October 4, 2011 by Dave Rama.

I’m telling you, if it ain’t one thing, it’s eight others.  The latest is this bit about the “sky is falling”, just like Chicken Little predicted.  Bus size chunks of space junk are about to start coming home to roost, so to speak.  Keep an eye on the sky.

The space engineers and mathematical whizzes that fired that junk into the cosmos have no idea where this trash will plunk into the planet.  You may know that 2/3 of the Earth’s surface is water.  If the junk splashes in the Pacific, will that be the trigger for the tsunami/earthquake/ volcanic eruption that wipes out Seattle and Tacoma?  If so, would that event be a natural disaster, or a man-made one?

Can you guess where the buses will land, and try to hide?  Is there time to build a shelter and stock it with cigarettes and beer and prescription drugs?  How do you dodge a falling bus?  Maybe you fake right and go left, like the Republicans.  Is there a siren to signal us of the upcoming crash?  Can we sue the government for failing to protect us from objects falling from the sky?
Can we tell whether this is actually our own garbage coming out of the sky, or is it actually the long-awaited attack by the little green men of far away galaxies?

There are so very many unanswered questions.  The only people who truly know the answers are those who find every big event to be a conspiracy.  The conspiracy experts have the inside scoop on every happening.  There are people in Roswell, New Mexico who have known this event was imminent for decades.  Those Roswellians are first cousins to the fundamentalist minister who predicted the end of the earth (he called it the rapture) for May of this year and then discovered in June that his calculations may have contained an error.  Is this his prediction coming true?  It could be.  It is possible, so it seems prudent (and thrifty!) for us to hold off on any early Christmas shopping expeditions.

If you don’t hear from me again, please consider this my attempt at a heads up.

MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!!
Dave Rama

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July 19, 2011 by Dave Rama.

Who are these people and how did their numbers grow so quickly?   In the past five years, this group has grown from zero to 230,000 members.   They treat fallen heroes of this country with respect. They endeavor to shield the families of the fallen from those who want to use the fallen for political and religious purposes. They are male and female, loud and quiet, short and tall, stout and scrawny.  They are witty and wise, and smart and simple.  They know the words to the “Star Spangled Banner” and “America the Beautiful”.  They display the flag properly.  The Patriot Guard provides an honor guard of Motorcycle riders at funerals for fallen service members and first responders.  When protesters appear to picket and shout, the Patriot Guard shields the families from the signs and the shouts by lowering their flags between the two groups or singing patriotic songs or revving their bikes to drown out the protester’s chants.

The initial impetus for the Patriot Guard’s existence came from the members of a half-baked organization called the Westboro Baptist Church.  The members of the WBC apparently have only one belief, and that belief is that homosexual activity is sinful.  Since the majority of Americans disagree with that philosophy, the WBC has a problem.  They gain attention for their beliefs by picketing military and firefighter and police funerals.   Their expressed theory is that America is wrong to support gay rights, and these soldiers, cops and firefighters have died because of God’s anger with America.  How this tiny group of simple folk got a direct line to the opinions of God remains a puzzle to me.  If there is a difference between this highly limited group and right wing fundamentalist Muslims, I fail to discern that difference.

Westboro was sued by the family of a serviceman who was killed in Iraq.  The protesters disrupted the soldier’s funeral, and refused to allow the soldier’s family to have the dignity of a solemn funeral.  The lawsuit reached the United States Supreme Court.  The Court upheld the right of freedom of speech for the protesters of the Westboro Baptist Church.  I agree with the court’s interpretation.  Voltaire said “I do not agree with a word you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”  That soldier had carried out Voltaire’s very thought.  The very best response to the issue of freedom of speech comes from former Vice-President Hubert Humphrey who explained that “The right to free speech does not include the right to be taken seriously”.

My wife and I are parents of a fallen firefighter.  Each year we get together with other surviving family members.  The past two or three years, the Patriot Guard has provided an honor guard to defend our right to honor our firefighters in peace.  I am grateful for their presence for assorted reasons.    They are everyday folks who are willing to help others keep their dignity and pride of family.  They provide their presence for no charge to do something for others.

