Grease gloves

I exit the bright outdoors to the shadowy, musty shop. The heat remains constant. It is mid summer in the sunny southwest; heat is just a part of it. Echo, our metal stead, stands lame against a metal table. Charley is wrestling plants and fencing out on our new property perimeter. I can do this by myself.

Grabbing Echo's handlebar halter, I latch it into place and cinch it tight. Echo's nose will now remain steady as I hoist the long tandem onto our makeshift bicycle tuning stand. I lift the front end up and over the first bar, careful not to scratch the precious protective paint. With the back of the bicycle now in place, I am ready to work. I nervously grab the paper with tuning directions, compliments of Bicycling Magazine (www.bicycling.com).

My hands wear a glove of grease as I follow instructions, but miss a point. The shifting works but remains tight. Rereading the instructions, I notice the cable should be detached. I go get Charley, rather rescue him from his battle of fencing and plants. He enters the shop, helps illuminate my darken cove, opens a nearby window and turns on a ceiling fan which circulates hot air. Sweat cools my skin as the new breeze brushes against it. He's ready to by my assistant and shift the gears on the opposite end of this very long bicycle.

Frustration arises when the followed instructions cease to work. Cable frays and bites my thumb. Disappointment. I failed this time, but I will beat you!

So you like your siituation?

I know that I'm not going to change people's minds. I'm usually one who has my political opinion and keeps it to myself (close friends usually know what I'm thinking). I don't write political opinions--until now. I am moved to write my feelings on this subject. I'm going to start by asking a series of questions.

1. Have you ever had an emergency and laid there worrying whether or not the doctor who has been assigned to you is listed as a provider under your current insurance plan?
2. Has your employer changed insurance plans and it became questionable whether or not they would cover pre-existing conditions?
3. Have you ever been denied health-care insurance because of pre-existing conditions?
4. Has your health-care provider stopped covering you because your health situation is costing too much?

• I have had to scurry about to check to see if a doctor was in my plan and at a time when I should have been more worried about the situation of life.
• EPISD has changed insurance plan administrators and one of the first questions asked at an orientation meeting was, "Will you cover pre-existing conditions?"
• I had a friend whose son had a rare disease. The insurance they had discontinued coverage because it had become too costly. Then they could not get another insurance to cover him because it was then pre-existing condition. He died. Five years after their son's death, the parents were still paying for medical expenses incurred.

Charley and I are now retired, but we had to wait until he was old enough so we would be able to afford the medical insurance. I know other people who would like to retire but say they cannot do so because medical insurance would eat up whatever retirement pay they would have.

So you may be worried about universal health care, I've seen the vote go around Facebook. But what is being proposed is not universal health care or socialized medicine. If you like your insurance, you'll keep your insurance. Your insurance will have to accept pre-existing conditions, however. If you lose your job, your health will not suffer because you will still be able to get medical treatment at the same cost that your congressman pays, be he or she Republican or Democrat. If you change jobs, you will no longer have to worry whether your new insurance provider will accept pre-existing conditions.

We are already paying for people who are not insured. The way we are paying actually costs more than if we had a plan that would cover them. I taught high school in a poor section of the city. Students would come and announce that fainted the night before and their mother took them to the emergency room. They went to the emergency room because they did not have health insurance and emergency rooms cannot deny them. Did they pay the bill? No, because they were poor. Who paid the bill? We did, maybe not through taxes but through our insurance premiums. Someone had to pay.

One of the scare tactics out there is that socialized medicine is poor quality. I've been to Canada, the Canadians are afraid of getting sick in the United States and of the high medical costs. I've been to Europe where people are relaxed about their health. Doctors can diagnose and not worry about all the required insurance paperwork needed and hiring a staff that is dedicated, not to providing better health care service, but to managing insurance company claim forms. I had to get a prescription filled while in Germany, while the Germans would pay less than I did (if anything) the cost was cheaper than my co-pay at home. The pharmacist was diligent and took time to make sure my prescription was filled properly.

As for the death-panel stuff, here's was a Republican had to say about what the well-informed (ha-hem) Sarah Palin who stands by her 'death-panel' claim, her "posting came one day after Republican Sen. Lisa Murkowski of Alaska said that Palin and other critics were not helping the GOP by tossing out false claims. Portions of the Democratic health care bills "are bad enough that we don't need to be making things up," Murkowski said, invoking a phrase that Palin used in her resignation speech, when she asked the news media to "quit making things up." Murkowski said she was offended at the "death panel" terminology. "There is no reason to gin up fear in the American public by saying things that are not included in the bill," she said." (Associated Press writer Erica Werner contributed to this report.)

Think about it, who has the most to lose? It's not you or me, it is the insurance companies and the health care administrators. It is those people who are goading all the myths and lies of the health-care bill.

Alright, enough is enough from me. If you want to check out what I'm touting, here are some links:

• Jim Jaffe is a former congressional staffer and current contributor to HuffingtonPost.com and Centeredpolitics.com wrote this article found at AARP "Secret’s Out—We Already Ration Medical Care: For decades, our crafty government has been imposing rules that determine who gets what care.
• AARP reports on Health Care Reform: The Assault on Truth
• And, last but not least: The Whitehouse Reality Check

It's a war! No, it's the 4th of July!

