It's Not The Heat, It's the Humility

Well the predicted high for Sunday here in beautiful Mission, Kansas is 102 degrees, but of course we get a bit of humidity here as well, so the heat index will probably be closer to 113. Now I know that's not a big deal in many places around the world, but here in the KC area, it's what we sometimes call "damn hot".  More than that however, it's uncomfortable for someone of my advanced years and calorically challenged condition.

That at least, is the conclusion that I've come to in describing the case for those of us who can only use the word 'fit' when describing the clothes that we used to wear, but which are too small for us now.  Or in my case, those of us for whom the term "smokin' hot" is only used to describe the lit end of the cigar often plugged into my pie hole.  Of course it would probably be far more comfortable in such conditions to find myself soaking in the local municipal pool; but a member of the male of the species participating in such activities is required to go 'topless' in public, and many would consider the exposure of so much pasty white flesh (which would likely turn rather quickly to the color of a well-cooked lobster) to be showing a lack of respect to fellow pool goers. As a believer in the rule of law, I might even go so far as to say that I have far too much respect for indecency laws in this country to go shirtless in such weather (or any other for that matter).

Respect is likewise part of the issue to be considered as I contemplate the humiliating effect that such an appearance has made on the shambles of my social life.  While I freely concede the idea that there are very few women compatible with the Curmudgeonly existence and stogie-smoking lifestyle that I enjoy these days, I am nevertheless not ready to rule out the possibility that (dare I say it) dating might yet lie in my future.  Such contemplations seem far less realistic however when I see the figure that I cut these days, unless of course the women in question were to be of the sort that have romantic fantasies of Sydney Greenstreet ("The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca), Orson Welles (from his Gallo wine days) or Lionel Barrymore ("It's a Wonderful Life").  

Then of course, one must consider the possibilities if such social interaction should follow its natural course.  There's always a chance, however unlikely, that romance might ensue.  Eventually such consideration seems doomed to run into a situation where the previously mentioned removal of a shirt (or heaven forbid, even more) rears its ugly head. A genuine respect for the fairer gender on my part could easily be seen as reason enough to prevent one of them from the sight of undress that such a situation could lead to, if not actually require. 

It's sometimes strange to consider the curious condition of this personal situation; as I was in my youth little more than a skinny, clumsy, tow headed rug rat.  In those days I consumed mass quantities of every sort of food group known to mankind without a care in the world, and without gaining enough weight to keep me upright in a strong wind. (In the spirit of full disclosure, I should note that this consumption was indeed prodigious, with the exceptions of uncooked tomatoes, cooked cabbage, and pickles.  Such discriminating taste convinces me not only of discerning judgment, but that I was never pregnant.)  During High School days I even took to the use of protein powder supplements in the hope of packing on enough weight to gain further stability on hockey skates, but never managed to satisfy either my coaches or myself and felt humiliated by my failure as a consequence.

These days however, it's the opposite.  Though a better cook than I am often allowed to prove, I use little of that training in the culinary arts; since calorie counting was never a part of the style in which I gained my knowledge.  Food preparation method not withstanding however, I seem to gain weight these days merely by looking at a recipe of ingredients, let alone actually preparing or eating them.  This is not to say that I don't occasionally sit down at the table with the rapacious longing of a python contemplating a meal larger than itself. (I saw this picture once on the Internet of this python that  had eaten an alligator ... oh, never mind.  Look it up yourself.)  Nor is this that I don't understand that the snake in question only eats once a week or so and I'm still pounding down two squares a day, but you get message.

The bottom line of such indulgence is that where once I was considered too small for the game of hockey, I now tip the scale far enough to place myself in the position of a large tight end or linebacker in football, and far too close to the scale (pun intended) which would allow me to take my place on the offensive or defensive line.  This in spite of the fact that I often find myself walking as much as 20-25 miles a week.  I am however, contemplating some rather serious lifestyle changes in the hopes of changing my attitude, my fortunes, and the numbers on the scale.  I won't go into detail on them now, but promise to annoy you with it in the future if these efforts begin to produce any worthwhile results.  

In the meantime however, I am bracing up for a weekend heat wave with all of the enthusiasm (and much of the size) of a beached whale.  And though the numbers on the thermometer do indeed seem high, they are are in fact paltry when considered against the one staring back at me when I can lean over far enough (without falling) to read the ones on the scale.  I have already promised myself not to slack off on my weekend routine of perspiring perambulation regardless of the temperature, moisture content in the air, or the volume of material required to decently cover myself.  The efforts of exercise are in fact those of self-improvement (OK, they're an excuse to smoke a larger cigar) and heaven knows I can use some improvement.  As for the relative discomfort involved, after having lived both here in the Kansas City area and in south Georgia; I believe that I can say with confidence that when it comes to the discomfort involved it's not the heat, it's the humility.

