A Somewhat 'Modest Proposal' with Apologies to Jonathan Smith, 1729

            In the check-out line at the local grocery, the lady ahead of me watched as our cashier scanned and bagged purchases totaling an even $16.00.  “Wow,” she remarked, “how often does that happen?”
            I replied, “You should get a prize, especially since that is not only an even amount, it’s 1600.”
             She agreed immediately; we conversed briefly.
             I was speaking with the paragon of American History knowledge in this local community, the local American history teacher, Belinda Matheny.  She’s also the best cook in the county and bakes pecan pies that go for $50 at auction.  And, chocolate rolls.  Just saying.

            Checking out at Walgreens that morning, my total on the register: $14.92. Of course, I tried (!) to be clever and cute, engaging the young cashier in some friendly banter. It was early.  No one was behind me.
             “My goodness,” I said to the barely-19 year-old cashier, “there should be confetti and balloons!”
              “Huh?”  I need not say whose remark that was.

              “I should get a prize, or an extra bonus buck or something on my Walgreens card.”
              “What?”  A hugely quizzical look from the same spokesperson as before.
               “My total is a famous date in American History, '14 hundred and 92….Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue.’ Let’s Celebrate. My purchase is free, how about that?”
               “I can’t help you, Ma’m.  I’m just the cashier.  You’ll have to speak to a manager.” No emotion.  Dead-pan. Serious.

              I’m sure she meant that ‘she could not help me’ in numerous ways. (Crazy person at Register 1)

             After speaking with Mrs. Matheny (Her students roll their eyes, “She’s at it again.”), I determined that those of us old enough to actually remember and even have experienced some of America's  history must act to save the country and preserve the world’s "name that date" balance in respect for all that is Holy.
                    We don’t need Superman, or Wolverine, or Spiderman.  We need Amazon, I-Tunes, Facebook, and Candy Crunch Saga.

Herein is a ‘somewhat modest proposal.’
                Instead of scolding the clueless on their ignorance regarding important dates in American History, let’s reward them when they look up from their I-Phones, stop their thumbs from texting for 5 seconds, and allow their eyes to reflect that someone is at home and recognize that they are not the only ones breathing air on the planet. The proposal utilizes the reward system through various current hot commodities: Amazon with “Prime” points, credits, fabulous trips and extra lives or boosters or tokens for favorite  on-line games.
          The reward system should be employed as a tool for good. We must remember, this very-much-younger generation is being raised by our high self-esteemed children who received trophies if they signed-up for competitive breathing, sitting on the bench.  We are the baby-boomer parents who bought those trophies and have boxes of them saved in our attics.

       Imagine the thrill today’s youth might experience when the dollar total registered anywhere between $18.61 and $18.65, or for the sake of the economy, $1861.00-$1865.00. The informed youth could wildly exclaim, “Hey, I think that dollar amount has something to do with the American Civil War, often called the War Between the States, ending when General Robert E. Lee surrendered to

General Ulysses S. Grant inside a private residence at Appomattox Court House, Virginia.” POW! As many as 10 extra lives, one for each detailed tidbit of correct historical information!  A universally significant dollar amount ($17.76 or $1776.00 - you get the picture) accompanied by a spewing forth of factual augmentation would result in a bigger prize, such as thousands of tokens or super-duper super powers.

 

                  Let us then be up and doing, asking not what our country can do for us, but with a heart for any fate, encouraging conversation about educating our youth using cash register receipts or totals contained in on-line Carts.  Gone would be “No Child Left Behind” with Federal oversight.  Bye-bye to math homework, as students would compute their rewards in record speed.  American history teachers’ classes would be filled with students clamoring, begging for information.  It would be a revolution, with consumer-youth now knowledgeable, still spending, and now competing for prizes celebrating their superior knowledge. The nation would be engaged in online conversations and even adults would post to their Facebook Wall as a life event occurred, such as "My grandchild's Cart amount was $19.63 today."  Their friend might respond,  "I like that comment and I'll raise you a $19.69."

