%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   Tales from real life |
| Well, if they're not true, they oughta be! |
I turned 65 in May, but somber thoughts of mortality began in January as I contemplated the horrors of Medicare. I was fortunate to retire early with a defined pension benefit and continued health coverage from my former employer. And everything was fine for a few years. Sure, I felt a little creaky in my joints, but I didn't really feel old until I got the notice from the retirement folks that I must apply for Medicare. They told me I had no choice, there isn't any option to stay on their health plan past age 65. But wait, you can't mean me, Medicare is for old people. For Pete's sake, my mom is on Medicare! Once I accepted my inevitable fate, I decided that I would also apply for Social Security benefits. My intention was to begin receiving Social Security checks the same month that I started paying my Medicare premiums. The Medicare premium, plus the cost of supplemental insurance, is significantly higher than what I paid for my employer's plan, but my Social Security check will easily cover the difference. Yes, I could get an even bigger check if I wait until age 66 1/2, but that would mean some unwelcome belt-tightening in the short term. So, I read up on the whole Social Security/Medicare thing, clicked into dozens of newsfeed articles, and started paying attention when my older friends and family members groused about the process. Still, I was surprised several times by things that weren't made clear, or that I misinterpreted. Here are my lessons learned so far: 1. Create an online Social Security Account when you turn 60 (or sooner). It isn't at all obvious, but you can start your Medicare coverage from your SSA account. In addition, your SSA account provides an earnings history that you can verify, and it shows estimated benefits for your financial planning. If you need to correct the earnings history, it's better to do it a year ahead of applying for benefits. And, most importantly, applying online for Medicare, Social Security, or both, is relatively easy. It will save you time and stress versus doing it in person. This is one thing I got right, and I'm glad I did. 2. Your Medicare birthday is on the first of the month. My birthday falls on the 28th of May, so I counted back 3 months and started thinking about my application process at the end of February. That was a mistake. It was mid-March when I finally clicked send on my formal application and it turned out that I would actually go on Medicare on the 1st of May. That was barely enough time to grind through the full process. So, count back three months from your birthday and start on the 1st of that month. In my case, I went on Medicare and became responsible for the premiums 1 month earlier than I had expected. 3. You must have a Medicare number before you can apply for supplemental coverage. Fortunately, I didn't have any problems with my application. The Medicare approval process moved along at a reasonable pace, but they wouldn't give me my number over the phone. I had to wait until the physical card arrived in the mail before I could start my supplemental coverage. And then it took another 10 days to receive that card in the mail. It was actually mid-May before everything was in place. 4. Social Security pays you for the previous month. If you wish to start your Social Security checks in June, then you must request that your benefits begin in May. This seems wrong to me, but that's the way it works. I asked to start my Social Security in June. So, I don't get a check until July, even though I owe Medicare premiums for both May and June. 5. Medicare will deduct your premium from your Social Security check. My Social Security benefit hadn't started in May, so Medicare sent me a bill for the first premium payment. Apparently, they bill quarterly, so this was for 3 months of premiums. I didn't want to risk my coverage, so I shrugged and paid. This was another mistake. I soon received a letter explaining that my current and past due Medicare premiums would be deducted from my first Social Security check. Even though I had already paid. This seemed like a clear case of double-billing, so I called to complain. The Medicare rep said that the SSA deduction is automatic and out of their control. She told me that I should have just ignored the bill. Then I called SSA to complain. That rep confirmed the double-billing and admitted that it happens all the time. The good news is that I'll automatically get a refund next quarter, in September. Somehow, it doesn't feel like a win. Some of the confusion may be my own fault, but I don't feel that it's explained very well. The bottom line is that you may be on Medicare, and paying premiums, one month sooner than expected. And you'll probably get your first Social Security check one month later than you expect. So, if you decide to start your Social Security benefit and Medicare together, then ignore any Medicare billing until you receive your first Social Security check. If you don't start them together, then you need to cover the Medicare premiums in the interim. Me, I'm loaning the SSA some money, at zero interest, from May until September. |