Act Natural, The Cameras Are On

It occurred to me while watching commercials intended to convince me to watch the reality shows on the various networks (they were unsuccessful) that during filming of these mostly unimaginative bits of natural fertilizer, there must be someone standing just off camera saying, "OK, we're going to turn the camera on, act natural." How many of us could fulfill this ridiculous and impossible request if it were asked of us? 


And yet there seems to be a growing number these days who spend their time seeking public attention in one way or the other and finding new and increasingly pathetic ways to place themselves in front of a recording device for later public consumption, in a rather sad form of a game that I like to call: 'Look at me!' We see it in the characters and caricatures that have taken over our television screens on 'reality shows', in contestants attempting to become a star on 'American Idol' or its knock-off counterparts, and in those simply seeking their 15 seconds of fame by leaning into a camera shot while a news crew films a tragedy unfolding. 


And when we are not hypnotized by the antics of these desperate cries for attention by those filming 'human pet tricks' on You Tube, we are dealing with with one of today's media darlings similarly attempting to mesmerize us by convincing us to form the audience of a radio and/or TV show, sign up for a newsletter, and pay them for 'insider' access to their every move; while simultaneously encouraging us to buy books, movie tickets, and T-shirts. Those still attempting to lead a normal life (not that I understand anything about the concept of a normal life you understand) in the wake of such non-stop media exploitation are far too often asked to attempt to do so while the cameras are running. 


Even if you decide that the 'Look at me' game is one that you are not interested in playing, it is likely that you will find yourself unwillingly and unexpectedly caught up in some other player's effort. It often seems these days as if we have no knowledge or control of when these cameras are running, what part of that which we used to consider 'personal and private' they are recording, and who will eventually be watching it with embarrassment or amusement. 


The only thing that we can appear to be sure of is that sooner or later some act that we least wanted to is likely to become publicly displayed. So what's to do in response? Should we succumb to the paranoia fostered by this ever-growing invasion of privacy and hide in our homes? (yeah, as if they were safe) Should we spend our days physically and emotionally paralyzed as we second guess each and every move for fear that someone will be playing back a copy of the poor choices that we have made? Should we simply give in to the 'Ed TV', 'Truman Show' mentality and spend the rest of our lives in a rather stilted performance of a script that no one ever bothered to give us? 


I certainly have no answers. I do know however that these are questions that we had better begin to ask ourselves. The lines between reality and entertainment have now blurred to a point that they are all but unrecognizable (a sad commentary on the lack of originality in the media, but we've covered that ground before); and whether we like it or not, we are asked (or soon will be) to act natural because the cameras are on.

Master of None

My recent recovery process has given me ample time to pause for reflection, which is something that I have discovered can be a truly frightening experience. You see, there were so many things that I wanted to do and to be in my life, and I fear that I never made it. 

I wanted to be a musician at one point in my life, and was even in a couple of bands as a young man. I quickly realized however how tough a business that this could be, and that my musical abilities were nowhere near those of many people that I knew then and now. 

I wanted to be a radio personality like Larry Lujack on WLS AM radio in Chicago when I was growing up, or like many of the talk radio personalities that I hear today both locally and nationally. I have even been given a shot to do so here in Toledo a couple of time on 1370 WSPD. I can't say that I find any real talent or ability in myself for this profession though. It's a lot of fun, very hard work, and probably something that I shouldn't be allowed to do very often. 

I seriously considered becoming a professional student, and maybe even a professor. I discovered however that the life of academia was far more rigid than the worst of trade unions. Far too little original thought is generated, and far too much regurgitation of tired ideas is treated as knowledge. I soon realized that I had neither the patience nor the temper to deal with this hide-bound existence and moved on. 

I hoped to become a captain of industry by making my way in the world through production or sales. I have spent a number of years doing it and had a fair amount of successes both in working with people and in sales, but realize now that I am neither intuitive enough nor enough of a bastard to rise to the top of the capitalistic pyramid. 

I hoped at one time in my life to be a civic leader, and perhaps even run for minor office. I discovered however that while I like people on an individual basis, I find them often mean, lazy, and hard to deal with in large groups. I also discovered that I had trouble not telling them so. This lack of inhibition, along with some rather ugly scars of life's battles that I have accumulated make me unsuitable as a political candidate and probably even more so as a potential leader. 

