Evolution and oh, how I love my Swiffer!!!

Dear Mr. Swiffer, whoever and whatever you are – just want to tell you about my experience with your products. I have been keeping house for many, many years, too many to count. I began when there was nothing else to use except a broom, a dust mop, and a terrible, heavy wet mop. I did my part, though. I swept the whole house very single day, I dust mopped in between sweeping, and I mopped whenever and wherever it was needed. It was not an easy thing to do to wring out that heavy, heavy mop. I would not say I was really good at housekeeping, but then with much practice, I got better. And the products also got better. Next came the big, heavy, lug around vacuum cleaner. Everyone had to have one of those monsters. I drug it all over the house several times a week. In between, I used that old dust mop. But my house was clean. Or at least it looked clean. Of course I could not run the vacuum when the children were asleep because the overwhelming noise woke them up. And I could not run it when they were awake because they were all afraid of it. So I cleaned house whenever they were gone somewhere or outside playing.  The noise is probably one of the reasons I can no longer hear well. Next came that whirling vacuum that spun around all over the house.  It had a big hose that got caught around every chair leg and under the tables. And the whirling vacuum got caught under the bed. I usually tripped over the hose at least once a day. But my house was clean, so no complaints. And my children were not afraid of the whirling vacuum and it didn’t wake them up when I ran it during naptimes. So things were better.

Along came the central vacuum system. This was wonderful except that mine did not work very well. I was always having to go back around with that handy old dust mop and pick up whatever the vacuum had missed along the way. I also tripped regularly over the hose. But this was progress, no doubt about it.

But then, you came along. I have never had so much fun cleaning house. I just push that combination broom, dust mop, vacuum, and wet mop  throughout the house and everything looks cleaner all the time. And then I dust regularly with those magnetic dusters that are on the market today. Well, I’ll just have to tell you, I think I have died and gone to heaven for sure. This product even gets the dust out of the corners and nothing ever did that before. And besides that, I no longer have to drag that heavy, dirty old mop around, trying to clean and then rinse and then wring it out over and over again. Nope, not anymore. Now I just put that mopping cloth on this apparatus and mop my kitchen.  No problem, no trouble, and besides it will also mop the bathrooms. All I need now is something that will push this combination broom, dust mop, vacuum and wet mop around my house while I read the paper and have my cup of tea. I would appreciate your working on this upgrade as soon as possible. Thanks again.

The Influence of Advertising or Just Plain Hype

I tried to watch one of the children’s television programs tonite with my daughter, but it was impossible to stay with the story line because of all the interfering commercials offering all kinds of products, not only for the children, but also for the adults who would be watching with their children. Everything offered was something that ‘you must have’. Not only do you want this, but you absolutely, positively need it.

When I was growing up, my mother used to talk of  Christmas at her house when she was growing up. There were 9 children and no father, so they had very little money for anything, much less for items they might want. On Christmas morning, all those 9 children got up and were thrilled and surprised to find an orange that Santa had left each of them. Later on, I read in the 50’s about a minority woman who was moaning that that was all she got for Christmas when she was a child. But she failed to mention that this was the norm for many of the families over the years. My mother never moaned nor complained about this. She thought that orange was a great and grand surprise to have for Christmas. Depends upon your attitude I guess. And on what you think you need to make you happy.

Nowadays, everyone expects to have everything imaginable under the tree on Christmas morning. And why? Because someone says they not only want this, but they need it in order to be happy in their lives. Everyone needs to step back and take a good hard look at their lives. What you need and what you want are two very different things. I might want a lot of things, but I really don’t need them. When I was growing up, I never realized that I didn’t need so many things until my parents told me so. I have heard the words, “You don’t need that” many times in my lifetime. Of course I thought I did need something because my friends all had it, or because I saw it in a magazine or heard about it on the radio. But that didn’t mean that I needed it. And thankfully, my parents taught me not to always want, want, want. They taught me well. I have never had the desire for ‘things’.

