After more than five years of writing this column in The Gazette, it’s time to say goodbye.
This week marks the end of a 15-year journalism career that started in September of 1997 when the publisher of a weekly newspaper in Wautoma, Mary Kunasch, hired me, sort of fresh out of college, as the news editor. I had little experience in the field – some writing and layout work in high school and college where I majored in English – but because Mary thought I was someone she could work with, she took a chance on me.
I remained at that newspaper, the Waushara Argus, for 10 years until my wife and I decided to move to Stevens Point to be closer to her job at that time in Marshfield. Learning about a job opening at The Gazette, a paper I hadn’t heard about before, I called the paper’s managing editor and one of its founders and owners, Gene Kemmeter, and landed an interview. Upon meeting Gene, I knew immediately I’d like to work for him, but judging by the paper’s rundown office on Church Street, I wasn’t quite sure if it was the perfect fit for me.
I took a few days to decide whether or not I wanted to take the job after Gene offered it to me. My decision became easier to make after reading the paper and realizing all it offers to the community. I knew working for people who produced such a quality product could help me better my abilities.
For three years I worked as Gene’s associate editor, trying my best to learn as much from him as I could. He made sure I knew the Associated Press format well, and that everything that goes into the paper requires at least three readings to make sure it’s ready for publication (and even then it’s not always perfect). He taught me more than any teacher or co-worker in my educational and professional career.
In addition to being a great teacher, Gene has also been a source of humor. Every time I hear one of his many stories for the fifth time, I laugh. I laugh not because the story is funny, but because he’s so thrilled to be telling it. I wish I could remember some of my own stories like he does, but also to have the same passion for story-telling that he shows. And nothing gets a bigger laugh out of me than hearing him spell his name – G-E-N-E – to people taking his call-in restaurant orders.
When he retired in 2010, his job became mine. It’s been one I’ve enjoyed, especially since he taught me well, and it’s one I will miss. Not many jobs allow you to meet hundreds of interesting people, experience all that is going on in the community and have fun while working.
But it’s time for me to move on. Beginning next week I start a new journey, one I returned to college for in 2011. In this new role, as director of marketing and communications for the United Way of Portage County, I’ll be able to continue working with many of those in Portage County I’ve already met, but in a new capacity employing many of the skills I’ve already learned through my journalism career.
I’m excited, especially since I know I’ll be working with a group of people I know are equally as cool and fun as the crew at The Gazette. While I’ll miss my Gazette family, I know I’ll still see many of them on a regular basis and most are a quick click contact through my cellphone or Facebook.
This column is probably the hardest thing I need to say goodbye to, as I’ve been writing it regularly at The Gazette since starting here, carrying it over from the Argus where I wrote it occasionally. Through the years, I’ve had countless people make comments about my musings, many of which were about my family and my life as a thirty-something.
“The Light of Day” has allowed me to write about the beginning of my relationship with my wife, our marriage, the birth of our first son, selling our house and moving to Stevens Point, and the birth of our second son in 2012. I’ve tried to humor people by giving my unique perspectives about popular culture, and I’ve upset people in talking about Ed Gein (seriously people of Plainfield, lighten up and acknowledge your past – it’s not going away).
But now it’s time to say goodbye. My wife said she’s somewhat relieved to know that a lot of what we do won’t become public knowledge anymore, but I know she’ll miss it. After all, she has been my biggest motivator in convincing me to write this and to continue writing it.
I thank all those I’ve mentioned who have helped me get to this point, as well as all the others at The Gazette and in the community who I’ve worked with and met over the years. Thank you.
In saying goodbye, I’ll let people know I’m leaving the paper in excellent hands. Matthew Brown, my associate editor since 2010, will take over the role of managing editor. He’s impressed me every day since hiring him, and now it’s his turn to impress you.
I leave you with some Bruce Springsteen lyrics from a song this column got its name from, “The Light of Day”: “I’m just around the corner to the light of day/Just around the corner to the light of day/Just around the corner to the light of day.” I hope we all are.
Thank you for reading.
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Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Feb. 1, 2013.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Death by Motörhead is kind of perfect way to go
This is a eulogy, maybe, to a speaker. Not just any speaker, though, but the best and most famous speaker in Stevens Point. And I’m not talking about a person who may be a speaker, but rather the other type – a stereo speaker.
Earlier this week Randy Wagner, owner of Stevens Point’ Radio K.A.O.S. – central Wisconsin’s pre-eminent CD/album store – posted on Facebook that he blew out one of the 27-year-old speakers at his store. He posted: “Listening to my stereo in mono. Blew the left speaker which blew the amp. These Klipsch Heresy II speakers have been with me for over 27 years. Hope it can be repaired!!”
Without giving it much thought, one might feel bad for him, as nobody likes to have to replace anything. But anyone who has ever been in his store should feel a little sad, as those speakers have been a big part of the Radio K.A.O.S. experience throughout its entire history.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone in there and asked Randy who’s on the stereo at that moment. Oftentimes they were bands or artists I had never heard of, but coming from his speakers those musicians sounded as though I needed to own their music. Coming from those speakers, those bands – some of which probably were mediocre – were the most amazing artists of the moment.
Those speakers are one large reason anyone with a love for rock music is probably jealous of Randy. He gets to listen to great music all day that sounds even better because of those speakers. While I’m sure he’ll tell you his job, like mine and yours, has its ups and downs, he’d probably agree that overall he is living his dream job.
I couldn’t help but ask what finally did in his speaker. He said he was listening to Funkadelic when he noticed the blown speaker, but he guesses it was Motörhead that caused it to blow.
For those unfortunate individuals who don’t know the band Motörhead, I’ll give a quick rock music history lesson: heavy metal plus punk rock belted out by the world’s most famous mole-faced man – Lemmy Kilmister. The band’s most famous song is “Ace of Spades,” which has become an anthem for both metalheads and punk rockers, but which is also loved for some of the albums they released in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Motörhead is still around today, and Lemmy is a godlike figure in the rock community.
They aren’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which should be ashamed of the omission. Lemmy and the band’s fans could probably care less, though, as they are probably more proud of the fact that they blew out Randy’s speaker at Radio K.A.O.S., representing the ultimate in what good hard rock music should be about – chaos, complete disregard for property, and destruction of the very thing that it needs.
In other words, death by Motörhead is the perfect way to go, both for the speaker and for the image Motörhead would probably like fans to have.
I said this was “maybe” a eulogy because it’s possible Motörhead wasn’t necessarily the death of the speaker, as Randy may be able to fix it. And apparently that’s the case, as Randy informed me it’s fixable.
For the benefit of the music buying public, we’ll continue to hear those great sounds at Radio K.A.O.S. and we won’t have to worry about the sound of the music changing anytime soon. If Motörhead can’t stop it, nothing can.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 25, 2013.
Earlier this week Randy Wagner, owner of Stevens Point’ Radio K.A.O.S. – central Wisconsin’s pre-eminent CD/album store – posted on Facebook that he blew out one of the 27-year-old speakers at his store. He posted: “Listening to my stereo in mono. Blew the left speaker which blew the amp. These Klipsch Heresy II speakers have been with me for over 27 years. Hope it can be repaired!!”
Without giving it much thought, one might feel bad for him, as nobody likes to have to replace anything. But anyone who has ever been in his store should feel a little sad, as those speakers have been a big part of the Radio K.A.O.S. experience throughout its entire history.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone in there and asked Randy who’s on the stereo at that moment. Oftentimes they were bands or artists I had never heard of, but coming from his speakers those musicians sounded as though I needed to own their music. Coming from those speakers, those bands – some of which probably were mediocre – were the most amazing artists of the moment.
Those speakers are one large reason anyone with a love for rock music is probably jealous of Randy. He gets to listen to great music all day that sounds even better because of those speakers. While I’m sure he’ll tell you his job, like mine and yours, has its ups and downs, he’d probably agree that overall he is living his dream job.
I couldn’t help but ask what finally did in his speaker. He said he was listening to Funkadelic when he noticed the blown speaker, but he guesses it was Motörhead that caused it to blow.
For those unfortunate individuals who don’t know the band Motörhead, I’ll give a quick rock music history lesson: heavy metal plus punk rock belted out by the world’s most famous mole-faced man – Lemmy Kilmister. The band’s most famous song is “Ace of Spades,” which has become an anthem for both metalheads and punk rockers, but which is also loved for some of the albums they released in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Motörhead is still around today, and Lemmy is a godlike figure in the rock community.
They aren’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which should be ashamed of the omission. Lemmy and the band’s fans could probably care less, though, as they are probably more proud of the fact that they blew out Randy’s speaker at Radio K.A.O.S., representing the ultimate in what good hard rock music should be about – chaos, complete disregard for property, and destruction of the very thing that it needs.
In other words, death by Motörhead is the perfect way to go, both for the speaker and for the image Motörhead would probably like fans to have.
I said this was “maybe” a eulogy because it’s possible Motörhead wasn’t necessarily the death of the speaker, as Randy may be able to fix it. And apparently that’s the case, as Randy informed me it’s fixable.
For the benefit of the music buying public, we’ll continue to hear those great sounds at Radio K.A.O.S. and we won’t have to worry about the sound of the music changing anytime soon. If Motörhead can’t stop it, nothing can.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 25, 2013.
Predicting Best Picture winner takes skill, careful analysis of media buzz, trickery
When the Oscar nominations were announced last week, I quickly counted the number of the nine Best Picture nominees I had seen. It was quick because I hadn’t seen any of them.
Since then I’ve been able to see two of them, “Django Unchained” and “Zero Dark Thirty,” with the potential to see four or five more of them by the end of this weekend, including “Argo,” “Lincoln” “Les Misérables,” “Silver Linings Playbook” and “Beasts of the Southern Wild.” The remaining two, “Amour” and “Life of Pi,” will probably have to wait for awhile.
I make a point every year to see as many of the nominees as possible, simply because I like watching movies and I want to see what others have deemed to be among the best of the year. More often than not, when having seen the majority of the nominees, I can predict the winner. It’s probably one of few real skills I have in life, although it’ll never make any money for me. Unless I got bold and decided to bet on the winners in Las Vegas, but the risk of being wrong scares me too much.
My prediction is not necessarily my personal favorite. If that were the case “Midnight in Paris” would have been my pick last year, not “The Artist,” which did win and which I have yet to see. Others have told me I should, and now that it’s on Netflix Instant I probably will, but it just hasn’t looked appealing enough for me to take the time to see it. Nevertheless, I predicted it would win last year, based on the amount of buzz the media made about it.
Based on the two nominees I have seen from this year’s crop, “Zero Dark Thirty” stands a good chance of earning Kathryn Bigelow her second Best Picture Oscar (the first was for the rather underwhelming and overrated “The Hurt Locker”). Of all the 2012 films I’ve seen so far, it’s by far my favorite one as the story of one CIA agent’s mission to capture terrorist Osama bin Laden is compelling and had me on the edge of my seat throughout its long-running length.
Standing in its way of Oscar gold is the unwarranted criticism of the torture scenes portrayed in the film. While they can be difficult to watch at times, it’s fact that such torture was used to obtain information from terrorists, and it’s this information that the movie said ultimately led to the raid that killed bin Laden.
The torture scenes are mild compared to the violence in Quentin Tarantino’s “Django Unchained,” an exploitation film about a slave (Jaime Foxx) who gets to avenge the horrors committed against him and his wife while in captivity. The violence gets so heavy at times I found myself looking away until I knew the scene was over.
I enjoyed “Django Unchained,” although I’ll put many of Tarantino’s others films well ahead of it, including “Pulp Fiction,” “Inglorious Basterds,” “Kill Bill: Vol. 1,” “Reservoir Dogs” and “True Romance” (while this film wasn’t directed by him, Tarantino wrote the screenplay).
If this film won the Best Picture, I would be shocked.
I wouldn’t be shocked if the statue went to “Lincoln,” “Zero Dark Thirty” or “Argo” (which won the Golden Globe for Best Drama Sunday), based on the amount of media buzz these films have received. And right now, even though I haven’t seen two of those three, I predict “Lincoln” will win it.
My writing about this, ironically, is part of that media buzz, so if “Lincoln” was to win, I helped my own cause.
It’s just my way of ensuring a correct prediction. Now I should bet on it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 18, 2013.
Since then I’ve been able to see two of them, “Django Unchained” and “Zero Dark Thirty,” with the potential to see four or five more of them by the end of this weekend, including “Argo,” “Lincoln” “Les Misérables,” “Silver Linings Playbook” and “Beasts of the Southern Wild.” The remaining two, “Amour” and “Life of Pi,” will probably have to wait for awhile.