               As potentially successful as this ‘somewhat modest proposal’ might seem, it could be taken to yet another level. Should America’s youth purchase a Sonic milkshake or an APP on specific Day/Dates in History, and should they actually recognize the date and acknowledge its significance, fabulous prizes like those on The Price is Right or Wheel of Fortune would be awarded.  Correctly identified purchase dates such as 12/7, 11/22, 9/11, 7/20, or 6/6 would set off celebrations, and with the correct answer rendered within 5 seconds, exotic cruises, concert tickets, box seat tickets for the Final Four or Super Bowl would be awarded.

                 Since so little progress has been made in finding motivational strategies for today’s youth, this ‘somewhat modest proposal’ could make significant progress in elevating our nation’s educational strategy from a “dumbing-down” apparition to an upscale presence with Facebook proportions.  Local school boards that adopt this proposal would find their budgets flush since student learning would be financed by Amazon, GEICO’s gecko, Apple, I-Tunes, Facebook, and Candy Crush Saga.  

Answers:             

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue – the Address of the White House
July 4, 1776 – The United States’ Declaration of Independence Signed by representatives in the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania….and thus, the revolution began.
1963 – Assassination of John F Kennedy in Dallas, TX
1969 – Man landed on the Moon (Sea of Tranquility)
Dec. 7 – Pearl Harbor attacked by nation of Japan, FDR addresses Nation, states Day that will live in Infamy
Nov. 22 – President Kennedy (JFK) fatally shot
Sept. 11 – Twin Towers attacked and ultimately destroyed by suicide terrorists in hijacked commercial airliners.
July 20 – Man lands on the Moon
June 6 – D-Day – Invasion of Normandy
July, 2013 - Jane signed on to Facebook, and daily life was never the same.

 

Life is filled with "Pop-Ups"

                        It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  Not quite like last summer with the drought, but plenty of heat and humidity. Thus, Arkansas Showers, the “Pop-up” variety. Rather like the Gulf Coast... Well, not much like the Gulf Coast, but an active imagination and any connection to the Gulf, its waves, its sounds, and its breezes help.
                       

Pop-ups bring to mind pop-up campers, which, I must say, have never been used as my Holiday Inn.  Mother succumbed to Daddy’s insistence and once (1 time) agreed to an overnight at DeGray in a camper – not even a pop-up.  Major Acts of God, both tornado and hurricane according to Mother, combined to end the adventure. Daddy never again could cajole Mother into further camping experiences.

              Nature’s beauty is magnificent, but as night falls, spiders and snakes pop-up. I’d much rather experience the sun popping-up while sipping my coffee on the balcony of a Gulf-front condo. Thomas and Lois enjoy camping and answered Colorado’s siren call while on a Pop-Up Camping excursion.  They never returned to Arkansas, especially not in July.

                        Behold: the Surprise Lily.  Naked Ladies.  By whatever name, these beauties “pop-up” where and when you least expect them, all pink and showy, usually in flowery clusters like Vegas dancers, but sometimes all alone with only feathery fans to cover their beauty.

                       The villains in video-games seem to pop-up with a smiling vengeance.  Those ghosts from Pac-Man could capture my gobbling girl or guy from out of nowhere.  My yellow orb with eyes and a chomping mouth could not run fast enough.   That early challenge with Pac-Man and the Mrs. and later with Super Mario Brothers is the only throw-down I undertook.  I’d get very upset when Mario fell to his death in a burning pit of lava, and while I tried to give him wings and a prayer to jump and land safely, death seemed inevitable. 

