Juncture - Rich or Poor?

An older poem.

Juncture
by Anthony Trendl

In the days when I was rich,
I lived humbly, frugally,
but happy of heart
so that in the days when I was poor
I could live humbly, frugally,
but happy of heart.

And in the days when I was poor,
I lived lavishly, with flair,
but careful in my soul
so that in the days when I was rich,
I could live lavishly, with flair,
but careful in my soul.

In nearing now the age called dust,
I am free to be blown as April lint,
my riches and poverty left in my children's hands.
My lavish flair and careful ways better given
so that theirs are the days more humbly spent.

"And the Band Played On: Temptations Ultimate Collection Greatest Hits CD review

The Ultimate Collection
The Ultimate Collection: Temptations CD

The first couplet of the first song begins:

You've got a smile so bright, you know you could've been a candle.
I'm holding you so tight, you know you could've been a handle.

Anyone who has heard of the Temptations knows those lines from their classic "The Way You Do the Things You Do." It is crisply sung, almost doo-wop. It never loses its poise or falls into cliche.

Most of these songs were hits. If the titles don't jar your memory, listen to the samples. Expect to know at least 10 of these.

A couple weak links are present in "Treat Her Like a Lady" and "Error of Our Ways." In these two songs, there's no funk, no soul, and no depth. Both are acceptable, as pop R&B, but are musically pallid when compared to "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" and "Ball of Confusion."

The liner notes provide a puffy history, and credits song-by-song. That's not why this is worth buying. It is the sheer cool class and sway of the Temptations greatest hits. A couple songs might be left off, but most are here.

I fully recommend "The Ultimate Collection" by the Temptations.

Anthony Trendl
"A brave effort at cramming one disc full of Temptations classics, The Ultimate Collection nevertheless makes a couple of puzzling choices. Why, for instance, include "Error of Our Ways," a very minor mid-'90s hit, and ignore "Beauty Is Only Skin Deep" or "I Could Never Love Another (After Loving You)," both number ones from their classic period? Still, for the price, it's hard to argue with." --Rickey Wright

1. Way You Do the Things You Do
2. My Girl
3. It's Growing
4. Since I Lost My Baby
5. Don't Look Back
6. Get Ready
7. Ain't Too Proud to Beg
8. (I Know) I'm Losing You
9. All I Need
10. You're My Everything
11. Angel Doll
12. I Wish It Would Rain
13. Cloud Nine
14. I Can't Get Next to You
15. Ball of Confusion (That's What the World Is Today)
16. Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)
17. Papa Was a Rolling Stone
18. Shakey Ground
19. Treat Her Like a Lady
20. Error of Our Ways
21. My Girl [Acappella][Excerpt]

Apple Sauce Recipe for Men - 20 minutes and you are eating

Why men? I'm a guy. I made this recipe up based on some ingredients a buddy mentioned over the phone while I stood in a grocery store. He looked them up on the internet, and found them on some blog. I didn't measure anything, unless counting apples counts.

 

Ingredients

• 4 Macintosh apples
• 4 golden delicious apples
• Honey
• Ground cinnamon
• Decent cognac

1. Cored by chopping off a chunk from each side, leaving skin on. It is easier this way.
2. Toss into a big pot with a little water.
3. Flame on medium-high.
4. Cover with heavy top.
5. Go watch the game for two-three minutes. Not longer.
6. Stir every few minutes since what you really want to do is look like you know what you are doing.
7. Gently squish apples with potato masher. Let the apples know who is in charge.
8. As things go along, turn down the heat. No one wants burned apples.
9. When all apples are squished, use tongs to relieve the apple skins of their duty. These will be easy to grab. Toss them in the garbage disposal and grind them up, sending them to neverland.
10. With heat on low, add some honey, cinnamon, cognac to taste. Too much is too much, so watch it.
11. Note, the cognac adds a quietly nutty flavor, but also adds sweetness, so be careful with that honey.
12. Heat a little longer until it looks like apple sauce.
13. Cool until you can't handle it, then grab a spoon and eat.
    Or, if you have company, put it in a fancy bowl only used for visitors.
14. There will not be any left, so don't worry about saving them in a nice Tupperware or anything.