I make a point every year to see as many of the nominees as possible, simply because I like watching movies and I want to see what others have deemed to be among the best of the year. More often than not, when having seen the majority of the nominees, I can predict the winner. It’s probably one of few real skills I have in life, although it’ll never make any money for me. Unless I got bold and decided to bet on the winners in Las Vegas, but the risk of being wrong scares me too much.
My prediction is not necessarily my personal favorite. If that were the case “Midnight in Paris” would have been my pick last year, not “The Artist,” which did win and which I have yet to see. Others have told me I should, and now that it’s on Netflix Instant I probably will, but it just hasn’t looked appealing enough for me to take the time to see it. Nevertheless, I predicted it would win last year, based on the amount of buzz the media made about it.
Based on the two nominees I have seen from this year’s crop, “Zero Dark Thirty” stands a good chance of earning Kathryn Bigelow her second Best Picture Oscar (the first was for the rather underwhelming and overrated “The Hurt Locker”). Of all the 2012 films I’ve seen so far, it’s by far my favorite one as the story of one CIA agent’s mission to capture terrorist Osama bin Laden is compelling and had me on the edge of my seat throughout its long-running length.
Standing in its way of Oscar gold is the unwarranted criticism of the torture scenes portrayed in the film. While they can be difficult to watch at times, it’s fact that such torture was used to obtain information from terrorists, and it’s this information that the movie said ultimately led to the raid that killed bin Laden.
The torture scenes are mild compared to the violence in Quentin Tarantino’s “Django Unchained,” an exploitation film about a slave (Jaime Foxx) who gets to avenge the horrors committed against him and his wife while in captivity. The violence gets so heavy at times I found myself looking away until I knew the scene was over.
I enjoyed “Django Unchained,” although I’ll put many of Tarantino’s others films well ahead of it, including “Pulp Fiction,” “Inglorious Basterds,” “Kill Bill: Vol. 1,” “Reservoir Dogs” and “True Romance” (while this film wasn’t directed by him, Tarantino wrote the screenplay).
If this film won the Best Picture, I would be shocked.
I wouldn’t be shocked if the statue went to “Lincoln,” “Zero Dark Thirty” or “Argo” (which won the Golden Globe for Best Drama Sunday), based on the amount of media buzz these films have received. And right now, even though I haven’t seen two of those three, I predict “Lincoln” will win it.
My writing about this, ironically, is part of that media buzz, so if “Lincoln” was to win, I helped my own cause.
It’s just my way of ensuring a correct prediction. Now I should bet on it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 18, 2013.
Hoax of lifetime lives on in imagination, although it could have been reality
I almost pulled off the hoax of my lifetime last week.
Taking a photo at Ministry St. Michael’s Hospital in Stevens Point Thursday – my normal day off – of the New Year’s Baby, with my own 6-month-old son with me, I met a photographer/reporter from another newspaper. The hospital’s public relation person introduced us, and following the introduction he asked if the baby with me was the New Year’s Baby.
My first instinct was to say, “Yes, this 6-month-old is the New Year’s Baby,” but I knew better, as the public relations person was well aware my son, Declan, was not that baby. “No, I’m afraid not,” I politely replied.
Had the public relations person not been there, it’s possible the New Year’s Baby featured in that other publication may have been the 6-month-old son of a rival publication’s managing editor. If I had been able to pull that one off, no other hoax I will attempt for the remainder of my life would ever come close to matching it.
Normally, I’d say more than just a public relations person was standing in my way of pulling it off, but with the deadlines that publication faces, as well as the fact it’s printed elsewhere, there is a small chance it could have been published. The photo would have been of him and me, without my wife/his mother as she was not there at the time.
Declan was born in July, nearly two months early. But he’s a healthy baby boy now, weighing around 15 pounds. He would have smiled nicely for the camera, as he already knows how to pose for pictures.
The other reporter was a young guy, and at his age I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a newborn and a 6-month-old. Babies all looked the same to me then. In fact, when my first son arrived, I asked the doctor if he was an albino little person, as he seemed too small to be the correct size and he seemed much paler than the normal person. Seven years and a second son later, I’m well aware of the differences between newborns, infants and toddlers.
I probably would have fibbed a little bit if the reporter had have believed my “yes” answer to his question about whether or not Declan was the New Year’s Baby. I would have said he was born at the stroke of midnight, making the story a little more dramatic, and that the baby’s mother was Amish, which was why she wouldn’t be in the photograph.
I would have given his current weight, stating he was a very big baby, and that he was an angry baby, upset that he was the youngest son and not the oldest one.
In my slightly warped fantasy of a hoax, Declan would have also been fourth in line to rule a small kingdom in Ireland where our ancestors are from. Ahead of him would be his older brother, me and his great-grandpa who abdicated to marry an American woman in the 1950s.
Having outlined my hoax, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone through with it, as I’m a full-blooded Midwesterner who has a hard time not telling the truth. But it’s always fun to imagine what could have been and then share it with others. Maybe in another life I’ll pull off this hoax of a lifetime, or one similar to it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 11, 2013.
Taking a photo at Ministry St. Michael’s Hospital in Stevens Point Thursday – my normal day off – of the New Year’s Baby, with my own 6-month-old son with me, I met a photographer/reporter from another newspaper. The hospital’s public relation person introduced us, and following the introduction he asked if the baby with me was the New Year’s Baby.
My first instinct was to say, “Yes, this 6-month-old is the New Year’s Baby,” but I knew better, as the public relations person was well aware my son, Declan, was not that baby. “No, I’m afraid not,” I politely replied.
Had the public relations person not been there, it’s possible the New Year’s Baby featured in that other publication may have been the 6-month-old son of a rival publication’s managing editor. If I had been able to pull that one off, no other hoax I will attempt for the remainder of my life would ever come close to matching it.
Normally, I’d say more than just a public relations person was standing in my way of pulling it off, but with the deadlines that publication faces, as well as the fact it’s printed elsewhere, there is a small chance it could have been published. The photo would have been of him and me, without my wife/his mother as she was not there at the time.
Declan was born in July, nearly two months early. But he’s a healthy baby boy now, weighing around 15 pounds. He would have smiled nicely for the camera, as he already knows how to pose for pictures.
The other reporter was a young guy, and at his age I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a newborn and a 6-month-old. Babies all looked the same to me then. In fact, when my first son arrived, I asked the doctor if he was an albino little person, as he seemed too small to be the correct size and he seemed much paler than the normal person. Seven years and a second son later, I’m well aware of the differences between newborns, infants and toddlers.
I probably would have fibbed a little bit if the reporter had have believed my “yes” answer to his question about whether or not Declan was the New Year’s Baby. I would have said he was born at the stroke of midnight, making the story a little more dramatic, and that the baby’s mother was Amish, which was why she wouldn’t be in the photograph.
I would have given his current weight, stating he was a very big baby, and that he was an angry baby, upset that he was the youngest son and not the oldest one.
In my slightly warped fantasy of a hoax, Declan would have also been fourth in line to rule a small kingdom in Ireland where our ancestors are from. Ahead of him would be his older brother, me and his great-grandpa who abdicated to marry an American woman in the 1950s.
Having outlined my hoax, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone through with it, as I’m a full-blooded Midwesterner who has a hard time not telling the truth. But it’s always fun to imagine what could have been and then share it with others. Maybe in another life I’ll pull off this hoax of a lifetime, or one similar to it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 11, 2013.
Neeson is the new Chuck Norris, except with acting skills
If every movie produced by Hollywood starred Liam Neeson, then nobody would ever complain about bad movies. I came to this conclusion last week after watching Neeson in “The Grey” and, for just a few scenes, “The Dark Knight Rises.”
Neeson has this unique ability to turn his lines in what may have been a subpar screenplay into pure greatness. When he takes on a pack of wolves in “The Grey,” it is he who makes the viewer terrified of the wolves, and not the computer-generated images of the wolves that rival the terribleness of those in the “Twilight” series.
After seeing him battle the wolves for nearly two hours, I went to bed genuinely scared of something as a result of watching a movie. “The Grey” isn’t even a horror movie – a genre I usually don’t even bother with anymore because I know nobody will ever top “A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors” – but Neeson’s acting abilities were good enough for me to admit to my wife that going outside that night was not on a list of things I was willing to do.
I first recognized Neeson’s greatness a few years ago after seeing “Taken,” a by-the-numbers kidnapping thriller that somehow was better than most movies that year simply because it involved Liam Neeson kicking the butt of the people who took his daughter.
In some ways, the movie made him the new Chuck Norris, except this Chuck Norris can act.
But here’s a fact that many will find hard to believe: Liam Neeson has never won a major acting award. He’s been nominated for a bunch of awards, including several Oscars and Golden Globes for his work in such films as “Schindler’s List” and “Kinsey,” but other than some regional awards from several film associations, he’s never been on a podium to accept the big award.
In many regards, his career echoes that of Harrison Ford, another actor who used to elevate the films he’s in to be much better than they would have been without him. Before the good roles dried up shortly after “The Fugitive,” Ford was untouchable. Now he’s a shell of what he once was, as evidenced by how awful the last “Indiana Jones” film was.
I believe Neeson can escape Ford’s fate, simply by choosing his roles wisely. Keep it varied, and surprise people. Ford seems to only choose roles in which his character is grumpy, and that’s stumped his career as nobody wants to see grumpy Ford. Someone should have probably told him people liked his cockiness in many of his good films, and that cockiness is different from grumpiness.
Then again, it might already be too late for Neeson. I haven’t seen “Battleship,” and I probably will never voluntarily watch the film of my own accord. If forced to watch it, though, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that he at least makes the film watchable.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 4, 2013.
Neeson has this unique ability to turn his lines in what may have been a subpar screenplay into pure greatness. When he takes on a pack of wolves in “The Grey,” it is he who makes the viewer terrified of the wolves, and not the computer-generated images of the wolves that rival the terribleness of those in the “Twilight” series.
After seeing him battle the wolves for nearly two hours, I went to bed genuinely scared of something as a result of watching a movie. “The Grey” isn’t even a horror movie – a genre I usually don’t even bother with anymore because I know nobody will ever top “A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors” – but Neeson’s acting abilities were good enough for me to admit to my wife that going outside that night was not on a list of things I was willing to do.
I first recognized Neeson’s greatness a few years ago after seeing “Taken,” a by-the-numbers kidnapping thriller that somehow was better than most movies that year simply because it involved Liam Neeson kicking the butt of the people who took his daughter.
In some ways, the movie made him the new Chuck Norris, except this Chuck Norris can act.
But here’s a fact that many will find hard to believe: Liam Neeson has never won a major acting award. He’s been nominated for a bunch of awards, including several Oscars and Golden Globes for his work in such films as “Schindler’s List” and “Kinsey,” but other than some regional awards from several film associations, he’s never been on a podium to accept the big award.
In many regards, his career echoes that of Harrison Ford, another actor who used to elevate the films he’s in to be much better than they would have been without him. Before the good roles dried up shortly after “The Fugitive,” Ford was untouchable. Now he’s a shell of what he once was, as evidenced by how awful the last “Indiana Jones” film was.
I believe Neeson can escape Ford’s fate, simply by choosing his roles wisely. Keep it varied, and surprise people. Ford seems to only choose roles in which his character is grumpy, and that’s stumped his career as nobody wants to see grumpy Ford. Someone should have probably told him people liked his cockiness in many of his good films, and that cockiness is different from grumpiness.
Then again, it might already be too late for Neeson. I haven’t seen “Battleship,” and I probably will never voluntarily watch the film of my own accord. If forced to watch it, though, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that he at least makes the film watchable.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Jan. 4, 2013.
Favor Hamilton story creates opportunity to discuss depression
When the news broke late last week that Stevens Point native and three-time Olympian Suzy Favor Hamilton has worked as high-class escort for the past year or so, people around here were obviously shocked.
Many of us know her, and many of us are very fond of her. She put the spotlight on Stevens Point during her Stevens Point Area Senior High School, University of Wisconsin-Madison and Olympic running days. In high school during the early 1990s, I remember my friends – all cross country runners – talking about her and her many running accomplishments with pride. If a Wisconsin runner could do these things, then they could, too.
Favor Hamilton has returned to the area on numerous occasions as a celebrity spokesperson at sporting events such as Walk Wisconsin and the Run Bike Duathlon, bringing with her a spark of enthusiasm that has encouraged local athletes and non-athletes to keep working harder. At Walk Wisconsin the past two years she could easily make people smile by encouraging people to dance to the music as they crossed the finish line, and her motivational workout before the Run Bike Duathlon had nearly everyone fired up for the endeavor they were about to endure.
While I don’t know her to the extent many local people might know her, especially her friends and family who still live here, I’ve had the privilege of interviewing her in stories to promote these events and at these events themselves. As someone in the media spotlight for many years, she’s always been able to give me the type of quote journalists like.
