I just read a news article in the Examiner by Kelly Evenson titled Governor Announces More Budget Cuts for State. Basically it offered a breakdown of an additional $301.4 million in budget cuts for the state of Missouri, which included cuts in the areas of health care, education and school transportation, complete elimination of the KCATA budget, and "major cuts to the Missouri Departments of Health and Senior Services, including a 10-percent cut to Area Agencies on Aging and to Mental Health."
The truly sickening part came next, however, as the article stated, "These new budget cuts follow an announcement by Nixon that he is considering calling a special legislative session this summer to consider two proposals that would expand spending on tax incentives for Ford Motor Company by $15 million per year for 10 years as well as pay for this increase through significant cuts to retirement benefits for state employees."
This should incite outrage among Missouri taxpayers. When did it become standard business practices for cities and states to fork over millions in taxpayer dollars to invite multimillion dollar corporations to build (or keep) their factories nearby? I know that TIF financing and various incentives exist, and I understand the rationale behind wanting a large employer to set up shop in your jurisdiction. I also understand U.S. employees' fears of more and more jobs being outsourced overseas. That does not mean that taxpayers should be complacent and blindly accept the situation. With any business, there is a certain amount of risk inherent in setting up shop, and long-term capital investment may be necessary. This does not necessarily guarantee a quick return or profit to the company. In Latin America, historically U.S. multinationals have invested huge amounts, sometimes with minimal concessions on the part of those countries. In fact, in many cases the companies also had to build roads, schools, housing for employees, and invest in creating the infrastructure necessary for the facility to function.
Why, then, do local, county, and state governments here in the U.S. believe that we have to fork over millions in incentives to attract those companies or entice them to stay? Why should the already-suffering taxpayers bear the brunt of huge budget cuts during this shaky economic recovery? Why should state employees bear the burden of "significant cuts" to their retirement benefits in order to hand money over to a corporation that is clearly not in any economic distress?
In essence, Missouri governor Jay Nixon's budget decisions would be similar to the U.S. government agreeing to pay all the costs of cleanup of the BP oil disaster, and then asking the American public to increase taxes to pay BP for the inconvenience of having its rig explode and buying them a new one! Someone needs to wake up and pay attention here!!! Missouri representatives and senators (and taxpayers) need to examine the issue carefully and act in the best interests of the PEOPLE of Missouri, and not follow blithely along because "this is the way it has always been done."
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Information Please
Found on the internet:
When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.
My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.
"Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice.
"How do I spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me..
Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please..."
Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. "Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle . A different voice answered, "Information." I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this,"She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?"
"Yes." I answered.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you...."
The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.
Whose life have you touched today?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
Lifting you on eagle's wings.
May you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey.....NOT a guided tour.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Crabby Old Man
I received this in an email and thought I would share it with you.
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? ......What do you see?
What are you thinking.... ..when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ...not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ........with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice....."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice ...the things that you do.
And forever is losing .............. A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ...... The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse......you' re not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am .......... As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .....as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ..........who love one another
A young boy of sixteen ...with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. ..........a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at twenty .........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows........ that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five, now .......... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . And a secure happy home.
A man of thirty ......... My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ........ With ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons ....have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me........to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, .......... Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ......... My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me .......... My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ............ I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing ...young of their own.
And I think of the years...... And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man......... and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age .......look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass ...... A young guy still dwells,
And now and again ........my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.
I think of the years ....all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........ that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people ..........open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see. .......ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all, one day, be there, too!
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? ......What do you see?
What are you thinking.... ..when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ...not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ........with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice....."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice ...the things that you do.
And forever is losing .............. A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ...... The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse......you' re not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am .......... As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .....as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ..........who love one another
A young boy of sixteen ...with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. ..........a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at twenty .........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows........ that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five, now .......... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . And a secure happy home.
A man of thirty ......... My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ........ With ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons ....have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me........to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, .......... Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ......... My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me .......... My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ............ I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing ...young of their own.
And I think of the years...... And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man......... and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age .......look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass ...... A young guy still dwells,
And now and again ........my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.
I think of the years ....all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........ that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people ..........open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see. .......ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all, one day, be there, too!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The History of Aprons
Author Unknown
I don't think our kids know what an apron is.
The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath, because she only had a few, it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.
It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.
When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.
And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.
Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.
Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.
From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.
In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.
When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.
When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ' old-time apron' that served so many purposes.
REMEMBER:Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool.
Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw. They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.
I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron.
I don't think our kids know what an apron is.
The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath, because she only had a few, it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.
It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.
When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.
And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.
Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.
Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.
From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.
In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.
When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.
When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ' old-time apron' that served so many purposes.
REMEMBER:Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool.
Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw. They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.
I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Lifesaving Bird Gets Award
Parrot gets award for warning about choking tot
Willie repeatedly yelled ‘Mama, baby’ and flapped wings to alert babysitter
Willie repeatedly yelled ‘Mama, baby’ and flapped wings to alert babysitter
Willie, a Quaker parrot in Denver, Colo., has been given a lifesaver award by the local Red Cross chapter.
This AWESOME little bird saved a life! He deserves the award and maybe a few extra crackers every day for the rest of his life!
Read the entire article at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29858577/?gt1=43001
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