Things sure have changed

The town I grew up in was not a metropolis.  Or at least it hadn’t started out that way.  But over the time, the city has built itself around that area making it much larger than a town.

When I was little, everything had to be driven to – the doctors, the swimming pool, the hospitals, my grandma’s house . . .  not much in the way of walking distance.  My parents even had to drive quite a distance just to get to the freeway.

Today access to the freeway is just around the corner from where I grew up.  I used to have picnics with my brother and his friends in a vacant field -which is no longer - as the land was dug up and is now a part of the intrastate freeway.

There are at least 20-30 fast food chains and restaurants within walking distance.  The small trailer where we had opened our first savings account broke ground on now houses an actual building that changed hands (bank names) at least three times before transforming into a Subway sandwich shop.  I don’t even know if it’s still there or not.  
Many stores have come and gone since I lived there. I remember one building was a Chinese restraunt, a fish and chips, a trophy and plaque store, and a doctor’s office. Currently it is a Hertz – really?  There is seriously a lot to put cars in?

I remember a few buildings changing hands on what seemed like a weekly basis. 

I loved going to Gibsons and to Allied.  Both names and places of the past.

Jenna gets angry when I accidently refer to her Ipod as a walkman.

Says I’m lucky I had my own phonograph when I was younger.  She was thinking the hand cranked kind.  I said (in a highly offended voice) I’m not that old.  She laughed.

My brothers (that would include my non-biological family across the street) and I used to take swim lessons at the Deseret Gym.  Now the LDS Conference Center built over where Deseret gym used to be. 

When we’d visit my Uncle out in Kearns, it seemed quite a drive from our house – but when I lived there with Roland everything was really quite close.  The Sinclair gas station that received its new make-over after we moved has now been ripped out so that the already wide road can be widened even more.

Of course I don’t remember anything about my birth except for what my mom tells me.  Dad wasn’t allowed in the delivery room.  I had three family members with me when I gave birth to Jenna.  My then 11 year old neice was able to watch her sister get born.  But than maybe it depends on what area you're in.  My son, Tony, said he wasn't allowed in the delivery room when his daughter was born - and that was just five months ago.

Jenna was not allowed to visit her cousin, Ana after she was born. But two years later she was able to visit her newborn cousin, Garret, once he got out of ICU and was brought into his mother’s room.  She wasn’t even allowed to visit Kayla (Ana and Garret’s mother) two years ago. 

Jenna’s car seat had been purchased at a garage sale eight years ago.  It passed inspection.  Not by today’s standards.  No way.  I guess I can understand that – to a degree anyway.  There’s another thing that improves each year – or attempted to anyway.  Mom held me in her lap when I was an infant.  As a toddler I was placed in a seat which slid over the back of the chair – front seat. 

My mom was told to keep my brother, Patrick, and I on our backs.  By the time Corey and Kayla came along, the policy had changed to laying newborns on their bellies.  Mom kept them on their backs anyway – even Corey who was two months premature.  Afterall the back procedure had worked fine for me and Patrick.  Somewhere along the line it got changed back.  Too many babies ended up smothering themselves.

Jenna preferred being on her stomach.  For the most part I would let her fall asleep on me and then I would lay her on her back.  I remember when she learned to roll from her stomach to her back.  She’d cry and cry when she couldn’t figure how to return to being on her stomach again.

What changes do you remember?

McDonald’s: an Evolution of Perception

          When we are children and don’t know any better, we believe that McDonald’s is the greatest thing.  Oh, sure, perhaps we’re too busy at the play center or enjoying the toy that falls apart long before we have finished whatever lame meal was ordered.  What did we know about nutrition?  It wasn’t even in our vocabulary.

          Teenagers seemed divided.  It’s fast, it’s cheap, close enough to the high school or jr. high.  Given the right time of the day . . . not that I think of it as a hangout – not in your larger cities anyway.  Not with a playland and 30 screaming kids.

          “It’s not where you take a girl on a date,” says Randy.  Although I could picture Tony doing that very thing – and not with a limo and candles (which Randy said was too cheesy – why spend the money on a limo?  Why not just better quality food?  Have to agree with that part.

          Biff likes the yogurt parfaits.  That’s about it.  Even at thirteen (when he was seriously a better eater than he is now) he saw McDonald’s food as something that would clog the arteries.  And it would take years and years to undo the damage.  I think Biff views McDonald’s as the gateway to suicide.

