Jealous Green Eyes

Jealousy has many meanings depending on how the word is used. I am concerned, here, about the individual who likes to think that a partner is jealous when he/she glances admiringly at someone else, in this case, a server at an eating/drinking establishment and makes a remark about it. It is  common, and often a characteristic, for some to ogle attractive others. And while it may be natural to gaze upon a stranger one sees as attractive, it is impolite to make a show of it especially while on a date with someone. Most  daters try to control their eyes and certainly their comments, but there are some unwise sorts who simply, cannot control their mouths. Apparently, they have no trouble with their eyes! Those who find that they do not have a leash on the leering while with a companion, could, one hopes, defer from, at least, the come-on comments. It is maddening to sit with a date who insists upon making sleezy remarks to a server, remarks they think are flattering. They feel it enhances their sex appeal to do so. "Oh, look at me flirting; I am such a hotty!"  Oh no! It is bad enough for the datee to be forced to listen to such drivel, it must make the server feel that he or she would like to empty a trayful on the ignorant skull that spews this sort of nonsense. And for the rude flirtator, to accuse his/her date of being jealous over it, is just not fair. Or intelligent. It's passing the buck, in fact. What's happening is that the date is jealous, but not of the victim. They are jealous of their right as an invited date, to be the sole person focussed on and certainly not having to share their time with  those who must serve the food and drink at the table. Servers are simply trying to be polite, doing their jobs and should not be regarded as part of the entertainment. One has no business considering it okay to insult servers in this manner. They are not anything but working at their hard and heavy jobs while being very polite to those being served.  Customers should not assume they have any right to give out flirtatious remarks like some elderly candy men who haunt the malls getting their jollies in the same way.  Tips notwithstanding. They don't appreciate being taken for granted as though they are unfeeling automatons open to any kind of remark coming from the paying customers. The money we pay, is for the product, not the server. Most servers have home responsibilities and reasons for doing their difficult jobs.  It is tiring for eight or more hours, to carry heavy trays and plates, to remember who wants what and how at each table, and to deal with the pressures of restaurant or bar service behind the scenes without having to put up with smart-mouthed customers.  No matter how attractive the server is, or how much they appreciate, even need, your fair tips, they do not need to be insulted with remarks that are offensive to their private selves. And for someone to turn on dating partners and accuse them of being jealous when they hear this sort of negative comment, is just plain thoughtless. They are being humane, not being jealous.   Compliments should be for the service. And only the service. Let's couth up!

What Women Really Want

Yesterday had an interesting twist. I spoke to a man who told me what women want. Later, I heard a woman tell me what she really wanted. I was conflicted somewhat by what I listened to. The man complained that he had a bad marriage that ended in anger and all he wanted was a woman who didn't want a commitment from him. The woman, a widow, admitted that her life was lonely after an uncomfortable marriage but that she didn't want a husband because she would never trust another man. Both people had relationships but neither wanted to make a permanent arrangement of them. They just wanted to "date".  It was clear that each had suffered bad experiences in making binding commitments and were afraid to make them again because of it. But what did each really want? Clearly, each wanted a commitment but did not trust a partner to give it. It's natural to want a mate. We all want to find that perfect match, the one that makes a trusting bond that lasts until the day we die. Unfortunately, it happens seldom. I had one of those "seldom" found relationships that unfortunately ended in a death. Frankly, I am loathe to make another commitment because I know how difficult it is to find another person who can or will make such a thing happen. The older you are, the harder it is to find someone unscarred. I am in the same boat as the man and woman I spoke with even though my oar may be another colour. We were made to share our lives with a mate admissibly but many people who want this kind of connection with another, simply have not been able to find that special person with whom they can share a trust. And then there are certain individuals who physiologically and/or psychologically are unable to commit to one other person exclusively. The varieties of human beings and their personal needs is vast. Trying to locate someone with whom to share your concept of life is no mean task. Much of the time, in youth, it happens and works out, but likely accidentally. Youth is a formative period in human development and if someone young mates up with another, it stands a good chance of working. Marriage is not a static matter, it develops and changes as time goes on. Those who marry or commit young, have a chance to adjust to the condition of marriage and in doing so, may make together, a true and lasting arrangement. It doesn't just happen. Like curing clay, commitments harden and crack and sometimes, or often as these times, break apart while others self-mend and stay together. Elements such a outside forces come along and they change the stability of a union. It has to be strong and able to mend the cracks and hits to survive. What do men want? They want exactly what women want and that is a comfortable life with a person who is flexible and willing to work to keep the relationship going. Trust is key. When that breaks, the scars remain even though a repair has taken place. The first thing that will crack it apart is the weakness caused in the once cracked place and that's the hard part: getting past it. All told, a good union can be, with work, the best kind, even stronger than one that has never been tested.

