When is it going to happen here? When will we do something about our environment, and our cities' aesthetics?
This blight takes the form of innocent-enough plastic conveniences. If you bother to notice, you can see discarded plastic grocery shopping bags all over the place. Especially this time of year, after the snow cover melts and before the leaves come back and conceal the tangled blemishes in their branches, discarded plastic bags seem to be everywhere.
The problem is perhaps worse in urban areas, where the wind can help the lightweight trash escape from uncovered dumpsters behind apartments and shopping centers. A scene from American Beauty, parodied in popular culture by The Family Guy and on YouTube, tries to bring the problem a silver lining, but even artistry ultimately fails to put a good spin on the problem.
Vermont has a history of strong environmentalism, and has not been afraid to seek out its own direction when it comes to the best thing for its people. Vermonters enacted bottle deposits when the containers became a problem on the roadsides. We enacted Civil Union legislation to meet a need there as well. These shopping bags wind up in creeks and ditches, in treetops and on fences looking ugly and causing an environmental problem. We shouldn't just wait for Green Up Day to address the infestation.
Today though, larger cities, like our nation's capital, which face larger problems that come with larger populations are on the forefront addressing this problem, not us. We seem to have bigger fish to fry. It seems as though the Vermont legislature is working on fishing licenses and city charter changes this year instead.I suppose they are important as well.
So it is left to us, the people. We need to make an effort. We need to tell our neighbors to make the change. We need to take a stand, however quiet or refined, and say through actions and deeds that we do not need disposable bags any more. They may be easy, but they take a toll as well.
So what is the answer? We recycle. We reuse. There are lots of ways to do it. There are websites that will show you how to turn extra pillowcases and t-shirts into shopping bags. You can buy the reusable variety from the market, or from web retailers.
The question then becomes one of design and aesthetics. It is nice to show your individuality with the bags you carry. Recycling your old Duran Duran shirt would do that. You also should look at convenience and carrying ability as well.
Talking to others about the issue, the consensus seems to be that the bags should be small and convenient to carry, whether folding up to place in the shopping cart is enough, or stuffing together into a small pocket. They should be large enough to carry three cereal boxes. They should have wide enough handles to carry the weight of milk jugs. They should be washable after handling your meat, and many like the variety that can stand up on their own for easy loading and unloading.
Changing our habits is always a difficult thing to do. Whether we are quitting smoking, or adjusting our route to work because of construction, the change has to be a conscious one. This instance is no different. This is a call to reject the status quo. Say it out loud when you are confronted with the old "Paper or plastic?" question. Tell the clerk that you have brought your own. Tell them "neither". But please remember to bring your own bags with you when you go shopping, and keep the rest out of the trees and creeks of the Green Mountain State.
Cars with character
Different cars have different purposes. That is the way it is supposed to be. Carmakers acknowledge it. That is why we are not all riding around in sedans. They make minivans for families, compact cars for the economy crowd, pickups for working. Each has its place.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
Everything is not disposable
We live in a disposable culture. It is often more cost effective to throw away the old than repair it. I can remember a story I heard about a $20 printer that took $80 ink cartridges. You got a set when you bought the machine new, so buying ink was more expensive than buying a whole new machine.The guy bought four printers and sent them to the landfill when they ran out of ink. It is ridiculous.
These days the Maytag repairman is not out of work because the machines are so reliable, it is because nobody is willing to pay for the $90 house call when a new machine is only $40 more. It was not always this way. It used to be that people kept stuff running for more than a year or two. Then, if it started acting up, they fixed it. That kept repairmen in business, and helped the local economy. Isn't that a movement today?
Take my old Willys Jeep for instance. It is a perfect example of the durability of yesteryear. I needed to tune it up and get it running right for the season. I looked through the Universal Jeep Service Manual and discovered with glee that I could do the entire job without buying a thing. Engine oil and spark plugs aside, nothing is discarded. Finally, something that was built to be serviced.