I desperately hoped to become a writer, having become enamored of literature and addicted to putting things on paper in my youth. As this blog, a few letters to the editors to local papers and USA Today, the columns that have been published in the Toledo Free Press, and the effort of my still unpublished novel attest; I have certainly given it a try. 

I fear however that I will never be compared with the great novelists, the great columnists, or even the best bloggers of the world. It's not that I do a bad job, it's just that I don't rise to the level of my betters in these efforts. I have decided in my recent reflections that this is going to be OK with me. The lack of true talent, short attention span, and lack of initiative that I have illustrated with my life to date has probably always kept me from being able to do one thing well enough to rise to the top of a profession. 

I have discovered however, that I do have a little ability in each of these fields and that each of them as been a rewarding pursuit. I guess therefore, that I am the living example of the expression "jack of all trades, master of none". 

Bread & Circuses

The Toledo Blade printed a special section recently on the impending grand opening of the new Lucas County Arena in Toledo. Soon to be the home of the "Walleyes" hockey team and the "Bullfrogs" (our new arena football franchise), this modern cathedral of entertainment is all but ready for its debut. 

While the naming rights for this new venue have yet to decided, it has even gained a nickname through the efforts of Fred Lefebvre of WSPD, calling it the "FinkRink" in honor of outgoing mayor Carlton S Finkbeiner. As well as the above named sporting events, this new facility is already destined as an true entertainment hot spot, with many other types of amusement on the way including: comedy, music concerts, and yes, even the circus will come to town here in Toledo. 

This special section in the daily paper and some of the recent posts on "Thurber's Thoughts", along with the closeness of the upcoming elections, got me making strange connections (yeah I know, big surprise). "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it," said George Santayana, and I think perhaps he was right. It seems to me that our politics today have a curious parallel to historic events. 

You see, the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire came when the people began to lose touch with what had made it (and them) the heart of civilization, the seat of reason, and the center of justice and freedom in the world. Some part of the spirit that drove the creation and growth of something that had never been seen before in Europe seemed to have gone out of it. Something of that greatness, not only of its leaders, but of the people themselves seems to have dried up, withered, and died. 

The Romans, somehow forgetting the very principles that made them great, diminished as a government. Wearied with almost never ending wars and perhaps robbed of some of their best and brightest as a consequence, they began to fail as a people. The citizens, grasping almost desperately at glories of the past, sought instead a standard of living that they no longer earned and cheap entertainment to fill the growing emptiness within them. 

The Roman government of the time, being shrewd politicians rather than great leaders and recognizing the threat to their power, gave in to these desires. They held huge gladiatorial contests in their grand coliseums with recreations of past glories, with the life and death struggle of men pitted against beasts and each other, and finally with people whose opinions differed from those of the leaders being horrifically sacrificed. 

The common people were entertained with the pomp and ceremony of these "games". They had all of the drama of life and death, all of the inspiration and indoctrination required to keep them content with their leaders, and of course bread and wine were distributed. You see, you couldn't very well expect these mere shadows of what were once a great people to sit through a day of entertainment without being fed and having something to ease throats that were parched from cheering such entertainment. 

I think about that a lot now, as I see Toledo spending over $100 million on this new entertainment venue. Likewise for many of the citizens of the US slouched in front of their televisions, seeking other idle amusements. And while they pass their often meaningless hours, they clamor for their leaders to give them ever more. Pay our mortgages and give us special deals to buy new cars or refrigerators. Provide us with health care and insure our retirement. Whatever it is that we want to keep us happy, give it to us now whether we have worked for it or not. 

Yet like those Romans of history, we could all too soon find ourselves with the Huns, the Mongols, and the Vandals at the gate as we enjoy our pastimes. Even as we attempt to amuse ourselves, history may well be recording this as the dimming of the yet another bright light in the dark tide of the history of Man. Caught up in our 'bread and circuses', we may at last be forgetting the best part of ourselves and ignoring that which seeks to destroy us from without and within.
 

Disposable Income

One of the things that the media seems to talk a lot about in these days of economic challenge is what we are to do with our disposable income. I have to tell you that I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines disposable as "designed to be used once and then thrown away". 

Now I don't know about you, but based on that definition, the pure and simple truth of the matter is that I consider none of my income to be disposable. This is not to say that I don't have some bad habits (I mean lifestyle choices) which require capital infusions from time to time. I recently had a "kid in a candy store moment" during a recent trip to North Carolina with a stop at the J R store humidor and performed a corresponding investment in my cigar inventory. My travel sometimes allow me to stumble over a particularly good bottle of wine or liquor at a reasonable price that subsequently manages to find its way into my luggage. I even indulge myself from time to time in a meal better than one which requires me to decide what size french fries I would like with it. The income used for these choices is not something that I would call disposable however, but more like "choosing a style of life which I would like to become accustomed to if I could more easily afford it". 