                                It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  The cotton is in bloom and the bolls will soon pop-up in the North Delta, turning the fields white with unseasonable snow. It’s a gorgeous sight, as far as the eye can see, and white gold to the big-time farmers. Corn is also grown for grain, feed, fuel and some varieties for popcorn.  The chime of the microwave signaling the readiness of Orville’s magic kernels pales by comparison to the anticipation felt as the pan of Jiffy-pop was shaken over the stove’s burner. Watching the dome of foil “pop-up” with delicious, warm, oft-burned but fully expanded kernels of corn was as much of a thrill as Little Joe’s exploits on a TV night with Bonanza.

The best Pop-Up I’ve encountered lately, however, concerns Facebook.  Friends and acquaintances from everywhere pop-up and request “friend” status.  My ’66 classmates and many other Camden Panthers have popped up on my radar and it has been with surprise and pleasure that I have “friended” them, for they have been and always will be special people. I’m so glad they popped-up.   
                  It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  My plan: jump into the pool, trusting I’ll pop-up much cooler than when I went in. The pool is much safer than the ocean, where Jaws might pop-up at any time.  If only those swimmers could hear the music…

Hershey's Kiss: Our Precious Puppy signs up for a Spa Adventure

                 In the California beach communities, individuals skate, blade, jog, and walk, all in the company of their dogs of various breeds. Shop owners have become quite accommodating to these pooches and their owners, as everyone is out for the highest dollar.  All the rage are the doggie hitching-posts in front of the shops, with bowls of fresh water awaiting the lapping parched tongue of Fido who obediently keeps pace with John and Marsha. 

Related to me in the same story was an aside about a little lost pooch.  The sign on the shop window along with notation on size, coloring, breed, name and ID tag and chip statement, “Last seen wearing a black and white polka-dot dress with pearls and white hair bows.” (The dog pictured to the left is NOT Hershey.)
                        I’m not far removed from such, for Hershey does have a roll-collar red and white sweater, a pink and green sweater, and a lined winter coat with hood.  She does not have boots, nor do I dress her, except occasionally for Christmas or Razorback ballgames! 

Arkansas summers are just too hot and she prances around in her summer haircut, knowing how “darling” she looks, especially with the pink bows.  Her collar is pink & white polka-dot. Along with her rabies tag, she has an ID tag, a “diamond” heart charm and a pink purse charm.  She is every bit the lady.
                       So, when Marvin and I travel this time– Hershey will go to the Spa.  Ok, Ok…I know that may be a bit over the top. Pam, David, Colby, and sweet neighbor girls have been wonderful about short-term Hershey-sitting, but this time, the trip will call for more.  Dear Hershey is an old girl (older than me, older than Cher!) and has developed cataracts, has fewer teeth than she started with, and is slightly deaf.  Though she does not play very much anymore, she craves human companionship and baby-talk.  She would not do well in a cage.
                               All Paws Pet Resort will be her Spa Escape for a few days.  She’ll be in the Puppy Area and she’ll have private accommodations where her own bed, bowls, blankies, and food will be set up just for her.  The owners play with the puppies and other dogs.  No big dogs are with the tiny ones (such as 8lb. Hershey). The doggies have inside play time, outside time, quiet time, food time, etc. I don’t think she’ll get a manicure or pedicure, but she might enjoy a shampoo before coming home.
                                  Theresa, one of the owners, told me that she often gets one of the smaller dogs and lets it stay with her in the office.  Hershey loves to put her paw on the computer and sits in my lap when I read the morning paper, so Theresa will have a willing companion.

                                Boarding services are available at veterinary clinics and grooming spots, but we don’t have the Pet Smart Hotel facility, as in Memphis.  The Travel With Us group recommended All Paws Resort, so, here’s hoping that Hershey will enjoy her Spa Adventure as much as her Mama enjoys hers.

 

Summer Needs No Help Exclaiming: "Hot Pink!"

"You’re a helper, aren’t you?” she asked softly. 
I chuckled. “Am I helping too much?”
“I can tell by your hands,” she replied, as she brushed on the second coat of clear.

My trip to Memphis included a manicure at Gould’s on Germantown Parkway, a Christmas gift card bonus from Colby Kennedy.

