Follow Your Arrow Wherever It Points

I’m not sure why, but I watched a little bit of the Grammies this week, and I found some of the lyrics really appalling.  The opening number was “Drunk in Love.”  I thought they were singing “Drunken Love,” and it sure looked like that was what they were advocating.  Of course, many of the lyrics in popular songs cannot be understood at all.  Words are screamed and slurred and often incomprehensible. 

One song for which I did understand the lyrics was “Follow Your Arrow Wherever It Points.”  Sadly, that is the mantra of a whole generation of young people who have absolutely no moral compass….no concept of right and wrong.  They believe it is totally legitimate to do whatever they want, and that no one has a right to interfere with their personal freedom.  They don’t even want to discuss the pros and cons of their behavior.

The trouble is that actions do have consequences.  The consequences may not be immediate, but they are inescapable.  The “straight and narrow” may not be attractive, but it at least leads somewhere.  Following the aimless, fickle arrow of one’s current impulses is a prescription for disaster.  It results in lack of education, lack of manners, joblessness, poverty, unwanted babies, and another generation of children raised in confusion with their arrows spinning hither and yon. 

An article in USA Today last week reported that nearly 50% of black men and 40% of white men are arrested for something other than a traffic violation by the time they are 23.  What??!!??   Oh, yeah…they are probably just following their arrows.  “Go directly to jail…do not pass Go.”

It is ironic that in an age when scientific precision causes us to be able to accomplish amazing things, the precision of individual lives is so lacking.  Our compasses no longer point to the magnetic North Pole of absolute truth.  Too many people are telling us that God is dead, truth is relative, and that each individual can define “North” as he/she sees fit.

Pardon me, but it doesn’t work that way!

Gangsta Gramma

I woke up today to a bitterly cold morning.  Our thermometer read 10 degrees below zero, and it didn’t budge after the sun came up.  My plan was to stay in this morning.  I pictured a nice, long, warm bath. 

I was still in my flannel PJs, fuzzy robe and cozy socks, when the phone rang.  One of my daughters, feeling ill, had gone to an urgent care bright and early and been diagnosed with an ear infection.  The reason for her call was a total lack of money to put gas in her car and buy tissues for her runny nose.  She wanted me to meet her in 15 minutes at a convenience store a little over a mile from our house and provide her with the funds.  I was annoyed.  I did NOT want to go out in the cold and agreed to do so grudgingly.

Obviously, there was no time for a shower.  I knew I needed to bundle up, so I pulled out a pair of long underwear.  What I grabbed were a pair of men’s long underwear, but I wasn’t in the mood to worry about that, beyond the fleeting thought that maybe I would be in an accident and have to go to the hospital in men’s undies.  I put on sweatpants and a sweat shirt.  No time for earrings or make-up….I just rubbed on some moisturizer to protect my skin from the cold.  I wrapped a scarf around my neck, pulled on my high snow-shoveling boots instead of dress boots, and finished off the ensemble with a knit cap pulled down as far as I could over my ears and forehead.  My hair was a disheveled mess, so the cap was doing dual duty for cover-up and warmth.

As I drove the car out of the garage into the brilliant sun, I took off my normal glasses and put on my prescription sunglasses.  I noted that the temperature in the garage read 17 degrees, and as I pulled away from the house, the temperature sank lower and lower….eventually down to six degrees below zero.

I had been muttering to myself on the way out the door, because I had left a message for someone to call me this morning with some information I needed.  I feared she would call while I was out, and she did.  My cell phone rang.  I did my best to remember the list of questions I had planned to ask her.  I arrived at the gas station shortly after the call and noticed my daughter’s car was already there.  I was sufficiently distracted by all of this, that I pulled my car up on the wrong side of the pump.  I knew I needed gas before giving my brother a ride to the doctor’s office today and had decided that as long as I was dragged out in the cold, I would get gas at the same time.

After giving my daughter what she needed, I pulled my car to the other side of the pump.  While doing this, I noticed a teenage boy running down the sidewalk, as fast as he could go.  I assumed he was headed for the high school which was only about 500 feet away.  It did occur to me that the school system was on a 2 hour delay because of the frigid temperatures, and that he was going to get there quite early.  No buses were unloading yet.  But, I was more interested in pumping my gas and getting someplace warm again.  Just taking my gloves off to push the buttons on the pump was painful.

After gassing up the car, I headed home.  About a half mile down the road, I saw the same teenage boy, but now walking and looking like he was freezing.  I then realized that he was not headed to the public high school, but to the Catholic high school….and he still had half a mile to go. I pulled over to the curb, rolled down the window and asked him if he wanted a ride.  He looked startled and like he wasn’t sure if he should get in the car with me.  Of course, I’m thinking that I look like my usual sweet little old lady self…..make-up, earrings, hair in place, cute red felt hat with sparkles on it.  Uh-oh….I am disheveled, no make-up, knit cap pulled down as far as possible and sunglasses hiding my kind eyes………..GANGSTA GRAMMA!

Apparently he was willing to risk it.  He hopped over the snow bank and slid in the car.  He never did put his seatbelt on, so maybe he was prepared for a hasty exit.  He had on light weight slacks, and I’m guessing no long undies for warmth.  He was NOT wearing either a hat or gloves and his jacket did not look especially warm.  I tried to put him at ease by chattering about the fact that I used to teach at the Catholic high school….hmmm….let’s see…that was 45 years ago.  I dropped him off wondering to myself if he would be able to get a ride home with someone. 