I started dating Debbie in the spring of 1977, and we got married a year later. Married life presented many new challenges and a need to make more money. My college adviser suggested that I apply at Summit Engineering, a small company where he had personal connections. His recommendation did the trick and I got the job. My position as an engineering support technician paid $3.71 an hour that summer, and Deb was getting $3.23 an hour as a nurse’s aide at the hospital. It seemed like plenty, at first, but I had to go back to school in the fall. Deb’s income wasn’t enough to support two people and cover my tuition, so I arranged to continue working afternoons at Summit. College was especially hard as a senior, because I’d fallen behind with my coursework during my junior year, completing only 36 credits. That meant I needed to get another 60 to finish my degree. To further complicate things, my new bride worked second shift, so we saw each other only at night and on weekends. My typical day that year would start before seven with a quick bite and a fifteen-minute walk to campus for morning classes. I’d eat a sandwich at the SUB, then head over to Summit and work until five pm. A twenty-minute walk home, supper, and studying occupied me until eleven-thirty when Deb got home. We’d do what newlyweds do, get a few hours of sleep, and then do it all again. I definitely had a full plate, so I needed to prioritize my time. It was difficult to find enough credit hours, and especially difficult to get them all scheduled into my mornings. It seemed something had to give, and that something turned out to be an industrial engineering elective, I & ME 325 Engr Economy. The course was organized on a contract model with a textbook and optional lecture, but without homework. Instead, we had fifteen pass/fail units that could be completed at any time. Credit for each unit was earned by passing a test administered by a teaching assistant. Ten units were required for a ‘C’ grade, twelve for a ‘B’, and fifteen for an ‘A’. No homework and optional lectures fit perfectly into my busy schedule, and it was easy to put more difficult coursework first. The course was based on the ‘time value of money’ equations that are used for everything from calculating car payments to comparing investment strategies. Math always came easily to me, so I was able to follow the textbook and work on my own. I started out with good intentions and completed the first unit almost immediately. But a heavy course load makes it easy to procrastinate. So, on the Monday before finals week, I went to the TA for only the second time and asked to take the test for unit 2. “Dude! What’s the point? this is the last week!” “Yeah, I know. Just gimme the test.” He graded me on unit 2 while I waited and shook his head again when I asked for the unit 3 test. I’d crammed hard the day before and I passed that one too. I found a nearby bench to study unit 4 for a couple of hours and passed that test as well. The TA was impressed that I did three units in one day, but he was still skeptical. “Dude, it’s too much. You’re not gonna make it.” I studied hard again that evening and on Tuesday I completed units 5 & 6. The TA was on my side by this time and seemed eager to see me pull it off. He looked disappointed when I slowed my pace on Wednesday, completing only unit 7. But then I rallied on Thursday to complete units 8 & 9. “Dude! Way to go!” he grinned enthusiastically. On Friday afternoon I finished unit 10 and triumphantly celebrated a hard-earned ‘C’ with two full hours to spare. “Dude, the Prof wants to see you,” was all the TA said. I knocked on the Professor’s door, wondering what the problem could be. “Mr. Fisher, I understand that you’ve completed this entire course in one week?” “Well, almost, I did 9 units.” “Why on earth didn’t you begin sooner and earn an A?” he demanded. “All I need to graduate is a C,” I shrugged. He muttered something about ‘engineers’ and waved me out. |
