Category: Somewhat Current Events

From “In the News” column, Arkansas Democrat Gazette, September 30, 2011:

“Hugo Chavez, Venezuela’s president who had surgery to remove a cancerous tumor from his pelvic region, followed by chemotherapy, said his latest medical checks have been stellar but declined to say what kind of cancer he was diagnosed with, telling reporters: ‘What do you want me to tell you? —I’m not going to gratify you. A malignant tumor. What more do you all want? — They extracted it.'”

I can’t remember agreeing with Mr. Chavez before but when I read this I said, “You go, Hugo!” The international media has become just too nosy. Here in the United States, the Freedom of Information Act is used, not so much as what it was intended for as to delve into things that are just none of our business.

Are we better off knowing all the gruesome details? Do we need to hear Michael Jackson’s slurred speech during his last hours? Do we really still wonder if Elvis and James Dean are dead?  Does anyone realize how old they would be if they were alive?

Christians are admonished to choose carefully what we spend our time and energy on.  “Finally, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things. Philippians 4:8 NIV (Italics mine).

I find listening to news reports a stumbling block to thinking positive thoughts.

Over the past few weeks, as the temperature soars in Central Arkansas, there has been much media attention to heat related illness. Agencies gather fans to distribute to those less fortunates who have no air conditioning. The Arkansas Democrat Gazette ran a series of articles following up on three heat stroke victims – young athletes overcome during 2010 summer football practice. (Three separate incidents in as many schools during one blistering hot week in August. One boy did not recover.)

Now, coaches are required to attend workshops explaining emergency treatment for heat related illness. And as I’ve said, there has been much information forthcoming from news anchors and guest ‘specialists’ they have interviewed.

The admonition in all this is: drink plenty of water, pour water over your head or better yet hose down. Have ice packs handy and CPR equipment ready and a cell phone to call 911.

I listened to this and suddenly felt like the little girl watching the emperor walk naked through the streets.

STOP! Here is a group of young men running around in the sunshine wearing 40 pounds of equipment. (This is a ‘biblical’ 40 pounds, since I have no idea how much it really weighs.) Why are they outside in triple-digit weather? This is not a rhetorical question. We know why they are there. Because if they don’t make practice they won’t be on the team next fall. And because coaches (and some parents) begin yelling, “push through it” while the kids are still in pee wee ball.

Of course, the coach is standing on the sidelines holding a clipboard. He can hydrate whenever he feels the need. I never heard of a coach falling out with heat stroke.

I grew up in the south. We hoed the garden early in the morning. Cotton pickers went to work at dawn and quit about noon. Nowadays, farmers have lights on their equipment so they can work after the sun goes down and air conditioners in the cabs to protect them in the hottest part of the day.

Noel Coward said, “Mad dogs and Englshmen go out in the midday sun.” I don’t know this complete work but I take it to mean that only someone who is a little touched in the head would work outside in the heat of the day.

If the cleat fits …

After – or during – a week like the one just past, every blogger and poster worth his/her salt must mention the weather. I have facebook friends who made hourly posts on the outdoor temperature and the depth of snow on their deck. So, I am obliged to tell you my experience of Arkansas Snomagedden, as some have dubbed it.

Last Sunday, the predictions were loud and clear (for Wednesday) and folks began to prepare for the storm.  My sis and I went to WalMart in the middle of the afternoon. I always hasten to say that I was not in panic mode. I really needed milk.  We entered as the last of the last-minute Super Bowl crowd was clogging the check out stands. Those left in the store aisles were stocking up like they expected to be snowed in for months. I find this strange. Because I don’t care what the weather conditions are, most Arkansans can’t stand to be cooped up indoors for more than 24 hours.  I live in a small town but on a main street, and there is always traffic moving, be it a blizzard, a monsoon or the tornado siren blaring away.

I want to tell the shoppers: You’re not going to need all that food. As soon as the last flake or drop of winter mix hits the ground, you’ll leave your warm home and go slip-sliding away to Sonic or McDonald’s.

On Wednesday – S Day – I went to work at  8:00 am because it was not snowing. Every school and church in the four surrounding counties had already cancelled, based on the forecast. The storm started at 8:10 and beautiful soft snow fell so fast and furious that when I left for home 45 minutes later, visibility was very poor and the soft snow very slick.

I spent a wonderful snow day of movies, naps, reading and home made potato soup.  Snow fell for 10 hours with no let up, leaving everything covered, the view out my windows a winter wonderland.

The second day, my office was closed and I slept late. The sun was shining but with the temperature in the low teens, nothing was melting, though traffic had partly cleared the street in front of my house. About the middle of the day, I discovered two things: one, I needed to mail a payment to avoid a $25.00 late fee and two, the dog food bag was almost empty.  I dressed in my warmest sweats, took the broom and swept off the car. Then I dropped my keys in the snow (which was about a foot deep).  I stood there a minute surveying the problem when I noticed the tiny hole in the snow and sure enough my keys were found much quicker than I deserved. The trip to the post office and Fred’s (at 5 mph) was uneventful and the rest of the day spent writing a short story for a contest and creating homemade chicken and dumplings.

By Friday, the road to my house had only occasional patches of ice, but my work place was still closed. I ventured out once more, this time carrying a bag of trash. I walk very carefully on ice and snow, which is a good thing because when my feet slid from under me it happened slowly and I sat down in the soft snow by my back steps. No harm – just a little difficulty standing since my feet kept slipping in the snow. This day I spent reading manuscripts for Central Arkansas Writers, my monthly critique group.  Thankfully, Saturday was beautiful and clear and the five of us were able to travel from as many directions to meet in Conway for our time together.

Today, 63 degrees and it’s like the snow never happened. Except for a very muddy yard and a stir-crazy dog.

Around New Years Day, it is almost obligatory that bloggers/columnists reflect on the past year, so here are some random thoughts about 2010.

It was a good year for me. As far as my writing career goes, I was privileged to read and sign my books at several Literacy Lab Revisited workshops, I had two short stories published in an anthology and another won first place at the Grand Prairie Arts Festival. I maintained the discipline of posting comments here every week (mostly) and working with a monthly critique group. And the biggie: on December 30 I submitted my final draft and cover design to the company that will publish my latest novel, To Find a Home.

Between January and December, I read 24 books for my enjoyment and edification. More about that when I post the one-sentence reviews next week.

I had a supporting role in two plays at Center on the Square, chaired the Church Council, taught a Sunday School class once a month and filled my spare time with various other volunteer tasks at church and the theater.

About 30 minutes before the end of 2010, in my dream hometown in Arkansas, dead birds fell out of the sky. There are as many theories as to the cause as there were blackbirds. (Not four and twenty. More like 4 and 4996.) This didn’t happen in my neighborhood, but if it had it would have scared me to death. If I had walked outdoors at 11:30 pm and birds traumatized by fireworks (one projection) started hitting the ground around me or going berserk and offing themselves by flying into my house, car, mailbox (another theory) I would have gone into cardiac arrest.  Then the count would have been ‘5,000 birds, 1 duck and a sweet little old lady.’

As long as I can remember I have greeted January 1 with enthusiasm, thankful to be here and eager to see what happens next.