          As adults we would prefer NOT to go to McDonald’s.  It’s fine to take the kids when they’re younger, but as they get older?  Come on.  Surely we can come up with better food – even if McDonald’s does seem the only thing in the budget.

          Children don’t seem to   appreciate home cooked meals.  Going out just seems so much more prestige – even if it is McDonald’s.

          I recall the first time the boys had Alfredo sauce.  Neither Biff or Tony (who literally eats anything but chicken) seemed unimpressed, but Randy (who always expressed his gratitude and appreciative thoughts and anything to be the center of attention) said (and he genuinely did mean it as a compliment) "This tastes like restaurant food”

          Randy was grateful to eat something other than the budget meals that they had before I met Roland.  And he really did like it even if Biff and Tony weren’t all that impressed.

          I think it is the prices at McDonald’s that draw in the senior citizens.  I remember dad thinking McDonald’s was pretty good.  And mom, who, for so many year has said, “I don’t want to eat at McDonald’s.” didn’t seem to mind it the other day when Jenna announced that’s where she wanted to go.  I certainly wasn’t up for McDonald’s food, but that’s where we ended up and “grandma” didn’t seem to mind. 

          I guess by definition of the AARP I turned into a senior citizen at the end of May this year.  But my love for McDonald’s (should I ever have one) is so far into the future that I think my taste buds will have to be further gone than I am.

          On the up side: McDonald’s does provide housing for families for children who are in hospitals closer to the hospital than their own houses.  The paper products used by McDonald’s are supposedly all recyclable.  Big Macs, for instance, used to come in a Styrofoam carton.  Styrofoam is not recyclable. Therefore it was changed to cardboard.  Though I think more ends up in the “garbage” than in the “recycling” – how can a product all covered in fatty food possibly be recycled?

          There are a lot of pluses to McDonalds – possibly more than down sides.  They may have a bad rap with many.  But there will always be that genuine love among the children and senior citizens.

We’ve Been Told That MuliTasking is a Myth

        Corey showed me this cartoon about five hours after Roland and I had driven to Roland’s work.  He was talking about this very subject – commenting that there’s no such thing as multitasking.  I couldn’t believe he was saying that. 

He is amazing at multitasking behind the wheel. And we have known several who fit in the “Molly Mormon” role – each with 8-14 kids.  And it seems the more children they have, the greater they are at multitasking.  Straighting the dress on one while fixing the hair on the other while cooking dinner and doing laundry, and feeding the youngest two and reading a book in order to prepare for the Relief Society lesson which actually isn’t until next month – but multitasker Molly Mormons don’t procrastinate.  They put all scouts to shame as they will never be prepared as much as Molly Mormon. (On a side note: many Molly Mormons actually do teach or at least assist with scouting)

I was convinced that there was no myth – that multitasking really does take place.  And just less than twelve hours later I was sitting in front of the boob tube watching Multiplicity. That’s when I absorbed what I’d been hearing all day.  There is truth in the saying that there’s no such thing as multi-tasking.  No such thing.  Apparently it is believable as being able to clone ourselves to fulfill all those things that we need to do.  To multitask.

I could never be a multitasker.  But I thought there were a handful of people that were.  I believed in the myth.  I have seen Molly Mormon in action.  Or was it the same trickery that is used by a magician? 

Weeding out the Red-Rooted Bastard

          I once heard the following about an elderly woman with a very nice garden.  Someone had asked how she maintained without weeds.  She had set a goal to pull 15 a day.  I’m guessing she didn’t have to deal with pigweed.

          I actually have two nicknames for the weed that springs back to life the minute it is pulled.  The more offensive name mentioned in the title of this post and “Rapunzel” – though I think it grows much faster than Rapunzel’s hair.  But unlike Rapunzel’s hair, there is absolutely nothing special about it.  It’s a weed.  A multiplying undying weed.

          I will pull them up by their roots.  I will have a tremendous pile of these red-rooted pigweeds – more outside of the garden than inside.  It seems for every one I’ve pulled at least four to seven have grown back in its place.  How am I supposed to keep up with that?  And if we don’t pull them now while they are sprouts, they will be much harder to pull.

          When we moved into this house, there was a large tree growing near the house.  The neighbors’ driveway was starting to crack as the roots were pushing into the foundation.  She called it a trash tree and said it needed to be removed. The stump still remains in our yard and thus we haven’t seen the roots attached.  I’m certain that they are red (or were – it’s possible that they have died off by now)

          When I first saw the pigweed sprout up, I was certain that they were/are daughters of the trash tree – that could have been something else.  Whatever it was it wasn’t intentionally planted.  It just grew there and made a mess.

