Sticker Shock At The Pumps

I am counting my blessings.  The last time I put gasoline in my car it was $2.87 per gallon.  No, I did not stop driving years ago.  This was just three short weeks ago.  Working from home has given me an advantage.  I am no longer driving 52 miles roundtrip daily. I do not sit in traffic on a two lane highway for one and one half hours to complete what should be a twenty minute drive. The supermarket is approximately one mile away from me, and I consolidate my trips to the store.  While I am out, I get everything I need. 

 My knock-about 2002 VW Jetta with the four cylinder engine is a goddess right now.  I am horrified as SUV addicts pull into the convenience store and rack up charges of $90.00 or better.  To make matters worse, seeing $4.00 per gallon on a gas pump is worse than the “sticker shock” of a new vehicle.  When I began driving in 1978, gasoline was 52 cents per gallon. Any sensible person would be trading in that SUV for a small, fuel efficient vehicle more quickly than they could butter a slice of bread.  A friend of mine made this sensible decision three months ago.  In addition to saving money on her fill-ups, she is saving $200.00 monthly on her car payment.  Smart cookie!

Perhaps most interesting are the reasons I’ve heard as to why normally reasonable people are fuelish and continue to drive these trucks and SUVs.

“Well everyone one else is driving them and if you drive a car you don’t stand a chance in an accident” tops the list.  If everyone got smart and traded the gargantuan gas guzzlers in for a more efficient vehicle, we could disqualify that argument in a heartbeat.  The most fascinating aspect of this group is that these are the “green” citizens that demand we only use one piece of toilet paper and blame cows for all evils of the world.

“I really need it” is second in line.  Why in heaven’s name does an n unmarried young adult with no children “need” an SUV?  Granted there are some people out there with five children who truly do need a larger vehicle but somehow, I can’t help recalling a trip we took through the New England States at the age of twelve.  There was no television or DVD player in the back of the car to keep us entertained. My two brothers and I spent 3 weeks sitting in the back of an Oldsmobile as my mother created games to entertain us and did her best to keep us from whining and fighting.  Somehow, I made it to adulthood in one piece.   I am not suffering from post traumatic stress disorder as a result of not being able to play Nintendo in the car during the ten minute drive to the local supermarket.

As a whole, we can deal a devastating blow to those nations that believe they will be rich because Americans require bigger and better possessions to gain status in society.  We can scrap all the vehicles and go back to using horses and wagons. 

At the very least, it would take the spotlight off those evil cows for a while.

Private Issues In The Public Eye

Take cover e-mail addicts, here they come.  Your inbox is about to be besieged by horridly tasteless cartoons depicting the disgraceful fall of New York Governor Mark Spitzer. 

Society’s obsession with scandal turns coverage of private events in public families into the most highly valued prize a reporter can secure.  Covering the story of a governor that was elected as a result of his ability to cure social ills who falls in disgrace is like holding a forty six carat diamond.  At times, I am certain that ice water runs through the veins of these sensationalistic vampires.

Currently, any of our neighbors may be involved in an extra-marital affair.  Men and women alike cheat on their spouses through the course of their marriages.  None of these people are subject to scrutiny by the press or general global population.   The offended spouses do not withstand the embarrassment amid cameras, screaming reporters and hot lights as their straying spouses step down from the public eye.  As cameras were trained on the face of Silda Spitzer during yesterday’s news conference they captured the devastation and heartbreak broadcasting it throughout the world. 

The children in an ordinary family will go on with lives, blissfully unaware of the turmoil between their parents.  Peers will pass in the hallway, and there will be no cruel whispers among those who seek popularity. Teachers and friends will not avert their eyes from these children, nor will they remain silent or gossip about how the affected parties are reacting to a very private tragedy.  The Spitzer children will endure all of these embarrassments and more.

I would like to see the members of the press return to a time where decorum and consideration were in style.  Rather than reporters speculating on what caused this tragedy, or on what Silda Spitzer or the children feel, report the story.  New York State Governor Mark Spitzer was caught in a prostitution scandal. New York State Governor Mark Spitzer resigned.  The event is over.  Why must the pain of this family be prolonged?

Undoubtedly, a “journalist” somewhere will remember this event. A where are they now story will be solicited at all costs, and as these people attempt to put their family back together, the pain will be revisited.

One can only hope that this time next year they are as far out of the public eye as they can possibly be.

“Great minds discuss ideas.  Mediocre minds discuss events.  Small minds discuss people”.    Eleanor Roosevelt

New Entry On The Endangered Species List…Ethics.

In the wee hours of the morning, somewhere in America the peaceful sleep of any given citizen is rudely interrupted by the pounding bass of a car whizzing by, or if you are truly unlucky stuck at a red light outside one’s home. 

Long gone are the days of holding a door for someone more advanced in age and hearing a polite thank you, now the act of courtesy draws a worrisome leer and thoughts of an ulterior motive.

Visions of the American Dream of success and independence once meant diligent work practices, long hours and an endless desire to learn, improve upon and polish.  Small businesses flourished and when you walked into the local vegetable store you were greeted by a clerk that was not conversing on a cell phone to a friend as you patiently waited for service. The owner greeted you and often tossed an apple to the children you had in tow. 

