Car Dealers, Unemployment, and Politics--Oh My!

First, thank you for reading past the title. Many folks see the word politics and keep moving. Second, I acknowledge that I am not a politician, not proficient at macro-economics, and have limited experience with business. So basically, my opinion on this matter doesn't matter much.
But I will express my opinion anyway and the beauty of a blog is that you can choose to read and agree or read and disagree or just not read.

The question driving this post is this; "How does closing multiple automotive dealerships help Chrysler and General Motors reach their goal of profitability?"

Again, I confess ignorance of the structure of franchise agreements between manufacturers and dealers. More knowledge there might answer some questions. If GM owned the dealerships and the costs of keeping one open were higher than the gross profit, then closing would make sense. But GM does not own the dealerships so even if a dealer is loosing money every year, how does that hurt GM? GM does not pay the utilities for that dealership and whether it takes the dealer 3 days or 27 months to sell a car does not matter much to GM--except selling faster means ordering more sooner. All that is not even relevant though, because most of the dealerships that are being closed are, in fact, profitable. Many have been owned by a family for generations and those families have made a comfortable living. Why then would you want to close thousands all at once? Some fuzzy math has been proposed by those who desire to follow the model "foreign" auto-makers use. Toyota, Nissan, and Honda all have fewer dealers and sell more cars per dealer. Toyota is nearly four times as many per dealer. If you have driven cars a few decades, you don't need an MBA to realize those numbers are not a result of dealer density nearly as much as quality and price considerations. The big three have come a long way in quality and service--because they have been forced to by the imports. Of course, imports are not imports any longer. They are now made in the USA because it was cheaper to build factories here and pay higher wages here than to pay the outrageous taxes levied on imports to protect the big three. Again, you don't have to be a Political Science major to know that the big three spent lots of money to get politicians to pass legislation to "level the playing field". That means we paid more for Toyota's, etc. but were willing to buy them anyway because they were just better for years.
So how does that connect to the dealer closings? Follow the money. The big three charged more for cars because the cost to build them were higher. The cost were higher because of three words--UNITED AUTO WORKERS. Yes, I know the executives make crazy salaries and get all the press. But blue collar workers are making six figure incomes--not just for high skilled labor, but for operating a fork-lift or cutting grass. Why does this continue? Follow the money. The UAW learned long ago that money spent on congressional candidates--almost always democrats--was money well spent.
Now this disturbing information is coming to light;
http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/opinion/blogs/beltway-confidential/Furor-grows-over-partisan-car-dealer-closings-46261447.html
This link is to a lengthy article with links to other related articles that paint a frightening portrait of a national government taking control of the largest industries in the nation and forcing them to close dealerships based on.................political affiliation? Can that be true? There will certainly be much, much more written on this topic and clarifying details will emerge over time. Granted, the fact that 90 % of the dealers marked for closure contributed to republicans does not itself prove anything. Likely, 90 % of these and other small business owners contributed to republicans--which would mean that probably a similar portion of those remaining open did as well. Maybe. But there is more. When you add that the "car czar" Steve Rattner is married to Maureen White, former national finance chairman of the Democratic National Committee the direction of flow begins to become more apparent. The reality that no politician will touch is that the UAW has something like 120,000 working members and nearly half a million retired workers. The benefits, especially health care for these retirees are a staggering cost that dwarfs the salaries of executives. What is happening to these companies is coming to Social Security and other areas of our economy based on simple math. To force others in the industry into the unemployment line will not help. One more fact from the linked article; RJL-McLarty-Landers has a chain of dealerships, none of which are being closed while their local competitors are being closed. So what? These dealerships are owned by three men; Steve Landers, Thomas "Mack" McLarty, and Robert Johnson. McLarty is the former Cheif of Staff for President Clinton. Robert Johnson is the founder of Black Entertainment Television and owner of NBA's Charlotte Bobcats. McLarty campaigned for Obama in 2008 and Johnson has contributed boatloads of money to democrats. Coincidence?
Does that sound like crazy, conspiracy talk to you? Fine, then you explain how closing these dealerships and reducing the retail outlets that spend their own money to advertise, sell, and service cars will help GM and Chrysler? And why doesn't Chrysler and GM just tell the dealers and the public the criteria used for determining which dealerships will be closed? I heard Susan
Shines interview on radio yesterday and she certainly is not happy with the forced closing. Her family has made money for years with a large dealership and she would like answers.
It certainly appears that the strong-arm politics of Chicago have arrived in Washington. And just because closing dealerships does not affect you directly, don't think the next wave will not.