What Matters Most

Some say that what matters is right in front of our eyes. No. My steaming cup of morning coffee is not what matters most, well, perhaps at this moment, but what really matters, I maintain, is not the future or even the present, but the past. Why? When I watch the elderly, I see a far away look in their eyes and I know they are not looking at what lies before them but what is somewhere else. Something distant. I suspect it is some memory or recollection of note that pulls their attention from this world, into what was, not what is. Long ago, when caring for two very old, very dear folks, I recall them in their nineties, sitting in their living room on furniture that was almost as old as they,  holding photo albums in their laps with little dishes of various pills and glasses of water beside them, speaking in their frail tones about the pictures they were looking at.  Small piles of these books of memoirs were stacked at their feet. The two laughed together and their eyes sparkled as they peered across the room at one another with youthful faces shining through the wrinkles and liver spots and white hair, what there was of it. The old couple was recalling events of long ago, ones that they had shared in their over sixty-year marriage. When I peeked unseen into their room and saw their joy in recalling  mutual times, I knew it was a private moment and backed away. They lived only a short time later, one "going" after the other, as often happens. What this scene taught me is that what we do in the present, is vitally important. It will become immediately, the past and matters because it can't be undone. If two old people who know they have little time to live, take joy in the simple pleasure of their memories, what we do now must be the key. All of our endeavors to make life better by working at jobs we secretly loathe and putting up with people we can't abide and living life-styles that are not who we are, comes down to an ending whether we like to think of it or not and an accounting total of what our lives added up to. We'll be asking: was it all worth it?  It seems logical to me that we grab the moment that makes us happy and cling firmly to it. Sure, we have to work to survive and often that means toleration to a maximum degree, but in the end, if it has to done, we try to find something in that place that has meaning. If it doesn't, we strive to put meaning into it and if that doesn't work, we move on and continue the quest. The whole matter of happiness appears to be that search within ourselves to achieve it rather than grieve it. I like to think about this old couple nearing their final days and finding happiness not in their present circumstances but about what really mattered in  their long lives. They knew hard work and loss and achievement and disappointment: all that, but it wasn't what they had or didn't have, not about things, but about people and what they did amongst those people to find true satisfaction and happiness that would carry them along until their lives ended.

Don't Tell Me

The unofficial rule-making people annoy me. They are the ones who say that to do what they don't happen to like, is wrong or rude or incorrect. I believe there should be rules but some rules are made by fools. One of the "rules" is to write e mails that are three to five words, no more no less, long. They also "rule" out added things such as graphics or doodles etc. I happen to write and my habit is length and verbiage. I try to keep the outpourings to a minimum but that is my habit and I refuse to change. I write in sentences, not phrases, because I love the sentence complete with proper punctuation. It is what I am and what I do and I am not going to change. Rules or no rules. I bend the sentence rules a bit by using the incomplete sentence  and sometimes I end  with a preposition but generally, I shun the pruning of words. These can be found on itty bitty screens alighted in hands, usually youngish ones. "YRU g'n",translated, is - Why are you going?  "IM" is - I am ('going' is understood apparently). The advent of the HHD or Hand Held Device has likely encouraged the informal  rule makers to dictate that longer "real" English should be sliced and diced to save time and fingertips. If the sender is walking and chewing gum at the same time, he/she needs to be quick about it or something real could happen such as a blue bird sighting or perhaps a garden in passing. It is a faster world out there they tell me. I could add something to that but it would be rude. Then there are quasi rules about walking along sidewalks. When I dared to walk on the left rather than the right, I was tongue-clicked and groaned at. Okay, I thought, I am not an automobile, I am a person and this sidewalk is large and I do not see a yellow line down the middle and even if I did, I would likely hop over it, depending on my mood, and walk on whichever side I pleased. In a large city such as New York, I can see that rule - perhaps. The folk there walk at mega speed and in their running shoes as though there were an Oscar waiting for them at their destination. I think they are angry people perhaps because their choice is either walk or take a taxi and walking being faster and certainly cheaper, raises the temperature and perhaps temperament, when one might wish to have a shower upon arriving at work and there isn't one. Well, that's my theory. We are all ruled by rules that are generally unofficial and often silly but for some reason we think they keep us orderly. When a rebel comes along and breaks the non-rule rules we consider them "weird" but in truth he/she is simply working "outside the box" for his/her own reasons. Next time you see a guy wearing a skirt, I did recently, go ahead and stare. Break the staring rule, we all want to anyway. Why quell? And ask him why he is doing what he does. I did that once at a market and was told that the skirt was not a kilt but a garment that had been worn in a country during their wars. The chap manufactued them in khaki and went on and on about it. Sometimes breaking a silly rule turns out an act of sanity and not a little fun.

