Get The Last-Laugh Vehicle

Yes, there is such an electric vehicle. And with it, no insurance to pay out, charges in an hour, fits in your front hall and is a fresh air convertible. The downside? It carries one plus minimal baggage, runs only about 25 hours on a charge and it's just for sidewalks. Aha! You guessed it. Yes. It's a mobility cart. Now, before you turn away laughing and saying, "that's just for old folks and the handicapped", give me a listen. It isn't. When my elderly uncle died, I acquired his mode of transportation for a four figure amount, even though it was almost brand new, and found it to be the most useful vehicle I have ever owned. It didn't look bad either, being a silver 4 tired model hinting at motorcycle or Vespa, with its big tires, wide bumpers, headlights and ultra cool leather, arm chair seating. All that was missing was a sun or rain canopy that was available for a price. At the time, we lived on a hill and trips to the village for groceries, the library and the aqua centre were a little daunting for anyone who walked. But why walk when you could tool along in your sweet ride all the way down and steeply back up in the silver cart? It locked just like a car with a key and adding a saddle bag or a basket at your feet, it became the handiest thing we owned. The Lincoln was jealous! The cart fit into our entrance hall where there was an outlet handy and in putting there,  a grass carpet and a fake tree, our small primary town vehicle looked just right: parked, while it "gassed up" on its charge. When we moved and had to take it from our storage unit to its home, at home, it was driven miles on the sidewalk with no effort in the few kilometers it took, to get there. Now, who could laugh? Not us. The crux of my tale, is that for a modest amount, those whose destinations are nearby and their passenger need is "one", why let age prejudice stop you from doing the environmental and practical thing, and running out to buy one of these utterly sensible carts that will serve you cheaply and faithfully. Some carts even look like small cars with a chassis that appears not much much smaller than the "ugly car" but in its thriftiness, does not require a license, insurance, or a driver's test? To boot, you go along the sidewalk, courteously of course, in complete safety while enjoying the scenery along the way, stopping when you wish, parking it outside the store or business, turning the lock, dismounting and going on your way. All that stops you, is the fear of being called "old". And how bad is that?  Not handicapped, or infirm. Just smart!

Who Can You Trust In Re-tiring?

Trusting today in the commercial consumer world is like searching for a lost diamond in a gravel pit. If you do find a business you can trust, enter it as a contact on your cell phone or into your little black book, never to be lost. It is a rare and beautiful thing to be able to trust these days when money grabbing is the style.  In shopping for car tires, I began on line and the first and most reliable site, warned me against tire sellers who are shaky in the trust department. The first hint was to know what you are looking for in tires. That process entailed a few hours of study which many people don't have to spare. It recommended that you might buy your tires on line and then find a dealer who would receive and install them which includes getting rid of the old tires. If you have a service place that sells tires, there is still lots to learn. There is a tax on car owners for environment purposes which includes battery and old tire disposal. Good idea, and its cost is well worth it in terms of responsibility for the earth's survival. What is confusing is what kind of tires for a particular car and driver, is best. There is a large range that needs to be scoped out. Do you want all weather ones, ones that stick to the road in bad conditions, save fuel, ride nicely, corner smoothly, take punishment and so on? Fortunately, I have a service station, a small one, but one that has a guy behind the counter who will take huge amounts of time to educate his customers - and he doesn't own the place, plus he actually works at busy times, in the  bays himself, besides doing  the behind-the-counter business end of the mechanical department. In short, he cares about his people. I am one of the lucky ones, and I try to remember that when I am doing business there. To find such a service spot like it, is a treasure. But getting back to tires, the choices are enormous and even if you take time to study the very large market, you need to depend on someone to point you in the right direction. How do you use your car, what is your challenge in road conditions where you travel mostly, what kind of ride do you prefer, do you want your tire choice to be long lasting and fuel efficient, what does safety mean to you? The list goes on. Most people just go in and say they want tires and when will the job be done? They might know the general range of prices and go for the cheapest which is smart, but are they buying what they personally need? I thought I did know it all after doing my homework, but my service person directed me into learning more about my driving habits and preferences before slamming down a price. I didn't know just how much there is to know about tires, one of the most important aspects of your car, and your life, on the highways and byways. It is worth taking time to find out before you have to buy new tires so that you will be getting your true money's worth. It is not just about a bargain, it's about staying safe. And if you find a service station or dealer or outlet that can be fully trusted  hang on to it. They are a treasure.