Memorial Day

As with most of you, Memorial Day was another great opportunity to visit with family, eat more than health requires, and enjoy the freedom to go and come however I desire. Sometimes I forget to say "thank you" as I should to those who work and sacrifice to provide and protect my freedoms. As a small tribute, here is an animated film (about 10 minutes) that was created by Harding College (now Harding University) in 1948. It addresses threats to our freedoms that arise from within our borders rather than from other countries. The threats were very real half a century ago and are largely being realized today. See what you think;

What was THAT about?

This is a 10 minute video. Please watch it.

http://vodpod.com/watch/1165857-walk-on-espn-video

It appears to be about golf. It is not.
It seems to be about parental love. Not really.
Maybe it is about setting goals or perseverance.
But I really think it is about becoming an individual.
When I watch the emotion in DJ's face as he wants to explain why he does not watch himself on TV, I feel the embarrassment and shame of those times I didn't do it right. You know the feeling, when you realized you look different or can't keep up.

I have been thinking about a bike ride. It would be the ride of the century. Okay, the ride of A century--100 miles in a day. Here is the thing; most of my friends and family think it is a crazy idea. It would take lots of time and effort--for what? What does it prove? Nobody will mistake me for Lance Armstrong, even if I wear the Livestrong jersey. No, I am much thicker in the middle and white as snow on the top. I don't even look like a cyclist. It is very hard to understand, but the goal is not to be good or great compared to Lance or anybody else. The goal is to be great compared to me. Just like DJ's goal is not an "official event" and may not mean much to someone else, each of us needs goals that stretch us to step out on faith in an attempt. Not an attempt to "go where no one has gone before". Just to go where you and I have never gone before. Would reaching that goal just lead to dreaming up something else? Maybe. Hopefully. What changes do you think DJ experienced during 2008? He made many contacts and established friendships because people noticed that he was attempting something that was great--for him. "Cast your bread on the water for you will find it after many days."
09/05/09 is my target date.

What Now?

Most readers of this blog are close friends or family and are very aware that I recently retired from the Postal Service. Most of you were tired of hearing about that transition long before it arrived. And most of you know that I have committed time to think about, talk about, and pray about what direction I should choose for "what I do when I grow up". Part of that consideration is the possibility of earning a Ph. D. for the learning and to become more marketable in the higher education arena. While weighing the pros and cons of spending that much money and time at my age to prepare for a limited remaining number of "productive work years", I seek to talk to folks with a variety of perspectives. Then this morning I see this;

Just call her 'Dr. Dolly': Parton receives Ph.D.

Are you kidding me? Short, busty, country singer Dolly Parton has a Ph. D.? Apparently, the University of Tennessee has awarded an honorary doctorate to Dolly for her work in humanity and the arts. Her contribution to the music world is widely known. Most may not know that she gives away LOTS of money. She gives books to 500,000 kids every month until they start school. That is pretty impressive. What was her response to the doctorate? She said that now when people refer to her as "Double D", it will have a different meaning. I like that she is not afraid to make fun of herself, including her figure which certainly has contributed to her success.
This will be good ammunition for teasing UT fans--so be prepared Dale Gentry.

So, what is the take away for me? Well, I have long known that people who knew me as a bare-footed kid running around the dirt roads of south Georgia would be shocked to think of me as Dr. Roxy. But really, is that more strange than Dr. Dolly. I can hold my own arguing that it is not. Thanks, Dolly. Tell Kenny Rogers I said hello.

