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Our gardens are nearly planted now; we’ve had to replant the corn, and we are into full-time weeding. Can you hear the creaking of our back bones and knee joints? I am reminded of the “Spinal Tap” t-shirt. 😊 This is the time when we hope Percy Bysshe Shelley *is right when he says “I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, from the seas and the streams. I bring light shade for the leaves, when laid in their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken the sweet buds, every one.” Our gardens need neither our recent down-pours nor last year’s weeks of sun. They want gentle showers and sunshine on days in between, so, we plant and hope for the best. Kerm and I disagree, slightly, regarding planting. He makes straight rows, measured, and with string. And he reads the back of each packet and plants things just as far apart as the blurb on the packet says. I measure nothing and make my rows straight according to my eyes. Well, you all know my eyes aren’t very good now, so the rows might wobble a bit. And it is my thinking that the closer together the plants are, the less room for weeds. We have had a few words about this in years past. 😊 This year, however, my energy being what it is, Kerm planted more of the garden than usual. And I mostly kept quiet; he who plants gets to do it his way. So, this year, anyone may come and admire straight, well-spaced potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, cosmos and sunflowers. The peas, green onions, lettuce, and zinnias --- my contribution ---- may wander a bit! On the 14th, we have a day for many things, but first and foremost, it is Flag Day - a neglected holiday, in recent years. Flag Day marks and celebrates the adoption of our stars and stripes banner in 1777. After my parents’ generation, flag information and protocol have been neglected. In fact, I would guess that very few in Congress or the White House are cognizant about Flag Day. The flag should never touch the ground or floor, or be wrapped around one’s shoulders or used to sit on. When it is presented, everyone should stand, and it is hats off for the men. There should be no fooling around or lack of attention when the Star-Spangled Banner is sung, and/or the Pledge is given. Many people have died to keep that flag flying and to keep our nation free of tyranny, and apparently, the struggle is not over. Awareness and respect are due to our national symbol regardless of whose politics you do not like. I’ve always thought that burning the flag is a bad way to indicate dissatisfaction with government. The flag represents all of us, not just those in power. It represents all of our originally fine ideals in the Constitution, the Bill of Rights. So, when destroying the flag, we are showing our rebellion against the very ideals upon which our nation was formed. I’m sharing here the last two stanzas of the poem, “George Washington” by Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet:** “Sing for Emperor Washington, the hero of renown, who freed his land from Britain’s rule to win a golden crown! No, no, that’s what George might have won but he didn’t, for he said: ‘there’s not much point about a king, they’re pretty but they’re apt to sting, and as for crowns -----the heavy thing would only hurt my head’ he said. Sing for our George Washington! (At last I’ve got it right!) the first in war, the first in peace, the goodly and the great. But when you think about him now, from here to Valley Forge, remember this ----- he might have been a highly different specimen. And where on earth would we be then? I’m glad that George was George!” George Washington is often called the “Father of our country,” and now, in June, we celebrate our own fathers. Father’s Day, early this year, June 15th. I’ve written about my father recently, so you all know about him; a man who was flawed but intelligent and caring. In addition to Dad, my three older brothers often had fatherly (and sometimes annoying) impact. My brother, Frank was 20 years older, so I grew up with some of his children and was underfoot. Later, he enabled my presence at NY State Fair for a couple of years; he was superintendent of the hog barn there and he allowed me to sleep in the back of his truck (on a soft bed of straw), so he could keep