To amplify, Ms Mary was noticing how I anticipated her next move, had internalized her routine, and moved my hands, fingers to ease her ministrations.
                   “Some ladies,” she noted, “are limp noodles; their hands don’t move in any way.  You have to be encouraged to relax, even your fingers,” and she gently flexed my ring finger so it would curl, not be held at little soldier attention.
                         "You’ve got me pegged,” I responded, shaking my head with a slight smile, recalling how my shoulders used to gang up around my ears while I was working.  She has not seen tense.  This is a good day, I nodded to myself.
                            Her touch was gentle and cool as she continued her work, glamorizing my nails with the French manicure.
                            As thoroughly as I enjoy the hand, wrist, and lower arm massage, it ended much too quickly. That treat is almost as relaxing as silently swooning while the kind beautician combs through my freshly shampooed hair with her fingertips, as long as she recognizes, “I’m tender-headed.”
                         Our hands, our finger-tips, and our mannerisms tell our tale, which is why I’m considering the purchase of glittery stars and tiny flowers to adorn my pearly white fingertips begging to be heard over my toe nails as they shout, “Hot Pink!”

BREAKING NEWS: Methodist Confesses Dirty Dancing in Baptist Gym

             When a Heat Advisory is issued and exercise is a must, I’m lucky to gain access to a large, multipurpose center in this tiny town.  Inside I tune up my IPod, loaded with selections for easing the pain of walking in humongous circles, going nowhere, for a full 30 minutes.

             Today was different, however.  For whatever reason, a burst of energy invaded my body, and when the “music for walking” playlist began to stream through the earpieces, my step pepped.  It’s really difficult to walk at a slow pace while listening to big band sounds of “Take the A Train.”  I found myself conducting the orchestra.
                    Glancing to the ceiling, I saw no cameras.  In the parking lot were no cars except for mine.  No one was scurrying about in the kitchen, not even a mouse.  So, when Elvis began to thrill my soul with “American Trilogy,” I envisioned a hunk of burning love filling out a white, dazzling jumpsuit!
                By the time Gladys Knight & The Pips belted out “Midnight Train to Georgia,” I was a back-up singer, complete with swaying moves to match the lyrics.

               The warm-up was complete. Marc Anthony and orchestra cranked it up with “I Need to Know.”Our Ballroom Dance teacher Miss Connie would have been proud. That was the year when all our mamas signed us up for the Cotillion of Camden, Arkansas (which did not exist, save for their imaginations). Eat your hearts out George and Martha Ellen, our featured dancers.  My dance moves would put even “Dancing With the Stars” out of business.
                

So-called friends tell me I am NOT like Jennifer Grey. Hmmmph.  I have much more rhythm and far more moves than the Hula Sister! Fantasy casts me directly opposite a virile and incredibly sexy Patrick Swayze.  We’ll skip the lift for today.
             This 30 minute walk became a terrific workout, with only myself issuing the scoring numbers.  Cha-cha, Rumba, Salsa, and some Dirty Dancing moves catapulted this exercise event to the Winner's Circle: a great deal more exciting than Cardiac Rehab or a treadmill stroll to nowhere.

 The thrill was heightened with the realization that a Methodist was Dirty Dancing in a Baptist gym.

Organization and other Illnesses

             A clean desk.  An organized file system.  Ordered spices.  No clutter.  Golly-gee, how I admire these pinnacles of success in homemaking.  Pinterest displays pictures of how wonderful our lives can be, if only we’d “organize.”
               Think:  my friend and colleague, Brenda Pilant.  She should have her own Pinterest Board.  Alphabetizing canned goods is the habit that first drew me to her side, hoping some degree of order would seep into my being, as if by osmosis.  Brenda’s notebooks and file system for work produce envy.  “Color-code” is her middle name.
             Brenda should meet Cheryl Pardue of Arlington.  Cheryl’s father-in-law designed and built closet organizers for her and pantry systems for her kitchen.  Her closet includes a cedar bin for out of season sweaters.  Cheryl lives in the same cove with Renee’ and family. Cheryl has a Pinterest Board called “Neat Thinking” that you can browse to become inspired.
             A friend here in Rector is turning a spare bedroom into her closet, complete with built-ins and a jewelry counter.  Such inspiration is mind-boggling.

