Trinity Site
Trinity Site, the spot on the New Mexico desert where the first test atomic weapon was exploded, is open to the public once again this weekend. It is a National Historic Landmark, but because it is located on the White Sands Missle Range, it is closed to the public except on special occasions.
The site is about 150 miles from my home, and I probably will not go this year. I did make the trip a few years ago, on the 50th Anniversary of the test explosion. On that trip, I was surprised at the number of Japanese film crews on hand.
A group of American protestors was also on hand, holding up long banners that read "We are sorry for Hiroshima and Nagasaki". Most researchers have determined that the loss of life in those two Japanese cities was smaller than the expected deaths in an invasion of the Japanese homeland. The protestors obviously did not agree.
This past week I have been watching the PBS presentation of Ken Burn's film, "The War". While this film advises that World War II was fought in too many places to document them all, they are covering most of the major battle locations. Included was the battle for the tiny volcanic atoll named Iwo Jima. It was expected to be an easy invasion but turned out to be the bloodiest single island in the Pacific, taking over 6,000 American's lives.
Iwo Jima was Japanese trerritory before the war. It was part of the Japanese empire. In the invasion of Iwo Jima, the entire Japanese garrison was lost... every single Japanese soldier on the island was killed. The Japanese commanders gave the order to every man to fight to their death, and every one obeyed.
The film also showed footage of Japanese women and children (in Japan) training for combat with swords. They, too, had been ordered to fight to their death when the Americans invaded Japanese soil. There can be no doubt that they, too, would have obeyed their orders.
Can you imagine the spectacle of the modern U.S. Army facing off against a group of school children swinging swords? The atomic bomb was the only thing that prevented that from happening.
The protestors apologizing for the use of the atomic bombs in August, 1945, are a bunch of fools, as protestors often are. They refuse to believe the findings of analysts who have calculated the loss of life that was to come in an invasion of Japan. And, they have no concept of the brutality of the Japanese Army... the people who murdered more innocents in Nanking, China than the total casualties of both Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined.
I was in the South Pacific just one year after the atomic bombs were dropped. I can attest that the Japanese people march to a different drummer. When the Japanese soldiers were told that the war was over and they should now accept the Americans as friends, they obeyed that order, too. I had met some German POWs at Camp Stoneman, California. The Germans displayed no interest in becoming friends with Americans. The Japanese I knew in the Philippines seemed to harbor no hostilities, and, in fact, seemed eagar to participate in the American culture.
Incidentally, there is not much to see at Trinty Site. A marker erected to identify the site and the stubs of a large steel tower that melted in the explosion.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Unforgettable Characters
During my nearly 60 years in broadcasting and advertising, I have been privileged to work with some extraordinary people. Of them, one of the most unforgettable was a radio man named Roch Ulmer.
I worked with Roch at a Kansas City radio station, KUDL. Roch was on the control board, playing the morning deejay role, I did the news during his program. In subsequent years our paths crossed on many occasions as we both continued in various aspects of broadcast advertising. Roch had no inhibitions and usually came to work wearing yellow trousers, yellow shoes, and a broad-brimmed yellow hat.
Roch was a man of small stature - I am going to guess that he was about 5'6" and weighed perhaps 150 pounds. But Roch liked to talk, and he told outlandish stories about his career in radio broadcasting. For some time I thought he was just a blowhard. It turns out that he was not.
One of Roch's favorite subjects was flying. A typical flying story was his "See The Fair From The Air" antics. During late summer in the Dakotas and Minnesota, Roch and a friend would make the rounds of county fairs. They would rent a small plane, land in a pasture adjacent to a county fairgrounds, and put up a big sign that said "See The Fair From The Air". The buddy would stay on the ground and sell tickets. Roch would take off with one or more of his customers (depending on how many seats the plane had), circle one time over the fairgrounds, then land and load the next passenger.
That was an illegal enterprise, to say the very least, and I never really believed the stories until I completed my own flying lessons and gained a private pilot's license. Roch was a diabetic and could no longer fly himself, but he was eager to get in the air. One day I offered to take Roch for a ride in a little two-place tail dragger. When we had cleared the airport and surrounding urban areas, Roch asked if he might take the controls for a few minutes. In spite of some apprehension, I agreed. It was immediately apparent that Roch was, indeed, an experienced pilot... very experienced.