Denim Blues

As I put away my jeans today, I noticed how thin the knee fabric was and it concerned me. Deeply. Then I thought, why are you worried about jeans? My jeans are my old friends. I was introduced to denim when I was a pre-schooler. Blessed with pioneering grandparents who had emigrated from their early holdings in Saskatchewan in the days when it was called Assinaboia, I went regularly to their retirement farm in what was called Haney in the old days. The farm was haven to my many cousins who were sent there during the summer vacation while our parents did a couple holiday. We didn't miss them one bit.  The country place was vast, at least a section on a mountainside tribuatry of the Allouette River. The one of the small streams filled with September salmon, so many you could walk over them if you wanted to. There were horses to ride bareback, cows to watch being milked and warm hens eggs to collect. In short, The Farm, was heaven to us. Our grandparents let us free and the only requirement was that we appear for breakfast, dinner and evenings of playing Rummy with Grandpa. We went deeply into the woods and forded fast running streams. We climbed trees and fished with safety pins. We had complete access to the various waterfalls and streams and fields. Denim was the choice in clothing and shoes were an option. We wore then, something called overalls and  yes, they were the bib kind. We didn't know about fashion but our denims often did sport a fallen shoulder strap. Later on in life, there were "pedal pushers" made of denim for bike riding around my town and still later, denim skirts and jackets were considered "in". The best part of denim is that it can be worn almost to rags and still look fine. But now denim has reached fashion heights and has become a must for all closets. Some jeans are bejewelled, others, ripped in intriguing places, still others go off to work. But denim remains and doesn't lose its value as is seen as young women plying the second-hand stores looking for jeans of certain numbers. I am not a great fan of denim as formal attire but it has been seen more than once at film openings and upper end parties in big cities. My favorite jeans, and I have many pairs, are the ones that I am afraid to wash. They are simply too fragile. I do them by hand in mild soap and water and agonize over their time left. They are pale blue with whitish knees and skimpy in other worn places. Their seams are still trustworthy but the hems are becoming finely threadbare and in places the gold thread is looking dangerously thin. My formal jeans are dark blue and do not have orange stitching. I feel safe wearing them with a tweed jacket and good blouse or tee, to go out shopping or to a movie or out on a date. Their only requirement is a pair of sexy navy heels but just try to find some. It seems the world is not doing navy shoes that go with jeans. Light blue shoes to match the truly worn pair, my favorties, are impossible to locate. I have tried. Desperately. I have even resorted to painting  pairs of Birkies to match my jean colours. Latex paint works best but these days of slender coiffed feet and Italian sandals with delicate strapping, the Birkies are left to us, the older set, to clump around in. Long live all old jeans! 

University???