Tuesday Night

Tuesday nights have always seemed special to me. As a kid, the only hour of the week that our family had "appointment TV" was Tuesday night when Red Skelton came on. For the past three years, Tuesday nights have meant working as a counselor in the Pre-Trial Diversion program for the District Attorney's office. The work is very rewarding and seems like part of what I was meant to do. Tuesday night, March 10, seemed normal until 9 p.m. when we are usually finished "debriefing" among the counselors. That night I had a lengthy conversation outside the building with one of my fellow counselors. I got home around 10--about an hour late. LaWanna goes to bed at 9 like clockwork so when she was still up in the den, I knew something was not right. She said she had some bad news. Possibilities quickly flashed in my mind. The news she had was not something I had considered. At Laura's check-up that day, the doctor could not find the baby's heartbeat. After praying and trying so many things, after deciding on adoption and sending in a down payment, after finding out she was pregnant, after passing 13 weeks, after thinking about job changes and how a baby was going to impact their lives and ours--their baby was no longer alive. I was hit with a wave of concern for Laura and guilt that I was not immediately there to hug her. Since they left the doctor's office late and called after arriving home, I had left the house for the evening. Not knowing, I stood and talked--which kept LaWanna up waiting to share bad news. I felt bad for LaWanna. I felt bad for myself. I felt bad for Baron. Mostly, I felt bad for Laura. Why, God? I had just left dozens of unmarried, unprepared, unfit mothers who had baby after baby that they could not parent properly. And this strong, Godly man who has spent his life encouraging young people, and this pure, smart, funny woman of God who wanted to raise a child to know and love God lost a baby that was precious to them. Why? I want to know. I NEED to know. So for two months I have been processing this as I watch my amazing daughter think, pray, and write about what it has meant to her. I have watched sweet, loving friends encourage her and wrap arms around her literally and figuratively. Then last night several thoughts converged that may explain why I can't sleep and am writing at 4 a.m. After Bible class, I walked up the hall to visit with Laura and Baron as they stood with a circle of close friends; Brett, Judy, and Ashley--Jamin had just left to chase kids. Judy is "great with child"--her first. And Ashley is expecting her third. Laura is very happy for them and I am very happy for them. They, of course, hurt for Laura. Still, it is difficult to go through the months with your pregnant friends and all the anticipation when you have had to "drop out". I still hurt for Laura. I re-read her original post about the doctor visit tonight and cried again. And again. Not for me. Not for the unborn baby. Just for Baron and Laura. It is not the same for Baron or any expectant dad as it is for the mother. But I know he hurts for Laura and loves her enough that he would do whatever he could to take away her pain. Baron is a good, strong, Christian man and I am thankful that he is Laura's husband. I could not ask for a better person to help her through a difficult time.

The other thoughts from last night originated in our study of I Samuel and later from a conversation I had with LaWanna as she was hoping to go to sleep. I will not re-tell the story of Saul as the first king of the Jews and God's decision to replace him with David. As that story slowly moves toward the inevitable conclusion, Saul eventually becomes angry with his son Jonathan for defending David. In I Samuel 20:30 Saul expresses his anger by calling Jonathan's mother unflattering names. Then in verse 31 he says "For as long as the son of Jesse lives on the earth, you shall not be established, nor your kingdom." That was it. That is why Saul clung to the crown and refused for so long to accept what God had decreed. He had planned the rest of his life and his son's life with the assurance that they would always be the kings. God had promised that--if Saul obeyed and in Saul's mind he had. It did not seem fair and it was not what he had planned.

That is where I have been. It does not seem fair for Baron and Laura, of all people, to loose their baby. It is not what we had all planned. This was going to be the most fun pregnancy ever. Laura was going to be 5 months pregnant at the extended family vacation at Vogel. She would quit her job in late summer. She had already told them. Baron and Laura would incorporate the baby into their elaborate halloween costumes. We would have a baby to spoil at Christmas. It was all planned out. But for whatever reason, that was not God's plan. God's plan is better. I wish I knew what it is. I feel like I NEED to know. But I don't really. What I really need is to realize that 20% of pregnancies ending in a miscarriage means that an amazing 80% result in live births. The fact that God provides that and we take it for granted is what is not fair. The fact that I make ANY plans for June, November, and December and assume that God owes me that time and all things continuing is not fair.

I love you, Laura. I love you, Baron. You are both doing great. I am extremely proud of you both. I don't know how well I have said these things to you personally, but I should have written it here sooner. Now maybe I will feel more like writing about the fun things and silly observations of the day.