Attitudes and expectations are important. A child who has their parents support and great expectations will work harder and do better than one who is neglected and ignored. A people with morally responsible leadership will sacrifice and work for the common good, instead of stooping to greed and shallow self-interest. It's attitude, more than platitude, that makes the difference. The recent historical record of mass shootings bears this out. There have been mass shootings in the United States ever since repeating arms were invented. They were quite rare, however, until the latter part of the twentieth century when Ronald Reagan ushered in the era of 'greed is good'. Reagan conservatives felt encouraged to act in their own self-interest. The old traditions of honor and sacrifice for one's country fell out of fashion in the wake of the president selling guns and drugs to further his illegal political schemes. And, unlike Nixon, Uncle Ron just smirked and got away with it. A perfect example for those tempted to abuse power. The rise in gun violence during and after the Reagan years led to a partial ban on assault rifles in 1994. This so-called ban did almost nothing to reduce the number and availability of these weapons, but it did signal an official disapproval of using them. The result was a significant decline in the number of mass shootings and in overall gun violence. A clear indication that leadership matters. George W. Bush gave an implied approval of assault rifles by allowing the 1994 ban to expire quietly in 2004. His lack of courage led to an immediate spike in gun sales and a swift rise in all categories of gun violence. Mass shootings really took off after Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia rewrote the second amendment in 2008. His moral failing made gun ownership not only a right, but a requirement for flag-pin conservatives. It is not a coincidence that his 2008 ruling ushered in the modern era of school shootings. Donald Trump's contempt for the law only made matters worse. So much so, that a young man can now illegally obtain an assault rifle, travel hundreds of miles to shoot random people in a crowd, and yet be acquitted of murder. Not only found innocent but hailed as a second amendment hero. The current crop of conservative politicians are venal opportunists who see school shootings as an acceptable cost for their own re-election to congress. We are often reminded that elections have consequences. Mass shootings, gun violence, and dead children are the natural consequence of electing those who glorify guns. Let your conscience be your guide in the midterm elections. History shows that people follow where they're led. You have a chance to influence that direction. Know that a vote for 'gun rights' will result in more unnecessary deaths. That's simply a fact. |
I wrote an essay last year about the second amendment:
I think it still holds up. There’s a lot of talk this week about the ‘sacred’ right to own guns. The U.S. constitution says specifically that it does not guarantee sacred rights. In fact, the first amendment literally repudiates any such intent. This is more commonly known as the separation of church and state. My opinion is that the constitution does not confer the right for private citizens to own guns. My essay explains that the supreme court agreed with me twice before justice Scalia rewrote the second amendment in his own image. But, even if we currently have to accept that erroneous ruling, it’s far from sacred. The ‘right’ to own a gun is no more permanent than the ‘right’ to own a slave. If a majority of the people want to free society from guns, they have the right to do so. That’s guaranteed by the constitution itself. Sensible Americans can come together at any time and repeal the second amendment. The right of the states to maintain local police forces could then be codified in a new amendment with modern language that provides full clarity as to its meaning. The forces of darkness have gone all-in on Scalia's ruling. It's plain that there will be no meaningful legislation to reduce gun violence as long as the second amendment stands. We must move forward with a reform of gun laws to protect our children, our neighbors, our police officers, and our own souls. Realistically, we have only one course of action. Repeal and Replace! Let’s start a movement. |
I was in third grade when it was discovered that my problem with catching a ball was due to poor eyesight more than my natural clumsiness. That was the first time my desk happened to be at the back of the classroom. Mrs. Garbe asked me to read some vocabulary words that she'd written on the blackboard. I rose confidently, marched up to the front of the class, and read every one perfectly. "Mr. Fisher, why did you leave your seat?" she asked, frowning. "So I could see the words," I replied aloud. Duh, you can't read what you can't see! The next week found me in the traveling optometrist's office. Dr. Brown made a regular circuit, visiting our small town one day a week. There wasn't enough business for him to be there full-time. It was another two weeks before I was fitted with some snazzy black nylon frames. Think Buddy Holly or the young Drew Carey and you'll have an idea of the style. My mother had emphasized that durability was more important than looks. "Don't worry, Mrs. Fisher, these are unbreakable," Dr. Brown promised. Hah! I averaged two broken side pieces a year and once I even broke them perfectly in half across the bridge of my nose. A side piece could easily be broken by running full tilt into the back door of the school. We were racing out to recess, I was in the