In telling stories about his early radio career, Roch once told me that he had worked for radio station KSTP in St Paul. During that time, he claimed, he lived in a houseboat anchored on the Mississippi River. I didn't believe that story until years later when I was in St Paul to buy a schedule of radio spots for a client of my advertising agency. I met an older member of the KSTP staff and in the course of our conversation asked him if he had ever known a guy named Roch Ulmer. Yes, indeed, he did remember Roch, whom he described as a character. "Believe it or not", he said, "when Roch worked for us he lived in a houseboat, anchored on the Mississippi River."
In Austin, Texas, Roch got himself in a bit of trouble for riding his motorcycle up and down the steps on the front of the state capitol. Another motorcycle tale recounted his living in an apartment building that had a long hallway with rooms on either side - like a motel. Roch worked the morning shift at a radio station and left for work before 5:00 am each day. There were so many complaints about Roch roaring off on his motorcycle so early in the morning, that he was evicted. The first morning after Roch had moved his belongings from the apartment, he propped open the front door of the building and quietly pushed his motorcycle backwards to the far end of the hallway. There he started his engine, roared it a few times, then went blasting down the hallway and out the front door, never to return.
In later years, Roch worked as an announcer on commercials for various Kansas City automobile dealers. He used a sort of country accent and called himself Uncle Virgil. One of his clients was a Cadillac dealer whom Roch visited frequently in the process of preparing advertising copy. In the back of the shop, this dealer had an old Cadillac... possibly from the late 1930s. Roch loved that old Cadillac and whenever he had the time, he would look over the car, often sitting in the driver's seat and checking out the controls and instrumentation.
The dealer's sales manager noted this activity and came up with an idea... instead of paying Roch a talent fee for each commercial, he offered to give Roch the old car in return for recording a certain number of radio spots. Roch was delighted.
Shortly after he acquired the car he went for a drive out on the highway. A carload of teenage boys overtook Roch and were greatly amused at the sight of this small man in his broad-brimmed yellow hat, driving this antique car. They pulled alongside, shouting and honking, then cut sharply in front of Roch. Among his other pursuits, Roch had also been a race car driver and had no problem handling this situation.
The boys would slow down in front of Roch until he passed them. Then they would overtake him and cut him off again. This went on for several miles. Finally Roch had had enough. As the boy's car cut in front of him, Roch accelerated the old Cadillac and swerved sharply to the left. The front bumper on the Caddy (built of really heavy steel) caught the right rear fender of the boys car and badly ripped their car.
They swung sideways, blocking the road, and poured out of their car. Roch stopped, kept his seat and just cracked his window a few inches. They immediately began yelling all sorts of threats as to what they were going to do to him. Suddenly a masculine voice interrupted and said they were going to do no such thing. It was a Missouri Highway Patrol officer who had been following, unnoticed, long enough to have a clear view of what was going on.
Roch died some years ago, and few people alive today had the opportunity to know Roch as I did. I could tell many more stories about Roch, but it is sufficient to say that he was a very talented man who enjoyed life immensely. Part of Roch's pleasure came in breaking rules which he thought were, well, a bit foolish.
During my nearly 60 years in broadcasting and advertising, I have been privileged to work with some extraordinary people. Of them, one of the most unforgettable was a radio man named Roch Ulmer.
I worked with Roch at a Kansas City radio station, KUDL. Roch was on the control board, playing the morning deejay role, I did the news during his program. In subsequent years our paths crossed on many occasions as we both continued in various aspects of broadcast advertising. Roch had no inhibitions and usually came to work wearing yellow trousers, yellow shoes, and a broad-brimmed yellow hat.
Roch was a man of small stature - I am going to guess that he was about 5'6" and weighed perhaps 150 pounds. But Roch liked to talk, and he told outlandish stories about his career in radio broadcasting. For some time I thought he was just a blowhard. It turns out that he was not.
One of Roch's favorite subjects was flying. A typical flying story was his "See The Fair From The Air" antics. During late summer in the Dakotas and Minnesota, Roch and a friend would make the rounds of county fairs. They would rent a small plane, land in a pasture adjacent to a county fairgrounds, and put up a big sign that said "See The Fair From The Air". The buddy would stay on the ground and sell tickets. Roch would take off with one or more of his customers (depending on how many seats the plane had), circle one time over the fairgrounds, then land and load the next passenger.