Ol' Man Wishum

One of the great events for me during the overwhelming mont of March was a retirement party given to me by my co-workers. This party comfortably filled the Silver Spoons Catering facility in downtown Montgomery. It was a great event from my perspective and I can't tell you how much it meant to me for so many to spend $23 for a meal and to see me made fun of. There were a few from my past life in the Montgomery Post Office and the retired supervisor and her husband from Wetumpka also attended. It also meant a lot for my supervisor, Ken, his wife, and daughter to attend. Interestingly, when Ken went through the Associate Supervisor Training program, I was his on-site trainer. So I got to train the supervisor I worked for during my final years at the USPS. All my kids and spouses/boyfriend were there as was my mother-in-law. Of course, LaWanna was there as she has been by my side, cheering, through the entire transition. It was so much fun! My good friend, Jimmy Rushing, served as master of ceremonies and did an excellent job. He had secretly contacted LaWanna for several of my more embarrassing stories from 37 years of postal service. Some liberties were taken with the telling, but it was very funny. One of the highlights for me was the presentation of a framed certificate that proclaimed I am now an "Honorary Rural Carrier". For those unfamiliar with the strange world of the USPS, rural carriers and city carriers are two separate species. Rural carrier's routes are evaluated each year and they are paid "evaluated times" whether they hustle and finish early or goof off and work late. So if they want to visit and laugh in the office, no supervisor runs to crack the whip. For city carriers, every minute wasted is money wasted so any talking or unproductive time get attention immediately. Because of these differences, I would often say "I should have been a rural carrier" when I would hear laughter and loud conversation from their end of the office. Now I am one--sort of. Another great feature of the part was rural carrier Michon and her husband and daughter dressed in formal evening wear singing throughout the evening. The family in involved in musical theater often and did a great job. I really appreciate the amount of work that night and for many nights leading up to it. One of the songs was a re-write of Old Man River. The version they sang had to be written by a USPS insider, but Michon's husband protected her career by declaring that HE wrote it and she had NOTHING to do with it. Get the tune for Old Man River in your mind and check these lyrice;

The part was fun and ended with the hosts having LaWanna and me swept away in a stretch limo. Actually, that was not the end for me. My generous co-workers gave me a gift card to Bass Pro Shops and on Wednesday of last week (my first day of retirement) I used it to purchase a shotgun for turkey hunting. Thanks Wetumpka friends!

DOPPLER

I am a fan of DOPPLER. You have seen it. If you live in central Alabama, you have seen it a lot in the past few weeks as Rich Thomas explained signatures indicating possible rotation. Doppler is the newest version of RADAR--RAdio Detection And Ranging. What the National Weather Service uses is WSR-88D from Weather Surveillance Radar--1988 Doppler. That and LOTS more basic info about radar can be found on the NOAA website. The reason I have been reading some of that is to check out some information I heard in a storm spotters class week before last. This is one of the many activities that filled my March to overflowing. I regretted that the class was on a Tuesday because I had to miss a night of counseling at Pre-Trial Diversion, but when I learned of a class in Wetumpka I knew it would be worth the time. Although the class is called Advanced Storm Spotter, most of the information is fairly basic. I did learn some about storm formation and intensity that will be useful. The reason I am writing this goes beyond telling that I went to the class and being silly about spotting a storm EVERY day since. And it is not intended to be instructional about radar. But when I went to verify some information from the class, I learned a lot about radar that I had not known. The bit of information that really struck me was the rate of sending and receiving information. As the radar antenna turns, it emits extremely short bursts of radio waves, called pulses. Each pulse lasts about 0.00000157 seconds with a 0.00099843-second "listening period" in between. The transmitted radio waves move through the atmosphere at about the speed of light. Some of you are much smarter than me and the impact of those number may hit you immediately. For me, though, these tiny fractions are akin to the billions and trillions the government is spending and giving away. If I can't envision a number of balls, coins, or widgets to represent the number, I can get lost in the number of zero's. Here is another way of looking at it that helps and this is really what impacted me; when the time of all pulses each hour are totaled (the time the radar is actually transmitting), the radar is "on" for a little over 7 seconds each hour. The remaining 59 minutes and 53 seconds are spent listening for any returned signals.
Okay, I will wait while you go back and read that last sentence again. Radar--that amazing technology that enables us to see green, yellow, and red indicating rates of precipitation and also shows direction and speed of storms along with much, much more information we could not get any other way--works by transmitting 7 seconds per hour and listening 59 minutes and 53 seconds per hour. Wow, could this explain why I have trouble communicating with my wife, friends, and co-workers? Is this why I can't hear the voice of God in my life? This ratio is shocking to me! While I attempt to work in the direction of 50/50 talking/listening, the reality is probably closer to the reverse of what radar accomplishes. I am more inclined to transmit 59 minutes and 53 seconds and listen 7 seconds. Ummm, actually I don't think I am that bad--but listening takes work and requires a break in transmitting. Of course radar has to transmit and do it properly in order to have anything to listen to.
So that is the best lesson from my Advanced Storm Spotters class--and it was not directly from the class. Actually, I found it because I was checking on some poor communication by the instructor. So I was listening some. This is just one observation I wanted to share from my whirlwind March. I placed it here because the thoughts and observations about birthdays, retirement parties, relationships, an unborn grandchild, and life transitions relate to listening in a powerful way. Thanks for reading--leave a note so I know you were here.