          I remember hearing the Biblical stories of Joshua defeating different cities with the instruction and help of our God.  They had to kill babies.  Little babies.  Innocent babies.  That bothered me for the longest time – because all babies are born innocent.  Even Hitler (no matter how hard to believe) was born innocent.  And yet that would have been the best time to get him – drop him, strangle him, drown him . . .

          There are so many films and themes and movies devoted to time travel.  What if?  What if we could save Kennedy?  What if we could destroy Hitler before he even knew what power was?

          One show depicts the midwife taking the baby and throwing it in the river.  Mrs. Hitler is devastated and insists that the child is replaced.  A kidnapped baby is brought to her that she may raise him as her own.  She calls him Adolf.

          And no matter how often the attempt to save him is made, Pres. Kennedy always ends up getting killed.  It has already happened.  Though the idea of traveling back in time to save him is appealing, it does not exist.  He died at the hands of whom?  Lee Harvey Oswald?  A conspiracy perhaps?

          When I think of the weeds and the time traveling non-changes, it makes it easier to understand and accept scriptures like Joshua 6:21.   

Like a Fly to Cowpie

That’s how she described her passion for family history: “like a fly to cowpie”.  She had been raised on a dairy farm – it was a natural analogy – though I could think of better ones: “a duck to water” “a monkey on a cupcake” or Roland’s favorite: “like Godzilla on Tokyo”

        I don’t even have a passion for genealogy or family research (from an earlierpost) but wouldn’t have compared it to manure.  Family History is a good thing and works for a lot of people.  And there are many aspects of family history that I do enjoy – but research is a far cry from being one of them.

          It’s not just family history that gets her fired up.  I believe that it is everything that comes her way.  She greets it with her heart which shines in her smile.  I think she may have an even bigger love for life than my sister-in-law, Sunny, whom I truly admire. 

Sunny teaches pre-school.  Parents put their children on waiting lists and feel very honored when they get in.  Sunny is awesome at introducing children to their first steps to life.  May her students always remember her enthusiasm. I wish I had even just one ounce of that passion.

          In addition to the family history class, Hannah also has a calling as the enrichment leader.  She is so prepared and so excited and gets to know the sisters and invites them in and makes them feel welcome.  I think there have been some major awesome turn outs since she’s been put in. 

          Hannah and Sunny.  Share the joy.  You can’t help but smile along with them.  

Experiencing the Great Outdoors

          As soon as I hit “publish” on my last post – the very second (I kid you not) I could hear Highness scratching at the door – which made a grand total of 29 minutes and 41 seconds that he had been outside.  Which is 28 minutes and 58 seconds longer than usual.

          We haven’t had him for a full year yet.  I think he stayed out longer when the weather was cooler – but not cold.  After the snow melted and the ground softened a bit, Highness started digging.  He escaped too many times.  But he hasn’t managed to sneak past the board that we put up in May.  Too bad we didn’t know about it sooner.

          The couple next door has a grandson that visits almost weekly.  He’s a handful.

          Truman’s Nana invited my daughter over to play shortly after we moved in.  But Truman would wear on Jenna’s nerves.  He was much too immature for her. Still is – but has developed a more sophisticated vocabulary.

          There is still a two age difference between them, but over the years Jenna has come to tolerate Truman and even accept him as friend – maybe her only friend.  Just haven’t seen a lot of kids this summer.

          Jenna has never been on an actual camping trip.  The few “camping” experiences she’s had have consisted of setting up the tent in the back yard and roasting marshmallow over the grill.  Right now it seems to be enough.  In 2010 she went “camping” with her brother (the one who is currently in the army) This year it was with Roland after Father’s Day (which you can read more about here)

My last post indicated that she was camping next door.  A tent had been set up in the backyard.  She spent the night with Truman, and his Nana – who had invited Jenna to stay with them.  Don’t know that Roland was as thrilled with the idea.  But there had been a spark in Jenna’s eyes all day.  I couldn’t say “NO’’ and kill the excitement that she had been feeling all day Friday.  She would be crying otherwise.