Later, while enjoying that warm bath I had planned, I pondered the incident.  I decided that I should not have been annoyed with having to go out in the cold.  I was supposed to give that poor freezing kid a ride.

Why Do Chemicals Get Such a Bad Rap?

One of my pet peeves, as a person with a degree in chemistry, is to hear people say that there are “chemicals” in our foods.  Of course there are.  Food is made of chemicals….proteins, carbohydrates and fats ARE chemicals.  Everything in the world is a chemical.  Oxygen in the air is a chemical.  Water is a chemical.  Our own bodies are a whole factory of chemicals reacting with each other constantly.  Chemicals are not inherently bad.

What these people really mean is that there may be potentially harmful man-made chemicals (i.e. not naturally occurring ones) in our foods.  This might include residues of pesticides or fertilizers used during the growing process or additives to preserve color or deter spoilage.  I propose calling these Artificially Created Harmful Substances…because ACHS seems like an appropriately revolting acronym.

However, even regarding ACHS, I cannot jump on the oh-my-goodness-let’s-read-every-label-and-eat-organic bandwagon.  I certainly would not propose a diet consisting entirely of processed meats which are high in nitrates, or drinking only soda which is flavored sugar water, or surviving on TV dinners which are often very high in sodium and fat in addition to various additives.  However, occasionally indulging in such foods should not throw one into a panic that he risking his health.

During the same time period that additives in processed foods have increased, life expectancy in the United States has increased.  My grandparents’ generation ate food off the farm raised naturally and in ways now labeled “organic.”  But, that generations’ life expectancy was considerably shorter than my generation.  The fact that cancer seems more prevalent now, may be nothing more than the natural consequence of people living longer.  The more times a cell divides, the greater the odds that something will go wrong during one of those divisions and rogue cells will develop.  (I am not disputing that some cancers seem clearly linked to harmful chemical exposure, but those are special cases of excessive exposure.)

I would propose all things in moderation.  I do not eat donuts every day, but once in awhile, I do eat one, and I don’t feel guilty.  I do not drink soda every day, but I do drink it on occasion.  I like bacon, hot dogs and salami.  I don’t eat them every day. 

When my mother died at the age of 80, my father (who lived to 90) said bitterly, “She believed in all things in moderation, and look where it got her.” 

I replied, “Yes, look where it got her.  She lived 10 years longer than anyone else in her family.”

My mother had a life-long history of vascular problems:  blood clots in her legs during pregnancies, a pulmonary embolism in her 40s, a heart attack in her 70s and finally the stroke which took her life.  However, her parents died at 65 and 68, and her brothers at 50, 61 and 70.  I think moderation in diet and NOT smoking, plus careful medical care served her well.

Speaking of careful medical care, medications are….gasp….chemicals!

Lovely Lady, Lucky Man

The agent who checked our boarding passes as we got on our flight in Jacksonville said something I remember hearing before.  He scanned my boarding pass, and then as he scanned Bill’s pass, he said, “And here’s the lucky man who gets to sit next to the lovely lady.”  I assume the reason I remember hearing it before is that the same agent scanned our passes on a previous occasion when we flew through Jacksonville.

This brings several questions to my mind:

1.        How many times each day does he say this?

2.       How does he decide on whom to use this line?

3.       Has it ever backfired on him?  Has he ever misjudged the situation?  E.g. Has he ever said it to a couple about to get divorced or in the middle of a fight or who were actually not a couple?

4.       Does he have any other clever lines that he looks for opportunities to use?

In any event, it put a smile on my face and has provided me with some amusement since, as I have pondered various scenarios.  I expect he would get away with it, even if someone didn’t like it, because at that point everyone is hurrying down the jet way and not likely to stop for conversation or confrontation.

I hope he tells his wife that she is lovely, and he is lucky!

Paper Towel Fiasco

While waiting for my flight out of Jacksonville, I decided to use the rest room.  What should have been mundane turned to hilarious, when I attempted to get a paper towel to dry my hands.  I waved my hand in front of the sensor.  The towel came out, and I ripped it off.  But, the towel dispenser did NOT stop.  Another paper towel appeared and then another.  I ripped off about 4 towels, before I began to giggle.  The dispenser kept spitting them out. 

A young lady washing her hands at an adjacent sink looked over and laughed.  I said, “Would you like a paper towel,” and handed her one.  I could not keep up with all the towels spewing out of the machine.  I said, “I feel like Lucille Ball at the chocolate factory.”  The young woman obviously knew what I meant, because she nodded and laughed harder.

Realizing I couldn’t keep up with this, I arranged the towels so that they started to fan-fold on the surface of the counter under the dispenser.  I stood back and tried to figure this out.  No attendant was in sight.  I waved my hand in front of the sensor again…no luck, the towels kept coming.  I hit the dispenser on the right.  The towels kept coming.  I hit the dispenser on the left.  The towels kept coming.  I stood back and laughed some more.

A well-dressed and sophisticated lady came out of a stall and with a stern expression asked me if I had ripped a towel off.  She apparently thought I was an idiot.  She ripped one off, messing up my fanfold arrangement.  The towels kept coming.  I reconstructed the fanfold.

A no-nonsense lady came out of a stall.  The young lady and I were still giggling.  The sophisticated lady was still scowling.  The no-nonsense lady strode over and wiped off the glass that covers the sensor, reasoning that if something was on it, the machine might be thinking a hand was waving.  The towels kept coming.

I started to suspect this might be a Candid Camera trick, and that someone was going to pop out and tell us we had been caught.  But, no one emerged with that information. 

When I left the rest room, the machine was still whirring.  The towels were still fan-folding.  I was still laughing.