Oh Man, Men!

There's a lot of talk about men doing immoral things  to women lately and it kind of makes me wonder about males and if they really know how to behave with women. I worked with men, and women, for thirty years in my career and I do not recall any inappropriate gestures or comments during that time. I was a teacher, and perhaps because we worked with a code of ethics it was more clear what one should do or not, with fellow workers as well as students. Yes, I did happen to be in schools where there were child abusers unbeknownst to me at the time, but all the normal men I worked with were helpful and courteous. It leaves me thinking that most men likely have no idea how to "treat a lady" and perhaps we parents and others ought to draw up a list of behaviours for men. Women are taught by their mothers and other family members about what is ladylike, but I don't recall any of my male cousins speaking of their training in proper dealings with women. They were good men and I suppose they had some kind of code to be so. I would think fathers might take this on if they specifically know what social behaviours are correct for their sons when with women.  Mothers can take that job on, too, along with fathers. Rather than merely rant about it, women usually try to find solutions to problems. I guess what a lady wants is respect for her personal space and the privacy of her body. Courtesy requests very little other than ordinary decent conversation and if a compliment is given, that it not have sexual connotations that will embarrass a woman.  As to touching or grabbing at another human being, that's not what you do with anyone, without permission of the verbal kind. Sneaky contact  is what sneaks do, and they are obnoxious, abusive  creatures, not men. Mothers and fathers need to teach their boys that locker room words and stories are not real and that they are something guys might for some reason, do in locker rooms but that it should stay in the locker rooms. As to males on the job, thinking that they can influence females and can speak to them or use them any way they wish, they are in for a big surprise. Not any more for those kind of fellas. And not they, nor their company, will appreciate"bad press". Females also have  responsibility in that, while they have the right to dress and go about freely without concerns over male comments or gestures, they, in addition, should make their boundaries clear and not be labelled for doing so. It is all simply a matter of an on-the-job respect, one employee to another. It will take time to change, but now that so many women have come forth with downright disgusting tales of male bullying, it will change and the quicker, the better for everyone.

Lone Wolf Solution

I doubt there is such a thing as a "lone wolf" since wolves generally live, hunt and survive in packs. People often like to call themselves "lone wolves". What they mean is that they avoid group mores in favour of doing what they believe is right for their unique needs. I find that thought, admirable. Something odd is happening in our society, or perhaps always did happen but go unnoticed, and it is, that most people blindly follow the lead of what they are told is politically correct, socially acceptable or is fashionable. That's okay and certainly safer, but it doesn't allow for the emergence of human individuality. Perhaps individuality is to be avoided in this rather "bullying" era we seem to be in. If one doesn't dress the same way as others, there are disapproving looks or gestures. If you don't do what others do in a social setting, it is considered unacceptable. If you don't believe it, next time you are at a party or other social event, take note. The person who doesn't drink, for example, is often shunned as a weirdo who is no fun. The one who chooses to voice his or her point of view, even though unpopular and sticks to it no matter what, might face sneers, however politely displayed. In neighbourhoods and work places, the one who doesn't follow certain unwritten codes, is often avoided. Most of us find  unusual or original kinds of thinking to be off-centre, and although true, I believe it is refreshing.  I prefer to converse at a party, with someone who goes ahead and expresses opinions, no matter that I disagree with them strongly, if he or she can back up their stand with facts they have carefully thought out. It takes time to absorb the ideas of others and parties work against taking time for the niceties of real talk. Small talk about what is obvious and trite doesn't interest me for long, not that my conversation may be very interesting to others either. Simply ranting or babbling on about what game or show someone saw or what the kids are doing, is socially dull, and makes me want to wish I had brought along a good book. In fact, I do have a good book, because my phone contains a library of e books, and if I am over-bored, it allows me to rescue myself  once a quiet corner is achieved. It sounds pompous, but I don't think I am the only one who feels this way. Parties seem to get to a point where the immediate high of a lot of people ends, and the what-do-we-do-next time arrives. I imagine most people feel as I, a lone wolf do, but perhaps even in this party season, there are others of my pack whom I will encounter leaning in a corner looking intently at a phone while secretly reading a book or playing an on-line game.

Resurrected?