One year when I was a young teen, I insisted that I needed this particular kind of haircut. It was called a ‘feather cut’ and all my friends were getting this gorgeous haircut and they looked so beautiful that I just had to have one of those. My parents didn’t argue about it. They told me a couple of times that I didn’t need it, but I kept on insisting that I did. Finally, my mother took me to the beauty shop and I went in, thrilled beyond words. I sat down in the chair and insisted again that I needed this ‘feather cut’. The man tried to tell me that I would have to have a permanent also, but I insisted that my friends all had this wonderful haircut and I was getting one, too. And I was also going to be beautiful. Well, he did just like my parents had done. He didn’t bother to argue with me about it. He just set about cutting my hair. I watched in the mirror and the transformation just simply was not happening to me. I just looked the same. When he finished cutting, I paid the bill, but could not believe the way I looked. Sure enough, he was right. I didn’t need that ‘feather cut’. In order to have that beautiful hairdo, it was necessary to either have a permanent or to have naturally curly hair. But I had insisted until I won. And now I had chunks of hair all over my head. Instead of looking gorgeous, I just looked ridiculous. Where the hair was supposed to ‘feather’, mine sat like a clod all over my head. I was ashamed, but was stuck with the look for quite awhile afterwards. But I learned that just because I wanted that haircut didn’t mean that I needed it.

If you get a chance, teach your children they don’t need all those things they really just want. Teach them they don’t need things to be happy in their lives. Tell them they don’t need that until they learn the value of and the difference in wants and needs.

Hips, Ibuprofen, and Ducks

If you are interested or even if you are not, thought I would tell you my long, sad story. I had a bad fall a few years ago and broke my hip and my shoulder. I always had one leg shorter than the other one and so when I was put back together, one leg is definitely shorter than the other one by another quarter inch or so. So, to make a long story short from the beginning, my good hip started hurting me so I decided to raise that hip up a little bit to sort of match the other one. I put an extra gel sole in that shoe. I walked on that for about a day and a half. Then my knee starting hurting pretty bad. So I took the gel piece out of my shoe and thought that would make my knee stop hurting. Instead, it just kept right on hurting all the time and it was really, really painful. Now, I could not walk right at all. So I was limping around and that made my bad hip start hurting. The good one didn’t hurt anymore.

I limped so much that my foot started hurting and over time it swelled up pretty good. This made my heel where I had broken it several years before, start hurting as though it was broken again. Although I knew it was not. And my foot was drawn up in pain because I could not relax it enough to walk right. I could actually feel my toes retract when I tried to walk. Then, in order to be able to live my normal life since I was in such pain in all directions by now, I had to take a couple of ibuprofen just to get through each day. And even at this amount, I was still in a lot of pain. After taking the ibuprofen a couple of days, it began to have an effect on my stomach which it always does. So here I was, with my knee just ruining my life and my foot hurting all the time and my stomach upset from the ibuprofen, and my other hip hurting sometimes. Oh yeah, by now, the ibuprofen was causing me to have a diarrhea, too. I would have cried but there was no one around to hear me, so why bother. No point in crying if there is no one to hear you and feel sorry for you. So I gave that one up.

But I sure did feel like it most of the time. It was an effort to just get up out of a chair and walk across the room. Of course I could have gone to the doctor, but there was not much he could have done for me except give me more medication and I didn’t feel that I needed that just yet. Not until I was to the screaming stage. Almost there now.

And then I was sitting in a chair the other evening, looking down at my foot that was hurting so much. I was trying to see if it was swelled as much today as yesterday.  Then the thought crossed my mind that maybe, just possibly, my shoe was too small. So I immediately changed shoes and put on a pair that I had in the closet that was 1/2 size larger.

Now, I’m still hurting some, but it is not nearly as bad as it was. And I note that my toe is at the end of this shoe, so maybe I even need a 1/2 size larger than that one. I will have to go to the store one day soon and have my foot measured so I can see if I have grown longer feet.