Not only did she have a great sleepover.  She spent time in the pool and ran through the sprinklers and ended up going to the movies with the family Saturday afternoon.  They went and saw “Brave” which she initially didn’t want to see.  She expressed her lack of interest each time a preview would appear.  I said that I would like to see it – she must have had a change of heart.  She said that “Brave” was awesome.  I won’t be seeing it until it comes to the dollar theatre.  We’ll go on a Monday when the shows are 75 cents.

I am so grateful that Jenna has found friendship after almost three years.  Still has friends and is very popular where we came from – but it’s been a lot more difficult over hear.  Though she does have two sets of brothers fighting over her already.  Oh, my heck! She’s only eight!

Thank you Ben and Stacey for taking Jenna under your wing and allowing her to go on your family activities.

fireworks and sleeping beneath the stars

She came to me the other night.

"What is that noise?"

"It's the fireworks (all month long)"

"I can't sleep."

That was in her bed
in her room
fan going
didn't drown out the noise.

Tonight she is in a tent in
the backyard next door

Flashlights going
I can hear her friend talking
and his Nana asking
why don't they all go to sleep.

I let Highness outside before I went to bed.
He usually returns in less than an entire minute.
But he's out there lying down.
It's been almost thirty.

He must be taking comfort in the voices of
Jenna and Trume.

Hopefully I will have more details tomorrow
about this exciting campout.

Personalities of the Hundred Acre Wood

          I don’t know if I first noticed the resemblance between Jenna and Tigger (from Disney’s Winnie-the-Pooh) or Frances and Eyore – I’m thinking the latter.

 Frances would often wear shirts with logos that were either Tinkerbelle or Eyore.  I once thought “Frances could be Eyore” kind of sluggish, not very pleasant, somewhat of a pessimist – which is sad – because she hadn’t always been like that. 

          The transformation probably took place within the first couple of years after she received her first period.  And perhaps it was during those times I would happen to see her that she was going through PMS or whatever.  She’d become lazy, had always been careless.  She could easily misplace her tail.  Frances was Eyore.

          Jenna has been enthusiastically pouncing for almost six or seven years.  As with Tigger, she doesn’t do it maliciously – she just gets excited.  Since I’d been picking her up from pre-school or the sitters or wherever, she has run to and embraced me at full speed and amazingly hasn’t yet knocked me over.

          She is not made of rubber and springs – and I’m definitely not.  Though I’ve tried to tame her, she still continues to pounce.  Jenna IS Tigger.

          That got me to wondering if the restof us   had personality traits that would resemble those that lived in the 100 acre wood.  Up until then I guess I hadn’t thought of each character as a different personality trait.  But now I do.

          I assigned myself to be Rabbit as Rabbit often feels uptight about stupid things that he can’t control.  Let it go.  Move on.  No, not Rabbit.  He seems to focus on the things that upset him.  Maybe not.

          Rabbit’s actually a harder worker than I am.  LOVES gardening.  I don’t loathe it so much as I just don’t care for the overall temperature that seems to come with gardening (put me indoors with an air conditioner) but does seem to often snap at others.  I REALLY NEED to shed this personality trait.  It’s not a desirable one.  But I do tend to get uptight about circumstances and wish I would stop.

          Roland is definitely Kanga.  He seems to possess maternal instincts and sometimes will coddle our children – particularly when they don’t want to be coddled.  He’s a worrier, provider, a nurturer and supervisor among other things. 

          I decided that Biff would be Winnie-the-Pooh.  Pooh’s one focus is with “hunny”.  Biff’s is the gym.  Stuffed with fluff?  Not exactly.  Biff works out.  He would never get stuck in Rabbit’s hole for example.  But he does have the same loveable qualities found in pooh bear. And there are times that I have wondered if his head might not be full of cotton.

          Tony and Pamprin are both playful.  Both would like to hold hands with someone who will make the decision.  Of course I don’t know Pamprin near as well as I know Tony.  He likes to laugh.  He likes to play.  But he has definite signs of responsibility.  Both Tony and Pamprin have changed diapers.  I wouldn’t think too many of the hundred acre wood characters would even know how to do that.

          Randy is wise.  I considered the owl – though the owl seems kind of squirrely to me at times.  I made Randy Christopher Robin – as Christopher Robin is more of the observer outside of the 100 acre woods and can come and go at his desire.  Randy has been coming and going since he was nine (possibly sooner).  Sometimes he’s a part of us, but often he chooses to let us work it out amongst ourselves.

          Wasn’t that a wonderful post?