Barack Obama Rejects the Nobel Peace Prize

In a brief, but eloquent speech, President Barack Obama turns down the esteemed Nobel Peace Prize.

Realizing the award's intrinsic deficiencies that ruined the musical career of U2 front man and 2008 winner Bono, who ever after turned out songs no one liked, and of Yasser Arafat. Arafat, famously peaceful and anti-military until his 1994 award, but then turned into a warmongering beast. The President wisely knew he was not capable of pressing through the tests such an award can offer. He was not as strong as Jimmy Carter, also a US president, who accepted the award in 2002, and since then has always said the right thing.

The President recognized he was not being awarded by just the Nobel committee, but a vast legion of interspatial congregation of lords.

"Lord Lightyear, Lord Spock, Lord Mork, Lord Jar Jar, and Lord Kal-El, I am honored. Citizens of the universe and of that vague place called heaven, I cannot in good faith accept this cherished prize so long as we are at war, and so long as the Peace Mother lives."

He then whispered something in Neptunian to indicate his oneness with the universe, "No-Salami Yukkum", meaning: "Peace be upon plants and animals, who are our gods." It was also an acknowledgement to the universal commission for the ethical treatment of plant life. Up until the Obama Administration, the vegan and vegetarian community, teamed up insidiously with the evil omnivorians, terrorized the vegetable world, methodical ripping plant life from their native land and devouring them. Then, a quiet mineral eater spoke with a loud voice, "Remember the lichen," and protests ensued, almost destroying all life in the known interplanetary stellar regions. The President's nod continued as he celebrated his prize rejection by lifting up a glass of purified hydrogen-oxygen drink and breaking nutrient bread, a tasty nitrogen bar dipped in a carbonic sauce.

Why I am not a teacher

I have taught on and off much of my life. First, as a private tutor, working with as many as a dozen students each week. Later, in a jail and as a substitute teacher, and in some adjunct classes at the elementary school level. I have been told I have the knack. I think they are right. I love kids, connect with them well, and usually have more energy. I also know what a tough time school can be. I am enthusiastic about my subject, and it shows.

Every so often, I get the question: why don't you teach? The money and hours are not bad. Coworkers would be smart. There is a chance to make a difference in a kid's life.

You betcha. All of that is true.

But I am am not a teacher. Why not?

One word: unions.

I'm no fan of unions. I decided not to become a teacher largely based on watching what unions did to my school system. I understand a basic argument for their existence, but think they are too involved in politics, personal lives, and offer a school no choice but to hire a union teacher. Freedom gets killed.

Not all schools are patsies to their union, nor is every local union politically partisan. My schools growing up seem to have been. My high school was the worst. A few places I subbed in also demonstrated they were unable to dialogue.

I am an opinionated person. I tell people what I think. At my work place, however, I do not want fights.

At one place, a peer was so anti-Obama, I felt uncomfortable, and it impacted the quality of my work. And Obama is the last guy I will vote for. This colleague was as bad as the anti-Bush people. At a place I contracted (not a school), the full-timer was intimidated by me, and stole my ideas. Unions were univolved in each work context, but the tension was more than I wanted. I did not fight. Not at work.

If a school I worked at had a union fight, I would quit. It means that either the leadership is not taking care of the teachers, or the unions were just being whiny. Who suffers? Not just the kids, but any teacher who dares disagree with the union he had no choice but to join. The leaders lose leadership. Money is blown on lawyers, so taxpayers suffer.

None for me, thanks.

I Want To Be a Paperback Writer - A Re-interpretation

Many people aspire to live the life of an author: To be able to linger among those great men and women of letters and laugh at erudite jokes, to drink wine with unpronounceable names, to dream the impossible dream, and then get paid for it. Whatever reality is missing from this imagined life of intellectual bliss is made up for in persistence. Good writers sweat more than they dream, and they dream often.

Paul McCartney understood this desire and put it to words and music. I'm unable, for various laws involving copyrights, to publish those lyrics. Instead, I am adjusting the words with books and other products. Some of the connections are cloudy, you'll find them all "if you take a look." :)

You can find the song below on the album, 'The Beatles 1', which is a collection of their number one hits.