an eye on me. He subsidized my lunch money when I was running low, but not without a lecture on money-management. My middle brother, Donal, taught me to shoot and in later years, stopped by my office to chat. My third brother, Ken, took me on a couple of trips (when he was buying Berkshire pigs), supposedly to help keep him awake. He taught me to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, to order properly in a good restaurant and forgave me when I fell asleep and neglected my duties. My brother-in-law, Raymond, checked out my dates. He sat in our living room when a new one came to pick me up, and the next day, would give me his opinion. 😊 There are many excellent fathers in this world; men who are a role model for not only their children, but others too. Kermit is one of those. He worked with many, many kids through 4-H, and at home too; our house was usually full of teens. As for my father on this day? I wish I could share with him his favorite dessert; a dish of home-made vanilla ice cream with real maple syrup. June is full of special days, and on the 19th is Juneteenth. This is a celebration of the final enforcement of “no slavery in the United States.” After the Civil War, some places, at a distance from news and Washington, DC, apparently didn’t get the mandate, or ignored it. Juneteenth marks the day when finally, nation-wide, slavery was known to be illegal. I am quite sure if I had been a slave, I’d want to celebrate as loudly, as fully, and as long, as I could. This should have been a holiday decades ago, so there is a lot of celebrating due to make up for all those years of neglecting this occasion. We should all be rejoicing that we’ve become civilized enough to recognize that holding people as property is immoral and a contradiction to all of our principles. The Summer Solstice is a week away. And along with that comes Mid-summer Night’s Eve, a magical, pagan observance. Pixies, elves, faeries, and gnomes - all part of the legends surrounding this day and night. The days have stretched out to their limit, and from then on, until the Winter Solstice, the daylight will diminish. I keep thinking that I will go out on Mid-summer Night’s Eve, just to see if I can find an elf or two,or perhaps I will roll a burning wheel downhill as they did in some Celtic communities. But sadly, when night comes, I’m usually falling asleep by 10:00; staying awake until the wee hours is no longer so easy. And of course, since we have visiting bears who come unannounced, sitting outside in the dark doesn’t seem all that sensible. June brings haying season, which emits a more desirable aroma than the earlier spring processes of spreading barn waste on the fields. Growing up on a farm naturally included helping in the hayfields. Our farm had a round baler, not one of those huge things of today, but one that made bales of lighter weight than the square bales of the time. Bales that we girls (my nieces and I) could lift. Mostly we just tipped them from the wagon onto the elevator that then took them into the mow. In June, if the cows are lucky, they are out into the fields. Some cows are kept inside the barn 24/7 all year. They are the unlucky ones.) Animals should be treated kindly ---- and time outside in the fresh air with freedom to run is one of those things they deserve. Seeing cows released from the barn onto a green field is a delight; they kick up their heels and gallop in visible joy. There is a lot of work in June, but there must also be time to enjoy this month of peonies, roses, mock orange, iris and poppies. The fragrance floating around outside just has to be full of health-enhancing energy. Even the poets say: “What is so rare as a day in June?” *May your days, this month, be full of perfect sunshine, light rains and hours of peace. Carol Bossard writes from her hoime in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *Percy Bysshe Shelly –English poet who was known for his romantic poetry and his radical social and political views. 1792-1822 **Rosemary & Stephen Vincent Benet---American writers, poets. Stephen is also known for his writing :”The Devil and Daniel Webster” . ***James Russell Lowell ---American poet, editor, critic and diplomat. 1819-1891.
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What Happened To Making New York More Affordable?