You see, like most people out there, I live on a "fixed income". Oh not the kind that people who are retired from their labors talk about, but the kind that requires that I put in long and exhaustive hours to get a paycheck (for the same amount) every two weeks. I have supplemented this recently with the columns that I write for the Toledo Free Press, but this is after all a "free" newspaper, and as such they cannot afford to reward me with large sums of money for the meager prose that I produce for them. Also like most people I have a number of fixed costs. This includes money for the place that I live in, the utilities for it, an automobile (which thankfully is paid off), gas and maintenance of that auto, luxuries such as Internet service for the different things that I do (like this blog), and something more than ABC, NBC, CBS, and PBS for entertainment on television, and of course groceries that provide the nourishment that my body requires to survive. 

What the media then portrays as my disposable income I suppose then, is the money that I spend for the nourishment of my spirit. There is in fact a difference between simply living and being alive. I have to believe that there is more to life than simply existing or the sheer pointlessness of such an existence would drive me mad (hmmm, maybe I can use that as my excuse). I believe that words have to mean things, and in this case I have to say that as defined in today's common parlance, the term disposable income is a 'null input'. Today's media says enough already that has little or no meaning or relevance in the world as we know it. I wish therefore that this same media, who would like us to believe that they are so much wiser than the rest of us, would simply dispose of this term. 

The Age Of Reason

For those of you who are looking for a reasoned and articulate discussion of the 1898 book by Thomas Paine, you are destined once again for disappointment at my hands. I would like instead to talk a little bit about parents, children, and learning...  

My children are older now, and two of them have families of their own. As well as the amusement this provides me as I watch them dealing with the problems of their own families, I find that I am learning a lot from listening to my children and that they may have truly reached the age of reason. 

Now for those of you with children who have not reached this age of reason, this statement probably seems incredible; but it is true never the less. "Tim", you have to be saying to yourself (Which is something that you shouldn't do. Talking to people who are not there is considered madness. Talking to me, whether I am there or not, is simply bad judgment.), "what possible use can it be to speak to someone 7 years old? And while I am asking, how can children so young have children of their own?" The answer is not that we are some genetic misfits (well OK I am, but you're supposed to be polite and not notice), but that obviously you don't understand the concept of the age of reason, so let me explain. 

For most children, the age of reason actually occurs not at 7 (as the Catholic Church taught me in my youth), but much later at age 25. By this time they have gone through the 5 stages of human development:

1. Babies - those who are nothing but needy and cannot yet ask questions (which probably one of the reasons that they are considered to be so cute).
2. Small children - those who know next to nothing and are constantly asking questions with no apparent rhyme or reason (and usually without read answers on the part of their elders) .
3. Young children - those who know a little and only ask embarrassing questions, usually at inopportune times and in public places.
4. Young adults - those who know everything and barely talk to you, let alone ask questions.
5. Adults - those who having passed through childhood, are now both willing and capable of holding an intelligent conversation with you.

With all of my children having now broken through this final barrier a few years back, I find that what they have to say is quite interesting and that in fact they are now having a greater influence on my life then I probably ever was on theirs. 

* I am moved when I listen to them talk about dealing with their children and admire them for the commitment of time and love that they bring to this most important of responsibilities, something they do far better than I ever did. 

* I enjoy talking political philosophy and strategy with them, even though some lean a good bit left of my own politics. They make cogent arguments for their positions and some of their thinking causes me to re-evaluate my own. 

* I am amazed when I hear them discuss the balance in their lives between their careers and their personal lives, a talent that I was never able to master when I was their age (and still seem to be mostly incapable of). 

* I am intrigued when they discuss their mastery of today's technology, from text messaging to web surfing. Whether it is my son Sean who seems to be able to build a computer with the same apparent ease with which I used to be able to build a picture frame, or my daughter Laura who puts the elements of a web page together far easier than I manage to assemble these postings; their abilities surprise and delight me. 

Maybe this is a 6th stage of human development, where the parent listens (a seemingly impossible task for me) and learns from the child. Maybe this is the part where I get to rest from providing answers that I'm not sure I ever had in the first place and let someone else take a crack at it. Maybe this is where I truly reach an Age of Reason, by realizing that I don't, and never did have a clue. 

On the other hand, this might just a brief respite for someone my age as I master he intricacies of impending senility. Whatever the reason might be however, as I listen to the things that they now have to offer in the way of wisdom, I hope that this dog is not too old to learn a few new tricks.