Paperback Writer

---

by Paul McCartney, as re-interpreted through products that can purchased online

Dear 'To Sir, With Love' or 'Madame Bovary', will you read my 'Book'?
It took me 'Baby Years' to 'Write On', will you take a 'New Look'?
Based on a 'Barbie Romance Novel Giftset' by a man named 'Sub 4:00: Alan Webb and the Quest for the Fastest Mile'
And I need a 'Monster.com', so I want to be a 'Ingram Paperback Advance' writer -- Paperback writer

It’s the 'A Handful of Dirt' story of a 'Benny Hill, King Leer'
And his 'Saran Classic, Plastic Wrap' 'The Bishop's Wife' 'You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation'
His 'Son-In-Law' is working for the 'Daily Mail',
It’s a 'Slow and Steady Get Me Ready' 'The CareerBuilder Network' but he wants to be a 'Paperback Writer' -- Paperback writer

It’s a 'The Ultimate Brownie Book : Thousands of Ways to Make America's Favorite Treat, including Blondies, Frostings, and Doctored Brownie Mixes' 'The First Five Pages: A Writer's Guide to Staying Out of the Rejection Pile', 'Horace's Compromise' a few,
I’ll be 'On Writing' more in a 'Body for Life: 12 Weeks to Mental and Physical Strength'
I can make it longer if you like the 'The Elements of Style, Fourth Edition',
I can 'Leading Change' it 'The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things' and I want to be a paperback writer -- Paperback writer

If you really like it you can have the 'Gideon's Trumpet',
It could make 'The First $20 Million Is Always the Hardest' for you 'Overnight'.
If you must 'Return to the River: The Classic Story of the Chinook Run and of the Men Who Fish It' it, you can send it here
But 'Gimme a Break, Rattlesnake!: Schoolyard Chants and Other Nonsense' and I want to be a paperback writer -- Paperback writer

Paperback Writer - The Beatles

Morning in Suburbia, Morning in the World

Few things equate the visceral joy of the first rush of morning as I sit down before sunrise to write. All is quiet except for crickets and the paperboy thumping a newspaper on my steps.

Nothing about the scene is unusual. Its usuality, in fact, is the thrill. In the usual is sometimes the most beautiful thing. The morning is the morning for all of us. Some are up already, coming home from work, or, like me, just starting the day.

While I lived in the heart of a major metropolitan city's suburbs, what I hear, what I see outside my window is found everywhere in the Midwest. When I lived in central Illinois, in a small city surrounded by farms, I awoke to the same sounds. Those days, before I owned a computer and when I worked in jobs that required me to arrive at 6:00 am, I would drive close to where I needed to be, and sit in a cafe surrounded by men who met there each morning. I was never one of them. Too young, too college to fit in. They never rejected me; I thought I was too different. I missed what these men knew: before the world is fully moving, there is a time to connect with good friends.

In my 20s, I had a mix of love and hate for the small town. I loved the Norman Rockwell aspect, but disdain what I thought was small minded living. I could only see the cliches and felt confined by the stereotypes. Academic, liberal, and big city was how I envisioned myself. Instead, the small mind was my own. What I did not know was the depth of discussion about farming issues. Farms are big business, but all I imagined was a guy with a hoe. The job didn't need a suit, but this did not mean the men were not well-read in current issues or classic topics.

The men, or their sons and daughters, are meeting somewhere just outside of Bloomington in the morning today. Maybe in Downs, or Hudson, or Towanda, but life is happening just as real as the suburbs and the city.

The morning is great for writing. I am high energy, and still gearing up as the day grows older. Coffee speeds things up, but mostly, when I wake, I am awake. Crash and burn. All the way awake, or all the way asleep. Little middle ground. The dawn is the closest I find to the peace of steady thought.

I think, now, in the afternoon as I finish this post, I will pour another cup of coffee, and think about the morning. There is little new to say about the morning and I like that.