When a young person asks me, should I go to university, I can't, these days, answer that question without first trying to find a good reason why anyone should go at all. In former days, university life was full of joy and expectation. Now it is often merely to fill in a blank on the resume for a job. One student said, if you don't have a university degree you won't be hired by a good company. When I asked what sort of company did he mean, the answer was, any company. Does this mean that if one wants a job at a rug, car or clothing sales business, an applicant should have a university education? Apparently, the answer is, yes because, I am told, it is a process of elimination and those with a degree are more likely to be hired. This whole picture is ridiculous. First of all our secondary education system stinks. It is so general that some kids find it a waste of their time. And don't tell me it is a socialization process. It was but it is not any more. You can have as much socialization in a fast food joint either in it as a customer or a worker. Senior high school students in their last couple of years, often have to take courses that have nothing whatever to do with anything but getting a piece of paper saying that they "graduated". I know students who had the number of courses correct but for some reason didn't have one particular course to get their certificate and had to do another whole year or take another course simply to fill out that particular bureaucratic need. How ridiculous is that and often it is a lack of close attention by the school to the individual's program in the first place. The system is antiquated and frankly, a mess.  First, we have to make high school education meet the true needs of students and not a bevy of requirements laid down by someone with his/her head in the clouds. Second, young people should get directly into their interest field even at high school and leave this "broaden your mind at the U" nonsense for those who are rich. The well-off might be able to afford the six figure numbers for that but most other people simply can't without going to loans and mortgages. And for what?  And using the pre-requisite ploy when the pre-requisites have nothing whatever to do with the professional goal of the student, is merely a way of sucking money out of the beginner  to pay for the expensive end courses of those about to leave the university. A pre-requisite should reflect directly on the end goal of the chosen course. That is the harsh truth of the matter. When I look at community colleges, I see some sense. Here people can live at home and get the basics before deciding on a career and whether it actually requires a formal academic education or a technical one that will take the student directly into the field he or she wishes to enter. Too often I hear students say, I'm going to university because I don't know what I want to do. That is an expensive way to do it. Nursing schools used to be largely in hospitals where nurses should train. Doctors do. Chefs, designers, mechanics and so on need true apprenticeship programs, not the ones that don't work now. Sitting in a classroom works for some careers but practical experience is where real learning takes place. We need more technical schools for students who can opt for that education at the Grade Eleven point. We would have more workers earning something quicker than having the student sit around in front of a  lecturer and wasting time on courses that they have no interest in anada that they could take on line.  If someone desires an academic education, all to the good, they can hie off to the university and do that. The others who need to make money as soon as possible and get to work as soon as possible can follow their choices. I'd like to see high school a shorter term with concentrated real learning taking place and that courses that have no true bearing on the lives of its students, be discarded. With computer knowledge much of the student's education can be achieved that way rather than sitting in a dusty classroom listening to someone droning on when what is being said, is easily accessible on a machine. Sorry, but it's a new day out here and it requires some new, perhaps uncomfortable, thought. University is just too expensive for the average person and scholarships are tokenism for all but the elite.

See How Smart I Am

If you go to a party, you're there to have fun. That means rather light, idle chat and funny stories by others about "what happened on the way to" and "did you hear" sorts of conversations. The worst thing is to be stuck with a fellow fete attendee who persists in expounding on his or her topic at great length and with sentences sans periods. This sort is usually someone who has little more going for him or her, other than second hand intelligence gleaned from the works of other more informed folk, mainly writers of elusive and relatively remote subjects. These can be anywhere from best-natural-diets-for-pet-guppies to use-of-a-nine-iron-in-a-sand-trap.  These bores apparently according to their own reports, read a lot and do so mostly to astound other people hoping the result will make them appear hugly bright and informed. Unfortunately, their audiences seldom find them nice to be near. And it has nothing to do with their brand of soap. While in some circumstances I find this kind of individual entertaining, I do not want to be with them for very long. They exhaust me and make me want to do anything other than listen to their self-purported knowledge gleaned from the pages of another bore on that particular topic. You can see them coming. Here you are leaning on the wall, cocktail or water bottle in hand, hoping for someone interesting and attractive to come by and the pedant perp approaches seeing that you are temporarily idle. His or her head is often bent curiously a bit to one side and the eyebrow, elevated to the wisdom-is-approaching height. When said orator is close enough, it begins with a leading question much like the car dealer who comes on when you are merely browsing. You look to find an escape route. Alas, it's too late. "Hello there. I saw you from across the room and you looked an intelligent sort. How do you do? I say, I am itching to pose a question to see if you can enlighten me further on a subject", it says. Your heart sinks, unless it is about the sex life of the fruit fly or the subject of your former long-forgotten thesis, you know you will be stuck at the wall for some time unable easily to  make your escape. While you can do so at the local pub, being openly rude at the home of your party host is simply not done. For all you know, it could be a brother-in-law of someone important or the sister of your aunt, the one who is not your mother. Caution must be heeded. There are escapes but only to be used ten minutes after the onset of the clouds of knowledge emitted from the smart person in front of you. A fit of the dry cough works or perhaps the pretense of a vibratory ring from your cell phone at which point you dig in your pocket and pull it out, smiling an I-really-have-to-take-this-my-grandfather-just-took-a-turn-for-the-worse look. The fact that your grandfather took that turn years ago and didn't make it, is immaterial. The dry cough is likely the better move. But move you should. And quickly - preferably into the next room.