And besides that, I am at the age where I shrink occasionally. That is, I get shorter over the years. So wouldn’t that be something if I am shrinking from the top and growing longer from the bottom. If so, I will soon look like a duck I guess. Hope I don’t have to waddle like one.

Marketing, oh yeah, this is why we eat turkey for Thanksgiving.

Do you know why you eat turkey every year for Thanksgiving dinner? No, it’s not because that is what is on sale that week. No, it is not because the Pilgrims and the Indians ate turkey. You eat turkey because the turkey growers all got together and promoted the selling of turkeys for Thanksgiving each year.

Don’t believe that? Well, I was there and saw it all and heard what was said, so I know first hand how we all came to eat turkey for Thanksgiving dinner each year.

A couple owned a grocery store a couple of blocks from my home when I was a kid. At that time, neighborhoods all had a local grocery store  on a corner every few blocks. This one was a regular grocery with a butcher behind the big glass counter and a cash register near the front door and a few cans of everything imaginable. They also stocked fresh bread and milk and eggs. My mother went to town each week on the day she kept the car. She drove down to Main Street where she bought the bulk of her groceries for the week. Then when we ran out of something during the week, she would send us kids to walk to the grocery store and pick up whatever she needed. It was usually that bread or milk. She had her own chickens, so it wasn’t eggs that’s for sure.

Anyway, the couple sold their grocery store and started a turkey farm. This was the only turkey farm I had ever heard of. When you grow turkeys, you have to make cages that sit up off the ground. That is where the turkeys are housed. The cages are different looking, so when you drive out in the country and see the turkeys in their jacked up cages, you know instantly what they are.

Well, this lady and her husband had gone into the turkey business in a big way. They had lots and lots of cages all around their property out in the country.

After about a year or so, the lady called my mother on the telephone and asked if she could come by and talk to her. This was in early Fall of that year. Being a kid, I was running in and out of the living room while mother and the lady talked. Seems the lady came by to convince my mother to order a turkey for her Thanksgiving dinner. The turkey would already be killed, of course, and plucked, and ready to roast. Mother listened to all the lady had to say. The lady said that the turkey growers had gotten together in this country and were promoting having turkey for Thanksgiving dinner each year. All of them were out taking orders right now. Mother had prepared different meals for Thanksgiving over the years. Mostly, we just had a chicken hen out of the chicken yard. One year, mother prepared a goose and it was truly awful. But since my daddy worked on Thanksgiving Day just like any other day of the year, Thanksgiving dinner was not a priority at our house anyway.

But since the grocery store lady was a sort of friend, Mother decided to order a turkey that year.

Soon after that, Mr. Roosevelt made a speech on the radio saying that Thanksgiving Day would henceforth be an official holiday for these United States.

And you know what? After that, we began seeing pictures in the newspapers and on billboards and in books of smiling, happy people eating turkey for Thanksgiving dinner every year. And sure enough, turkey is what most people expect to have for Thanksgiving dinner every single Thanksgiving. And that is why you eat turkey every year for your Thanksgiving dinner.

You can read this story and many others like it in my books. Only $5 each, they have a wealth of humor, information, and history in them. Try one.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Remember when food was real food?

Hi again: was talking with a friend a couple of days ago. We got to talking about canning and preserving and putting up all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and meats. She mentioned how many quarts of tomatoes she had canned this past summer. I replied that I knew all about that. I have had more experience than I ever wanted in the field of canning and preserving. I then said that tomatoes were so easy to can and they could be counted on to be just as good as the day they were canned, no matter how long they sat on the shelf. She then said that this is not the case anymore. Nowadays, tomatoes have been genetically altered to the point that almost all the acid has been removed from the tomatoes. Now, when they are canned, unless some acid such as lemon juice is added to them, they will spoil rather quickly.

I was truly shocked. I had canned many jars of tomatoes and depended on them many a cold winter day to help stretch a pot of soup or a casserole. That would be terrible if the canned tomatoes spoiled. And then I got to thinking about it all. I guess that is why tomatoes taste like cardboard these days. They have none of that good tomato taste that we used to look forward to each summer. I can still smell that good tomato smell and taste that great taste of years ago. But I never knew exactly what had happened to the tomatoes. And now I know.

