Taxing

Once again I've encountered someone who's complaining about taxes. I don't like giving away something I've earned just because someone says I have to any more than the next person, but I think those who are vehement in their complaints are missing a point. Where do they think the funding for running the country comes from?

We expect our roads to be paved, or at least safe to travel, plowed in the winter, and repaired in the summer. What funds the Department of Transportation's budget?

We expect that schools will educate our children so they can carry on the legacy we've created and even better our lives. Where does the school budget money originate?

We expect the police to protect us, from the local officers to state and federal officers. Who pays their salaries? Who provides the weapons and the vehicles, their offices and the record keeping? We certainly don't expect them to provide these for themselves.

We expect that our military forces protect and defend our freedoms and keep our enemies at bay. Who pays for everything involved in that process? Who pays for their retirement when they're done active duty? Who pays for their education that's guaranteed them when they leave the service?

We expect that the legitimately disadvantaged will be taken care of, the developmentally delayed, the catastrophically injured, the victims of crime or disaster. Where do those funds come from?

We expect the courts and the legal system to work properly to protect our rights. How can that happen if the judicial branch of the government isn't funded by all the people who have the right to use it? Are judges supposed to donate their time out of the goodness of their hearts? Are court stenographers and baliffs supposed to count their time simply as community service and hold other jobs, too, in order to pay their bills?

I'm sure I've forgotten some other significant examples, but I think the point is clear: if we citizens expect to benefit from things provided by our country (aka "The Man" and "the government"), then we need to foot the bill for these services, so suck it up and pay your just due.

Helpless

I'm glad that I don't have to grow up again. There seems to be less patience in the world than there was back when life was a bit slower. No microwave ovens, no cellphones or even touchpad phones, no calculators, no transistor radios or color televisions capable of drawing in signals from over 200 channels, no computers, no souped up cars or superhighways, no instant photography or information saving devices, no scanners of any type, no email or internet... how did we get along with all these conveniences that make our life faster? We cooked on the stovetop and in the oven, cranked or turned the telephone dial and waited for the operator, and had to do it at home or from a public pay phone. We used paper and pencil, perhaps a sliderule, our fingers and toes, and our own brains to do the math. We listened to crackly AM stations for news and music on the one radio in the kitchen. The one television that we were lucky to have weighed more than my father, had a viewing screen the size of a dinner plate, and took five or six minutes to warm up its tubes before we could watch the only two channels it could receive during a 16 hour time slot each day. The library or our own set of encyclopedias, or even someone older and wiser were the sources of information for our research. Perhaps we read the daily paper if we were well enough off to afford that luxury, or we listened to the evening news. Cars were big, heavy, and safe but they moved slowly along the surface roads and occasionally the state highways, and it took a while to get anywhere. Rolls of film, mostly black and white, were sent away through the drug store to be developed and printed, and we'd anxiously wait the week or so that the process took to see our priceless photographs, carefully putting them into albums and preserving the negatives in case we wanted more prints. Information we saved on paper or in our heads. We knew what the police were doing when someone overheard a conversation or was there and passed along the news by word of mouth or, if the story were big enough, by phone call or radio. Store clerks had to go look at lists to discover prices if they didn't know them. Baggage carried hand-written tags. We hand wrote cards, letters, thank you notes, applications and requests, addressed the envelopes, licked and applied the stamps, trusted them to the post office, and waited days for the messages to get to their destinations.

This isn't a complaint but more of an observation about the path that life in our society has traveled in the past 50 or 60 years. I'm glad to be part of a generation that's lived in both worlds, the slower and more deliberate, and the faster and more convenient. Still, there are some dilemmas that remain.

One such dilemma is how someone can determine the line between being a tattletale and getting into trouble for standing up to a bully. Adults have to make those decisions, but their life experience and savvy usually help them to decide the best plan of action at the time. Kids, on the other hand, usually have a tougher time.

Take the case of the kid who likes to taunt and belittle others, also called using verbal abuse. It can make my hands itch to slap the perpetrator, but then that person is so damaged already with his need to diminish and torture people more vulnerable than he that it's certainly not going to do any good, so I refrain. But I'm the adult. What about the victim? Or the victim's friend? What are their choices? "Turn the other cheek" works only for a while because the bully often raises the ante with more vicious words or by physical approach, but rarely crossing the line with touch. Telling an adult brands the victim as a tattletale, adding to his already perceived weakness. Telling the bully to stop only works in the opposite, urging him on because, clearly, his goal is being reached, and he wants more fulfillment. Friends stepping in can be of help in going to an adult as a group or just being physically present to display a larger support which can disable the bully at least temporarily, but he'll usually come back. However, sometimes a single friend's actions can simply inflame the perpetrator, and if the friend feels strongly enough to address the bully himself, verbally or even physically with a hand, a shove, or something more, then the waters become terribly muddy. Then it can become two against one, in the bully's version, and of course the two will testify against the one. How can the full and accurate view of the situation be made clear? Often, it can't.