                Here’s the deal.  I can find everything I need, if no one touches stuff but me!  I remember where I put those shorts that I intend to wear again today.  My cuticle oil, lotion, writing implements, Aleve, and Password Notebook each has a spot on my side table.  All that’s required of me is to reach out and touch; there it is:  pen, pencil or seam ripper, whatever.

              Now, it is a thrill to see my spices all in one cabinet, organized by category, and stacked on lazy-susans and tiered racks.  Pensky’s glass jars are quite helpful in the quest for organization.  A pull-out drawer for pots and pans along with a shallow drawer for lids is a bonus! My pantry is a dream with gobs of storage, so that canned goods, dry goods, and other staples can be organized by category.
                 So, why do I have to force myself to file paperwork? I vow to throw away paper of all kinds, especially catalogs and newspapers.  Marvin is as much of a pack-rat as I am, so the moment I de-clutter his “basket,” he will ask, “Hey, where’s that receipt for….?” Bins of receipts, papers, and junk greet me at the back door.  The counter-top has one end devoted to “stuff to take downstairs,” and “stuff not to touch because I might need it someday.”
                 As I share my goals for today, I’m working up will-power to venture into the “office” to file paperwork. Perhaps I’ll take an oatmeal cookie (heart healthy, of course) to nibble as I make progress. The afternoon project is putting some style and color order to our bedroom closet….that is, after my nap!

The “E” Word: Exercise...YIKES!!!

...Rather like Maynard G Krebs and “Work!”
               Cardiac Rehab is turning the screws: walk 30 minutes a day; not hills and vales, and not in sweltering heat, but if not outside, then at the church gym.  I have a care-taker who has my recovery as his mission.  His long strides I cannot keep up with, even without having undergone heart surgery, but we can both walk 30 minutes a day. That’s our goal.  The real test is 2 flights of stairs.  Ya’ll can figure that one out.
                 Mental health – I just don’t know.  This week will be a test.  Tonight I am returning to the Arts Council meeting.  Thursday, I’m motoring to Jonesboro for a bit of shopping and Writers Ink meeting at ASU.  My usual desire to keep the roads hot has vanished; this past week I’ve read 2 Sandra Brown mysteries and used my Kindle Fire to test-drive Facebook, all from the comfort of my mama-bear chair, safely tucked away at home. Friday, we're going to Memphis for the weekend to stay with Renee' and family for Aubrey's 2nd birthday.  Of course, Marvin has projects lined up.
             Taste has changed and without the world screeching to a halt, I confess that I don’t want a Diet Coke.  Allow me to introduce Sprite Zero.  It’s my new drink of choice. This “Eureka!” soda contains bubbles and fizz, but Zero Calories and Zero Caffeine. Caffeine, you ask? My usual coffee in the AM and an occasional Lipton Green Tea with Mixed Berry.  I hardly know myself.
             My Fitness Pal  is coming in handy. I record everything (without cheating) and it can track my exercise and American Heart Association meal planning.  And, I added MapMyWalk App to my phone. I’ll be obnoxious before too much longer (if not already).

              Here’s a tidbit wrapped in love for everyone:  Never discount heredity where your health is concerned.  Though the myxoma was not hereditary nor did it result from any cause, the susceptibility to heart problems is rampant in my immediate family. Please, stay in tune with your body and don’t discount anything. Younger friends have been into fitness for their lifetime, but as my college friend Linda confessed,
"fixing our hair and perfecting our
makeup was our passion- not 5K and not crunches." Marlo Thomas and Sandra Dee were just too cute to sweat.