I read in a scientific magazine article that our bodies which hotel billions of different cells, in seven years, have rid themselves of every cell and replaced them with brand new ones. And while they may look somewhat the same, there they are: all new over the seven year period. Does this mean we all become young again? Sort of. And not. Unfortunately, we don't renew all at once because the whole process of our bodily clients, moving out and moving in, is pretty slow, and what was new, gets old again over time. Also, the way our bodily machine works, certain cogs and wheels and gears are wearing, and aren't taking the stairs any more, but have to wait for the elevator. Often it is quite slow, if not broken down. Repairs work, but it isn't the same old elevator it used to be. Ah aging! I am in a time, that when the phone rings, I think, oh oh. And sadly I often have to say good-bye to yet another old memory associated with a dear one who has just died. The older you are, the more that phone rings with news that is supposed to be tragic, but, though sad in farewell, is expected. We mortals  cope with death, in saying things like "I'm not afraid to be dead. It's the dying part that I don't like  thinking about." I am not a Pollyanna, but I am a positive thinker, and I find aging, interesting and often, fascinating. We, if we bother to notice, are watching Life going by in our aging stages. The changes are quicker in old age, and  surprising. I remember looking at my farm grandmother's work worn hands that were soft and plump, but also, spotted and veined and wrinkled. I held them and gazed wonderingly at them, comparing them to my smooth ten year old ones. I traced the mystery of the blue lines on hers with my fingers, while my grandmother smiled down. We didn't need to speak of it. She knew life, that woman. She was a Canadian pioneer who saw a harsh, pitiless existence on an early Saskatchewan grain farm, one without electricity. There, she birthed eight children and only one didn't survive. Pity was a luxury. There was day to day work to be done with no vacations in between and everyone in the family, was needed to participate. The cooperative farmers went down when a protracted drought forced many to sell out and move to places like milder British Columbia. By then, on a large, beautiful tract of land, my grandparents spent their last years, indulging in their grandchildren. We all had summers on the huge farm land with horses and barns and cows and chickens. We  learned about hunting and butchering, gardening, gathering eggs and fishing in the salmon streams. We knew at an early age, that life was beginnings and endings. No one taught us, we looked, and saw and learned. It's a gentler time, now, and my cells have been renewed many times from that era to this. Because there aren't likely to be many more "resurrections", the reflection and acceptance of even aging,  have become familiar and comforting thoughts. The cells continue to change, and come and go.

Nothin' Fancy

My mother who could have been known as a human dynamo even though she was a five-by-five, was not only fiercely independent, she was also never depressed or flustered. I don't think anything bad could catch up with her. When she heard that she was having company in the next few hours or days, she didn't panic. She flew to the fridge and grabbed every vegetable and scrap of meat she could find. It didn't matter if the tomatoes looked a tiny bit wrinkled or the potatoes were starting to reach out their little white seekers, she took them out, gave them a scrub and put them into the pot, skins and all. Well, not the little seekers. Usually there was some roast beef or perhaps a bit of chicken left over and since she "went through" The Great Depression, there was always a goodly supply of emergency stewing beef in the freezer. These she chucked into a large pot and tossed in some water and maybe a can of corn or pork and beans and let it boil up to a simmer. In went a generous chopping of carrots, turnip, onions and a garlic clove or two, salt and ground pepper. The whole house began to smell like Ireland.  If you get the call I just did, that visitors are coming around tomorrow for lunch, I think about that woman, the one I once called Mummy. Off I go to the fridge where I will find everything mentioned afore. Don't worry about your company or the dust bunnies. Your visitors won't, or shouldn't be there to check out your decor, but to sit down and have a chat with you because they care. And if they're the latter kind, they'll love to be asked into the kitchen for a "bite". Speaking of "biting", nothing with soup goes off better than good old hot buttered toast. Soup and thick toasted bread with a slide of garlic butter on it, is the perfect accompaniment to home-made soup especially when beforehand you've put the slices on a cookie sheet and sprinkled the toast with Parmesan cheese. You can serve just about anything to drink with your homey dinner, but I like warm apple juice to which some cinnamon and a drift of cloves have been added in the pan. It beats tea or coffee and goes with the soup and all, like a charm which is what your guests will feel when they take a second cup of it to sit down in the living room with you for that visit and chat. Needless to say, no one is going to see the dishes washed for a long time.