Yet, something about her has always made her seem at a distance from those like me who don’t really know her on a personal basis. This disconnect was difficult to describe at the time, but in hindsight it probably had a lot to do with what she has said she’s been struggling with for years, including during her prime running career – depression.
She’s openly talked about depression in other media interviews, including one with the Milwaukee Journal last year, and it’s an issue many people battle.
Depression, though, is one of those mental health issues many people don’t want to openly talk about, as there is a strong negative stigma attached to it. Although a large percentage of the population receives medication for it, try finding someone who will admit to taking these meds, as these people fear others might look down on them for taking them.
After the Newtown, Conn., tragedy two weeks ago, people started talking about mental health and the stigma that is associated with it. We need to address this issue and rid this world of this stigma, they’ve said.
One week later, with an opportunity to talk more about one of the many issues under the mental health umbrella, many people used it as an opportunity to pass judgment on someone who has had the courage to discuss this topic. Instead of talking about the harm depression can cause, we’ve instead talked about the harm Favor Hamilton has caused by her actions.
Favor Hamilton could have denied the accusations, or she could have kept silent on the matter, as many celebrities might do. Instead she chose to admit what she has done, apologizing to her family, friends and fans, and then telling the world it’s been a struggle dealing with depression. Many of the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point communication professors I know would say she’s handled herself perfectly in the media in responding to this.
We could continue to condemn her for what she’s done, but then we’d be robbing ourselves of someone who has done a lot for this community. We should instead forgive her of what she’s done, and then hope someday she will be able to talk about her struggles with depression and encourage others to get the help they might need.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 28, 2012.
Many of us know her, and many of us are very fond of her. She put the spotlight on Stevens Point during her Stevens Point Area Senior High School, University of Wisconsin-Madison and Olympic running days. In high school during the early 1990s, I remember my friends – all cross country runners – talking about her and her many running accomplishments with pride. If a Wisconsin runner could do these things, then they could, too.
Favor Hamilton has returned to the area on numerous occasions as a celebrity spokesperson at sporting events such as Walk Wisconsin and the Run Bike Duathlon, bringing with her a spark of enthusiasm that has encouraged local athletes and non-athletes to keep working harder. At Walk Wisconsin the past two years she could easily make people smile by encouraging people to dance to the music as they crossed the finish line, and her motivational workout before the Run Bike Duathlon had nearly everyone fired up for the endeavor they were about to endure.
While I don’t know her to the extent many local people might know her, especially her friends and family who still live here, I’ve had the privilege of interviewing her in stories to promote these events and at these events themselves. As someone in the media spotlight for many years, she’s always been able to give me the type of quote journalists like.
Yet, something about her has always made her seem at a distance from those like me who don’t really know her on a personal basis. This disconnect was difficult to describe at the time, but in hindsight it probably had a lot to do with what she has said she’s been struggling with for years, including during her prime running career – depression.
She’s openly talked about depression in other media interviews, including one with the Milwaukee Journal last year, and it’s an issue many people battle.
Depression, though, is one of those mental health issues many people don’t want to openly talk about, as there is a strong negative stigma attached to it. Although a large percentage of the population receives medication for it, try finding someone who will admit to taking these meds, as these people fear others might look down on them for taking them.
After the Newtown, Conn., tragedy two weeks ago, people started talking about mental health and the stigma that is associated with it. We need to address this issue and rid this world of this stigma, they’ve said.
One week later, with an opportunity to talk more about one of the many issues under the mental health umbrella, many people used it as an opportunity to pass judgment on someone who has had the courage to discuss this topic. Instead of talking about the harm depression can cause, we’ve instead talked about the harm Favor Hamilton has caused by her actions.
Favor Hamilton could have denied the accusations, or she could have kept silent on the matter, as many celebrities might do. Instead she chose to admit what she has done, apologizing to her family, friends and fans, and then telling the world it’s been a struggle dealing with depression. Many of the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point communication professors I know would say she’s handled herself perfectly in the media in responding to this.
We could continue to condemn her for what she’s done, but then we’d be robbing ourselves of someone who has done a lot for this community. We should instead forgive her of what she’s done, and then hope someday she will be able to talk about her struggles with depression and encourage others to get the help they might need.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 28, 2012.
Winter may mean something entirely different to next generation of kids
According to the weatherman, winter is set to arrive later this week – both figuratively and literally – as a large blizzard was forecast to create havoc and generate many topics of conversation Thursday and the actual first day of the season is Friday.
I’m writing this during the calm before the storm on Wednesday, knocking myself on my head for not addressing the broken drawstring on my snow blower this summer, hoping the snow is the light, fluffy kind that is easy to shovel.
My 7-year-old son is crossing his fingers for school to be closed Thursday, although I told him it would have to be a mega-blizzard for school to be cancelled in the Stevens Point area. He probably should hope it isn’t, as I was planning on finishing our Christmas shopping on Thursday while he was in school. Santa Claus might not be as fruitful as normal, if you get my (snow) drift, as he’s scheduled to be quite busy right from Thursday through Christmas.
I attended rural schools as a kid, so we had snow days all the time. Then again, when I was a kid we had four-foot snowfalls on a weekly basis even in the summer, school was a five-mile uphill walk both ways, and snowplows hadn’t been invented, yet. It’s amazing we were even able to attend school.
If you think I had it bad, though, you should hear the stories my parents and grandparents told me about school and winter. The snow went up to the telephone lines and their one-room schoolhouses went without heat, forcing kids to wear layers and layers of jackets.
I’ll be interested in hearing what my sons tell their children about how bad they had it when they were kids going to school in the winter. We’ve taken all the good exaggerations already, so they’ll either have to get really creative or stick to the truth. I’m voting for creative.
“Yeah, our schools never closed for snow, even when we got six inches of snow,” my son could tell his child.
“Wow, that’s a lot of snow. What’s snow, daddy?” the kid would respond, having never experienced it before due to global warming.
“Well, when I was a kid we got a few snowstorms every winter in which a fluffy type of ice blanketed the ground, making roads slippery but creating a lot of opportunities to create snowmen and snow forts,” my son could tell the child.
“Snowmen? Could they talk? Would you live in these forts?” the child would probably ask.
“Oh no. They melted before the week was over, at least that was always my experience. Your grandpa would tell you differently, though. He always told me they moved into a home made of snow in the winter to save on rent.”
I still have fond memories of my igloo home.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 21, 2012.
I’m writing this during the calm before the storm on Wednesday, knocking myself on my head for not addressing the broken drawstring on my snow blower this summer, hoping the snow is the light, fluffy kind that is easy to shovel.
My 7-year-old son is crossing his fingers for school to be closed Thursday, although I told him it would have to be a mega-blizzard for school to be cancelled in the Stevens Point area. He probably should hope it isn’t, as I was planning on finishing our Christmas shopping on Thursday while he was in school. Santa Claus might not be as fruitful as normal, if you get my (snow) drift, as he’s scheduled to be quite busy right from Thursday through Christmas.
I attended rural schools as a kid, so we had snow days all the time. Then again, when I was a kid we had four-foot snowfalls on a weekly basis even in the summer, school was a five-mile uphill walk both ways, and snowplows hadn’t been invented, yet. It’s amazing we were even able to attend school.
If you think I had it bad, though, you should hear the stories my parents and grandparents told me about school and winter. The snow went up to the telephone lines and their one-room schoolhouses went without heat, forcing kids to wear layers and layers of jackets.
I’ll be interested in hearing what my sons tell their children about how bad they had it when they were kids going to school in the winter. We’ve taken all the good exaggerations already, so they’ll either have to get really creative or stick to the truth. I’m voting for creative.
“Yeah, our schools never closed for snow, even when we got six inches of snow,” my son could tell his child.
“Wow, that’s a lot of snow. What’s snow, daddy?” the kid would respond, having never experienced it before due to global warming.
“Well, when I was a kid we got a few snowstorms every winter in which a fluffy type of ice blanketed the ground, making roads slippery but creating a lot of opportunities to create snowmen and snow forts,” my son could tell the child.
“Snowmen? Could they talk? Would you live in these forts?” the child would probably ask.
“Oh no. They melted before the week was over, at least that was always my experience. Your grandpa would tell you differently, though. He always told me they moved into a home made of snow in the winter to save on rent.”
I still have fond memories of my igloo home.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 21, 2012.
Santa Claus makes several stops in Stevens Point, prior to the big visit
Santa Claus – or as I call him, Santa the Claus, just to annoy my wife (yes, I’m that type of husband) – is coming to town.
Truth is, he was already here twice last weekend, making stops at Breakfast with Santa events at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point and Applebee’s. He’s a hungry man, and two breakfasts are normal for him, especially right before the big holiday.
My wife and I took our two sons to see Santa the Clause (now I’m saying it just to annoy everybody) at Applebee’s, mainly because Chris Charewicz, the sheriff’s wife, invited us on behalf of Junior Achievement, which was sponsoring the event as a fundraiser. We also went because it was our youngest son Declan’s first opportunity to meet the big man from the North Pole, and we didn’t want to explain to him later why his big brother, Braden, had all these cool opportunities and he had none.
Braden, who is 7, loves Santa, as most kids his age do. He didn’t waste a moment in telling Santa he wanted a Nintendo Wii U for Christmas, and that he should find an alternate way into our house due to our lack of a chimney.
He didn’t always love Santa, though, as evidenced by a first Christmas photo of him crying on Santa’s lap as we forced him to do so. It’s rather ironic that we spend so much time telling children to avoid strangers, but then we force them to interact with possibly the weirdest stranger of all – a plump bearded man in a red costume who often makes his wife stay in the North Pole.
Over the years as he got to know Santa, with the realization of course that he brings presents, this fear became joy. Someday soon, although I’m hoping later than sooner, the joy will turn into a little bit of anger, when he learns more about his hero. I learned at an early age, simply because my parent’s hallway closet wasn’t necessarily the best place to keep secrets.
I remember feeling betrayed a little bit, as we’re told not to lie yet it’s OK for adults to do so. I stuck to the script, though, for the sake of my younger sister, and because I knew by doing so I might get more of those closeted items.
Braden has questioned the matter a few times, probably because the older kids at school are big talkers, and instead of denying his questions, I simply ask a return question to gently point him in another direction. “If it’s not true, then why do people always talk about him on television?” I’ll ask.
It’s a valid question, and one that makes him think. “If it’s on television, then it must be true,” he’ll reply on his own.
Leading him further away from the original topic, and sticking to the truth even more than I probably should, I tell him television is not always truthful. I point out that advertisements, especially political ones, are often designed to persuade people to do something, even if they aren’t exactly truthful. By this point, he’s not even thinking about the original question and instead is focusing on something new.
After a little more lecture, he gets bored and walks away. Victory is mine.
Someday I know the victory will be his. I’ll concede when I can’t win, but I’ll make sure he continues playing the game for Declan’s sake. And then we’ll have fun with it together.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 14, 2012.
Truth is, he was already here twice last weekend, making stops at Breakfast with Santa events at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point and Applebee’s. He’s a hungry man, and two breakfasts are normal for him, especially right before the big holiday.
My wife and I took our two sons to see Santa the Clause (now I’m saying it just to annoy everybody) at Applebee’s, mainly because Chris Charewicz, the sheriff’s wife, invited us on behalf of Junior Achievement, which was sponsoring the event as a fundraiser. We also went because it was our youngest son Declan’s first opportunity to meet the big man from the North Pole, and we didn’t want to explain to him later why his big brother, Braden, had all these cool opportunities and he had none.
Braden, who is 7, loves Santa, as most kids his age do. He didn’t waste a moment in telling Santa he wanted a Nintendo Wii U for Christmas, and that he should find an alternate way into our house due to our lack of a chimney.
He didn’t always love Santa, though, as evidenced by a first Christmas photo of him crying on Santa’s lap as we forced him to do so. It’s rather ironic that we spend so much time telling children to avoid strangers, but then we force them to interact with possibly the weirdest stranger of all – a plump bearded man in a red costume who often makes his wife stay in the North Pole.
Over the years as he got to know Santa, with the realization of course that he brings presents, this fear became joy. Someday soon, although I’m hoping later than sooner, the joy will turn into a little bit of anger, when he learns more about his hero. I learned at an early age, simply because my parent’s hallway closet wasn’t necessarily the best place to keep secrets.
I remember feeling betrayed a little bit, as we’re told not to lie yet it’s OK for adults to do so. I stuck to the script, though, for the sake of my younger sister, and because I knew by doing so I might get more of those closeted items.
Braden has questioned the matter a few times, probably because the older kids at school are big talkers, and instead of denying his questions, I simply ask a return question to gently point him in another direction. “If it’s not true, then why do people always talk about him on television?” I’ll ask.