It is a far throw from modern vehicles. Recently, to get a Ford truck back up to par, I saw the grimace on the owner's face when he paid a $350 bill for just one engine sensor. Sure it is a diesel, and sure, the new truck might be easier to drive most of the time than my old Willys, but that convenience sure comes with a price.
The Ford was more than ten times the original purchase price of the Universal Jeep. And replacing that one sensor, even today, costs as much as an entire new suspension on the Jeep. Admittedly, it would take ten CJs to equal the pulling power of the Ford, but that is besides the point.
I have owned my old Jeep for five years now. Over that time I have done a frame-off renovation (I call it a renovation because I am not restoring it to original form, and I am upgrading to more modern pieces where it is possible.) I have been amazed how much easier it has been to work on than modern vehicles, including other Jeeps in my fleet.
I might have broken off ten bolt heads in the work on my Jeep over the years. Ten bolts total. That is unheard of by modern terms. These days, just replacing a wheel bearing, you are sure to break at least one. Have you ever tried to do exhaust work? Imagine the count if you replaced the whole suspension. Add to that the number if you removed the body... (For you non-mechanics, we are well into the POUNDS of broken bolt bits by now. You might as well save them for scrap steel and make a buck.) It is crazy.
It was a different time. Parts back then were made to be fixed, not replaced. Gaskets and wires were hand cut, not bought pre-made. If the engine was running rough, you tuned it by ear, or with a timing light, not by plugging in a code reader.It did require more of a sixth sense to work on, but the old Jeep has stood the test of time, and certainly not left a trail of burnt sensors and throwaway parts in its wake.
The old Jeep is sixty five this year. That is old enough for social security. People don't hold up as well as it has. But, it is easier to replace parts on a Jeep.
These days the Maytag repairman is not out of work because the machines are so reliable, it is because nobody is willing to pay for the $90 house call when a new machine is only $40 more. It was not always this way. It used to be that people kept stuff running for more than a year or two. Then, if it started acting up, they fixed it. That kept repairmen in business, and helped the local economy. Isn't that a movement today?
Take my old Willys Jeep for instance. It is a perfect example of the durability of yesteryear. I needed to tune it up and get it running right for the season. I looked through the Universal Jeep Service Manual and discovered with glee that I could do the entire job without buying a thing. Engine oil and spark plugs aside, nothing is discarded. Finally, something that was built to be serviced.
It is a far throw from modern vehicles. Recently, to get a Ford truck back up to par, I saw the grimace on the owner's face when he paid a $350 bill for just one engine sensor. Sure it is a diesel, and sure, the new truck might be easier to drive most of the time than my old Willys, but that convenience sure comes with a price.
The Ford was more than ten times the original purchase price of the Universal Jeep. And replacing that one sensor, even today, costs as much as an entire new suspension on the Jeep. Admittedly, it would take ten CJs to equal the pulling power of the Ford, but that is besides the point.
I have owned my old Jeep for five years now. Over that time I have done a frame-off renovation (I call it a renovation because I am not restoring it to original form, and I am upgrading to more modern pieces where it is possible.) I have been amazed how much easier it has been to work on than modern vehicles, including other Jeeps in my fleet.
I might have broken off ten bolt heads in the work on my Jeep over the years. Ten bolts total. That is unheard of by modern terms. These days, just replacing a wheel bearing, you are sure to break at least one. Have you ever tried to do exhaust work? Imagine the count if you replaced the whole suspension. Add to that the number if you removed the body... (For you non-mechanics, we are well into the POUNDS of broken bolt bits by now. You might as well save them for scrap steel and make a buck.) It is crazy.
It was a different time. Parts back then were made to be fixed, not replaced. Gaskets and wires were hand cut, not bought pre-made. If the engine was running rough, you tuned it by ear, or with a timing light, not by plugging in a code reader.It did require more of a sixth sense to work on, but the old Jeep has stood the test of time, and certainly not left a trail of burnt sensors and throwaway parts in its wake.