         

Nothing wrong with being Fox or Chick

“What do you like for breakfast?”

Said Fox to Chick one day.

But Chick was silent and frightened. 

He didn’t know what to say.

“I like eating vegetables.”

Fox continued on.

“I like raw ones upon my plate

And I eat until they’re gone’

“I like all kinds, but my favorite

Are the ones that have a root.

I’ll eat legumes to get protein.

Don’t care much for meat or fruit.”

Still quiet and bewildered,

Chick didn’t say a thing

The nervous fowl just shuttered

Beneath each wing.

And then they heard the taunting:

“Fox and Chick sitting in a tree . . .”

“Are they teasing both of us?” Chick asked.

“Or are they only teasing me?”

“I’m different,” said the fox, “And so

All the other animals make fun.

They think I ought to be a certain way.

And not the way I’ve done’

“I don’t think the same as most fox do

I don’t fit the stereotypical mold

But it’s okay.  I’m not like them.

Being true to myself I uphold.”

Chick understood. Fox wasn’t the same

Fox wasn’t going to eat Chick

There is something to be admired about

Making individualism stick.

                                                      kfralc

Birds Gathering in Mom’s Backyard

          In 1963 Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” was released in movie theatres.  My mom didn’t seem like a thrill seeker, but had gone to see “The Birds” and was quite freaked out about it.

          For years there was an apple tree in the backyard of the house where I grew up.  I recall several years when birds would fly overhead or gather into our yard as if it was the designated place for the birds to hold their daily or weekly conferences.  And mom would be freaked. 

          It seems quite hilarious really – by today’s standard’s I mean.  I remember mom checking out the video perhaps just a few years and decade after its release.  She sat Patrick and me down to show us this “very scary” movie so that we might understand her fears. 

          Well, it backfired.  The idea of the film was completely silly.  And everything looked fake.  (As an adult, I find the “making of the Birds” so much more interesting than the movie itself.)

          Patrick and I laughed – and even mom could see that it wasn’t really as scary as she had led herself to believe.  But we were watching a video in Patrick’s room with his two large windows and in the middle of the day with lots of sunlight streaming in.  Surely a dark movie theatre with these “bigger-than-life-sized-birds” (as they would appear larger on the big screen) was a lot more scary.  But Patrick and I believed that a large screen would only enhance all the flaws that we saw.

          Oh, I’m not knocking what may have been a horrifying chiller in 1963 – but by today’s standards – or even just the late ‘70’s, it seemed more like a comedy than a thriller.

          When I was at my mom’s house the other day, she pointed out the window and said to Jenna, “Look at all the birds!” 

She took pleasure in the fact that so many birds had gathered outside her window.  She wasn’t scared about or bothered at all.  And I thought back into a time when her reaction was always so much different.

          There has been a plus to the wicked health issues that have seemed to rob both of my parents of their yesteryear’s strength.  And that has been in seeing my parents behave in a different a manner unlike their old selves – but allowing themselves to express new emotions – or one’s that seem to have been buried away seem to rise to the surface.  I don’t often welcome the changes, but sometimes it brings me joy to see an unexpected behavior.  Such as welcoming the birds and not fearing the idea of what could happen (or at least did in someone’s imagination)

Nearly Completed Section on Social Studies

We purchase workbooks for Jenna on occasion – mostly for fun on her part.  The last book we got has nine sections – including three parts of math, four parts of English, Science and Social Studies.

For the most part, the vocabulary and Language Arts seem too easy for her, while the math (for the most part) is spot on.  And she has breezed through writing and social studies.

Page 252 in the social study section shows “The Lady in the Harbor” comic illustration with trivial facts and pointing arrows

The crown with seven spikes stands for the seven seas and the seven continents

The torch is a light that welcomes travelers to the United States

The tablet shows the Roman numerals of the date the Declaration of Independence was signed: July 4, 1776

A foots forward position is a symbol of moving forward into the future

The Statue of Liberty stands on an island in New York Harbor.  She is a symbol of freedom and hope.

Page 253 invites the child to write a poem about what liberty means.    And these are the words she used to fill in each line that spelled out Liberty

Lady Liberty

Is standing by and looking at me

Being so beautiful

Eagerly, I want to hug her

Rare, oh, rare she is

Tall and beautiful

You are pretty liberty

A Reflection about the past and Present

          If I can’t get interested in a movie in the first twenty minutes or a novel within the first ten pages, I usually don’t continue.  That may not seem like I am giving a fair chance – maybe so.  But it’s something I have decided not to gamble on – usually. 