I have no answers for this problem. I saw it happen as a child, and I still see it happening among children of high school age or even older. I will say that part of kidlife is to do and learn things on your own, hiding some of the activities and knowledge from your parents as you separate from them, but there are some things that kids need to share with adults because kids aren't yet ready to cope with them all. How to determine what to share and when? That's a tough thing to teach, and at times I feel quite helpless about knowing how to do it.

News

This post comes to you from my new laptop. My tiny silver PowerBook (I call her Sweetie) has been a real workhorse for me for the past five years or so, and lately she's begun making nasty growling noises when I move her when she's running. That's a sign I heed. I've lost a few computers in the heat of summer or when the hard drive just went bad, but the last two deaths have been preceded by odd noises. Before Sweetie makes the trip to the happy place in cyberspace, I decided to add yet another Mac to my collection to take some of the burden off her.

Let me introduce you to my MacBook Pro. I haven't named it yet because I haven't had it long enough to feel its personality, but I suspect that'll happen soon as I have time to use it. This is the 15.4" version with a screen large enough to keep me from squinting at the images on it. The keyboard is backlit, a huge improvement for use in low light conditions. The power cord feels sturdier than the one that came with Sweetie who's gone through two of them in her lifetime, so I'm optimistic that this one will last a little longer. I love the way the oversized trackpad works, too: one finger works with the typical taps, two fingers dragged work like the nub or wheel in a mouse. It's also in one piece with no separation between tap and click areas. Two 1x4" speaker grills (with minuscule holes) sit on the outer edges of the keyboard and the speakers provide plenty of clear, loud audio. Can you tell I'm liking this machine?

Of course the downside is the price tag. Because I teach, there's a small Education Discount. Because it's a laptop, I opted for the extended care plan. Because I like the features of Microsoft Office apps, and I want to use the computer to connect to an LCD projector, the software and the adapter were part of the deal. But I'm willing to pay the cost for a fast, reliable, stable machine that always does what it's supposed to do. The hp laptops we're required to use at work don't come close to any Mac I've ever owned. I'm very happy with my purchase.

end and beginning

The sports teams that I support are shifting as of tonight: the Red Sox lost the American League Division Series today in three straight games, the Patriots won their game against Denver this afternoon, and KG is back, showing his strength in pre-season games. I watch the games with interest, but I don't have the same avid attention and passion for the games as the guy who sits in that recliner in the living room. He'll gladly turn his yelling at the television from umpires to referees and not miss a beat. "Plus ca change, plus la meme chose," is the way the French express it: The more things change, the more they remain the same.

I've been spending time on Facebook lately which is why I've neglected this spot. I'm going to try to balance my online time better, so posts here should resume with more regularity. The good thing is that there's nothing of earthshattering importance that I haven't posted here. Mother is doing well in her assisted living apartment, Sis3 has put weight back on and has begun to work part time. The other siblings and relatives are well, and so far my husband and I have had a few cold symptoms, but the flu has avoided us. Waldo is slowly behaving better and better, although we continue to find things that make him crazy or that scare him. We are adjusting to each other pretty well. Our Jotul wood stove has proven itself to be more than competent at heating the house (yes, we've needed a fire in the stove several times already) so we feel it was a good purchase. The other purchase that's being made is a new MacBook Pro for me. My little titanium PowerBook is making funny noises, and I don't want to be without a working Mac laptop, so the new one is on its way to me. Other than these things, and some new concerns at school that are slowly being worked out, life goes on much the same as it has.

This four-day weekend is a boost for me, giving me time to unwind and catch up on a few things while also taking a trip to Salem MA to see witch territory and attending a craft fair and apple festival in a nearby town. Thank you, Christopher Columbus!

dvr

After looking at the cable bill instead of just paying the monthly fee, I decided to send back their high-channel, high-rent machine and buy our own digital signal dvr. One advantage I'll miss is the cable company's ability to save programmed timer recorder settings and reset the clock automatically after a power outage (hmmm maybe a small UPS unit might help preserve these now?), but I have issues with paying an extra $35 to $40 on a monthly basis for that service. We never used the upper tier cable channels, so there's no loss there in moving back to basic cable, and if I'm too lazy to reset the clock and the two timer recorder settings, then I have more problems than I've realized. The new machine will pay for itself in less than 6 months, and we can watch some of our collected dvd's on it, too, something we needed a separate machine - and another remote - to accomplish. Learning which remote controls what may take a day or two, and the live recording feature will take a little getting used to, but that may come in very handy when we suddenly have company, the phone must be answered, a spontaneous moment strikes, or something else as unplanned occurs.