That was an illegal enterprise, to say the very least, and I never really believed the stories until I completed my own flying lessons and gained a private pilot's license. Roch was a diabetic and could no longer fly himself, but he was eager to get in the air. One day I offered to take Roch for a ride in a little two-place tail dragger. When we had cleared the airport and surrounding urban areas, Roch asked if he might take the controls for a few minutes. In spite of some apprehension, I agreed. It was immediately apparent that Roch was, indeed, an experienced pilot... very experienced.
In telling stories about his early radio career, Roch once told me that he had worked for radio station KSTP in St Paul. During that time, he claimed, he lived in a houseboat anchored on the Mississippi River. I didn't believe that story until years later when I was in St Paul to buy a schedule of radio spots for a client of my advertising agency. I met an older member of the KSTP staff and in the course of our conversation asked him if he had ever known a guy named Roch Ulmer. Yes, indeed, he did remember Roch, whom he described as a character. "Believe it or not", he said, "when Roch worked for us he lived in a houseboat, anchored on the Mississippi River."
In Austin, Texas, Roch got himself in a bit of trouble for riding his motorcycle up and down the steps on the front of the state capitol. Another motorcycle tale recounted his living in an apartment building that had a long hallway with rooms on either side - like a motel. Roch worked the morning shift at a radio station and left for work before 5:00 am each day. There were so many complaints about Roch roaring off on his motorcycle so early in the morning, that he was evicted. The first morning after Roch had moved his belongings from the apartment, he propped open the front door of the building and quietly pushed his motorcycle backwards to the far end of the hallway. There he started his engine, roared it a few times, then went blasting down the hallway and out the front door, never to return.
In later years, Roch worked as an announcer on commercials for various Kansas City automobile dealers. He used a sort of country accent and called himself Uncle Virgil. One of his clients was a Cadillac dealer whom Roch visited frequently in the process of preparing advertising copy. In the back of the shop, this dealer had an old Cadillac... possibly from the late 1930s. Roch loved that old Cadillac and whenever he had the time, he would look over the car, often sitting in the driver's seat and checking out the controls and instrumentation.
The dealer's sales manager noted this activity and came up with an idea... instead of paying Roch a talent fee for each commercial, he offered to give Roch the old car in return for recording a certain number of radio spots. Roch was delighted.
Shortly after he acquired the car he went for a drive out on the highway. A carload of teenage boys overtook Roch and were greatly amused at the sight of this small man in his broad-brimmed yellow hat, driving this antique car. They pulled alongside, shouting and honking, then cut sharply in front of Roch. Among his other pursuits, Roch had also been a race car driver and had no problem handling this situation.
The boys would slow down in front of Roch until he passed them. Then they would overtake him and cut him off again. This went on for several miles. Finally Roch had had enough. As the boy's car cut in front of him, Roch accelerated the old Cadillac and swerved sharply to the left. The front bumper on the Caddy (built of really heavy steel) caught the right rear fender of the boys car and badly ripped their car.
They swung sideways, blocking the road, and poured out of their car. Roch stopped, kept his seat and just cracked his window a few inches. They immediately began yelling all sorts of threats as to what they were going to do to him. Suddenly a masculine voice interrupted and said they were going to do no such thing. It was a Missouri Highway Patrol officer who had been following, unnoticed, long enough to have a clear view of what was going on.
Roch died some years ago, and few people alive today had the opportunity to know Roch as I did. I could tell many more stories about Roch, but it is sufficient to say that he was a very talented man who enjoyed life immensely. Part of Roch's pleasure came in breaking rules which he thought were, well, a bit foolish.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The Unforgivable Sin of The 21`st Century
Michael Vick is in bigger trouble than he may realize... he is accused of committing the new unforgivable sin. It is worse than child abuse or spousal abuse. Worse than using steroids or selling dope. Worse than gambling on games or shaving points. He is accused of abusing dogs!
The world has gone whacko over dogs. Dogs can do no wrong, and treating them in any way less than the way you should treat your children is not permissable. The news media is in a froth over what they are calling Vick's cruel and inhumane treatment of dogs. (Guess what? Dogs are not human!)
In our town, a sheriff's deputy, on official business, was badly mauled by pit bulls. This professional law enforcement officer was armed, but refused to use his gun to protect himself. He understood the risk associated with firing the weapon in a crowded residential neighborhood. No community gratitude afforded this real hero. Folks seemed to think it was all his fault.