Why I Won't Be Meeting Barry Trowbridge for Coffee Tomorrow

Instead of having coffee with Barry Trowbridge tomorrow night, I will be at his funeral. He's dead.

That's him on the left, swiped from his Facebook profile. He was that happy in real life, not just when getting his picture taken during a road race.

Who is Barry? Right now, I don't know. He's with God, and I don't know how to describe this. Is he singing? Running? Eating all the foods he denied himself as he fought obesity with regulated discipline? I honestly don't think any if those things are true, but given that I'm here on Earth, I don't have a keen view of what our life in Heaven looks like. Whatever it is like, Barry is not disappointed. He sees the face of his savior.

The Barry I knew through Friday was the kind of guy I want to be. He had a corporate job, but was not settled in the cushioned lifestyle. He knew what he was given, and worked hard to give it back. He was upbeat, passionate and joyful, and not satisfied with watching others do the work. His faith in Christ drove him to live well.

When the doctor said he needed to shape up or die, he took this seriously. He lost 60 lbs, at least, and was on his way to not just lose more weight, but become fitter. He ran and ate smarter.

As he was new to running road races, with just a few 5Ks under his belt, we talked about the joy of hitting the synchronicity of pace and fitness. His times were slow. His race last week was at 11:59/mile pace. Barry ran with no delusions, and, like me, raced because of the love and inspiration of running with others. We talked about getting together this week or next to run.

We shared a few tips about running music for iPods.

I saw him Friday. At our church, Barry was an instrumental lay leader in our men's ministry. We talked about me taking on the communications aspect of things. My first meeting with our leadership team was at 6:30, and ended around 8:00 am. When I got home, as he promised, I received an e-mail for an invite on my Google calendar to meet for coffee and discussion about the technical side of transitioning the responsibilities. This meant passwords and that kind of thing.

It is still on my calendar. I don't have the heart to remove it. 8:00 pm to 9:00 pm, at the coffeehouse on Roosevelt and Main.

Barry Trowbridge died Saturday morning at around 9:00 am on his way home from running. I don't know if he ran a road race. At that time, I was finishing my duties helping cheer on runners at the fundraising 5K/10K for PADS Dupage. Barry apparently had a heart attack, passed out and crashed his car on Butterfield Road.

The last thing I said to him was a silly thought on his Facebook page Friday at 3:39 pm. His status said through his cell phone, "Barry Trowbridge needs to remind himself that double bogeys are always better than triple bogeys...." I responded with a comment about how many children the Bogart family might have at once, "Mrs. Bogart was content, don't you agree, with just one Bogey at a time?" It wasn't very funny. He did not reply.

His last status update was at 11:15 pm Friday night when he posted a link to his most recent blog post (see links below).

There is no cool spin to put on this. I didn't lose a longtime friend. I was only getting to know the guy. He knew a great number of people better than me. We had maybe five or six conversations. One good one on the phone. One good one over coffee. We connected well. We looked at life, work, God, running, family in a similar way. And lots of plans about getting together. I miss the friend I never really got to know.

He was 43. I just turned 43. I can do the math.

Right now, as our nation argues about the health care issue, we cannot ignore what Barry learned the hard way: health care starts with being healthy always. Some readers of this blog do not exercise, play around with diabetes, eat too much, smoke, drink and make excuses about it. Barry looked at his reality and made bold changes, but he knew well he was not out of the woods.

I'm likely much healthier than Barry probably ever had been, but anything can happen. I'm looking to set an appointment with my general physician soon and get a check up.

There's no good way to end a post like this.

RIP Barry Trowbridge. You finished well.

Barry's blog (mostly fitness and health) http://www.weightuponthelord.com/.

Why I Do Not Want a Government Run Health Care Insurance System

Why I Do Not Want a Government Run Health Care Insurance System?

Why?

Besides...

• The billions of dollars, you ask? That is, the billions of dollars not already part of our debt?
• The famed inefficiencies and corruptions that happen in government?
• My personal expectation that abortion will be funded for more than life of mother situations?
• My personal expectation that this is giving the government more power and invasion into my life than I want?
• My personal expectation that we will shift from the corporate and broken free-market version of health care to a government and broken socialistic version?