It’s a valid question, and one that makes him think. “If it’s on television, then it must be true,” he’ll reply on his own.
Leading him further away from the original topic, and sticking to the truth even more than I probably should, I tell him television is not always truthful. I point out that advertisements, especially political ones, are often designed to persuade people to do something, even if they aren’t exactly truthful. By this point, he’s not even thinking about the original question and instead is focusing on something new.
After a little more lecture, he gets bored and walks away. Victory is mine.
Someday I know the victory will be his. I’ll concede when I can’t win, but I’ll make sure he continues playing the game for Declan’s sake. And then we’ll have fun with it together.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 14, 2012.
Petition signers call for creation of actual Death Star
I’m as big a “Star Wars” fan as most others obsessed by the nearly 40-year old science fiction tale, but even I wouldn’t sign a petition currently making the rounds.
This petition, which has already been signed by 4,000 people, calls for the U.S. government to construct the Death Star.
Yeah, I’m referring to the Empire’s evil man-made planet that has enough firepower to destroy make believe planets, as Alderaan discovered in the original “Star Wars” movie. That Death Star.
The petition can be found on the White House’s official petition website, “We the People.” The creator of the petition, “John D” of Longmont, Colo., posted the petition Nov. 14, calling for 25,000 signatures by Dec. 14.
He’ll need a lot of signatures in a week’s time to reach that goal, as he’s collected less than 20 percent so far. Those who wish to sign the petition can do so online at https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/secure-resources-and-funding-and-begin-construction-death-star-2016/wlfKzFkN.
What would they be signing if they choose to do so? It’s short, and it reads:
“Those who sign here petition the United States government to secure funding and resources, and begin construction on a Death Star by 2016.
“By focusing our defense resources into a space-superiority platform and weapon system such as a Death Star, the government can spur job creation in the fields of construction, engineering, space exploration, and more, and strengthen our national defense.”
While the petition’s purpose is admirable, let’s be realistic in four words: It can’t be done.
The U.S. Space Program barely exists right now, as all of its space shuttles have been retired, and the private sector has been encouraged to find ways to get people and ships to space. Heck, we haven’t even been to the moon in 40 years, so expecting the government to get enough material and resources to space to physically do this is less likely to happen than someone winning the Powerball jackpot who doesn’t buy a Powerball ticket.
Forgetting about the logistics for a minute and imagining it as being possible, would you want to give our government – or any government for that matter – the ability to destroy planets. The way our government operates it would probably accidentally destroy this one. That would be one big oops.
Getting back to John D’s purpose of creating more jobs raises a huge question. Wouldn’t such an endeavor be the biggest expenditure ever in order to create new jobs? In my by-no-means-accurate assessment of the cost, I figure it would cost at least 12,000 zillion dollars to fund it, and even if it created one million jobs, which is probably an overestimate, you’d still be spending way too much for the number of jobs it creates.
George Lucas was wise to sell the “Star Wars” rights last month to Disney for $4 billion, as no one person should be responsible for a creation that inspires people to petition the government to create the make-believe items portrayed in it.
Disney, that outwardly lovable organization with a tough-as-nails inner dark side, is the perfect owner, as it simply won’t give the U.S. government the rights to the Death Star. Beware of Mickey Mouse, though, as you never know what might be up his sleeve. He might find a way to create the Death Star for a future Disney-themed park. Then we should all worry.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 7, 2012.
This petition, which has already been signed by 4,000 people, calls for the U.S. government to construct the Death Star.
Yeah, I’m referring to the Empire’s evil man-made planet that has enough firepower to destroy make believe planets, as Alderaan discovered in the original “Star Wars” movie. That Death Star.
The petition can be found on the White House’s official petition website, “We the People.” The creator of the petition, “John D” of Longmont, Colo., posted the petition Nov. 14, calling for 25,000 signatures by Dec. 14.
He’ll need a lot of signatures in a week’s time to reach that goal, as he’s collected less than 20 percent so far. Those who wish to sign the petition can do so online at https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/secure-resources-and-funding-and-begin-construction-death-star-2016/wlfKzFkN.
What would they be signing if they choose to do so? It’s short, and it reads:
“Those who sign here petition the United States government to secure funding and resources, and begin construction on a Death Star by 2016.
“By focusing our defense resources into a space-superiority platform and weapon system such as a Death Star, the government can spur job creation in the fields of construction, engineering, space exploration, and more, and strengthen our national defense.”
While the petition’s purpose is admirable, let’s be realistic in four words: It can’t be done.
The U.S. Space Program barely exists right now, as all of its space shuttles have been retired, and the private sector has been encouraged to find ways to get people and ships to space. Heck, we haven’t even been to the moon in 40 years, so expecting the government to get enough material and resources to space to physically do this is less likely to happen than someone winning the Powerball jackpot who doesn’t buy a Powerball ticket.
Forgetting about the logistics for a minute and imagining it as being possible, would you want to give our government – or any government for that matter – the ability to destroy planets. The way our government operates it would probably accidentally destroy this one. That would be one big oops.
Getting back to John D’s purpose of creating more jobs raises a huge question. Wouldn’t such an endeavor be the biggest expenditure ever in order to create new jobs? In my by-no-means-accurate assessment of the cost, I figure it would cost at least 12,000 zillion dollars to fund it, and even if it created one million jobs, which is probably an overestimate, you’d still be spending way too much for the number of jobs it creates.
George Lucas was wise to sell the “Star Wars” rights last month to Disney for $4 billion, as no one person should be responsible for a creation that inspires people to petition the government to create the make-believe items portrayed in it.
Disney, that outwardly lovable organization with a tough-as-nails inner dark side, is the perfect owner, as it simply won’t give the U.S. government the rights to the Death Star. Beware of Mickey Mouse, though, as you never know what might be up his sleeve. He might find a way to create the Death Star for a future Disney-themed park. Then we should all worry.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Dec. 7, 2012.
First-person perspective of ‘Call of Duty’ reveals it may be worth skipping work, class
Like it or not, Activision’s “Call of Duty” video game series causes people to skip work and classes when a new game comes out every November. And raking in half a billion dollars in sales in its first week alone, the latest game, “Call of Duty: Black Ops 2,” was no exception two weeks ago.
Surprisingly, as someone who grew up on video games and still loves them, I’ve managed to stay away from the “Call of Duty” craze for the past five years. I purchased “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2” several years after it came out, tried it and realized I wasn’t a fan of first-person shooters (a type of game in which the player experiences the action through the eyes of the game’s protagonist). I preferred my games in the third person.
This changed in September when Playstation, my game console of choice, offered “Borderlands” as a free game for Playstation Plus members. “Borderlands” is a first-person shooter with a role-playing game element tied to it, and being free, I downloaded it not expecting to like it. After playing it for about an hour I realized I was coming to terms with gaming in the first person, and in fact started to like it.
“Borderlands” was free because the makers of the game were hoping to entice people to buy “Borderlands 2,” which was coming out later in the month. Their strategy worked because I added it to my collection just a few weeks later. After putting it in my Playstation, it never left as I worked myself through the massive game, playing it late at night after my children and wife were asleep. Shooting monster dogs, solving puzzles and saving an outcast world made for a perfect stress reliever.
Knowing I could handle a first-person shooter, I decided I needed to see what all the fuss was about in regards to “Call of Duty.” I got “Black Ops 2” and started the game’s campaign mode several days after it came out. Judging it against “Borderlands 2,” though, I couldn’t figure out why people were so into “Call of Duty.”
But then I played the multiplayer mode in which you team up with other players online and try to get more “kills” than the opposing team. Instead of playing against computer opponents, who are predictable and easy to beat, I found myself playing more formidable players who made the game challenging.
Challenging is an understatement, as these players were probably better than me in every aspect of the game. I could hardly walk five feet without dying. Snipers were downing me from hundreds of yards away, and stealth operatives were sneaking up from behind and knifing me to death. And every time I found an opponent he or she gunned me down before I could even get my finger on the trigger.
Despite my many deaths I was addicted. I wanted to be the soldier who took out an opponent, even if I was no more than target practice for them. I changed my strategy and started following teammates around, hoping a little teamwork would help.
Logically, it worked as I found myself dying less and taking out opponents more often. I was still dying more often than I was registering kills, but at least I wasn’t always last place on my team.
I may never get back to the campaign mode in the game because the online multiplayer is too fun. And I’ll probably die more often than I don’t, but at least I understand why the game is so popular. I can’t imagine I’ll skip work or class for the game, but late nights may never be peaceful again.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 30, 2012.
Surprisingly, as someone who grew up on video games and still loves them, I’ve managed to stay away from the “Call of Duty” craze for the past five years. I purchased “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2” several years after it came out, tried it and realized I wasn’t a fan of first-person shooters (a type of game in which the player experiences the action through the eyes of the game’s protagonist). I preferred my games in the third person.
This changed in September when Playstation, my game console of choice, offered “Borderlands” as a free game for Playstation Plus members. “Borderlands” is a first-person shooter with a role-playing game element tied to it, and being free, I downloaded it not expecting to like it. After playing it for about an hour I realized I was coming to terms with gaming in the first person, and in fact started to like it.
“Borderlands” was free because the makers of the game were hoping to entice people to buy “Borderlands 2,” which was coming out later in the month. Their strategy worked because I added it to my collection just a few weeks later. After putting it in my Playstation, it never left as I worked myself through the massive game, playing it late at night after my children and wife were asleep. Shooting monster dogs, solving puzzles and saving an outcast world made for a perfect stress reliever.
Knowing I could handle a first-person shooter, I decided I needed to see what all the fuss was about in regards to “Call of Duty.” I got “Black Ops 2” and started the game’s campaign mode several days after it came out. Judging it against “Borderlands 2,” though, I couldn’t figure out why people were so into “Call of Duty.”
But then I played the multiplayer mode in which you team up with other players online and try to get more “kills” than the opposing team. Instead of playing against computer opponents, who are predictable and easy to beat, I found myself playing more formidable players who made the game challenging.
Challenging is an understatement, as these players were probably better than me in every aspect of the game. I could hardly walk five feet without dying. Snipers were downing me from hundreds of yards away, and stealth operatives were sneaking up from behind and knifing me to death. And every time I found an opponent he or she gunned me down before I could even get my finger on the trigger.
Despite my many deaths I was addicted. I wanted to be the soldier who took out an opponent, even if I was no more than target practice for them. I changed my strategy and started following teammates around, hoping a little teamwork would help.
Logically, it worked as I found myself dying less and taking out opponents more often. I was still dying more often than I was registering kills, but at least I wasn’t always last place on my team.
I may never get back to the campaign mode in the game because the online multiplayer is too fun. And I’ll probably die more often than I don’t, but at least I understand why the game is so popular. I can’t imagine I’ll skip work or class for the game, but late nights may never be peaceful again.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 30, 2012.
Family changes can alter how holidays are celebrated
Changes in family dynamics often bring changes in traditions. Adjusting to those changes, while sometimes difficult, is often awkward.
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was celebrated by going to both sets of my grandparents’ houses where all my aunts, uncles and cousins congregated. One year we’d go to my mother’s parents for lunch and my father’s parents for dinner, and then the next year switch it up, because the dinner meal was the “leftovers” meal.
The only year I recall doing something different was when an uncle decided to host the lunch meal at his house on my mother’s side of the family. With the exception of being at a different location, the same people were there and the food tasted the same, so it seemed like a normal Thanksgiving… until the fight.
The fight started when a younger cousin of mine was bugging an uncle. He got upset with her and said a few unkind words, which prompted her mother – that uncle’s older sister – to yell at him.
My father had observed the entire incident, so he came to my uncle’s defense, telling the girls’ mother – his sister-in-law – to knock it off, as she didn’t even know the entire situation. She snapped back at him, although I can’t recall what exactly was said. The fight pretty much ended right there, although the tension in the house prompted my family to leave soon after.
Needless to say, the next year we were back at my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving.
Both sets of my grandparents are still alive and well, but they prefer that others host the holiday, which they gladly attend. Others in both families have died, including my father, which changed some of the dynamics, but the biggest factor in this change was that some of the grandchildren, myself included, have gotten married and had children of our own. Bringing a spouse into the mix adds more places where one needs to go, and as a result choices need to be made.
For my family now, Thanksgiving usually involved going to my father-in-law’s family’s house for lunch and then somewhere on my side of the family for dinner, depending on who was hosting. But my father-in-law’s death last year changed this, and as a result we’ll be going to my mother’s house for Thanksgiving lunch.