More recently, a toddler saw a dog chained to the rear of a pickup truck. Approaching to pet the animal, the child was badly mauled. No community outcry here, either. A couple of people sent comments to the newspaper blaming the dog's owner for chaining the animal.
Our city has banned certain aerial & ground audible fireworks because they frighten dogs. No more private July 4 celebrations. (The dog lovers supported the ban because they say it will prevent fires. They do not tell you that the only household fire started by fireworks in recent history was started when two small boys played with sparklers inside their home. Sparklers are not banned.)
Now our city is planning to spend $150,000 for a Dog park. A city park for dogs??? Yep! Dogs are banned from City sponsored events in public parks, but not from the parks when no such event is in progress. And the ban does not include the local Farmer's Market where my wife was recently frightened when some idiot wandered up to her with two pit bulls on leashes.
Because animal control is forced to euthanize thousands of dogs each year, some level-headed people are proposing a mandatory spay/neuter law. Now comes the community outcry. Again, they oppose this cruel and inhumane violence against dogs.
Dogs are not human.
Dogs are Running, barking, snarling, slobbering, smelly flea farms. Can you even begin to imagine what Americans spend on dog food, dog medical care and dog toys? Can you begin to imagine how many tons of dog feces are left each day in the streets, parks and yards of America?
I am in favor of keeping guide dogs for the blind; dogs that are used by law enforcement to sniff drugs, cadavers or explosives; dogs that are trained to work livestock and certain hunting dogs. All other dogs are a public nuisance.
Man's best friend? That honor belongs to goats which have provided man with meat, milk, hair and skin for millenia. Ever hear of a goat biting a child or mauling a police officer?
Don't bet on Vick to win this one. Unforgivable sins are not forgiven.
Michael Vick is in bigger trouble than he may realize... he is accused of committing the new unforgivable sin. It is worse than child abuse or spousal abuse. Worse than using steroids or selling dope. Worse than gambling on games or shaving points. He is accused of abusing dogs!
The world has gone whacko over dogs. Dogs can do no wrong, and treating them in any way less than the way you should treat your children is not permissable. The news media is in a froth over what they are calling Vick's cruel and inhumane treatment of dogs. (Guess what? Dogs are not human!)
In our town, a sheriff's deputy, on official business, was badly mauled by pit bulls. This professional law enforcement officer was armed, but refused to use his gun to protect himself. He understood the risk associated with firing the weapon in a crowded residential neighborhood. No community gratitude afforded this real hero. Folks seemed to think it was all his fault.
More recently, a toddler saw a dog chained to the rear of a pickup truck. Approaching to pet the animal, the child was badly mauled. No community outcry here, either. A couple of people sent comments to the newspaper blaming the dog's owner for chaining the animal.
Our city has banned certain aerial & ground audible fireworks because they frighten dogs. No more private July 4 celebrations. (The dog lovers supported the ban because they say it will prevent fires. They do not tell you that the only household fire started by fireworks in recent history was started when two small boys played with sparklers inside their home. Sparklers are not banned.)
Now our city is planning to spend $150,000 for a Dog park. A city park for dogs??? Yep! Dogs are banned from City sponsored events in public parks, but not from the parks when no such event is in progress. And the ban does not include the local Farmer's Market where my wife was recently frightened when some idiot wandered up to her with two pit bulls on leashes.
Because animal control is forced to euthanize thousands of dogs each year, some level-headed people are proposing a mandatory spay/neuter law. Now comes the community outcry. Again, they oppose this cruel and inhumane violence against dogs.
Dogs are not human.
Dogs are Running, barking, snarling, slobbering, smelly flea farms. Can you even begin to imagine what Americans spend on dog food, dog medical care and dog toys? Can you begin to imagine how many tons of dog feces are left each day in the streets, parks and yards of America?
I am in favor of keeping guide dogs for the blind; dogs that are used by law enforcement to sniff drugs, cadavers or explosives; dogs that are trained to work livestock and certain hunting dogs. All other dogs are a public nuisance.
Man's best friend? That honor belongs to goats which have provided man with meat, milk, hair and skin for millenia. Ever hear of a goat biting a child or mauling a police officer?
Don't bet on Vick to win this one. Unforgivable sins are not forgiven.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Now we Know!
The terrorist attacks in London have finally put the lie to the proposition that violent Muslims are merely reacting to a life of deprivation. People who go to bed hungry every night are understandably violent, they have told us. If the West had not been so oppressive, had just given these people an equal chance, there would be no such thing as radical Islam.