I already knew the grains and meats had been genetically engineered to the point that you wonder just what it is that you are eating some days. But I really didn’t know that was why tomatoes had changed so much. Guess that means all the fruits and vegetables are genetically altered to the point that they can sit on the grocer’s shelf for months before spoiling. That is why they can ship them all over the world without damage. Used to be, the tomatoes in the southern part of our state had to be bought, shipped and eaten or canned in a few day’s time or else they would not be palatable. Now, I go into the store, no matter if it is a local one or a national one, feel the hard tough tomato, try to smell it to see if it will have any taste and come away from the store disappointed once again.

And it is said that even if you grow them yourself from old time seeds, they will still get genetically altered if they are pollinated by the bees and cross pollinated with a neighbor’s seeds. Just the same taste as an old piece of cardboard.

I know people get sick and tired of hearing about how good things used to be, but you know that is true these days. Wish we could return to the good tasting, big, bursting tomatoes like my grandmother used to grow. Or to the really great tasting watermelon that I used to eat as a kid,  or to summer squash that tasted like squash instead of a yellow notepad. And those freshly made preserves were so good. I can still remember the true plum preserves and that great strawberry shortcake. Where did it all go? Genetically altered, that’s where it went. What a shame. But I can still wish.

Vitamin D, Turning Back the Clock, and Playing

It was on all the newscasts and in all the newspapers a couple of days ago – The children of this country are suffering from a Vitamin ‘D’ deficiency. Well duh. What in the world did they expect to find with their latest of studies.

It was told back in the 1920’s or maybe even before that the prevalent rickets was caused by a lack of Vitamin D. Then some smart scientist decided that if they put artificial Vitamin D in the milk, the children would just never know the difference. No way. Nothing beats that good old sunshine for a proper amount of Vitamin D. Vitamin D is taken in primarily by the eyes. A child plays out in the sunshine and while he is having the time of his life, he is automatically absorbing that wonderful Vitamin D. His skin is also absorbing the proper amount of Vitamin D. And his bones are getting stronger all the time.

So now, the poor child is inside all the time. In his young life, he is staying indoors in a preschool environment while his mother works. Or he is inside when he is a little older because he is either watching television or playing a game of some kind. And if he dares to get out and go swimming, his mother is dousing him constantly with sun blocker. When is that poor child supposed to get any Vitamin D at all?

Surely someone will wake up in this world and recognize that the ways of the past weren’t all that bad after all. I know I can’t turn the clock back and wouldn’t even if I could. But my children played outside all the time in the pretty weather. They were either building forts out of the hedges in the yard. Or they were riding their bikes and skating on the sidewalk in front of the house. Or they might be playing volley ball or hide and seek in the back yard. What happened to the sidewalks and the yards? Where did they go? Why are our children all forced indoors when they could be having such a super time outside. They might even get to know some of their neighborhood friends. Mine knew everyone within a mile radius.

At that time, we didn’t have to be so paranoid about predators.  No one was going to murder them or snatch them away. No one wanted our children. The children watched out for one another while they were outside. If anyone had even dared to approach one of the children, the others would have made so much noise that the predator would have been happy to leave well enough alone.

Perhaps we need more stringent punishments for those predators. Perhaps we need to have more mothers at home who would allow their children to play in the safe back yard with their friends. Perhaps we need to turn that clock back maybe just a little bit.

C’mon, open your heart and…

Do you remember when – it was o.k. to just relax and enjoy the day?

I remember when the news was just that – news of the day. It was not necessary for three or four people to give their opinions on every issue. We just watched the news in the evening and then made our own comments.

I remember when my children played all around the neighborhood. They could play in and out of houses for a two block area and no one even considered that they might be in any danger whatsoever. How nice that was for us and for them. They played army for days and days. They pretended to make movies of everyone in the neighborhood. They wrote a newspaper and played cowboys and indians and cops and robbers and no one found fault with their behavior. The girls played dressup and Mother May I. And House.