Not all will make it to my mother’s house, as a result of changing family dynamics, including one uncle who has stopped speaking to nearly all of his siblings. Those who do, though, will celebrate it much like in the past – visiting, eating, watching football and playing cards. My oldest son will play with other children who are hopefully there, and many of my relatives will take turns holding my youngest son.
Next year Thanksgiving might be held at an entirely different location, including the possibility relatives might come to our house in Stevens Point. My children will be used to the annual change and probably won’t think anything of it, although my wife and I will still never fully adjust to the changing of tradition.
Christmas is even more complicated, but I’m sure most people understand. We’ll probably spend the next month trying to figure it out, and even then we might not get it right. If not, we’ve got New Year’s the following week to correct it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 23, 2012.
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was celebrated by going to both sets of my grandparents’ houses where all my aunts, uncles and cousins congregated. One year we’d go to my mother’s parents for lunch and my father’s parents for dinner, and then the next year switch it up, because the dinner meal was the “leftovers” meal.
The only year I recall doing something different was when an uncle decided to host the lunch meal at his house on my mother’s side of the family. With the exception of being at a different location, the same people were there and the food tasted the same, so it seemed like a normal Thanksgiving… until the fight.
The fight started when a younger cousin of mine was bugging an uncle. He got upset with her and said a few unkind words, which prompted her mother – that uncle’s older sister – to yell at him.
My father had observed the entire incident, so he came to my uncle’s defense, telling the girls’ mother – his sister-in-law – to knock it off, as she didn’t even know the entire situation. She snapped back at him, although I can’t recall what exactly was said. The fight pretty much ended right there, although the tension in the house prompted my family to leave soon after.
Needless to say, the next year we were back at my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving.
Both sets of my grandparents are still alive and well, but they prefer that others host the holiday, which they gladly attend. Others in both families have died, including my father, which changed some of the dynamics, but the biggest factor in this change was that some of the grandchildren, myself included, have gotten married and had children of our own. Bringing a spouse into the mix adds more places where one needs to go, and as a result choices need to be made.
For my family now, Thanksgiving usually involved going to my father-in-law’s family’s house for lunch and then somewhere on my side of the family for dinner, depending on who was hosting. But my father-in-law’s death last year changed this, and as a result we’ll be going to my mother’s house for Thanksgiving lunch.
Not all will make it to my mother’s house, as a result of changing family dynamics, including one uncle who has stopped speaking to nearly all of his siblings. Those who do, though, will celebrate it much like in the past – visiting, eating, watching football and playing cards. My oldest son will play with other children who are hopefully there, and many of my relatives will take turns holding my youngest son.
Next year Thanksgiving might be held at an entirely different location, including the possibility relatives might come to our house in Stevens Point. My children will be used to the annual change and probably won’t think anything of it, although my wife and I will still never fully adjust to the changing of tradition.
Christmas is even more complicated, but I’m sure most people understand. We’ll probably spend the next month trying to figure it out, and even then we might not get it right. If not, we’ve got New Year’s the following week to correct it.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 23, 2012.
Students on field trip may have learned more than their teacher wanted them to know
A couple of weeks ago I did something I had never done before: I helped chaperone a field trip for my son’s second-grade class at St. Paul Lutheran School. I’ll probably never be invited to do so again, as I offered an alternative education schools – especially parochial ones – don’t typically provide.
The class went to the Department of Natural Resources’ fish hatchery in Wild Rose, a small village in Waushara County that I’m somewhat familiar with, having been born at the hospital there. The hospital still exists, although it no longer has a birthing center.
To get to the fish hatchery for the field trip, we traveled through Plainfield, another Waushara County village. Because it was Halloween time, the boys in my vehicle were talking about Jason, Freddy and other fictional horror characters. Inspired by their talk and the location of where we were, I decided to give them some of the history of Plainfield’s most famous citizen – Ed Gein.
For those unfamiliar with Ed Gein, he was a man who killed a Plainfield hardware store clerk one morning during hunting season 55 years ago, and then took her body back to his rural home. Officers investigating the woman’s disappearance traced her back to his home where they found a number of other not-so-pleasant discoveries tied to grave-robbing he had committed. The murder, his grave-robbing and at least one other possible murder attributed to him a few years earlier spurred national media coverage and later inspired some of the fictional horror characters the boys in my vehicle were discussing.
The people of Plainfield, who still don’t like to talk about Gein to this day, burned his house down in an attempt to erase the horror he had suddenly scarred on such an extraordinarily ordinary village. The legal process in Waushara County worked quickly to get him out of its system, too, as a judge quickly found him unfit for trial and sent him to a hospital for the criminally insane. (He was convicted in 1968 of the murder after the initial ruling was overturned; however, he was sentenced to life in a mental hospital after it was determined he was legally insane.)
Having worked in Waushara County as a reporter for a decade, I knew many of the people who dealt with the case and knew Gein. All of them, like the people of Plainfield, talked little about the case. During my tenure there someone stole Gein’s gravestone in the Plainfield Cemetery and tried to sell it on eBay; they were later busted for the crime and the gravestone was recovered. The sheriff stored it in his office, realizing that to put it back on his grave would only invite others to do the same.
I told the boys in my vehicle all of this, along with the fact that my son’s great-grandfather used to volunteer at the mental hospital where Gein lived during his final years. He played checkers with Gein, saying he was just like anyone else. “I’d bring him home for dinner,” he often told his wife. She, of course, told him that would never happen.
The boys were fascinated with my lesson, and on the return trip wanted me to give it again. I obliged, once again leaving out the gorier parts of the story.
I told my wife about our discussion later, and she quickly pointed out that it may not have been an appropriate lesson. It’s two weeks later and I haven’t been reprimanded by the school or any upset parents about it, so I’m assuming I’m in the clear. Then again I haven’t been asked to chaperone any of the upcoming field trips.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 16, 2012.
The class went to the Department of Natural Resources’ fish hatchery in Wild Rose, a small village in Waushara County that I’m somewhat familiar with, having been born at the hospital there. The hospital still exists, although it no longer has a birthing center.
To get to the fish hatchery for the field trip, we traveled through Plainfield, another Waushara County village. Because it was Halloween time, the boys in my vehicle were talking about Jason, Freddy and other fictional horror characters. Inspired by their talk and the location of where we were, I decided to give them some of the history of Plainfield’s most famous citizen – Ed Gein.
For those unfamiliar with Ed Gein, he was a man who killed a Plainfield hardware store clerk one morning during hunting season 55 years ago, and then took her body back to his rural home. Officers investigating the woman’s disappearance traced her back to his home where they found a number of other not-so-pleasant discoveries tied to grave-robbing he had committed. The murder, his grave-robbing and at least one other possible murder attributed to him a few years earlier spurred national media coverage and later inspired some of the fictional horror characters the boys in my vehicle were discussing.
The people of Plainfield, who still don’t like to talk about Gein to this day, burned his house down in an attempt to erase the horror he had suddenly scarred on such an extraordinarily ordinary village. The legal process in Waushara County worked quickly to get him out of its system, too, as a judge quickly found him unfit for trial and sent him to a hospital for the criminally insane. (He was convicted in 1968 of the murder after the initial ruling was overturned; however, he was sentenced to life in a mental hospital after it was determined he was legally insane.)
Having worked in Waushara County as a reporter for a decade, I knew many of the people who dealt with the case and knew Gein. All of them, like the people of Plainfield, talked little about the case. During my tenure there someone stole Gein’s gravestone in the Plainfield Cemetery and tried to sell it on eBay; they were later busted for the crime and the gravestone was recovered. The sheriff stored it in his office, realizing that to put it back on his grave would only invite others to do the same.
I told the boys in my vehicle all of this, along with the fact that my son’s great-grandfather used to volunteer at the mental hospital where Gein lived during his final years. He played checkers with Gein, saying he was just like anyone else. “I’d bring him home for dinner,” he often told his wife. She, of course, told him that would never happen.
The boys were fascinated with my lesson, and on the return trip wanted me to give it again. I obliged, once again leaving out the gorier parts of the story.
I told my wife about our discussion later, and she quickly pointed out that it may not have been an appropriate lesson. It’s two weeks later and I haven’t been reprimanded by the school or any upset parents about it, so I’m assuming I’m in the clear. Then again I haven’t been asked to chaperone any of the upcoming field trips.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 16, 2012.
Test answers show ‘Kids Say the Darndest Things’
Remember the Bill Cosby-hosted show “Kids Say the Darndest Things”? I don’t remember many specifics about it, except that he would ask young kids simple questions and often received funny answers in return – the type of answer only a kid give. The show is long gone, but thanks to the Internet a regurgitated version of this show is available at www.happyplace.com.
This website features a link it calls “Unintentionally inappropriate test responses from children” that gathers just that: answers to test questions that are funny because they are inappropriate, although most often the children giving the answer don’t realize it. Kids say the darndest things, after all. I’d like to share some of them with you.
One test features a photo with two of the three letters of that photo below it. Children are required to fill in the missing letter. For example, a picture of a rat is underscored by r_t, with the correct answer being “a” to make rat. Another picture features a sad face with s_d under it. The child answering the question put a “t” in the blank to make “std.” While unintentional, I think most people would probably agree that a STD would be an appropriate reason to have a sad face.
Another test asks students to use their mastery of the Spanish language to issue commands to their sisters. The kid taking this test tried to get out of this by answering “I don’t have a sister.” Good luck with that answer.
Another test includes a line graph and a math problem. The kid didn’t bother with the math problem but took his time drawing an eye between two peaks in the line graph and then writing that it was the Eye of Sauron from J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. I’d give him extra credit for the effort, but the teacher wasn’t as impressed, writing “ALEX NO” by it.
Kids are well aware of sarcasm judging by one kid’s answer to a question about whether they’d choose barnacles or seahorses for an aquarium they are setting up for a younger sibling. “Seriously?” the kid answered. “You want me to choose between a seahorse, a very exotic beautiful sea animal, or a barnacle, a creature that just sits around and does nothing. You’ve got to be kidding me. What kid of idiot would be like ‘Oh, let’s make a super fun aquarium and fill it with barnacles?’” The kid has a good point. Maybe teachers should think of better test questions.
Young children are given questions about their fathers in another test, and young little D.J. was brutally honest with his answers about his father Derrick. According to D.J., his father does “everything” at work, his favorite drink is beer, his favorite food is steak, his favorite hobby is sleeping, and he likes to cook “nothing.” Derrick is also 99-feet tall, according to his son.
In a similar assignment, one kid said “play with me” when asked what his father can’t do and “kids” when asked what his father doesn’t like. However, according to the kid, one day his father will “die” and the kid will always “come to his grave” the youngster answered. I guess this kid won’t hold any grudges for the father not playing with him or her.
One girl, in saying what her mom should do less of, answered “drink wine.” She accompanied her answer with a drawing of her mom happily drinking wine. I’m thinking her mom may have needed some wine after seeing that answer.
Another kid gained and lost hope for future ambitions during the course of answering a question about his or her future dream. “I want to be a nurse. Nurse can study math. But I can’t study math. I don’t like math. So I can’t be a nurse. And I don’t have dream now,” the answer read. Stay away from grammar-related jobs, too.
According to one kid, the best solution to overpopulation is “The Hunger Games.” Short and concise, sure, but it’s not the answer the teacher was probably seeking.
Spelling is important; otherwise, you might come up with this answer: “Something I like about my school is meth.” Or maybe this kid was just a fan of the show “Breaking Bad.”
One kid was realistic when he drew a picture of what he would look like 100 years from now, as the test asked him to do. He drew a picture of a gravestone, put his name on it and wrote “R.I.P.” Hopefully the teacher didn’t mark it wrong.
Another test asked students to draw a sketch of “the situation” as described in a math problem. One student drew a picture of a muscle-bound young man, in reference to the guy known as “The Situation” on MTV’s “Jersey Shore.”
One test asked students to name four heavy metals and their symbols. The responding kid wasn’t good at chemistry, but he’d get an “A” in music and art classes, as he answered the question with Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer and Anthrax, accompanied by the heavy metal bands’ logos. Heck, I’d give him an “A+” for this answer.
I’ll leave readers with an answer from a kid who needs to brush up on his spelling skills. “Tomorrow I am not going to be here because I am going to be in…” The kid meant to write Virginia, I believe, but instead he misspelled it as a woman’s body part that begins with the letter “v.” I won’t make any sarcastic remarks about this error.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 9, 2012.
This website features a link it calls “Unintentionally inappropriate test responses from children” that gathers just that: answers to test questions that are funny because they are inappropriate, although most often the children giving the answer don’t realize it. Kids say the darndest things, after all. I’d like to share some of them with you.