But, in London, the perpetrators were medical professionals... well educated, affluent people. These educated, successful people were driven, not by hunger or other miseries of poverty, but by their distorted belief that all people must bow to Sharia law. The ridiculous rules set forth, they tell us, by some ancient crackpot who went out from the city to sit in a cave all day where the truth was revealed to him.
How anyone could take the Koran seriously is a puzzle to a thinking person. But, the actions of many American Muslims is a puzzle to me. How can someone with a great talent - one that makes you rich - discard the name given by their mother and drop Cassius Clay in favor of Muhammad Ali. Or swap Lou Alcinder for Kareem Abdul Jabbar? (Wrong spelling? What matter?)
It is one thing to go to church on Sunday and rededicate yourself to your belief in an ancient writing. After all, most who do go back to their worldly ways on Monday morning. But when your devotion to ancient nonsense is so great that you change your name to some mouthful of jibberish, you are, indeed, marching to the beat of a different drummer, and I do not trust you.
Every devout Muslim is suspect. Profiling? You bet. Who would have thought that the MD who treated your child is scheming to find a way to blow him/her and you to bits?
The terrorist attacks in London have finally put the lie to the proposition that violent Muslims are merely reacting to a life of deprivation. People who go to bed hungry every night are understandably violent, they have told us. If the West had not been so oppressive, had just given these people an equal chance, there would be no such thing as radical Islam.
But, in London, the perpetrators were medical professionals... well educated, affluent people. These educated, successful people were driven, not by hunger or other miseries of poverty, but by their distorted belief that all people must bow to Sharia law. The ridiculous rules set forth, they tell us, by some ancient crackpot who went out from the city to sit in a cave all day where the truth was revealed to him.
How anyone could take the Koran seriously is a puzzle to a thinking person. But, the actions of many American Muslims is a puzzle to me. How can someone with a great talent - one that makes you rich - discard the name given by their mother and drop Cassius Clay in favor of Muhammad Ali. Or swap Lou Alcinder for Kareem Abdul Jabbar? (Wrong spelling? What matter?)
It is one thing to go to church on Sunday and rededicate yourself to your belief in an ancient writing. After all, most who do go back to their worldly ways on Monday morning. But when your devotion to ancient nonsense is so great that you change your name to some mouthful of jibberish, you are, indeed, marching to the beat of a different drummer, and I do not trust you.
Every devout Muslim is suspect. Profiling? You bet. Who would have thought that the MD who treated your child is scheming to find a way to blow him/her and you to bits?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Ties That Bind
It is interesting to me that people thrust together by circumstances of life often develop ties that last a lifetime.
The past few days our local newspaper has published stories about graduation ceremonies at area high schools. One article carried comments from an interview with a graduate. Asked about ending her high school years, the girl said "I miss it already", and dabbed at tears welling in her eyes.
On Friday, the veteran's "Run For The Wall" passed through our town. Somewhere between 150 and 200 motorcycles driven by veterans on their way from California to Washington, D.C. and Memorial Day ceremonies at the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial Wall. They are remembering American military POWs, MIAs and KIAs. The caravan stopped at our local Veterans' Memorial Park for a brief ceremony honoring an area soldier who died in Iraq.
As we observed the group, I swear you could sense the comradeship among these veterans, most of whom probably never knew each other during their military service. It was immediately apparent to all that these men were bonded for life by memories of their similar experiences.
For a moment I was taken aback by the number of men (and women) with snow white hair. Then I realized that I, too, am an old man with snow white hair.
And, I remembered my own military service which ended sixty years ago. Today I look at snapshots of some of my Army buddies, and am taken aback by how young we were. And I miss them. Those months we spent together were a special time in our lives. We shared a common experience, and my memories of that experience are still strong.
True, we have lost track of each other over the years. Those who are still living are also now white haired old men. But we will always be bound by the comradeship we once experienced. And in those memories, we will always be the young soldiers we once were.
The magic of ties that bind.
It is interesting to me that people thrust together by circumstances of life often develop ties that last a lifetime.
The past few days our local newspaper has published stories about graduation ceremonies at area high schools. One article carried comments from an interview with a graduate. Asked about ending her high school years, the girl said "I miss it already", and dabbed at tears welling in her eyes.