lead, and the custodian hadn't unlocked it that day. The more expensive break was due to a no-look pass while playing basketball. My friend, Jay, was going to nail me in the back of the head when I wasn't looking. But I turned just in time to catch it full-face instead. That one really hurt. I couldn't blame him too much, though. I'd angrily thrown a baseball bat the week before and knocked him cold for a minute (grade-school boys have difficulty showing affection). I got pretty good at tape-mending, because it could be a full week before Dr. Brown came back to town. The ability to read from the back of the room certainly came in handy, but the real revelation was the great outdoors. I was fascinated by the distinct outlines of leaves and branches where I'd only seen a greenish blur. And the gray-blue smudge on the horizon turned out to be the majestic Mission Mountains. I remember walking around in awe for days, just looking at things I'd never seen clearly before. I learned that my vision was 20-400. I think that means that I saw the mountains, 20 miles away, as though they were 400 miles distant (don't bother to correct me, I'm mostly joking). I was far from blind, though. I could focus on a book page if it was within six inches of my nose, and I could even see well enough to keep a car between the lines. I know, because I had to drive home from the river one day after diving in with my glasses on and coming up with my glasses off. It was a slow three miles and I braked often in fear that some random blob of color might be a dog or a cow. I wore many different frames in the next five decades, used hard and soft contact lenses, and eventually had Lasik surgery. I learned to take my vision for granted. Now, I'm back to needing glasses again to read this screen. And, even with glasses, it isn't always clear. Give a grateful nod to the miracle of sight. Because you don't really know what you've got till it's gone. |
Charlie is my son's furry partner. He began life as a shelter cat with poor prospects. His luck changed when he met a guy who needed a pal. Their story begins here: Charlie & Roy  .Charlie became the third black cat in our house when Roy moved back in with us two years ago. We already had a brother and sister pair of bob-tailed Manx that were ten years older and set in their ways. They didn't really want to welcome a long-tailed new 'cousin'. Charlie was still a kitten then, and his disruptive energy brought only disdain from the elder pair. The most notable thing about Charlie is his Jekyll & Hyde nature. He loves to ambush the older cats and play 'chase', but never hisses or bites. He'll make frantic leaps at the cat toys, but rarely shows his claws. Roy says he has good fundamentals, making the catch with both paws. Charlie will stalk a mouse intently, waiting craftily to pounce, but usually takes them unharmed. He's brought three live mice home to play, leaving us to wonder if he needs a pet of his own. Charlie likes to wrestle with us but seems to understand that human skin is fragile. Other cats might grab your arm and rake it painfully with their hind claws, but not Charlie. He knows it's all in fun and keeps the claws retracted when grappling. And the mock battle almost always ends with 'kissy licks' to make up. Our cats often dig in and leave puncture wounds when jumping down from a lap, but Charlie is more courteous. Like most cats, Charlie can't resist an empty box or bag. Every new Amazon carton has to be tried on for size as soon as the contents are removed. He'll nose his way into a shopping tote and then turn to peek out from the hidden lair. He loves it when someone taps on the outside so he can make a blind attack from the inside. But one day, his innocent bag play took a darker turn. My wife was putting away groceries and a plastic bag drifted down onto the floor. Charlie was on the case immediately. He found the opening and wormed his way in as usual, but when he turned to peek out, his head found the hole in the handle. We heard the bag flap and looked to see Charlie frantically backing up with the bag stuck around his neck. "Charlie, you goofball," I laughed. "Help him, please," Deb said with more concern. "C'mere guy, calm down." I tried to catch him, but Charlie was in full panic mode. That vicious bag chased him out of the kitchen, around the living room, and down the stairs. He couldn't shake it and we could hear the bag fluttering behind him as he raced into Roy's basement room and dove under the bed. "Hey, what're you doing to my cat?" Roy was gaming and hadn't really seen what the commotion was all about. "You'd better coax him out and save the poor boy," I suggested. I was still laughing, and Roy was indignant at my lack of concern. The bed frame sits in a corner, Roy couldn't reach him, and Charlie wasn't going to risk coming out. After a minute or two, I decided to lift up the mattress so Roy could be the hero and vanquish that dastardly bag. You'll be relieved to learn that Charlie was uninjured, although the mental trauma lingered for minutes. And it was at least an hour before Charlie went back to playing with the bag again. |