One test features a photo with two of the three letters of that photo below it. Children are required to fill in the missing letter. For example, a picture of a rat is underscored by r_t, with the correct answer being “a” to make rat. Another picture features a sad face with s_d under it. The child answering the question put a “t” in the blank to make “std.” While unintentional, I think most people would probably agree that a STD would be an appropriate reason to have a sad face.
Another test asks students to use their mastery of the Spanish language to issue commands to their sisters. The kid taking this test tried to get out of this by answering “I don’t have a sister.” Good luck with that answer.
Another test includes a line graph and a math problem. The kid didn’t bother with the math problem but took his time drawing an eye between two peaks in the line graph and then writing that it was the Eye of Sauron from J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. I’d give him extra credit for the effort, but the teacher wasn’t as impressed, writing “ALEX NO” by it.
Kids are well aware of sarcasm judging by one kid’s answer to a question about whether they’d choose barnacles or seahorses for an aquarium they are setting up for a younger sibling. “Seriously?” the kid answered. “You want me to choose between a seahorse, a very exotic beautiful sea animal, or a barnacle, a creature that just sits around and does nothing. You’ve got to be kidding me. What kid of idiot would be like ‘Oh, let’s make a super fun aquarium and fill it with barnacles?’” The kid has a good point. Maybe teachers should think of better test questions.
Young children are given questions about their fathers in another test, and young little D.J. was brutally honest with his answers about his father Derrick. According to D.J., his father does “everything” at work, his favorite drink is beer, his favorite food is steak, his favorite hobby is sleeping, and he likes to cook “nothing.” Derrick is also 99-feet tall, according to his son.
In a similar assignment, one kid said “play with me” when asked what his father can’t do and “kids” when asked what his father doesn’t like. However, according to the kid, one day his father will “die” and the kid will always “come to his grave” the youngster answered. I guess this kid won’t hold any grudges for the father not playing with him or her.
One girl, in saying what her mom should do less of, answered “drink wine.” She accompanied her answer with a drawing of her mom happily drinking wine. I’m thinking her mom may have needed some wine after seeing that answer.
Another kid gained and lost hope for future ambitions during the course of answering a question about his or her future dream. “I want to be a nurse. Nurse can study math. But I can’t study math. I don’t like math. So I can’t be a nurse. And I don’t have dream now,” the answer read. Stay away from grammar-related jobs, too.
According to one kid, the best solution to overpopulation is “The Hunger Games.” Short and concise, sure, but it’s not the answer the teacher was probably seeking.
Spelling is important; otherwise, you might come up with this answer: “Something I like about my school is meth.” Or maybe this kid was just a fan of the show “Breaking Bad.”
One kid was realistic when he drew a picture of what he would look like 100 years from now, as the test asked him to do. He drew a picture of a gravestone, put his name on it and wrote “R.I.P.” Hopefully the teacher didn’t mark it wrong.
Another test asked students to draw a sketch of “the situation” as described in a math problem. One student drew a picture of a muscle-bound young man, in reference to the guy known as “The Situation” on MTV’s “Jersey Shore.”
One test asked students to name four heavy metals and their symbols. The responding kid wasn’t good at chemistry, but he’d get an “A” in music and art classes, as he answered the question with Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer and Anthrax, accompanied by the heavy metal bands’ logos. Heck, I’d give him an “A+” for this answer.
I’ll leave readers with an answer from a kid who needs to brush up on his spelling skills. “Tomorrow I am not going to be here because I am going to be in…” The kid meant to write Virginia, I believe, but instead he misspelled it as a woman’s body part that begins with the letter “v.” I won’t make any sarcastic remarks about this error.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 9, 2012.
New houses don’t necessarily come without home projects
One might think people who build a new home won’t have any house projects for at least a few years. After all, everything should be new. That’s not the case at all at my home, which was built just last year. This weekend we finished our third major house project of the year.
The first was the installation of a lawn and some landscaping around the home. We opted to wait until the spring after our home was constructed, because we were too busy last summer and fall to get to it.
The second was converting the spare bedroom into a baby’s room. This project was necessary because of the unexpected but much appreciated baby we had this summer. The old saying about babies coming with new houses couldn’t have been any more accurate in our case. This project included installing chair rail around the room, repainting it in baby friendly colors (take away your own meaning on whatever that might mean) and refinishing an old dresser to make it like new again.
Our final project of the year was to make our room dedicated for an office into an actual working office space.
Since moving in the house last summer that room was the one we often closed off to visitors because it was a bit of a disaster. It had a small desk with a computer, a table for us to pile papers on and put my wife’s scrapbooking supplies underneath, a messy bookshelf, and boxes and other “it doesn’t have a real home so it’s going in here” stuff.
Doing actual office work in this space was impossible because it felt as though we were in an actual episode of “Hoarders,” the popular show on A&E about people who, to put it nicely, collect stuff and let it gather in their homes. I exaggerate, of course, as animals that weren’t our two cats or our oldest son’s gerbil in a ball, weren’t going to pop out any time soon. The clutter was not conducive to working, which meant we often went to our respective work offices when we wanted to do that.
First came the purchase of cupboards and countertop for the nook in the office. A store in Plover had some great cupboards on clearance that we snatched up and somehow managed to fit in our SUV.
The second piece of the project involved buying a new desk. We went to nearly every store selling furniture in the Stevens Point area, settling on a desk we could both agree on. My wife and I have similar tastes, and we both respect the veto authority each possesses – making this a fairly easy task. The desk we both agreed on is one we will be happy with for hopefully the rest of our lives.
The third step was finding someone to install the cupboards and countertop. Gary Glennon, the general manager at The Gazette, recommended someone he’s worked with on his own house projects. Within a week this guy was at our home, installing those items and essentially finishing the project.
The only thing left to do was clean the room up and organize it. We spent the weekend doing this, which in turn allowed my wife to spend a number of hours working on work stuff at home rather than the office.
I capped off the weekend by installing Windows 8 on my computer. I’m not going to provide an in-depth review of the computer operating system, but I will say that while I liked Windows 7, I love the new version. It has suddenly made my computer fun to use again.
I’d love to say our projects at home are now done, but we’re still a long way from that happening. Next year we want to install a deck and a small shed, plant some trees, and start on our unfinished basement. By the time we finish with all these projects our house won’t be new anymore, and a new round of projects will probably be necessary.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 2, 2012.
The first was the installation of a lawn and some landscaping around the home. We opted to wait until the spring after our home was constructed, because we were too busy last summer and fall to get to it.
The second was converting the spare bedroom into a baby’s room. This project was necessary because of the unexpected but much appreciated baby we had this summer. The old saying about babies coming with new houses couldn’t have been any more accurate in our case. This project included installing chair rail around the room, repainting it in baby friendly colors (take away your own meaning on whatever that might mean) and refinishing an old dresser to make it like new again.
Our final project of the year was to make our room dedicated for an office into an actual working office space.
Since moving in the house last summer that room was the one we often closed off to visitors because it was a bit of a disaster. It had a small desk with a computer, a table for us to pile papers on and put my wife’s scrapbooking supplies underneath, a messy bookshelf, and boxes and other “it doesn’t have a real home so it’s going in here” stuff.
Doing actual office work in this space was impossible because it felt as though we were in an actual episode of “Hoarders,” the popular show on A&E about people who, to put it nicely, collect stuff and let it gather in their homes. I exaggerate, of course, as animals that weren’t our two cats or our oldest son’s gerbil in a ball, weren’t going to pop out any time soon. The clutter was not conducive to working, which meant we often went to our respective work offices when we wanted to do that.
First came the purchase of cupboards and countertop for the nook in the office. A store in Plover had some great cupboards on clearance that we snatched up and somehow managed to fit in our SUV.
The second piece of the project involved buying a new desk. We went to nearly every store selling furniture in the Stevens Point area, settling on a desk we could both agree on. My wife and I have similar tastes, and we both respect the veto authority each possesses – making this a fairly easy task. The desk we both agreed on is one we will be happy with for hopefully the rest of our lives.
The third step was finding someone to install the cupboards and countertop. Gary Glennon, the general manager at The Gazette, recommended someone he’s worked with on his own house projects. Within a week this guy was at our home, installing those items and essentially finishing the project.
The only thing left to do was clean the room up and organize it. We spent the weekend doing this, which in turn allowed my wife to spend a number of hours working on work stuff at home rather than the office.
I capped off the weekend by installing Windows 8 on my computer. I’m not going to provide an in-depth review of the computer operating system, but I will say that while I liked Windows 7, I love the new version. It has suddenly made my computer fun to use again.
I’d love to say our projects at home are now done, but we’re still a long way from that happening. Next year we want to install a deck and a small shed, plant some trees, and start on our unfinished basement. By the time we finish with all these projects our house won’t be new anymore, and a new round of projects will probably be necessary.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Nov. 2, 2012.
Coffee should be stirred, not shaken
Old habits die hard. New ones do, too.
This week, after making myself a cup of coffee that included a creamer and a packet of sugar, I put the lid on it and decided to mix it by shaking it.
“Decided” is a strong word because my action was a force of habit associated with something else, and because of it I ended up with hot coffee all over my pants. Smooth move, Steuck.
At first I couldn’t figure out why I mixed my coffee by shaking it. It’s something I’ve never done before, as I know the consequences of shaking something that isn’t meant to be shaken. Sure, it had a lid, and thank god it did as it kept most of my coffee in the cup, but the lid had a big hole designed for coffee to go through slowly and into my caffeine-addicted mouth. Not my white, less caffeinated pants.
Because it happened at work, I had to explain myself. Coming up with an explanation for something you’re not quite sure why you did in the first place can be amusing. “I know I shook my coffee for a reason, but I’m not sure what that reason is?”
My first and only theory was because I had a Bloody Mary the night before, and maybe I had shaken that like a martini. Nope. It was stirred. And I certainly hope a once-a-week Bloody Mary indulgence isn’t causing me to do things I normally wouldn’t do. If so, then maybe I’m putting a little too much vodka in my drink and not enough Bloody Mary mix.
Thankfully that’s not the case, as one of my co-workers, Ann, was able to determine. “Does Declan take formula?” she asked.
Declan, my 3-month-old son, does take formula occasionally. And to make formula, I put a couple of scoops of the stuff in a bottle of water, put the nipple on it and then, you guessed it, shake.
I’m not a light shaker either. I make sure the formula completely mixes with the water, because if I was a baby I wouldn’t want to drink half-mixed formula-water. It better be as close to my mother’s milk as it possibly can. Declan can’t shake it himself, much less hold the bottle on his own, so it’s up to his parents to do it right.
So when I made my coffee that morning, I was in baby mode. Hopefully I’ll never make that mistake again, but knowing me, I’ll probably associate some baby-mode habit with something non-baby in my life. My fear is I’ll “talk baby” to someone I’m interviewing for a story, leading him or her to wonder what the big oaf is doing.
The big oaf just doesn’t know how to shake new habits. Or his coffee.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 26, 2012.
This week, after making myself a cup of coffee that included a creamer and a packet of sugar, I put the lid on it and decided to mix it by shaking it.
“Decided” is a strong word because my action was a force of habit associated with something else, and because of it I ended up with hot coffee all over my pants. Smooth move, Steuck.
At first I couldn’t figure out why I mixed my coffee by shaking it. It’s something I’ve never done before, as I know the consequences of shaking something that isn’t meant to be shaken. Sure, it had a lid, and thank god it did as it kept most of my coffee in the cup, but the lid had a big hole designed for coffee to go through slowly and into my caffeine-addicted mouth. Not my white, less caffeinated pants.
Because it happened at work, I had to explain myself. Coming up with an explanation for something you’re not quite sure why you did in the first place can be amusing. “I know I shook my coffee for a reason, but I’m not sure what that reason is?”
My first and only theory was because I had a Bloody Mary the night before, and maybe I had shaken that like a martini. Nope. It was stirred. And I certainly hope a once-a-week Bloody Mary indulgence isn’t causing me to do things I normally wouldn’t do. If so, then maybe I’m putting a little too much vodka in my drink and not enough Bloody Mary mix.
Thankfully that’s not the case, as one of my co-workers, Ann, was able to determine. “Does Declan take formula?” she asked.
Declan, my 3-month-old son, does take formula occasionally. And to make formula, I put a couple of scoops of the stuff in a bottle of water, put the nipple on it and then, you guessed it, shake.
I’m not a light shaker either. I make sure the formula completely mixes with the water, because if I was a baby I wouldn’t want to drink half-mixed formula-water. It better be as close to my mother’s milk as it possibly can. Declan can’t shake it himself, much less hold the bottle on his own, so it’s up to his parents to do it right.
So when I made my coffee that morning, I was in baby mode. Hopefully I’ll never make that mistake again, but knowing me, I’ll probably associate some baby-mode habit with something non-baby in my life. My fear is I’ll “talk baby” to someone I’m interviewing for a story, leading him or her to wonder what the big oaf is doing.