"It Sounded Just Like a Train"

The saying is "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb". Not so much for me this year. This has been, without doubt, the most busy, hectic, exhausting, exciting March of the 55 I have experienced so far. I simply can not believe how I have neglected the blogosphere. And it is difficult to believe that the traffic counter tells me so many of you still check in for a few seconds to see if there is anything new. Thank you and I apologize. Brace yourself as I spend much of April catching up. So much of March was spent living wide open that I simply did not have time to organize thoughts and record them here. It really has been so much like a tornado that I kept hearing the "freight train sound". The culmination was an 18 hour day that included my last day as an employee of the United States Postal Service. This post is just a quick note to begin the process of telling my stories of March Madness. Enjoy this picture of a crazy postal employee who took a sledge hammer to work on his last day (and made the postmaster a little nervous). We have used the term "hit the clock" for many decades and I decided that the last time I hit the clock should be with a little drama.

Thanks for not giving up on the blog and please come back over the next few days as I tell stories of my half-marathon, retirement party, thoughts on major life transitions and other funny happenings from the past crazy month.

Apology

I am sorry the posts are so far apart these days. Thanks to those who keep checking in. Here are my two excuses--one good one and one pitiful one. 1) As I near the transition date of March 31 that marks the end of a 37 year career, I find myself cramming activities into every minute. I am loving it and having lots of fun, but recognize my weakness of committing to more than I can accomplish. This weekend may prove to be one of those times as I attempt to complete a half-marathon while sick, sick, sick. I will drive over to Americus, Ga. this afternoon, sleep in a different bed, and get up very early tomorrow to drive to Albany for the 7 a.m. start. Saturday afternoon will offer a few hours to relax with family and friends before driving back to Montgomery to "spring forward". Why do we continue to do that? That is another post for next week. Sunday will be a busy that begins early also. I could go on and on about the busyness, but you understand because you do it too. 2) The sad excuse is that I have been keeping up with folks and reconnecting with some via Facebook. Yes, I am one of the old guys that have ruined if for the cool kids. But it is fun and a quick way to upload a few pics from an event rather than taking time to write a post that make sense and wait for Blogger to upload photos. The impatience I experience waiting for uploads leads to another post I need to make. Maybe next week.

INTEGRITY

I refused to rush to my computer to write about it. January 15 I watched along with much of America as the U.S. Airways passenger jet floated on the frigid Hudson River with 155 people standing on the wings--looking as if they were walking on water. By the time it was on the news (which was just minutes) ferries were already there. Harbor video shows the first ferry arriving about 3 minutes after the splashdown. "Miracle on the Hudson" it was called. Indeed an artist's rendering that circulated via e-mail showing giant hands and arms supporting the plane at the surface of the river helps one visualize God's probable involvement in protecting every passenger on the plane. A quick Google search will net you video of the crash and rescue. From there you can listen to the calm voice of Captain Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger as he discusses options with controllers. He calmly and softly states at the end of the dialogue "negative, we will be in the Hudson." While he is having this conversation about a quick life or death decision for not only his own life, but all those on the plane and possibly many more unsuspecting civilians going about their daily tasks, he is busy about his job. He also has seconds to communicate with passengers and crew. Oh yeah, and he is also wrestling a massive airplane with no thrust. It doesn't look good. When he last communicates with the controller, it is 20 seconds before the plane hit the water. What then? Since the harbor video shows the life raft inflated and passengers climbing from the plane in exactly one minute from the crash, there could not have been more than a few seconds to compose, remove safety belts and begin the process of getting people off the plane. No time for pats on the back. No time for "What in the world?" Just time to do your job--now. This man not only kept his calm up until this point, but also took time to walk front to back twice to assure that every person was off the plane before he removed himself. Of course, he had no idea how fast the plane would sink. The quick arriving ferries safely shuttled all passengers and crew to the shore and minor injuries were treated. News crews arrived by the dozens and we all saw it over and over. But that is not the point of this post, because you all have already seen and heard most of that.

Probably, you have also heard by now that "Sully" made a call in the following days to the library. See, he had a checked out book in his luggage. He was concerned that he could not return it and found the number for the library and called to explain. The library understood. And a new copy of the book was donated in his honor. I have searched and searched for the name of the book but can not find it. Supposedly, it is a book on professional ethics. Is anybody surprised?