You ought to meet my friend Johnny (He and his wife lost two firefighters, a son and a daughter).  Johnny is not a large man, but he has a presence that says “I really am not to be messed with”.  On the occasions that we’ve met he has worn a hat with USMC, or Semper Fi, or some indication that he was at one point, and forever after, a Marine.  When we talked about the Patriot Guard, his response was:  “Why do we need these people to protect us?  I would kind of like to have those idiots show up here without the Patriot Guard to protect them.”  I laughed, and I understood completely.  That’s another reason for my appreciation of the Patriot guard.  I thank the members of the Patriot Guard, not so much for the protection, but for their goodhearted actions and intentions.  You folks help keep people like Johnny and me out of hot water.  Thank you!  Blessings on your house!

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May 16, 2011 by Dave Rama.

Certain people think you have to follow every Biblical instruction.  I seriously doubt that they follow that dictum themselves, but they expect others to do so.  My findings are that it is impossible to carry out every line of Biblical text, even if you skip breakfast.  You have to pick and choose a little bit.

The Bible is somewhere north of a thousand pages, and I’m a slow reader.  I can’t remember all of what I read, except the racy and gory parts.  One of the instructions I try to follow is to make a “joyful noise to the Lord” every day.  God and I talk on a regular basis.  I am polite and say please and thank you.  Good manners coupled with a daily dose of joyful noise may help my cause as a size 42 extra long sinner.  I have been an irregular churchgoer in my life but I suspect that God will let that slide.

While millions of devout folks find church to be a delightful place, the worst experience of my life happened in a Methodist building after I was grown.  I had been there a number of times before, and tried to always sit in about the same spot, so I could find my way out nice and easy.  The seats were close to the door, but in a spot where I hoped I could blend in with other sinners, and not draw any attention.  Well, on this particular Sunday, those seats were taken, and the place was full.  I don’t recall why it was so full that day.  Perhaps they were having their annual sale on redemption that week.   We sat across the church from our usual comfortable seats, and wound up in a nest of old people.  I learned this was a corner called the “Amen section.”

Methodists stand up to sing.  In earlier experiences singing hymns, I would open my mouth and mumble, and then the real singers would drown me out.  If you ever sit in the Amen corner, that strategy will not work.  The amen corner is just where they park the old people who do sing.  They continue to ignore the line from Psalms that says:  “Make a Joyful noise unto the Lord”.   Nobody in that group sings a lick.  It was so dang quiet in that part of the church I could hear myself sing.  My voice awakened numerous people in the Amen section, and a near riot ensued before order was restored.  Nice-looking, gray-haired, well-dressed Christian women were climbing over pews to get to me and shouts of “Sit Down and Shut Up” were heard.  Some of the old men were more radical and called for the younger men to “Bring a Rope!  We mean to hang this man!”

That was a lot of excitement for the Methodists.   Some of them actually put more than a buck in the plate that day because they were so worked up, so my singing actually helped the congregation.  Still, I agreed with the minister when he said he didn’t think it would work twice.  It was a crossroads for me as it was the last time I heard myself sing.  Hearing that noise was the worst experience of my life.  I had no idea beforehand how dreadful  that sound was, but there was no lack of people willing to tell me the truth as they heard it.

The charges were dropped.  There is no law against attempted singing.   However, the next time I tried to enter the Methodist domain I was met by security forces at the door and turned away.

Just because I favor happy endings, I want you to know I do make a joyful noise to the Lord every day.  That joyful noise has nothing to do with singing.  I offer the melody of laughter.

Dave Rama, though he recently got lost Nebraska and has not found his way back, is a regular contributor to WGEO.

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January 16, 2011 by Dave Rama.