Happy birthday America!
It's a war! It's a war! No, wait, it's only the 4th.



Ever since I was a kid, I used to love the 4th of July. Notice that I used past tense. So sit back and I'll give you a little history lesson. I moved outside the city limits with Charley and since people couldn't shoot fireworks off in the city, they would drive to the outskirts to buy from the multitude of temporary stands and then proceed to shoot their hard-earned money into the sky. In those days there weren't many people living this far out of the city. Everyone would go a little crazy like our dog, Moksha who would try and chase down the firecrackers and bite them. He would get so wild that we would have to lock him up in a room without windows until the whole event was over. But, every year we'd pull up chairs, sometimes invite friends over and have a cookout, buy the kids a small amount of fireworks (with our hard-earned money) and sit back and enjoy the madness.

But then things changed. Each year the crowds got bigger and bigger. Now there is so many cars that they create an actual traffic jam where cars creep along the freeway waiting to exit the ramp. People are no longer are just parking along the access roads of the interstate to have their little party, but driving up and parking next to our home with total disregard to our territory. They don't shoot fireworks off at their house, so they drive to mine to have their party.


When the huge crowd began to invade, the fun of the 4th began to leave me. My poor donkey, Murphy, would run around the property trying to escape the invasion of the insane. He understood that it was war. Then came the year of a drought. The crowds of people gathered as usual shooting off fireworks wherever there was a bare spot between the greasewood and the mesquite bushes with a complete disregard and disrespect for homes they parked themselves amidst. Fires started. We didn't have time to watch the fireworks that night, we were chasing little fires set in the desert surrounding our home with buckets of water in hand. We finally went to bed around midnight, then our neighbor called and said there was a fire on the other side of our house. Sure enough, a bush caught on fire. People had already jumped our eight-foot fence and were trying to put it out. Together, we smothered the flames out. Turns out that even though it was dry enough to catch the desert on fire, it wasn't dry enough for the laws of Texas. Of course, most of Texas is not a desert, but the southwestern tip is. But who cares about the southwestern tip?


But now, let's talk about the aftermath. When everyone who came to the outskirts of town has had their little party and burned all their blasting purchases leaves, do they pick up after themselves like good citizens of an ideal community? You got to be kidding yourself if you think they do. Beer bottles, cans, food wrappers, and remnants of fireworks casings remain in the wake of the celebratory war. The county does hire a clean-up crew who come out and clean most of the crap along the interstate, but the side roads are left to be cleaned by the local inhabitants, like us.


Then for ten years we were cycling during the summer months and were not at home. While we didn't see what was going on, but in the back of my mind, I always wondered if my home would be burned down in my absence. Even on the road, we would find a locale to stay put for a few days. Drunk drivers and cyclists are not a good mix. I did not want become a new test for the inebriated. Last year we retired and we no longer have to cycle-tour during the heat-stroke months of summer and have been home during the onslaught of celebrators. Last night we stayed in and just listened to the loud explosions of the assault outside. This year we are lucky, the monsoon rains started early and the desert was damp. No fires were started.


But I ask you, "Are all these people celebrating the birth of our wonderful, free nation or do they just see an opportunity to blow up things, drink, and have a party?" From my perspective, I am more inclined to agree with Murphy, it's an invasion and a war and no longer a celebration.

What to do with money?

From the time we are children, we are trained to want money. We ask our parents for things, they will either buy it or tell us that they don't have the money. We start to earn an allowance for things that we do around the house. Each of us, then, develops how we will use that money. The impulsive ones will go out and spend it as fast as possible, others will have a goal and save up to buy it, others still, will save and never spend. These habits will follow us into adulthood: always desiring money and what we do with it once we have it.

I've always been the goal setter. I save for goals then use it. While I was working I observed people who would be absolutely miserable the week before payday, announcing how much better they would feel once their paycheck was in their pocket. People would always ask me how Charley and I could go on 2-1/2 month vacations. It's because I knew how to manage and save.

In the past few years, I've observed elderly people. Fear has engulfed them and their fists are tight holding onto their money. These people have a difficult time using it for what would make them happy now. "Oh, I can't do that, what if I fall ill and need the money?" Actually, the kids who went out and spent their money right away are really going to fare better when they are old and are no longer able to care for themselves. 'Why?' you may ask. When you are in that situation and have no money, Medicare will take care of you. I guess people fear the quality of care they may receive; fear not, it will be good care. As long as you have money, of course, it is your money that will take care of you, of course until it runs out.

What good is it to leave it to your heirs? There most likely (not always) will be bitter fighting, begrudging, greediness; and for what? Money that you have bee trained to desire all your life. My goal in life is simply this: use my money while I can enjoy it. I don't care if I have money once I no longer understand the world I live in. I don't care if I leave money to those living beyond my death. If I have it now, I earned it, I should enjoy it.

How are you going to use your money?