The old Jeep is sixty five this year. That is old enough for social security. People don't hold up as well as it has. But, it is easier to replace parts on a Jeep.
Lost and Found
Can you still get film developed at a drug store?
I asked myself this question after reading one of my kids' Berenstain Bear books. The book was about the worst vacation the Bear family ever took. It was filled with stinky skunks, sunken boats, and leaky roofs. At the end of the book, Mama takes the film to the drugstore, waits a few days, and goes back to get the pictures to share with the family.
After reading the passage, I looked over at my kids (4 and 1 1/2) and wondered to myself if they would even understand what film is when they got older. I suppose they will still have pop references in songs, but I haven't used the real stuff for at least five years, probably longer. We still have the old cameras, though.
I know because I found them while looking for our lost digital camera.
It is amazing how a lost item can drive you crazy. This past weekend, not only did we lose the digital camera, we discovered that the shovels were lost too. I don't know where those could have gone either. At least all four items are together, wherever they are.
When you discover things are lost, there is a reliable chain of events that goes on. First, you look in all of the obvious places the item might be. In the case of our digital camera, that included its normal resting place on top of the buffet, also on the desk near the computer (you get the idea). Then, you look for it in all of the unusual, but still perhaps possible places it might be. Those might include the kids' room, under the couch cushions, etc...
Then some helpful soul, who invariably is not helping you look for the lost item as they should be, suggests that you think back to where you saw it last and retrace your steps. Eureka!
Well, not really. Those shovels walked off last fall and could be at one of several friends' houses, or the dump for all that I know. The camera might have had a better prognosis. It was last seen taking pictures of items to be listed on Craigslist. But then, we rearranged the furniture, and it disappeared. Back to square one.
The final effort on my part, was to begin a CSI search of the house, flashlight and all. I started in the mudroom, opened every cabinet, checked every clothes hamper. I looked in places so impossible for a camera to hide, that finding one there would have been tantamount to discovering the missing human evolutionary link under an old service manual in my junk drawer.
Nevertheless, I looked in those places too. I discovered, with my flashlight and latex gloves (OK, so I didn't wear latex gloves, or even yellow kitchen gloves. The ones my wife buys are too small for my hands. But I would have.) dozens of lost toys, a nice ladies bracelet, and that the couch really needs spring cleaning.
I looked in the vehicles, in shoes, in the cellar doorway, and in closets containing big people and small people clothing. I looked int he garage, and in the barn. It was quite extensive, take my word for it.
I never found the shovels, or the digital camera. I did find the big, old, reliable, and hard to lose 35mm SLR cameras. Does anyone know if the drugstore still develops film?
I asked myself this question after reading one of my kids' Berenstain Bear books. The book was about the worst vacation the Bear family ever took. It was filled with stinky skunks, sunken boats, and leaky roofs. At the end of the book, Mama takes the film to the drugstore, waits a few days, and goes back to get the pictures to share with the family.
After reading the passage, I looked over at my kids (4 and 1 1/2) and wondered to myself if they would even understand what film is when they got older. I suppose they will still have pop references in songs, but I haven't used the real stuff for at least five years, probably longer. We still have the old cameras, though.
I know because I found them while looking for our lost digital camera.
It is amazing how a lost item can drive you crazy. This past weekend, not only did we lose the digital camera, we discovered that the shovels were lost too. I don't know where those could have gone either. At least all four items are together, wherever they are.
When you discover things are lost, there is a reliable chain of events that goes on. First, you look in all of the obvious places the item might be. In the case of our digital camera, that included its normal resting place on top of the buffet, also on the desk near the computer (you get the idea). Then, you look for it in all of the unusual, but still perhaps possible places it might be. Those might include the kids' room, under the couch cushions, etc...
Then some helpful soul, who invariably is not helping you look for the lost item as they should be, suggests that you think back to where you saw it last and retrace your steps. Eureka!