The word “con” has an assortment of “con”notations in the English language.  A con may be a convict serving a prison term, or if the con has completed his sentence, he might be an ex-con.  If you cheat someone out of money, it is sometimes said that you have run a “con game” on the victim.  It may also be said that a cheater will “con” you out of money, goods, or speeding tickets.  Webster’s dictionary tells us that con means to commit to memory.  If you weigh the pros and cons of an issue, and you decide the negative factors outweigh the positive factors, you are taking a negative or con position.  Ship handlers will tell each other you have the con, which I assume means control of steering the ship

For purposes of clarity, this word is spelled c-o-n.  It should not be confused with James Caan, the actor, or with Madeleine Kahn, the actress.  Cohn is another surname that is very similar, but is frequently pronounced cone.  In the 1940’s, there was a tough Irish kid named Billy Conn who was one of the best boxers in the world.  There was a Turkish leader known as Aga Khan, and of course the Mongol conqueror, Genghis Khan and his descendants.  Anyone who has ever watched the movie, “Jungle Book” will recall the villainous Shere Khan, the Tiger.  I once had a friend named Con Sanchez whose first name was shortened from Concepcion.  I suppose there are Anglo-Saxon men who use Con as a diminutive for Conrad, and women who shortened the name Connie to Con.  These are logical reductions and nicknames that have character. 

I have expressed before the thought that English must be the zaniest of all languages with its multiple meanings of so many words like con and multiple spellings of words that sound alike.  Let us briefly consider what happens when English incorporates words from other languages, like con, into the English usage of the moment.   A common example lies in the world of food.  Restaurants may wish to disguise what a product really is by calling it a French or Spanish name.  For example, the French word escargot sounds much more delicious than snails.  In Spanish, con is a word that usually means with.  So if you order Chile Con Carne, you are expecting chili with meat.  If you order chili con frijoles, you will anticipate chili with beans.  If you ask for salsa con queso, you are going to get salsa with cheese. 

If your dentist says your teeth are suffering concavity, there will follow a period of drilling and filling because you will be with cavity.  If you hire someone to do building work, you will likely call a contractor, or someone with tractor.  The highest rank of this occupation will be general contractor, who will provide more services than a private contractor, and will likely have a larger tractor with which to work.  From this information, you can safely assume that concurrent (with current) means traveling downstream and the community of El Paso, TX can be said to be concave (with cave) due to the existence of Carlsbad Caverns.  Presumably, a constable (with stable) would be the fellow in charge of renting out horses, and a conscience (with science) will be someone working in biology or chemistry and content (with tent) will refer to someone who enjoys camping.  If you have been to a concert to hear Mr. Gill sing, you may have been conVinced. 

We could cite a good many other examples of this phenomenon, but I believe the safe course of action in this case is to conclude.

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October 25, 2010 by Dave Rama.

(Except for those that don’t.)

It is not true that my parents were mean people.There was never any beating, or physical mistreatment in our home.There was food to eat and clothes to wear, and we were allowed to sleep inside. Still, during the middle part of my first childhood, I wondered why I had been placed in their care. Why was I forced into a situation for which I had so little aptitude and zero interest?

In the course of their own childhood experiences, each parent had learned to play a musical instrument. My mother had been a violin player, and also played something called a French horn. My father had played the clarinet in the school band. The cool people called a clarinet a “licorice stick” for its black color. There is or was some divergence of opinion about the quality of my mother’s playing. Her brother, my uncle, remembers her violin practice sessions with something less than admiration.

My own experience at playing music consisted of Grandma’s attempts to interest me in playing the piano. I loved my Grandma, so I was dutiful in learning to play the scale. Given enough time (say, maybe an hour), I could also figure out what note I was supposed to play from the location of the note on the staff. The notes placed in the spaces on the staff spelled out f-a-c-e. The notes placed on the staff lines generated the sentence “every good boy does fine” by using the initials e-g-b-d-f. At this point, I have no idea whether these memory tricks read from top to bottom or vice versa. Music becomes far too complex for me after this basic instruction.

There are notes of all shapes and sizes and different tempos like 4/4, and 3/4 and 6/8. In addition, notes have an assortment of flags to tell you how long to hold that particular note, and this changes with each piece or when the tempo changes. When you have advanced far enough to understand this part of the business, some clever person will start tying two or more notes together with their respective flags. These might be called chords but I am not really clear on that. The other business about notes is that they not only have an identifying letter, but they also have fractional values. It turns out that music is a mathematical function.