I do not trust the government to handle this. Already, schemers are looking for potential loopholes.

I do not think President Obama has a true pulse on what America wants. Lots of Americans want this. Many do not. Obama has demonstrated he cannot build bridges in this issue, but instead, has created a polarized discussion.

Meanwhile, we have a war in Iraq still unresolved. It is not in the news, but soldiers are fighting hard. Now, any who die are on Obama's watch. He is not able to fight two fronts, and he has chosen health care as his issue.

What about our messed up corporate insurance? Corporate is the new profanity, so please forgive my intrusion into the delicate ears of naive readers. One massive issue with the current situation is size. Under a government run plan, any plan, things will get bigger. Essentially, we get the same thing, same problems. Corporation by election.

Neighbors?
Remember (no, I suppose you don't, since neither do I) when neighbors helped each other? Real help. Gave the neighbor $1,000 to pay for car trouble. How about you? Helping out?

What if all the money we are about to be taxed was saved up in a special savings account. Only you can access it, just like any account. This money is your "help my neighbor fund." See a neighbor in trouble? Dip into the fund. Don't have enough? Talk to another neighbor, get him involved.

If enough neighbors did this willfully, we might just not need Obama to tag my pocketbook.

Churches have deacons funds. They might call itself something else, but most churches have these. It helps people with emergency needs. This is above and beyond what churches already give to local homeless shelters, battered women's shelter, pregnancy help centers, food pantries, and other outreach efforts. Sometimes that money goes to help health emergencies.

What Book Should I Read Next?

On Twitter yesterday, I asked for book ideas. I said:

Too many of the books I am reading are the easy, unsubstantive ones. Give me skill, style and meaning. Challenge me with authors long dead.

Suggestions flew in. Maybe you have ones to add to this. I should qualify this a little, as Twitter's 140 characters gave way quickly. Not every book I read is intellectually easy. I have recently read critical looks at poets, some poetry collections, and some nature guides. This isn't the same, though, as you'll see below, George Eliot's Middlemarch. I somehow dodged reading it in college, as I was, frankly, intimidated by it immensity.

I am suggesting dead authors only because I want to avoid the flavor of the week. Amy Tan is not challenging. I don't want to read some musing of how someone grew up. Few writers ever do that well, and Mark Twain is retired.

The political books listed in the NYT Bestseller list are lightweight (presently loaded with conservative writers, just as when Bush was president, it was loaded with liberal writers).

Summer's basically over. Toss the beachside reading aside.

Current Suggestions

1. "Middlemarch" George Eliot
2. "Anathem" Neal Stephenson
3. "Sunnyside" Glen Gold
4. "The Histories" Herodotus
5. "Triumph: The Power and the Glory of the Catholic Church: A 2,000-Year History" Harry Crocker
6. "Robin Hood" (who authored the book?)
7. "A Thousand Years of Solitude" Gabriel Garcia Marquez
8. "Valley of the Dolls" Jacquelyn Suzanne
9. Specific books not indicated: Balzac, Colette, Graham Greene

Better than Sleeping, Much Better Than Sleeping

The next best thing to waking up is to be in Heaven.

It is an early morning, and a long day of travelling is ahead of me. I woke up hours before I intended, and in several ore hours will pay for this as I drive.

What if I didn't wake up? The goal of sleeping isn't the sleep, but to awake fresh. Only one thing is fresher than a full night's rest. Sleep isn't wicked, but the point's the same.

Maybe you know these famous verses from the Book of Psalms:

O LORD God of hosts, hear my prayer;
Give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah.
Behold our shield, O God,
And look upon the face of Your anointed.

For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand outside.
I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God
Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
(Psalm 84:8-10)

Ciderman (Spiderman?) spoken word

Ciderman (Spiderman?)

Fans of the 1960s Spiderman cartoon will remember the theme. I don't sing. Tossed in a few cider-esque and appleish images. Have fun!



Ciderman, Ciderman.
Drinks all the cider that he can.
Sips a cup, any size.
Uses it to wash down pies.
Look out.
There goes the Ciderman.