`        There have been too many movies and even more books read where I have sat through its entirety and am quite upset with myself for having wasted my time.  That is why I usually don’t go beyond twenty minutes or ten pages.  But sometimes I do.

          “that’s what I am” was actually kind of a slow movie – one I watched in parts because of several interruptions.  I don’t know if I would have continued otherwise – though I was somewhat intrigued by the narration by Greg Kinnear – it reminded me of Jean Shepherd’s “The Christmas Story” or “Ollie Hopnoodle’s Haven of a Bliss” or Jim Carrey as the Adult Joe Wenteworth in “Simon Birch”

I don’t ever remember seeing any advertisements or even heard of “that’s what I am”.  Evidently it came out just over a year ago – must have gone straight to DVD.  I’m thinking it may not have done well at the box office.  But what do I know?

“that’s what I am” is a coming of age story set in 1965.  But there is more to it than the character of Andy Nichol (the character who narrates the story.)  Observations were made about the supporting characters of Andy’s world.

There is bullying against “the geeks” weeded out mostly on looks.  Stanley is a tall boy with red hair.  They call him “Big G” – G stands for ginger, an unkind word associated with red hair.  I don’t see it so much now as I did as a youth.  Many redheaded kids I had known were either shy or rebellious and often treated like outcasts – I think that’s stupid!

Stanley is smart – very smart.  Mr. Simon is the science teacher (or is it social studies?  I suppose it doesn’t really matter) that pairs Stanley and Andy together to complete an assignment (also hated that; grade me on my own merits, not an assigned partner) and Andy can’t seem to get together with Stanley except at lunch – but Stanley has lunch where the geeks are.  

They have been shunned to a lower class by the rest of the school – and if Andy were to cross the line – well, people might think that he’s a geek, too.  But Stanley won’t give up to doing assignments before or after school – Andy’s option is to be seen with Big G or just let Big G do all the work – easy grade, right. 

When a girl gets bullied (I’m guessing sexually – though they didn’t really show it) Mr. Simons takes action and the bully is suspended.  And so he starts an unkind rumor about Mr. Simons that threatens to put his job in jeopardy if he doesn’t deny the rumor.

It’s an unfair thing for this bully’s accusations to cause sparks to fly – to question the integrity of this man who has taught for many years and brought under investigation because of some bad mouth bully whom the principal doesn’t necessarily believe – but still – he has made an accusation nevertheless and the matter needs to be looked into.

Mr. Simon could easily deny the rumor – whether true or false – and there would be no investigation – but he chooses instead not to answer at all – which of course in grounds for dismissal –

Perhaps in 1965 the denial would have been good enough. But today there has to be an investigation, a suspension, a probation – and some of these accusations turn out to be true while others are just months and years of dragging ones good name through the mud so that the rumor is the only thing remembered and the fact that there is no truth to whatever rumor was started seems irrelevant – which is too bad.

Roland’s ex-wife has made false accusations about everyone she’s known, I imagine.  It’s a sickness on her part.  After a while she believes her own lies.  She won’t let up for anything.

Roland and I were not sealed in the temple until three years after we had married.  His membership was in jeopardy – not once – but several times at her wicked hands. She obviously doesn't know that Roland is in the bishopric or else she would do everything in her power to tarnish his good name and present position.

I know that there have been many who have lost their careers due to scandal – whether in the armed services, law enforcement, education, and what have you.  It happens.  There are those who have had to face up to their wrong doings and there are some who have basically had to start over because of the tarnished mishaps that often seem to haunt them.  Some move on with regret – others choose to move on and make the best of it (if that is even possible).

There are some people who are sour grapes and will remain that way no matter what.  I recall once being on a cruise line in which one particular couple would complain about their purser – giving him a bad rating – which of course would come up for investigation.  Each group of people who happened to have the same purser made it a point to complain about the couple and defend the purser.  I don’t know what the results were.  I hope the cruise line realized that the problem was with the couple and not the purser.

          I think the things I enjoyed most about “that’s what I am” happen at the finale, after the bully receives what’s coming to him.  And Mr. Simon went out with a blaze of glory.  But the best was at the very end – because there really is more than one correct way to mow a lawn.  It would be so nice if everybody could see that.  If it’s getting done, don’t harp on how it needs to be done.  Who decides what makes something politically correct anyway?