The big oaf just doesn’t know how to shake new habits. Or his coffee.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 26, 2012.
One can never be too young or too old for public displays of affection
Public displays of affection, or as youngsters might call them – PDAs – are usually not well liked. “Get a room” can often be heard to people showing their affections to another person in public through kissing or heavy hugging. Many of us may have committed PDAs in our younger years, but as we get older we tend to frown on them and join the “Get a room” crowd.
My wife, Jenny, and I joined this crowd many years ago, probably before we were married and maybe even before we started dating. I was in my mid-20s when we became a couple and she had just graduated from college. PDA was already in our past.
This past weekend we celebrated our ninth anniversary, and while we didn’t go on a PDA spree during our night on the town, we had fun watching a young couple on their own PDA marathon at a local establishment.
The night began with the arrival of the babysitter, a person who is like an angel for working parents that normally spend all of their free time with their kids and little time alone with each other.
We had reservations at @1800, a restaurant we usually can afford to go to just once a year, and started by having drinks. The crowd at this restaurant was our age and older, and none of the people there were young enough to be foolish enough to carry out PDA. Those that were there were treated to world-class meals, though, as my salmon and Jenny’s New York strip steak proved.
Following our meal we went to Michelle’s, another one of the area’s many great restaurants. We were there just for a drink, and once again the restaurant showed its worthiness by serving some great cocktails.
The crowd here was a little younger than the one at @1800, but nearly everyone there was past college age or older. No PDA was happening at Michelle’s.
Our final stop of the evening, Sugar Bar in downtown Stevens Point, is a good stop for what I call “girlie drinks.” Sure, they serve martinis, but they are the type that are flavored and cater to females more than guys. I’m sure the women in Mitt Romney’s binders would love this place, and many guys would too because the girls do.
The crowd was mixed – some older than us, some our age and some yet in college. It was these college students who needed to get a room.
They sat slightly behind us and to our left. As far as I could tell they weren’t drinking, but that’s only because they were too interested in each other’s mouths.
We laughed at the sight at first, and I seriously thought about telling them to “Get a room.” But then I realized it was kind of fun seeing something so young. Those days were behind us – not necessarily because we’re too old but more because we care too much about what others think. Seeing some PDA was a nice reminder of our youth and what it means to be carefree.
We’ll never get back to those days, until maybe we’re really old. I suggested to Jenny that maybe we come back here after we retire decades from now, and then go PDA crazy. What would the younger people around us say? Would it be cause for people to walk out and leave? Or would they cheer for a couple of old geezers making out as though they were in high school or college?
It’s a fun thought, and maybe someday we’ll do it. Just not yet. We’re just not young or old enough for that right now. Maybe somebody will save this column and send it to me 35 years from now, reminding me of what Jenny and I need to do.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 19, 2012.
My wife, Jenny, and I joined this crowd many years ago, probably before we were married and maybe even before we started dating. I was in my mid-20s when we became a couple and she had just graduated from college. PDA was already in our past.
This past weekend we celebrated our ninth anniversary, and while we didn’t go on a PDA spree during our night on the town, we had fun watching a young couple on their own PDA marathon at a local establishment.
The night began with the arrival of the babysitter, a person who is like an angel for working parents that normally spend all of their free time with their kids and little time alone with each other.
We had reservations at @1800, a restaurant we usually can afford to go to just once a year, and started by having drinks. The crowd at this restaurant was our age and older, and none of the people there were young enough to be foolish enough to carry out PDA. Those that were there were treated to world-class meals, though, as my salmon and Jenny’s New York strip steak proved.
Following our meal we went to Michelle’s, another one of the area’s many great restaurants. We were there just for a drink, and once again the restaurant showed its worthiness by serving some great cocktails.
The crowd here was a little younger than the one at @1800, but nearly everyone there was past college age or older. No PDA was happening at Michelle’s.
Our final stop of the evening, Sugar Bar in downtown Stevens Point, is a good stop for what I call “girlie drinks.” Sure, they serve martinis, but they are the type that are flavored and cater to females more than guys. I’m sure the women in Mitt Romney’s binders would love this place, and many guys would too because the girls do.
The crowd was mixed – some older than us, some our age and some yet in college. It was these college students who needed to get a room.
They sat slightly behind us and to our left. As far as I could tell they weren’t drinking, but that’s only because they were too interested in each other’s mouths.
We laughed at the sight at first, and I seriously thought about telling them to “Get a room.” But then I realized it was kind of fun seeing something so young. Those days were behind us – not necessarily because we’re too old but more because we care too much about what others think. Seeing some PDA was a nice reminder of our youth and what it means to be carefree.
We’ll never get back to those days, until maybe we’re really old. I suggested to Jenny that maybe we come back here after we retire decades from now, and then go PDA crazy. What would the younger people around us say? Would it be cause for people to walk out and leave? Or would they cheer for a couple of old geezers making out as though they were in high school or college?
It’s a fun thought, and maybe someday we’ll do it. Just not yet. We’re just not young or old enough for that right now. Maybe somebody will save this column and send it to me 35 years from now, reminding me of what Jenny and I need to do.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 19, 2012.
Film reviews in Gazette may have disappeared but they might not be extinct
Once upon a time I used to write movie reviews for The Gazette. And then they disappeared without an explanation as to where they went.
The simple version is I don’t have enough time in a week to see a film at the movie theater and then spend an hour or so writing a review.
The more complicated version says lack of time is a big factor, but the quality of films when compared to the prices of tickets and other movie theater amenities made the effort something I no longer wanted to do. In other words, I’ve pretty much stopped going to the theater.
Since August of last year, I’ve only seen two films – “The Avengers” and “The Amazing Spider-Man” – at the cinema. A big fan of comic book movies, they were both must sees, especially since my 7-year-old is also a big fan of such films. Shelling out nearly $15 for two tickets and then another $15 or so for popcorn and soda at each movie was well worth the price, and even more so since we both loved what we saw.
But $30 for “Men in Black 3,” “John Carter” and “Red Tails” doesn’t seem right. Add in the rude movie theater goers who play with their cellphones, talk loudly or eat popcorn like pigs during the film and one is left with a “wait until home video” attitude.
Because the time between movie theater release and home video release is only several months nowadays, waiting to watch films from the comfort of your home is much easier than it used to be when films took six months or longer to come to VHS, then DVD and now digital direct to home.
Another factor has come into play for me, too: the great quality of television. Nowadays, I’ll take an episode of a great television show over any film. Among the shows I like: “Breaking Bad,” “Mad Men,” “The Walking Dead,” “Fringe,” “Community,” Parks & Recreation” and “Homeland.” All of these shows pack more drama and/or comedy in their tightly written scripts than even the best films of the year.
If you don’t believe me, look at last year’s Best Picture nominees. Some are good, others are so-so, but none really jump out at you as outstanding. While films will never die, and I hope they don’t, they need a new crop of filmmakers to inject some life into them that is sorely missing right now. I like Steven Spielberg as much as the next guy, but he’s not going to be making films for that much longer, and until someone steps up and takes his reins, film isn’t going to be as good as television.
Maybe someday my film reviews will return to The Gazette. My graduate studies at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point will eventually end and I’ll get some time back to do them, but only as long as the filmmakers comply by making movies that are worth the cost and energy required of me to see them.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 12, 2012.
The simple version is I don’t have enough time in a week to see a film at the movie theater and then spend an hour or so writing a review.
The more complicated version says lack of time is a big factor, but the quality of films when compared to the prices of tickets and other movie theater amenities made the effort something I no longer wanted to do. In other words, I’ve pretty much stopped going to the theater.
Since August of last year, I’ve only seen two films – “The Avengers” and “The Amazing Spider-Man” – at the cinema. A big fan of comic book movies, they were both must sees, especially since my 7-year-old is also a big fan of such films. Shelling out nearly $15 for two tickets and then another $15 or so for popcorn and soda at each movie was well worth the price, and even more so since we both loved what we saw.
But $30 for “Men in Black 3,” “John Carter” and “Red Tails” doesn’t seem right. Add in the rude movie theater goers who play with their cellphones, talk loudly or eat popcorn like pigs during the film and one is left with a “wait until home video” attitude.
Because the time between movie theater release and home video release is only several months nowadays, waiting to watch films from the comfort of your home is much easier than it used to be when films took six months or longer to come to VHS, then DVD and now digital direct to home.
Another factor has come into play for me, too: the great quality of television. Nowadays, I’ll take an episode of a great television show over any film. Among the shows I like: “Breaking Bad,” “Mad Men,” “The Walking Dead,” “Fringe,” “Community,” Parks & Recreation” and “Homeland.” All of these shows pack more drama and/or comedy in their tightly written scripts than even the best films of the year.
If you don’t believe me, look at last year’s Best Picture nominees. Some are good, others are so-so, but none really jump out at you as outstanding. While films will never die, and I hope they don’t, they need a new crop of filmmakers to inject some life into them that is sorely missing right now. I like Steven Spielberg as much as the next guy, but he’s not going to be making films for that much longer, and until someone steps up and takes his reins, film isn’t going to be as good as television.
Maybe someday my film reviews will return to The Gazette. My graduate studies at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point will eventually end and I’ll get some time back to do them, but only as long as the filmmakers comply by making movies that are worth the cost and energy required of me to see them.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 12, 2012.
Failure at Corn Maze still results in afternoon of fun
Getting an “A” in a graduate course at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point is easy compared to trying to pass the challenge of the Corn Maze at Trzebiatowski Farms at 7580 County Road BB near Bancroft.
My wife, Jenny, and I took our two sons – 7-year-old Braden and 3-month-old Declan – to the Corn Maze Saturday, Sept. 29, as an opportunity to take advantage of a beautiful fall day. Although I had never been to the maze itself, I was familiar with it through my work at The Gazette, having written articles in previous years about it.
I knew members of the Trzebiatowski and Hintz families have been holding it for the past five years as a fundraiser for the Stevens Point FFA Alumni, an organization that uses the funds to support FFA programs in local high schools. Concerned because of cutbacks in those programs, the FFA Alumni wanted to make sure schools continued to educate students about a career choice that employs thousands of people locally.
I also knew the corn maze was made on more than 100,000 square feet of a 306,000-square-foot cornfield. Conquering the maze would not be an easy challenge.
Years ago, during my Waushara County days, I accepted the challenge of a much smaller corn maze in Wild Rose, completing it within minutes. Reach a dead end, go back and take the other option. I expected more of the same with this maze, but shortly after we entered I realized we weren’t coming out any time soon.
We encountered our first fork in the maze within 100 feet. I think we had two choices to take, but I can’t recall because there were often three or four choices, and sometimes more, after that. Going back to retrace quickly became impossible.
My strategy at first was to take the paths closest to the outer edge of the corn maze, figuring those would most likely take us around the entire cornfield and to the maze’s exit. Such thinking seems logical, as any maze designer will want to make sure people cover a lot of ground. This strategy seemed to work initially, as we didn’t have to go back that often to retrace ground.
Halfway through our endeavor it appeared as though the strategy was working to perfection because we were on the back end of the maze, heading to the right side of the field where we wanted to be to work our way to the exit.
And then we reached a dead end. Before we reached it Jenny said she hoped we didn’t hit one because we’d be going back a long way. “No, this is the right way,” I reassured her. As usual, though, I was wrong.
At this point I started singing an original song I called “Children of the Corn,” based on the horror movie of the same name, one of which I have never actually seen. Since I assumed the movie features children terrorizing people who wander into their cornfield, I thought a spooky song was appropriate. I liked the song, Jenny didn’t like my vocal abilities, and to my surprise Braden told me to stop it. I expected him to start singing along with me. I’d like to think Declan, who was attached to his mother via one of those baby swaddlers, liked my performance.
While no children popped out from the maze to terrorize us, we did encounter a few other groups who seemed just as lost, including one with a woman who had so much hairspray in her hair it absorbed the beautiful fall smells of the cornfield. I never imagined being in a cornfield that smelled like a beauty parlor.
After half an hour of wandering around to my awesome vocal abilities and the smell of hairspray, arguing which ways we needed to go and avoiding possible murderous children, we found ourselves back at the start of the maze. “I want to be done,” said Braden. Me too, so we went out through the in gate as though we had just conquered the maze.
Far from it, but we had a great time failing the challenge.
We then enjoyed some sodas, pot belly pig mini-races and picking a pumpkin from a patch there, capping off a perfect afternoon.
Braden wants to go back at night for the Halloween maze. Maybe then we’ll see encounter the “Children of the Corn” I sang about.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 5, 2012.