On Friday, the veteran's "Run For The Wall" passed through our town. Somewhere between 150 and 200 motorcycles driven by veterans on their way from California to Washington, D.C. and Memorial Day ceremonies at the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial Wall. They are remembering American military POWs, MIAs and KIAs. The caravan stopped at our local Veterans' Memorial Park for a brief ceremony honoring an area soldier who died in Iraq.
As we observed the group, I swear you could sense the comradeship among these veterans, most of whom probably never knew each other during their military service. It was immediately apparent to all that these men were bonded for life by memories of their similar experiences.
For a moment I was taken aback by the number of men (and women) with snow white hair. Then I realized that I, too, am an old man with snow white hair.
And, I remembered my own military service which ended sixty years ago. Today I look at snapshots of some of my Army buddies, and am taken aback by how young we were. And I miss them. Those months we spent together were a special time in our lives. We shared a common experience, and my memories of that experience are still strong.
True, we have lost track of each other over the years. Those who are still living are also now white haired old men. But we will always be bound by the comradeship we once experienced. And in those memories, we will always be the young soldiers we once were.
The magic of ties that bind.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Distractions!
When I was running a radio station, I cautioned my advertising salesmen not to let anything distract from their sales presentation. You're not going to get very far explaining rating points, cost per thousand or unduplicated audience, if your propect is wondering why you are wearing that stupid tie which does not match your wardrobe. Or, why in the world you cut your hair in a style that makes your head look misshapen.
Travelers Insurance is currently airing a tongue-in-cheek TV commercial in which a group of scientists brag that they have developed a way to re-attach rabbit's foot good luck charms, to their original owners (the rabbits!).
I don't know any more about the commercial, because I am always distracted.
Roll back to about 1935, when I was a 7 or 8 year old kid on a Missouri farm. Rabbit's foot good luck charms were very popular, and probably cost only a dime or so - still a large sum for a farm kid during the great depression.
Now to digress a moment... on that farm we had no electricity, no running water. On laundry day. my mother carried a wash tub full of dirty laundry to a fresh water spring located on the farm. She built a little half circle formation of stones on which she placed the tub. Then she built a fire under the tub and, using a bucket, filled it with water from the spring.
When the water was hot she added homemade laundry soap, and with a scrub board, washed each item of clothing. This is to explain why I wore a pair of overalls - not jeans, but bib ovreralls - for several days between washings.
One day my dad took me rabbit hunting. While he was dressing the rabbits, I suddenly realized that this was my chance to have a genuine rabbit's foot, free of charge. I took one of the amputated feet and crammed it into my hip pocket.
A couple of days later, my sisters started complaining about a foul smell. It took a few more days for me to realize that my free rabbit's foot had not nicely dried as I expected, but had begun to rot in my hip pocket. No good luck here... this amulet was pitched.
So, each time I see The Traveler's commercial, I go back to the day when I stuck my hand in my hip pocket and discovered the rancid rabbit's foot. I get so tickled that I never see how the commercial turns out!
How could The Traveler's avoid that distraction?
When I was running a radio station, I cautioned my advertising salesmen not to let anything distract from their sales presentation. You're not going to get very far explaining rating points, cost per thousand or unduplicated audience, if your propect is wondering why you are wearing that stupid tie which does not match your wardrobe. Or, why in the world you cut your hair in a style that makes your head look misshapen.
Travelers Insurance is currently airing a tongue-in-cheek TV commercial in which a group of scientists brag that they have developed a way to re-attach rabbit's foot good luck charms, to their original owners (the rabbits!).
I don't know any more about the commercial, because I am always distracted.
Roll back to about 1935, when I was a 7 or 8 year old kid on a Missouri farm. Rabbit's foot good luck charms were very popular, and probably cost only a dime or so - still a large sum for a farm kid during the great depression.
Now to digress a moment... on that farm we had no electricity, no running water. On laundry day. my mother carried a wash tub full of dirty laundry to a fresh water spring located on the farm. She built a little half circle formation of stones on which she placed the tub. Then she built a fire under the tub and, using a bucket, filled it with water from the spring.
When the water was hot she added homemade laundry soap, and with a scrub board, washed each item of clothing. This is to explain why I wore a pair of overalls - not jeans, but bib ovreralls - for several days between washings.
One day my dad took me rabbit hunting. While he was dressing the rabbits, I suddenly realized that this was my chance to have a genuine rabbit's foot, free of charge. I took one of the amputated feet and crammed it into my hip pocket.