It was really fun to just sit outside and watch the sun set or maybe sit on the carport and watch the rain. Drink a slow cup of coffee and listen to the sounds of the neighborhood. A neighbor might drop by and join in with a cup of coffee, too. Or another time, after we had done our washing and ironing and cleaning and mopping and cooking for the day, we Mothers might visit with each other over a cup of coffee and a cookie. And maybe watch our kids playing in the sandbox or jumping rope or riding their bikes.

I remember when Dad went off to work and earned a good living. And Mom stayed home and cared for everyone and all their needs. It was a satisfying and full life for all concerned. Dad was not expected to care for the children – that was Mom’s job. Mom was not expected to earn the living – that was Dad’s job.

We used to read a magazine or a book in the evening. We used to just sit and talk the evening away. We enjoyed one another. We were a family. Sometimes, we had a card table set up with a jigsaw puzzle on it. Some one would sort the pieces, turning them right side up. We might stop for a minute and help put the border pieces on. Everyone in the family would help put the puzzle together. It might take a week or more, depending upon how much time we had. Or we might be busy playing cards together. That was when I learned how to play ‘Sol’. And Concentration. And Hearts. Lots of fun. Many a night spent together.

If it was a good night for television, we might watch the sitcoms together. But they were clean and pleasant and full of laughs for us all. That was before the sitcoms began to have a message for us all. You know, like Dad is stupid and Mom is dumb. Or Dad always wears a suit at home and never actually goes out to work. And Mom has on her high heels and perfectly coiffed hair. And she never has anything to do at all. But we all knew this was  just pretending anyway. So we could laugh at the jokes and enjoy the evening – together.  That was the point. We were together. We spent our time as a family. And we all enjoyed every minute of it.

That was a nice time. Such a nice time for everyone. I remember when.

Take a look at some of my books. You will enjoy them. They are full of some of those ‘remember when times’ together. Thanks.

Sneak Peak of New Book

And now for the preview……

He bent down and carefully placed the almost smashed package of cigarettes under the step. He wanted to make sure no one could see them. Didn’t want Mama to know he smoked. He was all of 18 years old, but he still didn’t want to offend his Mama. She meant the world to him. They had been together, just the two of them for years now. Daddy left when he was 5 years old. When he was 7, he had to quit school and go to work delivering for a drug store so he and Mama could eat. Everyone has to eat you know. She couldn’t work at all now. She had a hard fall and broke her hip and well, you know that old story. Can’t hold down a job now.

He hurried into the house, tired as usual. He had progressed now to a better job than delivering on a bicycle. He was an apprentice and was learning a new trade. He worked long, hard hours and was ready to hit that bed as soon as he got home every evening. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he slipped into his room and hurriedly took off his shoes and socks. Then he checked the soles of his shoes. Always checked to see if they were still holding up o.k. Couldn’t afford new soles just yet. As he slipped off his shirt, he was thinking about that cigarette he was going to have tomorrow morning. Just as soon as he ate breakfast, he would slip out and get one out of the package, light it up and really enjoy it. His friend had only three left when he gave him the worn out package, but that was alright. Better than nothing you know.

As he lay his tired body on the bed, he relished the thought of that cigarette next morning. Would be worth the wait.

He drifted off to sleep in a deep, tired sleep.

And then he heard the rain pattering on the steps out front.

…..This is a small excerpt. Interested? Please visit my site.

Bad Behavior and Personal Responsibility

I am always spouting off about personal responsibility. Obviously, you cannot have personal responsibility if you have never been taught to have this. Parents are responsible for teaching all their children about taking care of themselves and being fully responsible for all their own behavior. This makes for responsible teens who do not get in any real trouble. And it makes for responsible adults who have good lives and nice families.