I did learn to find middle C on a piano keyboard. I found it the same way I find the book of Psalms in the Bible. Look in the middle. Here is a question: Does a guitar have middle C, or are all the C notes the same? Another question: Is there a middle D or middle A? Where are they? The truth is I have no idea of the difference in sound from one note to the next. If you asked me to find any note other than middle C on a piano, it would be lucky guesswork if I got any of the other 87 keys right. To her credit, my Grandma had long since given up on my imaginary musical ability.

In our school however, there was a musical nimrod who felt there should be a grade school band. There were also a lot of people in our town who could not mind their own business. They shared the gossip about this hypothetical band with my parents. There was an available used clarinet somewhere in the family attic, and it was placed before me with the direction that I would play this creation in the grade school band.

No one bothered to tell me what hole to cover for C or any other letter/fraction, so I was pretty lost. In addition, my fine motor skills are non-existent. I could usually get the reed end of the clarinet in my mouth all right, but that was about the highlight of the day, clarinet-wise. I know at this point in my life that the clarinet and saxophone are my favorite instruments to hear someone else play. When played well, these horns make nice mellow sounds.

In my feeble attempts to blow air through this pipe, I could occasionally make a noise, but I never knew what it was going to sound like. One time it would sound very much like an enraged Rhode Island Red chicken, and the next time, it would sound like a sissified cougar. NEVER did I get a satisfying, finger-snapping, melodious tootle. It was always the sound of an angry Daffy Duck.

Trying to transfer the highly complex information on the sheet music into a rhythmic activity from my fingers and lungs and thumbs and make a pleasant sound was and is simply impossible for me. It might as well be written in Cyrillic. I was always two pages behind every other person in the band.

On the rare occasions when my horn made a noise, people in the room (including me) would stare in bewilderment, wondering if the Russians were about to bomb us to extinction. (Of course that was a silly idea. We were really well protected from that event because we had been trained to hide under our wooden desks so we would be safe). Happily, there will be no reunion of the third and fourth grade band. My career in band was actually quite brief, although at the time, I was sure that I would dwell in the band room forever.

In the intervening years following my attempted tooting, I have had the opportunity to walk through a schoolhouse where a music teacher has been entrapped to teach grade school band. One always wonders whether they were lured into accepting that position by offers of love or money. When I heard the sounds of grade school band in the hall, I promptly broke into a rash, and sprinted outside. Later, after the children were gone, I walked back past the room, and I could hear the soft sobbing of the music teacher.

I have the greatest respect and admiration for anyone who can teach beginning band without turning into a psychopathic sniper. I feel empathy for those men and women, because they, too, have come to a greater understanding of what eternity really entails. The good news is these gentle folks have no fear of dying. They have already been to Hell.

Dave Rama still contributes bits of humor despite the fact that he has been self-exiled to Chadron, Nebraska.

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April 27, 2010 by Dave Rama.

Everyone has opinions. It is almost impossible to carry on a conversation without offering an opinion.  My opinions change from time to time, but not the fact that I’m right.  The phrase “a matter of fact” is almost always a matter of opinion.  The theory that one plus one equals two is only true if you are working in base ten.

There is an opinion that history is important because we learn from the mistakes of earlier generations.  Therefore we are wiser and safer and better looking and better in every way than our ancestors.  I find very little evidence to support that theory. For example, the big lesson to be learned from the career of Napoleon is that it is stupid to invade Russia.  The Germans of the middle twentieth century felt that they were smarter and better looking and wiser than the French invaders of the nineteenth century.  In spite of the fact no one has successfully invaded Russia since the Mongol hordes almost two millennia ago, I feel confident some bozo will try it again.  Can you say George W. Bush?

Speaking of the Democrats favorite Republican, the Russians proved that their army of soldiers and helicopters and tanks could not invade and win a war in Afghanistan.  The United States followed that lesson up within twenty years, and has so far proved the lessons of the Russian Army to be true.  Can you say George W. Bush?