Well, not really. Those shovels walked off last fall and could be at one of several friends' houses, or the dump for all that I know. The camera might have had a better prognosis. It was last seen taking pictures of items to be listed on Craigslist. But then, we rearranged the furniture, and it disappeared. Back to square one.
The final effort on my part, was to begin a CSI search of the house, flashlight and all. I started in the mudroom, opened every cabinet, checked every clothes hamper. I looked in places so impossible for a camera to hide, that finding one there would have been tantamount to discovering the missing human evolutionary link under an old service manual in my junk drawer.
Nevertheless, I looked in those places too. I discovered, with my flashlight and latex gloves (OK, so I didn't wear latex gloves, or even yellow kitchen gloves. The ones my wife buys are too small for my hands. But I would have.) dozens of lost toys, a nice ladies bracelet, and that the couch really needs spring cleaning.
I looked in the vehicles, in shoes, in the cellar doorway, and in closets containing big people and small people clothing. I looked int he garage, and in the barn. It was quite extensive, take my word for it.
I never found the shovels, or the digital camera. I did find the big, old, reliable, and hard to lose 35mm SLR cameras. Does anyone know if the drugstore still develops film?
The multitasker and the lazy man
If I am in the garage, I lose all track of time. My wife can tell me three times to come in to eat, but I somehow can't hear her when my hands are busy.
It is a man thing, I am sure. Men, I think, have a harder time multitasking. I know that I do. My wife can do seven things at once, and do them all well. I have seen her folding laundry, while solving an argument between the kids, and making a list for the rest of the day including a trip to the grocery. For me, it is awe inspiring. But I could never do it myself.
I have to focus on what I am doing, or else I will forget to torque the lug nuts or tighten the fan belt.If I am working, I need to physically get up and change environments to deal with a screaming child, or converse like a real person (no grunts for answers). It is not that bad. That way, I can give the distraction my full attention. But, I can only do one thing at once.
The only problem is that, when my wife has her hands full, and she looks over at me doing only one thing, she thinks I am just lazy. I prefer to think of it as being focused.
It is a man thing, I am sure. Men, I think, have a harder time multitasking. I know that I do. My wife can do seven things at once, and do them all well. I have seen her folding laundry, while solving an argument between the kids, and making a list for the rest of the day including a trip to the grocery. For me, it is awe inspiring. But I could never do it myself.
I have to focus on what I am doing, or else I will forget to torque the lug nuts or tighten the fan belt.If I am working, I need to physically get up and change environments to deal with a screaming child, or converse like a real person (no grunts for answers). It is not that bad. That way, I can give the distraction my full attention. But, I can only do one thing at once.
The only problem is that, when my wife has her hands full, and she looks over at me doing only one thing, she thinks I am just lazy. I prefer to think of it as being focused.
Firewood basics for the do-it-your-selfer
Is it strange that on the first sunny week of springtime, many Vermonters are already thinking about winter?
After the long cold winter the woodpile in many homes looks like a shadow of its former self, and many do-it-yourself Vermonters have already begun working to replenish it.
The cost of heating a home has been on the rise, and according to the USDA Forest Products Laboratory, seasoned firewood is the least expensive fuel source, with natural gas, and wood pellets close behind. The only problem is that heating a home with wood requires a bit more work. That work carries on all year.
Typically, trees are cut in the fall, and they lay in log length over the winter. In the spring, as the snow cover recedes, Vermonters will take to the forests on frosty mornings, when their tractors or trucks won't do as much damage in the fragile environment. Then the fun begins.
Logs began drying when they were cut last fall. As the birds come back to Vermont, those logs need to be chunked up and split to fully cure before next winter. The extra steps in the spring make sure that the logs don't rot on the ground, and that when they are burned the most BTUs can come out of the woodstove.
Before you get to work, you should have a couple things in mind.