The Matter Of Toys

I heard a radio (yes, there is still such media) report on the lastest and "best" toy of the season. Sounded interesting. Apparently, this toy makes a fine companion for a child because it can read the kid's mood, and like a good psychologist, reflect it by making various sounds that studies show children like and respond to. Huh? But being, a curious sort, I went on line and there it was. The toy. The "toy" was something the size of an iron and looked about as appealing. It had a couple of glassy things at the front that were supposed to simulate eyes, but are actually the readers of the child's "mood", be it a haha or a boohoo. The cost was staggering, in my opinion, but these days toy costs are important to upscale parents who want their kids to flaunt what all the "best" kids have. Even like little Baron. Over three hundred dollars for a toy, makes me shudder, but  then I don't have a child to go into bankruptcy for. If one has a bunch of kids, it must push the mortgage and car payments well into next year. This toy looked to me, to be something a real kid, and all kids are pretty real, would play with to please its parents, and then put the thing on the shelf and get on with the wifi. But that's another tale. Toys used to be fun. They weren't there to educate or stimulate or do anything with children. They were to love, be it dolls or stuffed animals. They were to play with in a group, Monopoly, Scrabble, Chess, Snakes and Ladders. Kids want to have fun. Cost and psychology and education have nothing to do with fun. But children also want to please parents and will do just about anything they're told, to keep their environments cheerful. Not that parents are around much anyway, with work, socializing and meeting their kids' game and lesson schedules. It's mostly about making a date to play these days. There is little freedom to just be a kid out of parental or nanny supervision. It made me think of the days when a toy was something you brought to life and anything it did, was because you made it that way. That was kid power. Vehicles didn't have batteries, you pushed them and made their noises. Dolls didn't usually talk, and if they did, kids weren't fooled. Dolls don't talk. Games were fake-it baseball down on the spare lot with a ragged soft ball and one bat that used to be Dad's. Paper dolls were movie stars who we saw dance and sing down at the Odeon theatre on Saturday matinees. Our parents were good at "go out and play" and we did. We created our own worlds and games and none of them required plugging into a socket or using up batteries. Christmas was a tacky real tree with worn old baubles and maybe lights. It was all about fun and laughing and loving. Kids didn't have "moods", and life was ours to form in our own kid ways. No one yapped at us constantly. They usually wanted us out of the way so they could do adult things, and we loved it.

Love Times Two

How many times have marriages broken because one of the partners was "unfaithful"? While it sounds immoral or insane or insensitive to say that people can love more than one  at a time, and mean it sincerely, it is a hard-to-take reality. Why can't we love more than one? There are many forms of love and Morality didn't invent them. There's proof. When it is said that most marriages are not entirely perfect, especially after the children are grown, and too often before, there must be a truth there somewhere. We don't like to look at it, and most people cannot, objectively, but it happens so often that it's impossible to deny or ignore. Most marriages are sacrosanct and each partner is entirely faithful, but many are not able to boast that advantage. Monogamy is the plan for a lot of logical reasons, if logic can be applied to human behavior. The need for children to have two parents is one reason used for why that logic, even though there are many excellent one-parent families. Ideally, we love only one other person in a lifetime, but we are real people, not ideals. We are curious and adventuresome creatures that love to speculate and dream, and all too often, scheme. There comes a time in a union when one or the other, or both partners, begin to wonder what they have missed.  While they are content and happy in their present state, they consider it, since life is very long and not often, perfectly satisfying. It's then that things go off center and "mistakes" are made, or perhaps deliberate unfaithfulness, ensues. Marriages or other similar love unions, are perfectly marvelous at the start, but as the worldly realities enter the picture, the scenario can change and become challenging. A good union can withstand the pressures and demands of day-to-day life, but not all of them are strong enough. To make a life-long promise is the goal, but as time goes on, the routines of even a good partnership have trouble withstanding  the bonds that should wrap them in solid security. Fortunately, that good partnership has the ability, if found, to get through the bad times when one or the other side, has ventured off, and made the mistakes. Its bonds are strong enough to hold, no matter what. That's a good marriage or union, and one that is all the stronger for its forgiving qualities. The trust may never be the same, but love is bigger, and with it, these unions are able to step over  big hurdles and decide to push on and preserve what means more.  In the event that it can't, at least all has been done to make it work : supreme efforts, communications of real feelings and understanding while, in the end, the union had to be abandoned.  I hear so many people say that they wish they had made a bigger effort to keep what they once had and miss terribly. Sadly, it seems, distance perspective, while clarifying, can be a cruel insight.