Can he chug?
Listen, bud.
He's got apples in his blood.
Take a look in the aisle
Hey there,
There goes the Ciderman.

In the chill of his fridge
at the scene of his drink
Like a tasteful bridge
across from his sink.

Ciderman, Ciderman,
Friendly grocery store Ciderman
Beer and wine
He's ignored.
Fiber is his reward

To him, life is a great big juice bar
Wherever there's a fruit bar
You'll find the Ciderman.

The original:

What Bugs Me Most? Three Books on Some Favorite Insects

Insects: Revised and Updated (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)

Spiders and Their Kin (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)

Butterflies and Moths (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)

Few books have given me more pleasure than these three. Boyhood is wrapped up in them, especially "Spiders" and "Butterflies and Moths" The prairie and creek near where I grew up, as well as a small farm, and the woods just two miles to the southeast, left me with plenty of opportunity catch butterflies, watch daddy long legs, and wonder if the walking stick would really walk.

Not exhaustive, but these guides each covered what I was likely to see. At eight years old, this offered me more than enough information.

The pages are crisp with age. It has been 25 or more years since they have seen the light of day, but when treasure hunting in my old bedroom, they shot out at me into my hands. I can't stop smiling when I see them, thinking of all the evenings in my bedroom reading, and the days playing, hoping to apply this vast knowledge of insects and spiders.

The prairie and farm I used to frequent have been subdivided. You might still see my initials carved in the concrete curb at 125th Street if it hasn't worn away where the old Pruim Farm connected just east of Moody Avenue, where my neighborhood began.

The woods are still there, but many of the insects and fauna are gone. The grand burnt orange monarchs are less common, just as the milkweed their larva feed on has all but disappeared. Cabbage moths are hard to find because no one is growing cabbage; backyard gardening has been replaced by trips to hip grocery stores. A good looking orb spider's web can be found here and there (mostly araneus'), but the cool looking black and yellow argiopes are nowhere to be found. There are too many brooms sweeping away at their exquisite homes.

Now, I'm wondering what I can find in my backyard here.

(see my review of a similar book on reptiles)

Insects: Revised and Updated (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)



Spiders and Their Kin (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)



Butterflies and Moths (A Golden Guide from St. Martin's Press)

Officially Hitting 10K Worth of Love

And there you have it. As I mentioned last week, this was coming. On August 14, this came to pass. It is up to 10,011 at the moment, and will take well over 11 years to see 20,000 votes.

Watch the progress.

Judge Sharon Keller's Incompetence Denies Appeal of Man Killed by the State

I make it no secret that I think the death penalty is awful. Innocent men are sometimes killed. There is racial and economic disparity among those given death as opposed to life sentences. No evidence has proven killing a murderer deters the next criminal.

I worked with inmates for many years, and met some very ugly characters. Some I hope never see the light of day. I can only imagine what the victim's family feels. Those who feel revenge, however, satisfy nothing with their blood thirst. Revenge executions are ethically no different than the honor killings found in the Muslim countries.

Meanwhile, our government is spineless about their own involvement. They shield those doing the killing from the certainty they personally caused another man's death. Back in the day when we would shoot the men, one marksman received blanks, opening the door for doubt. I believe the judge, or governor, should be the one pulling whatever lever transmits the poison into the condemned man, without some post-modern, separated from reality factor tossed in.

Today, I read that one judge has no guts at all. She feared an appeal. Her name is Sharon Keller, pictured on the left. She denied a death row inmate an appeal not because of some legal issue, but because she wanted to close up court. She is blaming her mistakes on a communication break down, but, whatever the reason, I hope she loses her position. Her incompetence shows she is not fit to judge. The blood of Michael Wayne Richard, who may or may not have been guilty, is on her hands.

I suppose she'll go into private practice if she is found guilty of being a blood thirsty judge without scruples. If she is, in fact, guilty of the professional misconduct, I hope she personally apologizes to the family of Mr. Richard, and offers financial restitution. It will not be enough, but, if guilty, she needs to see the pain in the eyes of the one who was murdered by whomever pulled the lever.