Now, I am going to use the nickname Sully as we are old friends--and I wish we were. I don't really know Sully or his circle of friends, but from what we have all seen I bet I would like most of them. If I were one of his veteran flying buddies you can count on a conversation like this over burgers on the patio; "Tell me, Sully why is it that all of us have logged hundred of hours of safe air time without so much as a 'thank you', yet you crash one airliner in the Hudson and suddenly you are a hero?" I feel sure this is a man that would take good-natured teasing well. In fact, he is probably more comfortable with that banter than with all the hero talk. Still, he is a hero. Not just for training himself to choose reason over emotion. Not just for the amazingly successful outcome of the crash landing. Not just for his humility. But also--and in my mind, mostly--because he has INTEGRITY! For a man who is suddenly a national hero and is pursued by many media outlets for interviews to have the humility and integrity to be concerned about his obligation to return a library book is encouraging anytime and startling in our time. As we watch daily a parade of prominent, popular politicians found to be cheating on taxes and abusing offices for personal gain, this man stands in stark contrast. I will not name them--you can name a dozen easily. Governors, senators, aspiring senators and on and on the list goes. {Side note; This is not a change I can believe in--nor is it a change.} In contrast to all these, Sully demonstrates simple responsibility amidst the media hoopla and regulatory circus that has disrupted his normal life. And what kind of book would he not be returning on time? A book on professional ethics! Just the fact that he is still learning and growing in the autumn years of his career is a testament and encouragement.

"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor than silver and gold."
Proverbs 22:1

Captain Sully, I know your mother and father are proud. Oh, if only our "leaders" were more like you!

Just the facts, ma'am!

"I wish the real world would stop hassling me!"

Please watch this 40 second video and tell me if it bothers you;





Hmmm. Really? 500 million per month are losing their jobs. Wow, I knew it was a lot because it is in the news every day. We better hurry and give away, like, a trillion dollars or something. Hey, wait a minute....there are only about 300 million people in the entire country! Where are the other 200 million? In the other 7 states that only Obama knows about? And are we ALL going to loose our jobs in a month? I am so confused by all these big numbers. Could it be that this is exactly the desired result? Apparently, the accuracy of the numbers really don't matter? Sure, Nancy, here is a trillion. I trust you to keep up with it and help those 500 million folks. Will that also be enough to stop global warming? Because I would be willing to throw in another trillion. If this global warming keeps up, I am going to freeze.

Good News

I read this quote today and thought it was worthy of sharing;


"The bad news is time flies. The good news is you're the pilot."

-- Michael Altshuler

Pomp and Circumstance

Like many millions of Americans and others worldwide, I watched the inauguration of President Obama on Tuesday. Like most of those, I had a variety of emotions and thoughts. Not the least of these thoughts is that I am blessed to live in a country where racial perceptions have shaped much of our culture, but still the race that constitutes about 80% of the population elected and supports a member of a minority race that constitutes less than 20%. AND there was a peaceful, respectful transfer of power. Much credit has rightfully been given to Dr. Martin Luther King and many of his contemporaries for bringing us from a hateful, abusive environment to the one that exists today. The speeches and actions of Dr. King had an influence on me as a school-age boy growing up in the first forced-integration schools in the south. I grew up caught between white elders that resented the "trouble-makers" and my own growing perception that some of the treatment just could not be right. The events of this week cap a long transition that most young white and black citizens could not possibly appreciate fully. Because of these thoughts, I have been reluctant to forward e-mails (some funny, some not) that utilize racial stereotypes like spinner wheels on the limousines and purple suits on the secret service personnel. I want to make my best, honest effort to observe this president based on "the content of his character" and not the color of his skin. Besides, during the summer he is not that much darker than I am.

Having said all that, I want to address the goof during the administration of the oath of office. No, I don't want to join a conspiracy group claiming Obama is not really the president. And the stumbling over the words seemed to be primarily the fault of the chief justice who chose to recite from memory rather than read the oath. That choice is key to the point I wish to make. Why would you choose that? My contention is that only ego would drive that decision--an attempt to impress. There was lots of that on Tuesday. It would be difficult to suppress one's ego if selected to be part of the pomp and circumstance associated with the transition of power. In my opinion pride and ego was evident in most who had a public part, including the two that led prayers. Really? Is that a time for elementary rap? As most Americans know by now, the oath was administered again in private out of an "abundance of caution".