My wife, Jenny, and I took our two sons – 7-year-old Braden and 3-month-old Declan – to the Corn Maze Saturday, Sept. 29, as an opportunity to take advantage of a beautiful fall day. Although I had never been to the maze itself, I was familiar with it through my work at The Gazette, having written articles in previous years about it.
I knew members of the Trzebiatowski and Hintz families have been holding it for the past five years as a fundraiser for the Stevens Point FFA Alumni, an organization that uses the funds to support FFA programs in local high schools. Concerned because of cutbacks in those programs, the FFA Alumni wanted to make sure schools continued to educate students about a career choice that employs thousands of people locally.
I also knew the corn maze was made on more than 100,000 square feet of a 306,000-square-foot cornfield. Conquering the maze would not be an easy challenge.
Years ago, during my Waushara County days, I accepted the challenge of a much smaller corn maze in Wild Rose, completing it within minutes. Reach a dead end, go back and take the other option. I expected more of the same with this maze, but shortly after we entered I realized we weren’t coming out any time soon.
We encountered our first fork in the maze within 100 feet. I think we had two choices to take, but I can’t recall because there were often three or four choices, and sometimes more, after that. Going back to retrace quickly became impossible.
My strategy at first was to take the paths closest to the outer edge of the corn maze, figuring those would most likely take us around the entire cornfield and to the maze’s exit. Such thinking seems logical, as any maze designer will want to make sure people cover a lot of ground. This strategy seemed to work initially, as we didn’t have to go back that often to retrace ground.
Halfway through our endeavor it appeared as though the strategy was working to perfection because we were on the back end of the maze, heading to the right side of the field where we wanted to be to work our way to the exit.
And then we reached a dead end. Before we reached it Jenny said she hoped we didn’t hit one because we’d be going back a long way. “No, this is the right way,” I reassured her. As usual, though, I was wrong.
At this point I started singing an original song I called “Children of the Corn,” based on the horror movie of the same name, one of which I have never actually seen. Since I assumed the movie features children terrorizing people who wander into their cornfield, I thought a spooky song was appropriate. I liked the song, Jenny didn’t like my vocal abilities, and to my surprise Braden told me to stop it. I expected him to start singing along with me. I’d like to think Declan, who was attached to his mother via one of those baby swaddlers, liked my performance.
While no children popped out from the maze to terrorize us, we did encounter a few other groups who seemed just as lost, including one with a woman who had so much hairspray in her hair it absorbed the beautiful fall smells of the cornfield. I never imagined being in a cornfield that smelled like a beauty parlor.
After half an hour of wandering around to my awesome vocal abilities and the smell of hairspray, arguing which ways we needed to go and avoiding possible murderous children, we found ourselves back at the start of the maze. “I want to be done,” said Braden. Me too, so we went out through the in gate as though we had just conquered the maze.
Far from it, but we had a great time failing the challenge.
We then enjoyed some sodas, pot belly pig mini-races and picking a pumpkin from a patch there, capping off a perfect afternoon.
Braden wants to go back at night for the Halloween maze. Maybe then we’ll see encounter the “Children of the Corn” I sang about.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Oct. 5, 2012.
Portable devices don’t mix well with toilets
I met someone last weekend who had just lost her cellphone in a toilet – actually a port-a-potty to be exact. Good luck retrieving that one.
I know someone else who has ruined several phones by dropping them into the toilet. Either she hasn’t liked her phones or she’s a klutz who likes to use her phone in the bathroom, which I’m guessing is not a good combination.
My wife cracked her iPod touch recently after dropping it several times.
The secretary of a friend of mine dropped some canned goods on her iPad, smashing it.
A Scrabble buddy of mine discovered his iPad was cracked one day. He’s not sure how that occurred, but he blames the cleaning lady at his office.
I could keep going on with a list of ways people have broken, lost or ruined handheld electronic devices, and I’m sure every one of you has your own story or knows somebody else’s story about technological disasters on a portable scale. I won’t, simply because such occurrences have become common in today’s society.
I’m knocking on wood right now as I write this, because the only device I’ve ever ruined was an old-school cellphone (not the Zach Morris “Saved by the Bell” type, but one without “smart” capabilities) that I accidently left in my pants and then washed. I’m fortunate as I’m surrounded by these devices – an iPod touch, iPad, smartphone, PlayStation Vita and my son’s Nintendo 3DS, to name a few.
Some of us pay monthly fees to insure these devices, while others risk it without insurance. My phone is insured, but my other devices aren’t, only because they don’t come with contracts. Should I ever lose or break one of those devices, I’ll have to use my own money to fix or replace it.
I’m glad I don’t live in New York City, as the theft of Apple products like my iPod touch and iPad has become a major crime issue. Since the beginning of the year, thieves have stolen 1,447 Apple devices in the city, which is a 40-percent increase from 2011.
To combat the crime, police officers there are warning people to keep those devices hidden and out of the reach of others when they take them out in the public, and they have set up booths outside Apple stores to show people how to turn on electronic tracking devices those items have.
I’m sure police officers there are more than happy to spend more time teaching people how to prevent Apple thefts than what they used to spend a lot of time doing – solving murders. Murder rates in the city are at a historic low, probably because all the potential murderers are either busy stealing or using Apple products.
I’m not sure what the theft rate on those products is in Stevens Point, but I’m guessing it’s not nearly as bad. Toilets seem to be a bigger problem for those devices. Maybe they can set up shop outside a bathroom and teach people to keep those items in their pockets.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Sept. 28, 2012.
I know someone else who has ruined several phones by dropping them into the toilet. Either she hasn’t liked her phones or she’s a klutz who likes to use her phone in the bathroom, which I’m guessing is not a good combination.
My wife cracked her iPod touch recently after dropping it several times.
The secretary of a friend of mine dropped some canned goods on her iPad, smashing it.
A Scrabble buddy of mine discovered his iPad was cracked one day. He’s not sure how that occurred, but he blames the cleaning lady at his office.
I could keep going on with a list of ways people have broken, lost or ruined handheld electronic devices, and I’m sure every one of you has your own story or knows somebody else’s story about technological disasters on a portable scale. I won’t, simply because such occurrences have become common in today’s society.
I’m knocking on wood right now as I write this, because the only device I’ve ever ruined was an old-school cellphone (not the Zach Morris “Saved by the Bell” type, but one without “smart” capabilities) that I accidently left in my pants and then washed. I’m fortunate as I’m surrounded by these devices – an iPod touch, iPad, smartphone, PlayStation Vita and my son’s Nintendo 3DS, to name a few.
Some of us pay monthly fees to insure these devices, while others risk it without insurance. My phone is insured, but my other devices aren’t, only because they don’t come with contracts. Should I ever lose or break one of those devices, I’ll have to use my own money to fix or replace it.
I’m glad I don’t live in New York City, as the theft of Apple products like my iPod touch and iPad has become a major crime issue. Since the beginning of the year, thieves have stolen 1,447 Apple devices in the city, which is a 40-percent increase from 2011.
To combat the crime, police officers there are warning people to keep those devices hidden and out of the reach of others when they take them out in the public, and they have set up booths outside Apple stores to show people how to turn on electronic tracking devices those items have.
I’m sure police officers there are more than happy to spend more time teaching people how to prevent Apple thefts than what they used to spend a lot of time doing – solving murders. Murder rates in the city are at a historic low, probably because all the potential murderers are either busy stealing or using Apple products.
I’m not sure what the theft rate on those products is in Stevens Point, but I’m guessing it’s not nearly as bad. Toilets seem to be a bigger problem for those devices. Maybe they can set up shop outside a bathroom and teach people to keep those items in their pockets.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Sept. 28, 2012.
Defining whether one belongs to the 99, 1, 47 or 53 percent isn’t easy
It appears as though the 2012 presidential election has become all about what percentage one is. In the past year or so, it was all about whether or not you belong in the “99 percent” or the “1 percent”? And this week, after a speech Republican candidate Mitt Romney made earlier this year went viral, the question changed to whether you are in the “47 percent,” or the group nobody is really talking about, the “53 percent.”
When you combine the two clubs – for a lack of a better definition – things become much more complicated. Using myself as an example, I’m a journalist so I’m definitely not in the “1 percent,” putting me in the “99 percent” by default. If I wasn’t married, I’d definitely be in the “47 percent,” as I am a journalist after all. Fortunately I’m married, and fortunately my wife does alright when compared to me, so we are probably not in the “47 percent,” which Romney defines as people who receive government aid.
But wait. I drive, so therefore I use roads, which are provided by the government through taxpayers’ dollars. My garbage, another government service, also gets picked up every Tuesday. And the police who protect my neighborhood and the firefighters who are ready to protect or save my house should I ever need it are both provided through government services. I also watch PBS, which is a government-funded television station. And I also like going to parks and museums, which are both often supported by the government.
Now I’m confused. Do I or don’t I receive some sort of government assistance? Probably not, according to Romney, but President Barack Obama would probably argue otherwise.
Getting back to my original question then and sticking with Romney’s definition, I’m in the “53 percent.” But I don’t want that to include me in the “1 percent,” so I’m going to subtract that from the 53 percent, putting me in what I will call the “52 percent.”
This whole government assistance thing still bugs me a little, though. I receive a lot of benefits from the government, maybe not directly like some in the “47 percent” receive, but I’m pretty sure that I get more out of the government than what I put in. Yes, my taxes are high and I’d love them to be lower, but I’m not going to complain about the fact that I can drive, recreate, go to a public university at an affordable price, and do many things I couldn’t otherwise do without government assistance.
So I’m going to create a new category. Using a random figure, as it seems to me all these people coming up with these categories do, I’m in the “52 to 72 percent.” We are those who don’t receive direct government assistance, but we do enjoy government benefits, and we are not in the “1 percent.”
Confusing matters even further is the fact that the “47 percent” itself is confusing, because that appears to be closer to the “1 percent” than those in the “53 percent,” and yet everyone will tell you that’s definitely not the case. So, maybe I should change my “52 to 72” to “52 to 32.” That would include the “47 percent,” though, and that wouldn’t be right. That “1 percent” is really screwing things up.
Confused. I hope so, because I am, too. Being in the “52 to 72” or “52 to 32” is something that used to be called “middle class.” That word was lost several elections ago, though. I think I’m just going to stick with being in the “100 percent,” and try to include myself with everybody and hopefully work with all to make life better. I would think a good presidential candidate would do the same.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Sept. 21, 2012.
When you combine the two clubs – for a lack of a better definition – things become much more complicated. Using myself as an example, I’m a journalist so I’m definitely not in the “1 percent,” putting me in the “99 percent” by default. If I wasn’t married, I’d definitely be in the “47 percent,” as I am a journalist after all. Fortunately I’m married, and fortunately my wife does alright when compared to me, so we are probably not in the “47 percent,” which Romney defines as people who receive government aid.
But wait. I drive, so therefore I use roads, which are provided by the government through taxpayers’ dollars. My garbage, another government service, also gets picked up every Tuesday. And the police who protect my neighborhood and the firefighters who are ready to protect or save my house should I ever need it are both provided through government services. I also watch PBS, which is a government-funded television station. And I also like going to parks and museums, which are both often supported by the government.
Now I’m confused. Do I or don’t I receive some sort of government assistance? Probably not, according to Romney, but President Barack Obama would probably argue otherwise.
Getting back to my original question then and sticking with Romney’s definition, I’m in the “53 percent.” But I don’t want that to include me in the “1 percent,” so I’m going to subtract that from the 53 percent, putting me in what I will call the “52 percent.”
This whole government assistance thing still bugs me a little, though. I receive a lot of benefits from the government, maybe not directly like some in the “47 percent” receive, but I’m pretty sure that I get more out of the government than what I put in. Yes, my taxes are high and I’d love them to be lower, but I’m not going to complain about the fact that I can drive, recreate, go to a public university at an affordable price, and do many things I couldn’t otherwise do without government assistance.
So I’m going to create a new category. Using a random figure, as it seems to me all these people coming up with these categories do, I’m in the “52 to 72 percent.” We are those who don’t receive direct government assistance, but we do enjoy government benefits, and we are not in the “1 percent.”
Confusing matters even further is the fact that the “47 percent” itself is confusing, because that appears to be closer to the “1 percent” than those in the “53 percent,” and yet everyone will tell you that’s definitely not the case. So, maybe I should change my “52 to 72” to “52 to 32.” That would include the “47 percent,” though, and that wouldn’t be right. That “1 percent” is really screwing things up.
Confused. I hope so, because I am, too. Being in the “52 to 72” or “52 to 32” is something that used to be called “middle class.” That word was lost several elections ago, though. I think I’m just going to stick with being in the “100 percent,” and try to include myself with everybody and hopefully work with all to make life better. I would think a good presidential candidate would do the same.
* * *
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Sept. 21, 2012.
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