Socrates Quotes

Often when looking at a mass of things for sale, he would say to himself, 'How many things I have no need of!"

America's gluttony

We're in a recession?
You wouldn't know it traveling down the road. Trash, waste, food, and good merchandise line our roads. Cycling slowly up to Guadalupe National Park, a trash bag lay strewn over the dirt at a car pull out (50 yards from an actual trash bin, I might add). I spot something orange. I tell Charley, my captain of my life and tandem bicycle to stop so that I may check it out. It was a perfect orange, never peeled, never eaten, but thrown away because of America's gluttony. We take it, wash it, and eat one of the sweetest oranges you could imagine.
Our stores constantly sell one-time, one-use items. We no longer make products that will work or last over a period of years. Our children are so accustomed to toys that they will play with a couple of times then leave neglected, then thrown away. Visit Wal-mart and just look around. Yesterday I saw a bubble wand which sold for $1, before Easter they were selling a case of plastic, colored eggs for a similar price. It's not the price, but the gluttony that I am attacking here. These things have minimal use, kids tire of them quickly and where do they end up? In the landfills which contribute to global warming.
We are warm shower hosts for traveling cyclists. European visitors are shocked by the mass of products offered in stores, huge refrigerators and pantries in homes, and the mass of products Americans own. It's not just what we own but what we throw away.
Zipping down the road in a car will often blur the trash beside the roads. Cycling and walking enables a person to take in the immense quantity of things thrown and/or lost along the roadsides: backpacks, golf bags, large bags, medium bags, small bags, purses, cargo straps (never buy another one--just go for a walk or ride), wire, Leatherman multi-tools, Gerber multi-tools, hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, towels, wash cloths, hand towels, coats, pants, shoes, dresses, jackets, just to name a small amount found and seen. These are all things we did NOT see in Europe.
Oh, and the plastic bags--what are we doing? I stand in the store and watch how we continually stand in line, bagless, and let the clerks place our purchased items in plastic bags. Maybe these bags will get another use at home as a garbage sack, but will inevitably either end up, again, in a landfill contributing to the demise of our planet, or as an eye sore along the roadside that even a passenger in a car zipping down the road can see.

If we are truly in a recession, shouldn't we be more frugal, shouldn't we be more careful, shouldn't we save?

Happiness and success

Everyone has a different definition for these to states of being. But I see them as one and the same. Not that success is happiness but that happiness is success. You can get caught in the upward spiral of constantly achieving new levels of education, positions of employment, and/or the position in society itself. Ah, the push, the grind, the pressure to be recognized as successful. For then, ‘they’ will love me. Society, now that’s a big one. People are so concerned what other people think of them. Maybe my mother actually helped me. She never really liked me and told me that she wished that I was never born. That was her favor to me. I knew I could not please her. I mean, I tried for a long time while I was growing up, but there was this point, a point of no return, that I knew that to continue trying would be fruitless and that I needed to please myself. Well, maybe I wasn’t so insightful I didn’t need anyone. Pleasing someone has its own happy rewards also. Finding the love of my life probably helped also. But truly the real level of success is when you recognize satisfaction of where and who you are.

If success is happiness, I could not have done what I’ve done twice in my life: leave a respected level in society for a happier avenue for myself. The last time has landed me here, very early retirement for myself, to be beside the man I love and about to bicycle (waltz) across Texas. I believe that when one achieves happiness, then they are successful. Look into your inner desires and see what it is you want, look at your choices. It is within you, not outside of you. Is that not what insight or even Nirvana, for that matter?

Backgrounds

For every foreground there is a background. Both are separate and related, interact to communicate.

Let me show you my family portrait. Close your eyes and picture it. I am the painting and the colors on it are my life. My background is dark, gloomy, with chaotic drunken swirls, full of anger, depression, frustration. The flows and swirls, in itself are caught in this repetition, an eddy in a rushing river. As you look closer, you notice that there are two distinct dark colors, full of violence and rage. Two other forms emerge from those patterns. The first one, my sister, is more stable, colors are still somber but take on lighter shades. The second pattern, my brother, is barely distinguishable; dark, moody and sucking in lighter colors surrounding it.

Then a third pattern emerges, me, sharp bright edges contrasting the background. Colors are bright and happy. This pattern should be in a painting with rainbows, meadows, and sunshine. What is it doing in this painting? What is the artist trying to communicate? How could this background create this image? Yet, here it is.

The luminous image attracts other phosphorescent hues and lifts off the canvas, creating a new sensation, a new life, a new and distinct painting.

The painting represents the family from which I emerged. A smiley baby transformed into an optimistic individual placed initially on a dark canvas leaving behind the gloom and attracting new and happy people. How did I come to be?

How does your background affect your evaluation of the underlying images of my painting? We each carry our own background with us through life. Does the background of your life aid or hinder your understanding my life?

How does a background affect a painting? In that respect, how does a background affect a picture? Is it in the eye of the beholder? Then how does the background affect the eye of the beholder? How does the background affect the beholder's attitude? How does the background affect life? How does the beholder's attitude affect the background?