For once there's a dilemma in late night shows: Letterman has Ken Burns and Mike Meyers, and Conan has Meryl Streep, Judd Apatow and The Fray. Both look appealing, so I guess I'll play the flicking back and forth game. Still, I greatly look forward to Sept. 14 when Leno returns.

Speaking of returning, Jerry Remy makes his reappearance with Don Orsillo for Friday night's Red Sox game with the Yankees. I'm sooooo glad he's back!

Hazy, hot and humid weather feels like it's breaking this evening. We didn't get the rain that other areas nearby felt in late afternoon, but the evening air has a better feel to it than it's had since last week. Sleeping tonight may be a much easier and more restful experience.

Listening to the quiet

My VT sister in law has just left, having stayed here overnight on her annual visit. (She's the one I hooked on making jewelry, and now her pieces outshine mine in size and scope.) We had lunch, talked beading, ate dinner with my husband out on the screen porch, and talked about people, teaching, families, health care, how things have certainly changed over recent years. This morning, breakfast was more of the same: beverages, food and talk. And more talk. Rather, I listened quite a bit and offered a sentence here and there. A visit to my bead lady under our belts, we returned to the homestead for lunch and...you guessed it...more talk, this time about places in VT that my husband knew and their history up to the present, including their connection with sis in law. Lunch over, she gathered her things and new purchases, and she headed westward.

This current experience reminds me, as I sit in the near silence consisting of the drone of two fans running in my vicinity, that many people who find themselves living alone and have little contact with others need to talk when they have an audience. Phone calls from one of my relatives who lives alone and who doesn't get out much typically last an hour or more, and my husband can tell she's on the other end because at least 80% of my speech consists of, "Oh?" and "Uh huh." He also has a sibling who's retired and who "can't seem to stop talking" when he phones him to check up on him. "He never used to talk this much!" my spouse observes after each telephone session as he rubs his ear to get back the circulation.

Because so much of my career time - teaching and selling jewelry and notecards - involves conversation, speaking with and listening to people, and because at heart I'm an introvert, I cherish my quiet time. When I've been alone and then I'm with someone else, the conversation can overload my senses. I make a conscious transition from listening to my own thoughts to sharing the airspace with my companion, and sometimes I'm not terribly quick about it. Thankfully, my husband understands this quirk of mine. He often eases into talk when he returns home - unless it's something about his cross country or track teams - and he gives me space to spend in relative quiet, not taking offense at this need of mine. I'm a lucky gal.

So right now, I'm at peace, the monotonous voices of the fans keeping me company. Their kind of noise I can enjoy any time.

RIP

(I couldn't post this in the same item as my mini-vent.)

Friday morning I lost a colleague and friend in a senseless car accident. She was driving to judge a competition when someone rear-ended her on the highway, her car spun out of control and went into the median, and she struck a tree. Mercifully, she died instantly. Rain, fog, and excessive speed of the other driver appear to be the factors. Suddenly, a young (42) woman who had been part of our work family was gone.

The information reached us erratically, first from television reports, then in articles on web pages, and then the confirmation by school administration. Phone "trees" don't work well during summer vacation when people are in/out/about/on vacation. But then suddenly the bad news is everywhere. I'd forgotten that she was a former Miss NH, and that aspect of her life made her much more a public figure than some of us were ready to see on the evening news last night.

It's still not real to me, and it won't be until I walk into the building and know with more finality that she's not there. Not only are her family members affected(she's divorced, no kids, but has two brothers, her mother, and a niece), but we teachers, her summer school students and the kids who thought she'd be their teacher for the upcoming school year will feel the impact, too. She was a part of the theatre crowd, directing, being a stagehand, acting and singing, and she often encouraged her students to understand the literature they read by acting out portions of it. Educationally, her focus was on her students, providing a balance of holding them accountable and supporting them in their growth.

Socially, Deb had experienced a short marriage and a divorce, a period of dating, and most recently, an increase in her serenity among her friends. She was feeling strength as an independent woman. Odd as it may sound, I'm glad that was her frame of mind at the time when her life unexpectedly ended because it means that there was less turmoil to trouble her and carry with her.

Yes, this kind of tragedy does make me much more aware of the fragility and unpredictability of my own life and of my loved ones. I may or may not be leery of driving that stretch of highway in foggy, rainy conditions, but I will be more aware of each day as an opportunity to enjoy my life and my friends and family while we're all here. I'm just sorry that it took this kind of circumstance to bring the message home to me so vividly.

RIP, Deb.