Learning Teaching

This is time of concern with a teacher's strike happening. Of course, people take sides. That's natural. Some of the issues presented by the non-teacher side are, at best, uneducated guesses about what the profession is all about. First, let's get real. Teachers have school-aged children and are tax-payers, too. They are very well educated persons, about as well educated as yes, the top twenty percent of wage earners. And why not?  Most highly paid workers do not have twenty-five clients at one time in front of them. They are not usually as intimately involved with their clients' families as are teachers. Stress? In  the classroom where you have a few dozen kids, not all have  ideal home situations.  There is often marriage break-up, illness, ethnic and language issues, religious matters and the child's own social stresses to deal with.  All of these have to be handled by the teacher along with trying to educate each child in his or her own learning pattern. Apart from that, while there are manuals stating the curriculum, the teacher is a professional who designs the method for use in his or her own classroom and that takes time which is usually done during off-classroom hours and of course while "on holiday". Time off? Of course, don't you deserve weekends and holiday periods on your job? Teachers don't get the same coffee breaks or lunch hours as most workers. They are responsible for their clients all day long.  Another unfounded charge is the "huge" pension the teacher receives at the end of a career. A teacher salary is annual and from that amount, there are deductions including taxes and benefits. The amount paid into the pension fund is large. Like the salary of anyone, these amount to a sizeable number of dollars every month. You get nothing for free. Pensions and benefits don't come from thin air. A teacher is a worker like anyone else. Yes, they are paid through tax dollars just as members of various parliaments and other government employees are.  Another role the teacher has taken up is babysitting as evidenced by parents who complain "what am I going to do with my kid - I have to go to work". Your child is your responsibility including its care. The teacher happens to be around to be considered a babysitter but in truth he or she is not that. Child care is your job, parents. I doubt that you could afford a teacher as your babysitter. Does your child care worker have as much formal education and training and operates under as strict an ethical system?  Educating a teacher is no pittance. Teachers are university educated and at ten or so thousand a year plus living expenses out of ones own pocket, it is no mean expense to have to make up after the at least five years  it takes to get a degree in Education.   Some say, when I went to school, there were fifty in a class. What's wrong with teachers these days? Do you want your child to be in a class of fifty? Total up how many minutes your child would have of the teacher's time if there were fifty in a classroom. Go ahead and do it. Then factor in dealing also with children who have learning problems and those who speak English barely and those who have personal control situations. Help for these children is gradually shuffing away leaving the classroom teacher with the whole matter that really calls for specialized training. Those in business complain about the easy life of the teacher and that they should get REAL. Reality is many things and teachers chose to go into the life of being educators because they believe that a nation's value is in its people and the people should be as highly educated as possible. Teachers chose and value their profession and those they teach. If one is not of that mind, it is highly unlikely he or she would last in the classroom everyday for forty or more years. And when teachers demand a fair salary and it seems a lot, think about what that money is spent on. It isn't about "those teachers who have too much time off" or about "how easy teaching is" or "padding the teacher's big pensions". It's about raising the standards of education and educators.  Is it worth spending money on a good education for your child? Is your child worth it?

Read'n And Writin'

Reading choices are vast and these days of instant publishing makes it difficult to find a "good" book. Once a best or frequent seller, many author's send their manuscripts in and they are whacked off pretty much instantaneously. Well, perhaps I exaggerate a bit - not a lot!  The other day I was told about a "fantastic" mystery writer who did great research on one of her award-winning books, one that made her rather famous amongst book club enthusiasts. I reserved a couple of copies  and started in. On hearing that we were to visit a book talk by the famous author, I left the first book that I did have fun with and began the much touted one. Alas, it became excruciatingly obvious in the first chapter than the author had done so much research on the background behind the actual murder mystery that what began as an intriguing idea, turned into a series of "lessons" on the matter of this background issue. Every paragraph seemed to contain an explanation of the subject with terminology in place and defined. I felt as though I wanted to cross a stream but was faced with a monotonous plethora of stepping stones to get to the other side. While the plot interested me wholly, the rest of the flotsam that I had to wade through to get to the vital matter of whodunit was lost in the author's need to spread her intellectualisms throughout. Whoa, I said to myself, I am not going to take the time to be enlightened on the matter of background, I am reading a mystery novel and I want this to be a clear pathway taking me to the final denouement. I did appreciate the authors hard work in rendering her book but I wished she kept it to herself. If I wanted to know more about the subject, I could readily go on-line and do my own research.  I am reading, I said to myself, hoping somehow the author could hear,  a mystery novel, so let me get on with it. In frustration, I cheated as I always do if I shun the morass of middle blah blah,  and learned who the murderer was. Ho and hum, it was one of the "you'll never guess who dun it" sorts of endings and that, too, was a disappointment. I suppose, when you read too many formula books, this happens. Eventually, you become wise to all  the plot lines and finally decide either to write a mystery yourself or deign to read any more of them in your lifetime. But it being a nice day, and we are off to the fun of dinner and a book talk, one can't rail on about it too much. It's just another mystery novel.