In my quest for an experienced and talented beautician last year, I went to a salon that was recommended to me by a co-worker.  During my color and cut, the beautician was interrupted twenty times with calls from friends and family, and she took each call as I sat and waited at various stages of a service I was paying for.  My time held no value.  Needless to say, I never returned to that establishment. 

“Customer Care” now means a sophisticated phone system which directs you to a foreign country where the labor rates are cheap, and often, due to the language barrier, the customers receive no care at all.  What they experience is an ever increasing level of frustration as they are asked to repeat the same sentiment over and over again as the employee on the other end uses a translation system to decipher what they are saying.

The dependence of business and society on the internet has opened a whole new sector of corporate thieves who feel they are entitled to gain the trust of companies and of private citizens, and then deliberately and methodically steal trade secrets, hack into databases and personal information without a second thought.  Some steal money, others steal services.  No matter what the commodity, my greatest concern is the fact that these hackers have no sense of guilt.  They lay their heads on comfortable pillows at night and close their eyes without a thought to the crimes they have committed or the trusts they have violated.Perhaps it is the new parenting, or perhaps the increasing need to keep up with the Joneses has reached such a distorted importance that we have come to no regard for the work of others.  No matter the cause, this new sense of entitlement has come at a much higher cost than that which we can define in financial terms. 

As for me, I have decided I will do all I can to preserve the ethics I was lucky enough to learn as a child.

If You Can’t Cure What Ails You….Try Google….

Laughter is the best medicine.  Millions of dollars have been spent on research of terminally ill patients who watched episodes of Abbott & Costello or the Three Stooges.The outcome is something our elders knew generations before.  The patients who laughed most often showed better response to treatment, and lived longer than those who did not. 

 Approaching life with a sense of humor is a must.  Learning to laugh at yourself is one of the best life skills you can develop. 

 Somewhere in your mid-40’s it happens.  You are in the midst of doing laundry.  You fold a load of towels and are going to put them away.  Suddenly, you see your child’s sneakers in the middle of the floor and go to put them into his or her room.  Once inside the room you discover a total disaster that you start working on.  When you are done, you go to the kitchen, then to the shower.  Suddenly you are looking into your linen closet knowing that you just washed a load of towels, and wondering intensely just what the heck you did with them.    Looking at the situation you can react with anger and get yourself into a tizzy over it….or you can laugh.  Laughter is the best choice.

The internet is definitely a great source for comedic relief.  There have been times that I’ve been chatting with a friend on IM and laughing so hard that I was certain that anyone who walked into the room and saw me laughing so hard that tears were running down my face would promptly call the men in the white jackets to come take me away. Last night was one of those times.  Now…while it may not be polite to laugh at the illness of another person, I received an e-mail from my mom that sent decorum flying out the nearest window and prompted my daughter to come running to see what had caused the hysterics.  The e-mail read:

No matter how bad you feel, it’s always good to get a laugh, today my right middle finger is locking in a curled toward the palm position.  It is excruciatingly painful to straighten it so I went on the computer and put in Carpal Tunnel Syndrome/Locking Finger.  I was so happy to see that E-Bay and Biz-Rite sites have bargain rates on carpal tunnel syndrome locking fingers.  Wonder what I can get for mine. I thought you would get a chuckle out of computer land.T

It is obvious where my sense of humor comes from, and amazing that my mother sent that just when I needed that break.

The conclusion….if you are faced with a medical problem, forget the expensive doctor bills…just Google it, the laughter will cure you. 

Some Things Are Definitely Worth The Wait

I have wanted a sister as far back as I remember.  I always envied the bonds shared between them, and even the competition.  I grew up as the oldest child and only girl, with two younger brothers.   Even the children that were close in age on my father’s side were all male.  After the age of six, the appeal of playing army and crashing matchbox cars looses the appeal.  Of course, as I mentioned in an earlier blog, in the very early 1960’s gender identity was defined even in Golden Books.  I had my dolls, blackboard, and all the essential pretend kitchen components….all the things girls should be interested in.  What I was lacking was someone to play with twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

As a child, I was so jealous of the cousins who had older sisters to pave the way and teach them all the tricks.  I longed to share even the knock-down drag out fist fights that scared the living daylights out of me while they were taking place.  I was lucky enough to have had three female cousins a year older than I on my mother’s side.  Even more fortunate was the fact that my mother saw fit to allow us to spend ample time together.

I did not, however, truly understand the connection between sisters until very recently.  My brother married in October of last year, and I decided long before that I would not have a sister –in-law, but a real sister.  The privilege of spending time with my new sister in the days prior to her wedding and helping with little tasks here and there, was wonderful.  Just *knowing* what had to be done and doing it, with no need for words.  Talking, and laughing and getting to know one another was wonderful.  Gentle feedback and reassurances regarding wardrobe and such were exchanged, and as I zipped up her wedding gown, I was confident that my brother could not have found me a better sister.

Events of the past months have called for the further development of that bond…one that will never be severed.  It is an indestructible force that sincerely celebrates small accomplishments of the other, and experiences the sorrows as well.

After forty-six years, I can honestly say this was most definitely worth the wait.