1) Make sure your chainsaw is running well. Nobody wants to get out into the middle of nowhere and then figure out that his chainsaw won't run. Before you leave, fill it with new gas, and runit for a few minutes at home.
2) Take a look at your blade. Whenever running a chainsaw, in addition to eye and ear protection, you should have your saw's T tool and a file with you. A screwdriver and wrench can replace the tool, but nothing in the woods will sharpen a dull blade. Use the file correctly, pushing its teeth into the semicircular cut on the blade.
Match the number of strokes for each tooth. If you favor one direction or the other, the saw will cut diagonally.
3) Know what you want to get out of it. When you approach your logs, you need to know how long each piece of firewood needs to be to fit in your particular fireplace. Do they need to be 16 inches? Would 18s or 20s work? Use the length of the chainsaw's blade for reference. Most are in the right ballpark.
4) Plan your attack. Are you right handed, or left? it might make a difference on which end of the woodpile you begin your cutting. Righties, for instance, work better moving to the left after each cut. That way, the chunked log falls off away fromthe saw's housing.
5) Work in sections. There is nothing worse than cutting a log, then tripping over it all afternoon. The best way to work is in sections. Cut a bit, pile some up in an out of the way place for the splitter, then go back and cut more. When working with powertools, (especially those used in horror movies) sure footing is essential. You don't want anything taking your attention away from that saw in action.
The old saying goes, "Firewood warms you twice, once when you stack it, then again when you burn it." For do-it-your-selfers, firewood might warm a few more times than that.
After the long cold winter the woodpile in many homes looks like a shadow of its former self, and many do-it-yourself Vermonters have already begun working to replenish it.
The cost of heating a home has been on the rise, and according to the USDA Forest Products Laboratory, seasoned firewood is the least expensive fuel source, with natural gas, and wood pellets close behind. The only problem is that heating a home with wood requires a bit more work. That work carries on all year.
Typically, trees are cut in the fall, and they lay in log length over the winter. In the spring, as the snow cover recedes, Vermonters will take to the forests on frosty mornings, when their tractors or trucks won't do as much damage in the fragile environment. Then the fun begins.
Logs began drying when they were cut last fall. As the birds come back to Vermont, those logs need to be chunked up and split to fully cure before next winter. The extra steps in the spring make sure that the logs don't rot on the ground, and that when they are burned the most BTUs can come out of the woodstove.
Before you get to work, you should have a couple things in mind.
1) Make sure your chainsaw is running well. Nobody wants to get out into the middle of nowhere and then figure out that his chainsaw won't run. Before you leave, fill it with new gas, and runit for a few minutes at home.
2) Take a look at your blade. Whenever running a chainsaw, in addition to eye and ear protection, you should have your saw's T tool and a file with you. A screwdriver and wrench can replace the tool, but nothing in the woods will sharpen a dull blade. Use the file correctly, pushing its teeth into the semicircular cut on the blade.
3) Know what you want to get out of it. When you approach your logs, you need to know how long each piece of firewood needs to be to fit in your particular fireplace. Do they need to be 16 inches? Would 18s or 20s work? Use the length of the chainsaw's blade for reference. Most are in the right ballpark.
4) Plan your attack. Are you right handed, or left? it might make a difference on which end of the woodpile you begin your cutting. Righties, for instance, work better moving to the left after each cut. That way, the chunked log falls off away fromthe saw's housing.
5) Work in sections. There is nothing worse than cutting a log, then tripping over it all afternoon. The best way to work is in sections. Cut a bit, pile some up in an out of the way place for the splitter, then go back and cut more. When working with powertools, (especially those used in horror movies) sure footing is essential. You don't want anything taking your attention away from that saw in action.
The old saying goes, "Firewood warms you twice, once when you stack it, then again when you burn it." For do-it-your-selfers, firewood might warm a few more times than that.