| There's a never-ending stream of advice about writing. From the mechanics of grammar to the art of storytelling. As authors, we're constantly being told how to write. I suspect that much of this guidance is prepared by procrastinating writers who are avoiding the 'real work' of crafting their Great American Novel. We're told about the story arc, the three-act format, and the journey motif. We learn how to use foreshadowing, plot twists, and cliff-hangers to hold the reader's interest. The importance of character development and effective dialogue is stressed, along with the imperative of 'show don't tell'. We come to understand the necessity of a 'happy' ending where justice prevails, especially if we want to turn it into a screenplay! Adhering to this guidance can produce a story that satisfies the reader's expectations and keeps them coming back for more. And consistency of 'product' is important in establishing a brand. But does this merely reinforce preconceived ideas and protect the reader from actual thought? The real world is messy and out of control. The good guys don't always win. They may not even be good. Cheaters often do prosper, and heroes usually have feet of clay. Courage is sometimes a mindless knee-jerk panic reaction that works in spite of itself. So, what about the story that veers off into left field? What about a light-hearted piece that begins as a comic spoof and then turns disturbingly dark? Is it an interesting change of pace, a sort of palate cleanser, or is it merely a frustrating betrayal of the reader, a joke at their expense? Discuss. |
America is a country built on genocide. This is not a popular idea, but it is firmly rooted in truth. Acknowledging that truth might actually strengthen our nation for the future. The genocide was accidental, at least at first, but an ongoing, intentional pattern has emerged, especially in the 20th century. There’s no disputing that European diseases ravaged the peoples of the Western Hemisphere. Estimates of the horrific death toll range as high as 90 percent. The Pulitzer Prize winning book Guns, Germs & Steel by Jared Diamond, describes this history in detail. Many historians agree that it played an integral role in the success of the British colonies in New England. The poorly equipped colonists arrived to find a largely empty landscape with room to build and little resistance from the decimated native population. It was only later that genocide became an ‘official’ policy. The Iroquois Confederacy controlled Midwest territory from southern Canada to Virginia for more than three hundred years. It was split by competing interests during the French and Indian War. The losing side ceded Iroquois land to the winners. The same scenario played out again during the American Revolutionary War. The European immigrants played musical chairs to see who would be master of the new world. The ultimate losers were the native peoples, left without a place to call their own. The formal warfare between the European nations ended in 1783. The spoils included the land to the west of the new nation. In 1795, the remnants of the Iroquois and several other tribes were defeated by American troops and forced out of the Ohio territory. A flood of land-hungry settlers, including some of my own ancestors, surged into the vacated area. This movement was so large and so rapid that Ohio became the 17th State in the Union just seven years later. Ohio isn't often considered when the heroic tale of taming the American West is told. The trail of tears is more tragic, and the subjugation of the plains tribes makes more thrilling movies and TV shows. But the eradication of the native culture from the Buckeye State was so successful that, today, there isn’t a single Indian Reservation in Ohio. Truly an American success story! But so what? Winners prevail and the losers whine, right? What good does it do to dwell on the past and feel bad about ourselves? The myth of American Exceptionalism has no room for unpleasant truths. It’s true that we can’t change the past. There’s no do-over and no realistic way to make amends for past sins. The only thing we can change is our future, and we must acknowledge the past to know that change is needed. Could a greater awareness of Native American genocide have influenced the course of the world wars? Perhaps it would have prevented the unnecessary atrocity of the Dresden firebombing. Could Truman have been influenced to give the Japanese military a demonstration of nuclear capability before the execution of two hundred thousand civilians? Who knows? Perhaps a public mourning of the loss of life in Dresden, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki would have influenced the course of the Korean conflict. Two million north Korean