The two things that startled me during the inauguration were (1) the fumbled oath--which made me slide to the edge of my chair and say out loud "Are you kidding me?" although nobody else was in the room and (2) prior to that, the comment on the network I was watching that Obama had already taken office before the oath. Although I printed a copy of the constitution a few weeks ago (because I don't even remember taking a civics class) and have read over it some, I only learned since the slip-up that the presidents term begins at noon on January 20, but (depending on interpretation) the powers of the executive office are received after taking the oath. Obviously, the ideal is for the two to coincide. Can you imagine how many protocol experts were involved with planning and orchestrating this event? How would you like to be a civil servant tasked with keeping celebrities and politicians at the highest level on schedule? My question (from one who is ignorant of constitutional law) is; "Why in the world would you not schedule the events and maintain the order so that the oath is taken before noon--no matter what?"

My guess is that many who bother to read this far are saying "So what?" What does it matter if he gets the right words or gets them in the right order? What does it matter how much time elapses before he has the "legal" power of the president?

And here we are at my point. The oath itself is a promise to uphold the constitution of the United States. The importance of that can not be overstated. The reason we have an orderly transition of power is that wise leaders hammered out a process and wrote it down as part of our "constitution" (pun intended). Those few minutes were the reason millions stood in the cold for hours and countless millions more watched on TV. The assembly was not about Aretha Franklin or Yo Yo Ma or Joseph Lowery or Rick Warren. It was about fulfilling a constitutional requirement to replace the president of the United States. Words make a difference. Legal requirements matter. Good intentions and warm feelings can not replace doing what is required. May I add that great speeches, impressive intellect and warm relationships with celebrities can not replace doing what is required. I pray that President Obama will have wisdom and humility enough to do what is required to move our nation in the way it should go over the next four years.

Photoshop for Beginners

Kudos to the folks at Adobe for branding Photoshop so well that the name has become a verb. No matter which software you use, people refer to the process of editing pictures as "photoshopping". Like most software there is a learning curve. You would expect those using these tools to create professional advertisements to be pretty good at it. Not necessarily. Check this ad for a photo processing business, of all things. How many photoshop problems do you see?

The big one for me is the creepy man's hand on mom's shoulder with no body attached. And what is that little girl looking at? Maybe it is the rest of daddy's body? I am no expert, but how does that little camera work? There is no viewfinder or screen. Do you just aim it in the general direction of what you want to photograph? The big question for me is this; how bad was the original picture?

Tagged

So...I was tagged by my daughter, Laura. The instructions are to post the fourth picture from your fourth folder and describe it.



This is not one I would have chosen but it is the correct number. I spotted this oversize stuffed tiger in a dumpster at a trailer park near beautiful downtown Wetumpka, Alabama. It struck me as funny so I took several pictures, thinking it might fit an Auburn joke somewhere along the line. This year has been tough for Auburn and I did not want to pile on so I have not share the picture---until now. I am going to pass on the tagging. If you read this and would like to play, jump right in.

....so I got me a pen and paper....

....and I made up my own little sign.....



What? She will only be here on Thrusday? Not even Firday?

See boys and girls--stay in school and study hard so you can be a Manger some day.

Time Passages

I almost always have a camera with me these days. It is my modern version of Paladin--you know "Have Camera--Will Travel". Actually, if you are younger than 50, that probably doesn't make sense.
I passed one of those little dirt drives that I have noticed before and knew I would eventually explore. So I made a u-turn--I mean legally turned around--and drove up the drive to find this little gem.


I took several pictures of the front of this old house but intentionally chose this angle because it captured the interesting tree on the west end of the house and mostly because it showed the cell tower about 50 yards behind the house. Can you imagine explaining to the original occupants of this house what a cell phone tower is?

Even with the clutter and dilapidated condition of the house, this chair by the window looks like some old guy was just watching the Sun set and got up to feed the dogs before dark.

I wonder who looked out this door and tried to imagine how big the world is outside the house. What would they think if they could come back now?

This room made it obvious that somebody has used the house as home recently. The carpet remnants are neatly patched together to form insulation against the cold drafts. Is there a woman's touch here? Who is so estranged from family and friends that they need to sleep in this collapsing house?

The faux brick asbestos siding reminds me of the houses near Doles, Georgia where I first learned the joys of exploration. The first house I lived in had siding similar to this but it was a little higher off the ground. How far away do you have to be to think this is really a brick house?

Out back, old Blue's house is in about the same condition.