Modern Life or the Old Ways
Technology is wonderful, except when it isn't. Modern mechanisms have been making our lives a little bit better since the invention of the spoon. Little pieces of insight and creative thinking cradle us in convenience.We surround ourselves with them and show them off to our friends. "Look at my phone!" or "The game is on the Plasma."
In a book I just read, the villain tried to detonate atomic bombs all around the globe, not to bring about nuclear holocaust, but to send out an electromagnetic pulse that would render useless anything with a transistor or circuit board. "Dear God," the President commented, "That would be far more savage than nuclear war." Maybe it would be. But that is only because we as humans living in the 21st century continue to fight for technology every day.
We fight for technology without knowing it. We say that going "paperless" is being environmentally conscious. We also notice that it will save us money on paper and printing costs. It is good, and good for us too. But what has come of the hand scrawled Thank You note Emily Post still recommends we write? Now, we are so tempted by e-mail and Facebook posts, that people actually need to be prodded a bit to take up a pen and paper the old way. Ridiculous.
There is even a growing market in Vermont for landowners to have their forests logged by ancient means. They call it responsible forestry, touting how it can repair damaged land. No, the lumberjack isn't going back to the hand saw or axe, but they are using teams of draft animals rather than giant tractors to haul the wood out. It is really quite inspiring to watch, take my word for it. Engine noise and exhaust fumes are replaced by heavy breathing and footsteps. The only down side is the view driving the team. Who really wants to stare at the rump of a horse all day?
That reminds me of a great Vermont story I heard from my in-laws a few years back. A fellow was out moose hunting on the last day of the season. He was miles from a road and shot a big bull moose. The animal weighed more than a thousand pounds. Being the last day of the season, he had to weigh it in by sundown or face a fine. He drove a 2wd Toyota pick up that stood no chance of traversing the muddy forests, and appealed to a farmer nearby for use of his tractor. The farmer said no, but offered instead his team of oxen. Those who watched it that day, and those who retold the story afterward still speak in awe of the sight of that team hauling the muddy moose out of the woods that day. They go on to laugh at the memory of ten big farm boys picking up and setting that muddy moose in the bed of the tiny Toyota pickup as well; feet sticking out one way, the antlers over the other side.
There was no need for technology that day. The old method was even better suited to the task. Those oxen left no ruts in the soft forest ground. They burned no fossil fuels (though they did release methane gas, I'm sure). They did the job the old way, and made a real impression on a lot of people because of it. Just like that hand-written Thank You note does.
So why did I mention it? Well, we are in the midst of March Madness. For the uninitiated, that means picking teams and filling out those college basketball brackets. Personally, college basketball is the one sport I do follow. I am too busy Jeeping all summer to follow baseball. Football is only good in the playoffs. College basketball gets me in from the garage at the muddy end of March. It is fun to make your picks and see how far off you really are from what really happens. Up until this year, I filled out my picks on paper. I have managed office pools, and spent hours in front of the television with a highlighter figuring out who was ahead.
This year, I tried to us technology to make my life easier. I usually embrace new technology. I have the patience to tinker my way through most of it. Not this time. Managing the brackets has always been a practice that focuses on the playing ability of the teams. This time it turned itself into a computer nightmare. It all started so easily. Click on a link here, follow instructions there. It turned into a four hour process taking up two computers and three separate e-mail accounts to see if it worked. And it didn't. Ugh!
Technology truly can be a wonderful thing. Unless you are the President staring down a threat to transistors everywhere, technology really can be a blessing. But when things don't work right, boy can it go wrong. Nobody ever had a problem with a prototype spoon that affected people the same way computers can. Nobody ever spent four hours online trying to get a piece of paper to work. With the advent of the Kindle, and IPad threatening to overtake books and newspapers, we need to remember that. The old ways are sometimes better. Whether through Thank You notes, or teams of draft animals, the old ways still can bring people together at a personal level. It is better than struggling to overcome the emotional distance that an e-mail creates.