civilians would have been spared from a saturation bombing that served no strategic purpose. And it’s just possible that an acknowledgment of the Korean genocide would have made the U.S. military command think twice before killing a million Vietnamese civilians. Our collective shrug at the deaths in Vietnam certainly made it easier to kill hundreds of thousands of civilians in the Middle East. We don’t need to dwell on the bad exclusively. There are many bright spots in American history that deserve to be celebrated. But acknowledging the sins of the past is the first step to avoiding the sins of the future. Those who would hide those sins from our children are building toward the next genocide. And that’s the real tragedy, setting up our kids to casually perpetuate the sins of their fathers through willful ignorance. |
Ava was at her house, Rexy was inside. 'Someone' let the latch loose; the door swings open wide. Rexy down the staircase, Rexy running hard. Ava chases Rexy out into the yard. Rexy runs a circle, Rexy's having fun. Ava runs to Rexy, but Rexy isn't done. Rexy goes to Harvey's house, Harvey is away. Rexy finds an open door, rushes in to play. Rexy finds a workman remodeling the space, wants to make a new friend, licks him on the face. The workman laughs at Rexy, tries to send him home, Rexy runs around the house and steals Harvey's bone. Mama hears the ruckus, sees Ava run and yell. Mama follows Rexy to bring him home herself. Rounding up kids and pets, Mama's constant chore. Mama's biggest nemesis, kids who open doors! The neighborhood kids are a lot of fun. On one side, we have Evan & Desi and their huge dog, Harvey. They tried to name him Batman, but Mom & Dad compromised on Harvey Dent. Harvey is a good-natured lab/shepherd mix with an acorn-size brain. His only purpose in life is ‘see ball, chase ball, eat ball’. Heaven, for Harvey, would be an infinite number of bouncy tennis balls and a pelican's pouch so he could hold them all in his mouth. I once laughed at seeing him with a tennis ball in each cheek. Evan boasted, “that’s nothing, he can do three.” Ava & Wyatt live on the other side with their playful golden retriever, Rexy. He may never outgrow puppyhood. Rexy loves everybody he meets, canine or human. Between all the kids, dogs, and parents, there's a lot of coming and going through our big front yard. Some homeowners might get annoyed, but I just sit back and enjoy the show. Evan and Desi's family went out of town for a few days during a remodeling project, and the workmen left their front door open while going in and out. I saw Rexy bolt across our lawn, followed by Ava, and then by an exasperated Mama. Rexy went to visit his good ol' pal, found a welcoming open door, and was every bit as happy to have some wonderful new friends to play with. There's something irresistible about a happy dog. Everyone had a good laugh, Rexy got a lot of attention, and I wrote a poem for Ava. |
Shadow Prowler-Spreading Love   posted an interesting note today: "Note: Keeping my mouth shut has paid off. The last few w..." Her story of rescuing a large flat-screen TV from the trash reminded me of high-school days when I used to fiddle around with broken radios and TV's. Helpful folks from around the neighborhood would give me their cast-offs, much to my mother's annoyance. I fixed one once in a while, but not very often. At one time, I had a 21-inch console television (remember those?) in my bedroom. It had a dead picture tube, and I couldn't afford to replace it. So, I put a 12-inch black & white set (remember black & white?) with no audio atop the console. Yes, it looked pretty silly, but I was the only one in my peer group who could watch TV in their bedroom. And the sound on the console was excellent! For a couple of years, I had to get up and twist two knobs to change the channel on both sets (remember the satisfying 'clunk' of the big channel-changer knob?). It made channel surfing awkward, but we only got two over-the-air channels in rural Montana, so it wasn't much of a hardship. When I was a senior, my uncle gave me a fairly new 19-inch 'portable' that didn't survive a lightning strike on his power pole. It was the only thing in his house that wouldn't turn on after the transformer was replaced. He wanted one of the new color sets, so he wasn't all that upset about losing it. I found that the on/off switch on the volume control knob had been burned out by the power surge. I wrapped some copper wire around the switch contacts, plugged it in, and the TV worked perfectly. The only problem was that I couldn't turn it off. But hey, the power cord was easy to unplug! I always meant to buy a new on/off/volume switch, but never got around to it. I took that set to college and it was still in use for the first year that my wife and I were married. I was almost sorry to replace it with our first remote-control color set in 1980. Not! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