Some people die because they have low morals and rotten character and limited intelligence.  There have been a few people who crossed my path that caused me to smile and wonder if the world would be more pleasant with fewer morons.  In spite of that, no one ever actually died from disagreeing with me. The great sage Mark Twain explained it this way:  “The trouble is not that the world is full of fools, it’s just that lightning isn’t distributed right.”

Speaking of morons, my compassionate side feels sorry for the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich, who must be going through terrible times when it is so painfully clear that the poor did not precipitate the mortgage crisis.  Their long-held theory that the poor are responsible for every American problem lies in ruins.  The people who run Wall Street have proven once again they are not trustworthy enough to go unregulated, just as they did in 1929 and 1893.  Drive the moneychangers out of the temple, and they sneak back in at the behest of the dull like Ronald Reagan, who find that deregulation is good, if only for the rich.  Have no fear dull folk, the market will crash again because we refuse to heed the lessons of history so that we can be wiser, safer, and better looking than our ancestors.

Speaking of better looking and dull, it seems crystal clear that if God is female, and I find no evidence to the contrary, She probably looks like Sarah Palin.  However, however, I much prefer to think that God is not a nitwit.  This is a classic example of how politics works in America.  We select our candidates on the basis of how they look on television, and Miss America is chosen on the basis of where she stands on the issues.

In my view, the greatest of all American writers is Samuel Clemens, also known as Mark Twain. Halley’s Comet appears to our planet every seventy-five years.  It flew twice in Twain’s lifetime, once in the year of his birth, and the second time in the year of his death.  As the comet blazes across the night sky, Twain’s brilliance spews across the page. Ernest Hemingway called Huckleberry Finn the “best book we’ve ever had.  There was nothing before.  There’s been nothing as good since.”  I love Twain’s humor and irreverence. Mark Twain’s work does prove that freedom of expression exists in this country.  His comments on race, religion, and politics are relevant today.  Proof once again that the world has not changed much. The only things that have changed are the gadgets and tools.  The problems that come about repeatedly are the result of people and their egos.

One of the questions people ask when they learn that my wife and I have put together a book is:  “Where do you get your inspiration?” Ideas don’t just materialize out of my little pea-sized brain.  If you are an honest writer, you must admit that all inspiration derives from God.  It is not simply the big ethics books like the Torah, the Koran, and the Bible that are divinely inspired, but every scribble we put to paper. THEREFORE, if you have issues with the opinions expressed here, DON’T bring them to me.  I’m not your problem.  Take it up with the BIG GUY!

DAVE RAMA

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March 15, 2009 by Dave Rama.

There is a quote that goes something like:  “Satan, get thee behind me.”  That may be imprecisely quoted, but it refers to our ability to resist temptation.  A quick review of public figures and ministers may suggest that Satan is still out front, and resistance is low.

The press has reacted with a good deal of moral outrage that the Governor of Illinois has been accused of offering to sell a seat in the United States Senate.  I agree that the Governor has performed a stupid, and probably criminal, act.  The media, of course, also sells elected offices through advertising.  Typically, the candidate who spends the most on advertising wins the election.  The difference is the media offers no guarantee of getting elected, whereas the Governor was going to provide a definite Senatorial position in return for the candidate’s dollars.  Perhaps the media does not like competition.

Truly, neither major political party is holier than the other, because corruption is widespread in both cases.  Usually, the evildoers are caught with one or both hands in the cookie jar, grabbing the money, like the Governor of Illinois, or the Representatives in the House taking bribes from the lobbyists.

The other issue that catches officials with their pants down is they get caught with their pants down.  Sexual indiscretions from the Governor of New York, Presidents Clinton and Kennedy, Senator Hart of Colorado, and former Presidential candidate John Edwards reveal the temptations of available women, of which there is an apparently endless supply.  In our neighboring state of Idaho, there is a slight twist to the longings of Senator Craig, who paraphrased a musical line from Lawrence Welk, “You Set My Foot to Tapping.”  Politicians in Oregon are not necessarily good with temptation, either.  It takes no time at all to recall the sexual harassments offered by Senator Packwood, the Gubernatorial desires for babysitters from Neil Goldschmidt, and the newly elected Mayor of our largest  city, who enjoys kissing teenage boys, but keeps his baser instincts in check until they turn eighteen.

