of the one-eyed monster and witness people yelling at one another we are deliriously happy. Just check out the ratings when you get a moment.
So what is the antidote? I think it is pretty simple. We need to make a resolution in our own minds that we are going to treat one another with kindness and civility. We need to inculcate some positive vibes from somewhere along the way. Reading a good book, meditation, spiritual pursuit of some sort, taking a friend to lunch and having a nice visit. I am not so sure the answer is golf. I find that to be a very demeaning and yes contentious activity. The war is between you and that infernal little ball and an inadequate swing. Well, that is another post for another day.
Wonder where it is going to be directed now? Will we take on a kinder aura now that Osama has assumed room temperature? Do you think they will disband the Seals? Somehow, I don't think that is in the offing. It is just a matter of time that we all direct our innate contentious leanings towards something or someone new. Gas prices, illegal immigration, same sex marriage, taxes, etc. Those are most likely all worthy targets. But we usualy need to vent more specifically on a person. It looked like it was going to be Charlie Sheen for a while. I suppose that there are all sorts of likely candidates.
We just live in a contentious world. I don't know about your job but most people work where there is contention, either overt or mitigated. Office politics is a classic medium for contention. There is always someone who is a little less extraverted than others and may have some quirky mannerisms. They become irresistible targets. Why it even spills over into our schools even down to elementary schools. Little children bully one another. It is so bad that state legislatures intervene with anti-bullying laws. Enforceable? Hardly so. I remember when I was a kid, and I am now 65, there were always bullies around. Somehow you learned to deal with them. You either handled them yourselves or got some friends to help you handle them. It was sort of like in the wild west.
One overt symbol of our addiction to contention is our fascination with reality television. If we can sit down in front of the one-eyed monster and witness people yelling at one another we are deliriously happy. Just check out the ratings when you get a moment.
So what is the antidote? I think it is pretty simple. We need to make a resolution in our own minds that we are going to treat one another with kindness and civility. We need to inculcate some positive vibes from somewhere along the way. Reading a good book, meditation, spiritual pursuit of some sort, taking a friend to lunch and having a nice visit. I am not so sure the answer is golf. I find that to be a very demeaning and yes contentious activity. The war is between you and that infernal little ball and an inadequate swing. Well, that is another post for another day.
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