Perhaps the emotional distance can be a good thing as well. As it is, nobody at CBS Sports knows what I was really thinking when I tried to fill out my brackets online.
In a book I just read, the villain tried to detonate atomic bombs all around the globe, not to bring about nuclear holocaust, but to send out an electromagnetic pulse that would render useless anything with a transistor or circuit board. "Dear God," the President commented, "That would be far more savage than nuclear war." Maybe it would be. But that is only because we as humans living in the 21st century continue to fight for technology every day.
We fight for technology without knowing it. We say that going "paperless" is being environmentally conscious. We also notice that it will save us money on paper and printing costs. It is good, and good for us too. But what has come of the hand scrawled Thank You note Emily Post still recommends we write? Now, we are so tempted by e-mail and Facebook posts, that people actually need to be prodded a bit to take up a pen and paper the old way. Ridiculous.
There is even a growing market in Vermont for landowners to have their forests logged by ancient means. They call it responsible forestry, touting how it can repair damaged land. No, the lumberjack isn't going back to the hand saw or axe, but they are using teams of draft animals rather than giant tractors to haul the wood out. It is really quite inspiring to watch, take my word for it. Engine noise and exhaust fumes are replaced by heavy breathing and footsteps. The only down side is the view driving the team. Who really wants to stare at the rump of a horse all day?
That reminds me of a great Vermont story I heard from my in-laws a few years back. A fellow was out moose hunting on the last day of the season. He was miles from a road and shot a big bull moose. The animal weighed more than a thousand pounds. Being the last day of the season, he had to weigh it in by sundown or face a fine. He drove a 2wd Toyota pick up that stood no chance of traversing the muddy forests, and appealed to a farmer nearby for use of his tractor. The farmer said no, but offered instead his team of oxen. Those who watched it that day, and those who retold the story afterward still speak in awe of the sight of that team hauling the muddy moose out of the woods that day. They go on to laugh at the memory of ten big farm boys picking up and setting that muddy moose in the bed of the tiny Toyota pickup as well; feet sticking out one way, the antlers over the other side.
There was no need for technology that day. The old method was even better suited to the task. Those oxen left no ruts in the soft forest ground. They burned no fossil fuels (though they did release methane gas, I'm sure). They did the job the old way, and made a real impression on a lot of people because of it. Just like that hand-written Thank You note does.
So why did I mention it? Well, we are in the midst of March Madness. For the uninitiated, that means picking teams and filling out those college basketball brackets. Personally, college basketball is the one sport I do follow. I am too busy Jeeping all summer to follow baseball. Football is only good in the playoffs. College basketball gets me in from the garage at the muddy end of March. It is fun to make your picks and see how far off you really are from what really happens. Up until this year, I filled out my picks on paper. I have managed office pools, and spent hours in front of the television with a highlighter figuring out who was ahead.
This year, I tried to us technology to make my life easier. I usually embrace new technology. I have the patience to tinker my way through most of it. Not this time. Managing the brackets has always been a practice that focuses on the playing ability of the teams. This time it turned itself into a computer nightmare. It all started so easily. Click on a link here, follow instructions there. It turned into a four hour process taking up two computers and three separate e-mail accounts to see if it worked. And it didn't. Ugh!
Technology truly can be a wonderful thing. Unless you are the President staring down a threat to transistors everywhere, technology really can be a blessing. But when things don't work right, boy can it go wrong. Nobody ever had a problem with a prototype spoon that affected people the same way computers can. Nobody ever spent four hours online trying to get a piece of paper to work. With the advent of the Kindle, and IPad threatening to overtake books and newspapers, we need to remember that. The old ways are sometimes better. Whether through Thank You notes, or teams of draft animals, the old ways still can bring people together at a personal level. It is better than struggling to overcome the emotional distance that an e-mail creates.
Perhaps the emotional distance can be a good thing as well. As it is, nobody at CBS Sports knows what I was really thinking when I tried to fill out my brackets online.
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