The only group that remains to set a good example for we poor, benighted heathen is conservative religious  leaders like Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggert, and Ted Haggard, who have collaborated on an exciting new book, called “Ministers Do More Than Lay People.”  The Catholic brand of Christianity offers their own set of problems, notably the existence of pedophilia in some members of the clergy.  There is a group of religious writers afoot who express how disturbed and saddened they are at the fact that there is declining church membership in both Europe and the  United States.  Gee, I wonder why that is.

I am what my children call “old school.”  At least, I think that is what they’re saying.  I don’t hear everything plainly, so they might be saying “old fool.”  In either event, I am old enough to remember when elected officials and ministers had at least a modicum of character and morality.  Those two diseases have apparently been cured.

Dave Rama, writing on the Ides of March.

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March 14, 2009 by Dave Rama.

I wish to annoounce the completion of my sixty-fifth annual trip around the sun.   This milestone made me notice the significant landmarks being celebrated this month.  On the twelfth of February, we note that it has been two hundred years since the birth of Abraham Lincoln.   Also on the twelfth, we can note that the NAACP turned 100 years old.  On the fourteenth of February, comes St. Valentine’s Day, a landmark for lovers and elementary school students, a date set aside for remembering love.  The fourteenth is also the date that marks the existence of the state of Oregon for a sprightly one hundred fifty years.  Despite the fact that I share a birth month with Oregon, there is no truth to the idle talk that I was an eyewitness to statehood.

In this month we also recognize President’s Day,Groundhog Day, the Daytona 500, and the day we clean out the woodburning stove, Ash Wednesday.  We should also remember the birthday of George Washington in February, on either the eleventh or the twenty-second.  A new and improved calendar  came into use during George’s lifetime.  He was born on the twenty-second, but if he had been born on the new calendar, his birthday would have been the eleventh.  That is a fact from my store of trivial information that is difficult to work into the conversation.

Those born in late January and early February are said to be born under the sign of Aquarius,  If you translate the months from English back to Latin, you get Januarius and Februarius, and then things will rhyme.  There is a term in astrology called the age of Aquarius which refers to a spiritual awakening, and age of brotherhood.  I think most of us would like to live in this period.  As food for thought for you true believers, the cusp of the aquarian sign is January 20th.  That is correct-Inauguration Day.

I found slightly more than 200,000 websites to answer any question that came to mind about the topic of astrology.  I learned astrology is very big on the use of adjectives.  The positives read very much like the Boy Scout Law–friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.  Aquarians are identified as practicers of practical idealism, which sounds like an oxymoron.  My favorite description, though, was ethereal.  The term sent me to Webster’s to learn it means airy.  Also tenuous and delicate.  I have been called a lot of things in my life,  but never delicate, and only rarely has anyone suggested I might be airy.  When I applied these words to Abe and George, I fail to discern their ethereal side either.  Far be it from me to contradict an astrologer, but I can’t see anyone referring to George Washington as airy.  The website did say Aquarians have a DARK side, harboring characteristics like fanatical eccentricity, wayward egotism, and TEMPER in capital letters.

I would like to reinforce the point that February is a bland month by pointing out that the single most entertaining television event of the month is the Westminster Kennel Club dog show.  Enjoy!!

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March 14, 2009 by Dave Rama.

The world is a colorful and beautiful place. I have experienced an assortment of colors in the places we have lived over the years. In the Great Plains, you get to see that great dome of sky unequaled anywhere, with the shifting shades of blue, and the brilliant colors of God’s light show when the thunderstorms blossom. We have lived in Iowa, where the summer green of the cornfields is muted by the humid haze, and in the fall, the changing leaves of the hardwoods generate great calendar pictures. We have lived in the Southwest,where the earth tones are spectacular, and you get the electric flash of turquoise jewelry which is so commonly worn by men, women, and children. The gem’s brilliance creates its own definition of blue. During our time in the southwest, we lived in the southern reaches of the Rocky Mountains. Thirteen thousand foot peaks give a special meaning to “purple mountain’s majesty.”