A couple of days later, my sisters started complaining about a foul smell. It took a few more days for me to realize that my free rabbit's foot had not nicely dried as I expected, but had begun to rot in my hip pocket. No good luck here... this amulet was pitched.
So, each time I see The Traveler's commercial, I go back to the day when I stuck my hand in my hip pocket and discovered the rancid rabbit's foot. I get so tickled that I never see how the commercial turns out!
How could The Traveler's avoid that distraction?
Monday, March 05, 2007
Prioritizing Issues
This past weekend, I heard several political guessers speculating why this candidate or that candidate was doing well in the polls. Some of their guesses were pretty wild.
Why do Conservatives like Guiliani? He is liberal on some social issues.
Why is McCain falling behind in these ridiculously early polls? He has the name recognition.
No candidate is going to align with all of your views - unless you are that candidate. So, voters decide which issues are most important and choose their candidates by that list. Even though that candidate is clearly opposed to some values they hold dear.
As we watch the goings on in Congress, we become more and more convinced that they are a bunch of ego driven, power hungry idiots. Remember the faces of Pelosi and Reid when they realized the Democrats had gained control of both houses. If you had painted their faces with chalk, you would have thought you were looking at the bleachers in a college football stadium. No serious response to the monumental burden just loaded on their shoulders. They acted like thay had just won a game.
Now consider the fumbling confusion among Democrats since the election. Do you really trust these people with the future of our nation?
American voters are prioritizing their issues. Topping that list seems to be a strong, serious leader whom they believe has the intelligence and the strength to lead this country in a crisis. When we feel safe again, we can consider social issues.
That could all change between now and election day. I hope it will. By November of 2008, I hope world events will find us feeling that the threat of a suicide bomber in our local mall is an impossibility. Perhaps then we can look for a candidate who shares our views on Choice, Gay Marriage, etc.
In the meantime, look to front page headlines to explain poll results.
This past weekend, I heard several political guessers speculating why this candidate or that candidate was doing well in the polls. Some of their guesses were pretty wild.
Why do Conservatives like Guiliani? He is liberal on some social issues.
Why is McCain falling behind in these ridiculously early polls? He has the name recognition.
No candidate is going to align with all of your views - unless you are that candidate. So, voters decide which issues are most important and choose their candidates by that list. Even though that candidate is clearly opposed to some values they hold dear.
As we watch the goings on in Congress, we become more and more convinced that they are a bunch of ego driven, power hungry idiots. Remember the faces of Pelosi and Reid when they realized the Democrats had gained control of both houses. If you had painted their faces with chalk, you would have thought you were looking at the bleachers in a college football stadium. No serious response to the monumental burden just loaded on their shoulders. They acted like thay had just won a game.
Now consider the fumbling confusion among Democrats since the election. Do you really trust these people with the future of our nation?
American voters are prioritizing their issues. Topping that list seems to be a strong, serious leader whom they believe has the intelligence and the strength to lead this country in a crisis. When we feel safe again, we can consider social issues.
That could all change between now and election day. I hope it will. By November of 2008, I hope world events will find us feeling that the threat of a suicide bomber in our local mall is an impossibility. Perhaps then we can look for a candidate who shares our views on Choice, Gay Marriage, etc.
In the meantime, look to front page headlines to explain poll results.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Hospital free - for 60 years (almost).
One Sunday morning in the spring of 1948 I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. I was released from the hospital the following Tuesday afternoon, went on a date that evening and was back in technical school Wednesday morning. Nothing remarkable about that.
What I believe to be remarkable was the fact that I was not again an overnight guest in any hospital until January 3rd, 2007. On New Year's Day I fainted while taking a shower and took a fall in a hard surface, ceramic tile shower stall. When I finally agreed to go to the hospital, the doctors were more concerned with the reason I fell than the damage incurred in the fall.
The care I was afforded at the hospital seemed first rate to me. Everyone was very polite and courteous and seemed genuinely concerned with my well-being. I was in a "private room" , that is to say, mine was the only bed in the room. It was not very "private" with people rushing in and out at all hours. I had a TV and telephone. I could call for help at any time. The few times I did press the button, the response was immediate. The very worst thing that happened was on my final morning. While eating breakfast, a very nice nurse came in and started asking questions about my condition. Specifically she wanted to know about bowel movements. I tried to answer, but finally had to ask if we could not wait until after breakfast to discuss that particular bodily function. She apologized and left the room.