It was fun to poke around and take some pictures. This represents a departure from my "raisin". My parents taught me to respect other people's property. Not just refraining from taking what does not belong to you but staying off other people's property. We did not even cut across yards and my dad was quick to challenge those who came on his property uninvited. That was difficult for me to overcome when I began delivering mail in Capital Heights in the 1970's. Mailboxes by the door meant walking across EVERY yard and onto porches--even right past open windows. It tool a LONG time for me to feel comfortable with that and there were some embarrassing moments along the way. I am still respectful of private property and recognize that fences exist for a reason. My years and white hair have given me a look of trustworthiness that allows me to plunder within reason and I have the integrity to leave things as I found them. But I am becoming bolder about going places to look and take pictures. It is fun to me. This old house and its occupants will cross my mind several times over the next few days as I wonder what their life was like and what they would think about being in the middle of a fast growing city rather than out in the country. This morning I posted famous quotes. When I uploaded these photos to Facebook, I added a quote that will be famous some day; "If you never plunder or trespass, you are not a serious photographer." Remember, you heard it here first.

Groundhog Day

"In the absence of clearly-defined goals, we become strangely loyal to performing daily trivia until ultimately we become enslaved by it."


-- Robert Heinlein, American Novelist


"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them."

Henry David Thoreau

"Do you ever feel like you wake up every day and it is exactly the same as the day before? Like nothing ever changes?"

Phil in "Groundhog Day"


Wow, nearly 37 years at the USPS is a lot like Groundhog Day. I've got to choose and define some goals before I die with my song still in me. Those who have heard me sing think that may be a good thing.

The more people I get to REALLY know, the more I realize how much courage it takes to choose a new direction and follow it with determination. And the more I respect and appreciate those few who do that boldly. So, I have to get off the computer now and go for a long run.

Auld Lang Syne

I mumbled the words "auld lang syne" for many celebrations of the New Year before taking time to check exactly what I was saying. Apparently, the phrase is old Scottish that translates to "old long since" or what might be phrased today "days long gone" or "the good old days". Well, something like that. On this, the last day of 2008, I am fond of the phrasing "old long since". It brings to mind a stream of thoughts that have been recurring since last week when Laura, our middle daughter, returned from the bath off the guest room at my mom's house and asked "Dad, how long have you been shaving with that razor?" She was referring to this;








It is a double edge razor that my dad gave me when I was 12 or 13. Yes, I needed to shave at an early age. So the answer to her question was "a little over 40 years." Well, the answer stung me a little and she and the others among the third generation present thought it was funny that someone would have a simple tool so long. As we discussed it a little, I added that I did not know how old it was when I got it, but it certainly was not new. It was a short and fun conversation.





But the conversation continues in my head. There was something deeper that I could not put together on short notice. Gradually, it has occurred to me this week. This little tool represents more than a quaint method to trim whiskers. It represents the different perspective that generations hold about the passing of time, our place in the universe, and other generations. What?!? All of that in a razor? Consider this; most of the readers of this post will be near the age of my children and have never used or thought about such a razor. Not only that, the notion of keeping one half a century seems beyond ridiculous to them. Disposable plastic and electric razors are all they have ever known. I understand how archaic it must seem. Really, I do. To prove that my generation has struggled with the same thought process, check out these pictures;

It is a razor blade sharpener. That's right, not only have razors not always been disposable, the blades were not always either. Guess what? Neither were plates, cups, or diapers. They were all washed and used again and again. And not that long ago none of those things were washed by placing them in a machine and turning a knob. You had to go outside to a pump for water and heat the water on a wood burning stove. You are thinking this went on in the days of George Washington but you would be surprised how recently some areas did not have electricity and indoor plumbing. So pardon me if I chuckle when youngsters who missed the "ice age" talk of 30 years ago and can't imagine the economic depression of 80 years ago, try to educate me on global warming and carbon offsets. I have had a soft life compared to my parents and they had it easy compared to their parents, etc. The current young generation has had it easier than all so far. To most of us that is a good thing. But microwaves and disposable diapers and razors and fast-food containers that make life so easy bring a price.

This little poem did not originate with my parents, but it states what they taught me by example;

Patch it up

Wear it out.

Make it do

Or do without.

It is a change we can believe in.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere....

Here are a few signs from beautiful downtown Wetumpka, Alabama that I thought were funny during this last week of 2008.

Now, what kind of wedding is it?

What? You are offering a REWARD for a bloodhound that can't find her way home? Maybe she ran away because you make her wear that pink harness.

And finally this; Note that spellcheck caught the mistake in spelling "changes" and that was "changed". But Lube and "Oir" change? $22:50 (is that a time or price) seems like a pretty good price for a lube and oil change, but if you can't spell "oil", should I trust you to be sure that little plug is snugly replace on the oil pan?