As I walked into the lobby of the school today, there was a young boy, kindergarten age, wallowing on the floor. His mother and teacher were both watching him as he whined and shed real tears because he did not want to attend school today. The boy even crawled over to the corner and stood up against the wall with his back to the adults. The teacher was obviously pretty exasperated. But the mother was begging, and begging, and begging the young boy to go to class. He looked over at me and grinned that grin that all spoiled kids  do when they know you are aware of their spoiled behavior. In other words, he knew that I knew he was just showing off, putting on, and getting his own way with all the attention he could possibly want.

And poor mother was put in a position of begging her wayward 5 year old to stop acting like a 2 year old. Poor Mother should have pulled him up off the floor and insisted that he go on to class. She should have let him know in no uncertain terms that it is his responsibility to act like a 5 year old and to attend the kindergarten class where he belongs. And then she should have turned her back and walked out the door. And she should have done this when he showed off and acted spoiled when he was 2 years old and 3 years old and 4 years old, too. He finally won this morning and poor mother took his hand, led him out the door, and even carried his back pack for him. Mother is not doing her son any favors by coddling him and making over him and begging him to act his age.

In fact, she is doing him a great disservice by refusing to make her son behave. Is he going to grin that spoiled grin behind her back and get into trouble when he is 15? Or when he is 25? When is she going to finally recognize that it is her role to be the mother and act like the mother and insist that her son act like a son should.

How is her son going to know about personal responsibility if she does not teach him? Is she expecting the teacher to be the one to instill this behavior? Or the principal? It is her job as his parent and first teacher to make sure that when her son walks out the door if it be age 5 or 15 or 25, that he is responsible for his own behavior. If she had been doing a good job, her 5 year old son would not today be wallowing in the school floor, crying fake tears, and whining.

It is up to the parents to teach personal responsibility to their children. And it must be taught every day in every instance. Day after day, year after year for all their growing up years.

If you expect your children to be responsible adults, you must teach them now – at home – to be responsible children. Personal Responsibility is an absolute must. And Responsible Parents always teach this to their children.

Disposal

I graduated from high school on a Friday evening in 1951 and went to work on the following Monday morning. my salary was $150 per month less 25% taxes because my Father was still claiming me on his taxes. The company I was working for had a sale on disposals for Christmas that year. They offered a great deal to all the employees – $120 per disposal and we could pay it out with the money being taken out of our paycheck each payday. Disposals were brand new on the market and no one we knew had ever had one. I thought that would make a great Christmas present for my Mother. What a wonderful surprise that would be for her! She wouldn’t have to put all those potato peelings in a sack and carry them down to the garbage can in the alley  anymore. Or the carrot shavings, or the smelly onion skins or any of that other messy garbage.

I mentioned it to my Mother and Father and they were both overjoyed to think of having such a wonderful, wonderful gift. They made arrangements for the plumber to come and install the newest of the new contraptions. Of course by this time, mother had told everyone she knew that she was getting a brand new disposal as a Christmas gift. And everyone she knew was telling her it wouldn’t work, would just make a mess of things, would stop up the sewer and all those wonderful comments that envious people always make.

But we got the disposal anyway. Every time anyone came by to visit, Mother would turn on her disposal and show them how wonderful it was. She was really, really proud. And I was proud I had been able to give it to her.

I started thinking about that Christmas gift just this past week. It was truly a wonderful gift and everyone was very proud. But when I thought about it from a practical standpoint, it really wasn’t so wonderful after all. Since my salary was only $150 per month less 25% in taxes, and I had to pay out that $120 over a period of time, I’m sure it cost me dearly. Of course being young and making my first paychecks for myself, I probably didn’t even notice. I was rolling in money anyway. Having anything over $5 made me rich beyond comparison.

I checked out the prices of disposals on the market today. That one I bought in 1951 was 1/2 hp and had no extras. In today’s world, you can buy the same thing for about $80. So the disposal has not lost much of its value over the years.   You can purchase a top of the line 2 hp, whisper quiet disposal full of extras today for about $200. Even that is not out of line.

My $120 was well spent, made for a great Christmas that year. And I didn’t even realize how expensive it really was. Oh well, Merry Christmas!