I can no longer remember details of my 1948 hospital stay. But the shadowy memory I do have is pleasant. I do recall that in the operating room I was placed on a table, naked, with just a sheet to shield me from the view of a room full of nurses. About the time they decided to adminster the anasthesia, I decided I didn't like what was happening. I recall trying to sit up; impossible because I was strapped down. I woke up after the surgery.
I later dated one of the nurses. She refused to provide any details of the OR experience, except to admit that I was not very happy about the situation.
The biggest difference between the two hospitals must surely be the cost. In 1948, I was fresh out of the Army, living with my parents and attending school on the G.I. Bill. I certainly had no health insurance, and I have no idea whether or not my parents had health insurance for me. I do know that at the time, my father's salary was about $100. a week. My income was the $20 weekly sum the government paid veteran's for the first 52 weeks after discharge. We called it the 52-20 Club.
For my 2007 hospital stay, I did have insurance. I paid a $500 co-pay; the insurance company paid over $12,000. I do not yet know what they have paid the physicians who attended to me.
By January, 1952, I was married and on January 8th my wife gave birth to twin girls. The babies were premature. Their weights were 3 lbs 11 oz. and 2 lbs 6 oz. They stayed in the hospital for six weeks before we were permitted to bring them home.
My salary at the time was $160. a month. The total hospital bill was $600. That averaged less than $15 a day. My recent hospitilization cost closer to $4000 a day. That's more than 280 times as much.
Why the big difference? Is it the compensation paid the medical professionals? More people - higher paid? Is it all the high tech equipment every hospital must now own? How much of it goes to cover mal-practice insurance? Whatever the cause... who can fix this problem?
One Sunday morning in the spring of 1948 I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. I was released from the hospital the following Tuesday afternoon, went on a date that evening and was back in technical school Wednesday morning. Nothing remarkable about that.
What I believe to be remarkable was the fact that I was not again an overnight guest in any hospital until January 3rd, 2007. On New Year's Day I fainted while taking a shower and took a fall in a hard surface, ceramic tile shower stall. When I finally agreed to go to the hospital, the doctors were more concerned with the reason I fell than the damage incurred in the fall.
The care I was afforded at the hospital seemed first rate to me. Everyone was very polite and courteous and seemed genuinely concerned with my well-being. I was in a "private room" , that is to say, mine was the only bed in the room. It was not very "private" with people rushing in and out at all hours. I had a TV and telephone. I could call for help at any time. The few times I did press the button, the response was immediate. The very worst thing that happened was on my final morning. While eating breakfast, a very nice nurse came in and started asking questions about my condition. Specifically she wanted to know about bowel movements. I tried to answer, but finally had to ask if we could not wait until after breakfast to discuss that particular bodily function. She apologized and left the room.
I can no longer remember details of my 1948 hospital stay. But the shadowy memory I do have is pleasant. I do recall that in the operating room I was placed on a table, naked, with just a sheet to shield me from the view of a room full of nurses. About the time they decided to adminster the anasthesia, I decided I didn't like what was happening. I recall trying to sit up; impossible because I was strapped down. I woke up after the surgery.
I later dated one of the nurses. She refused to provide any details of the OR experience, except to admit that I was not very happy about the situation.
The biggest difference between the two hospitals must surely be the cost. In 1948, I was fresh out of the Army, living with my parents and attending school on the G.I. Bill. I certainly had no health insurance, and I have no idea whether or not my parents had health insurance for me. I do know that at the time, my father's salary was about $100. a week. My income was the $20 weekly sum the government paid veteran's for the first 52 weeks after discharge. We called it the 52-20 Club.
For my 2007 hospital stay, I did have insurance. I paid a $500 co-pay; the insurance company paid over $12,000. I do not yet know what they have paid the physicians who attended to me.
By January, 1952, I was married and on January 8th my wife gave birth to twin girls. The babies were premature. Their weights were 3 lbs 11 oz. and 2 lbs 6 oz. They stayed in the hospital for six weeks before we were permitted to bring them home.
My salary at the time was $160. a month. The total hospital bill was $600. That averaged less than $15 a day. My recent hospitilization cost closer to $4000 a day. That's more than 280 times as much.
Why the big difference? Is it the compensation paid the medical professionals? More people - higher paid? Is it all the high tech equipment every hospital must now own? How much of it goes to cover mal-practice insurance? Whatever the cause... who can fix this problem?
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