We are currently settled in the high desert of eastern Oregon. Here we gaze upon tall brown hills, with ranges of deep blue mountains in our line of sight, and various shades of green and gray in the sagebrush. The pine forests lend their own verdant colors, and in autumn, there is the contrasting yellow of the Western Larch. The summer sky here is a milky shade of blue on the best of sunny days, with haze caused by high atmospheric pressure and the occasional forest fire.

This January we are experiencing a phenomenon that was not common in any of our previous homes, but is a regular wintertime occurence here-an inversion. An inversion occurs when warm air rides up over the top of cold air and holds it in place. There are two results. One is that foggy conditions occur. In a world that uses the term High Definition to excess, the fog takes the edge off any structure, blurs the line of sight, and causes some items to disappear completely. The fog also causes hoarfrost to form on every available weed, tree, and power line. If that is not enough, we saw a small group of deer breakfasting on the neighbor’s lawn, and they were frosted from antler tine to tail. The effect of the hoarfrost, for the first day or two, is to cause people to grab their cameras and start snapping pictures, because the scene is one of God’s truly dazzling works. The second effect happens when an inversion lasts more than two or three days. Because the fog is everywhere, the world no longer seems to be in color. Winter appears to be in living black and white.

People fall into two distinct groups regarding this weather situation. One group of folks, like me, get crabby and owly and are not much fun to be around until the sun returns, which it always does. The other group sets forth a cheerful philosophy which is “You don’t have to shovel the fog.” My wife falls in that category. In an attempt to save the cheerful from the crabs, we should all join hands and sing, “Heaven Help Us, It’s an Uncloudy day.” If, as some proclaim, God could send us a Son, surely it would be a small matter to send us some sun. A toast to all who are willing to share their warmth and brilliance. Here’s to you, sunshine!

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October 5, 2008 by Dave Rama.

There are so many questions in my mind about forms.  Who are the people who think up the questions on forms for businesses, schools, and the IRS?   Who decides what needs to be known?  The other side of this coin is to wonder who reads this information, and why do they want to know?  there is certain basic information that everybody has , like an address or phone number that I understand needs to be known, but there are an awful lot of unnecessary questions asked as well.

One of the organizations that does a lot of work with forms is the public school system.  (I can’t speak about private schools, but I rather suspect that is more a case of being able to lift the bag of money onto the headmaster’s desk.)  Every year the kids come home the first week of school with a pile of forms to fill out, and they can’t even read yet. After a few years, it became clear no one was reading this material, and we would fill out the same information again the next year for the same child, like this eight year old kid had maybe picked up a few credits at MIT over the summer.  How many languages does this child speak?  That question might make sense if you lived close to Canada where French is spoken a lot.  When these forms asked for parents’ occupations, we changed jobs each year.  Once, I put down that I was a steel-driving man, and my wife entered courtesan. (Robert Fulghum wrote that he always put down prince in the occupation blank.) Why does the school need to know the grandmother’s maiden name?  Would my child be held back a year if I lied about that?  It hasn’t happened yet.  (How many grandparents are named Attila, anyway?) In the blank for parents’ languages spoken at home, I usually entered Portuguese, Korean, and Hindi, but no English.  This avoided a lot of unnecessary parent-teacher conferences.  I also never knew why the school needed character references for parents.  The Public schools have to take kids even from Jack the Ripper, right?  Still, I filled in the blank.  I always listed my sainted Grandmother Rama, and if a second reference was needed, I put down Mother Teresa.  I didn’t think anyone was going to call Calcutta, and no one ever did.

Now, however, I find myself on the opposite side of the form.  I would like to sell my house.  The greedy have turned that into a fantasy for the moment, but it might happen at some later date.  At that point, I will have a form to give the lenders to fill out instead of the other way around.  The questions about character references will be long and very thoroughly checked.  Any lender with a history of bankers in the family will be rejected out of hand.  Anyone with connections to the Republicans will never get my business.  Anyone who lists character references that lack the combined positive qualities of St. Francis of Assisi, Abraham Lincoln, and Rose Kennedy will be swiftly assigned to the trash.          Dave Rama

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