Senator Tom O'Mara posted a blog entry in From Albany
The bottom line is that the state Legislature finished this year’s regular legislative session late last week exactly where it started the session in January: New York State remains one of the least affordable states in America. In fact, the actions (or inaction) during the seventh consecutive year that New York government has been under one-party, all-Democrat control only point in the direction of making things worse. Over the past year, New York has consistently earned the dubious distinction of being unaffordable. According to a U.S. News & World Report last summer, New York State ranked 45th in the nation, right near the bottom, in affordability. A USA Today Homefront report found “the Empire State ranked dead last in the rankings when it comes to overall affordability.” I have heard it continually from families, taxpayers, working men and women, small business owners, and many others throughout the Southern Tier and Finger Lakes regions: They are worried about making ends meet and they have been for a long time now. They have watched this state become less affordable. They have felt it become less free. They believe it to be less economically competitive, less responsible, and far less hopeful for the future. Nothing changes in the wake of the 2025 legislative session. Albany Democrats remained true to out-of-control spending, high taxes, exorbitant costs and fees for everything under the sun, and burdensome regulations and unfunded state mandates. New York State’s current path is not sustainable. Albany isn’t responsible and can’t control the ups and downs of every excessive cost facing citizens, however state government can and should be taking many more actions than it has been to try to ease the burden. It’s not for any lack of warning signs and alarm bells. Fiscal watchdogs already project significant state budget deficits in the immediate years ahead, deficits caused, in large measure, by the inability of Governor Hochul and an all-Democrat Legislature to stop overspending. State budget deficits always equal higher costs for all New Yorkers. Footing the bill of budget deficits inevitability falls on taxpayers. New York is a state in decline. To repeat: All the talk from Albany Democrats at the start of this legislative session in January was about making New York State more affordable. Six months down the road and these same Democrats have enacted massive increases in state spending, continued to impose costly climate mandates on all New Yorkers, ignored any meaningful long-term tax relief, failed to strengthen our state’s economic competitiveness and standing, and relentlessly pursued an agenda of misguided priorities for New York. We needed to prioritize a comprehensive set of actions to focus squarely on the affordability challenges facing middle-class families, turn the tide on population loss, and make public safety job number one. Instead, New Yorkers got more of the same: An Albany Democrat commitment to a fundamentally far-left, extreme-liberal, out-of-touch agenda that doesn’t get the job done for Upstate, middle-class communities, families, farmers, workers, small businesses, industries, or taxpayers. It has made New York State a tax-and-spend addict, a haven for lawbreakers, unaffordable for taxpayers, less attractive to job creators, and facing a dire economic future. And then there’s this: A recent Newsday investigative report found that “the $254 billion state budget adopted last month by Gov. Kathy Hochul and the State Legislature includes new limits on scrutiny that independent analysts say make it harder for taxpayers to know what they are paying for. Critics say the measures include excluding some spending from review by state Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli, avoiding competitive bidding in some contracts, pushing some spending and borrowing onto state authorities instead of the budget and passing ‘lump sum’ appropriations that will be divvied up after the budget was approved.” In other words, Albany Democrats are spending taxpayer dollars like never before AND working overtime to “make it harder for taxpayers to know what they are paying for.” It’s no way to run an effective or responsible government. Senator Tom O'Mara represents New York's 58th District which covers all of Chemung, Schuyler, Seneca, Steuben, Tioga and Yates counties, and a portion of Allegany County. -
I got into an argument at the supermarket. This is how volatile our world is right now. It was in the checkout line. My opponent was not only clueless, but pigheaded, refusing all logic. The fact that my opponent is only 9 is no excuse. “I don’t like Superman,” the little boy said. “He’s kinda dumb.” At the time I was holding a Superman comic book, along with my other grocery items. They were selling comics in the checkout lane. The elderly lady cashier was just staring at us, arguing. “You don’t LIKE Superman?” I said. “Everyone likes Superman.” “I don’t know ANYONE who likes Superman,” said the boy. “I literally don’t even know who Superman is,” said the boy’s 7-year-old little sister. This is an affront. When I was a boy, everyone knew who Superman was. Namely, because Superman was a vital piece of boyhood. While girls were off playing “House,” developing useful life skills such as learning how to balance checkbooks and using EZ Bake ovens, boys were running around in our backyards wearing bath towels as capes. As a kid, you’d get into these wonderfully dramatic arguments with your buddies over which superhero was best. These topical disagreements usually centered around lesser superheroes like Batman, Spiderman, or Barbara Eden. But here’s the thing: Superman always won the argument. Because—hello?—he was Superman. My boyhood mind was consumed with Superman. I had Superman pajamas which looked exactly like his costume. I often wore them to school, beneath my clothes. During bathroom breaks I would tear off my civilian clothes and return to class in my heroic get-up. Mrs. Welch would refer to me as “Mister Kent” from there on. I wore those pajamas every day until there were holes in my little Super Butt. One day the pajamas mysteriously went missing. “I don’t know where they went,” my mother said. “Maybe I misplaced them.” I never forgave her for such an irresponsible oversight. As a boy, I ate, drank, and breathed Superman. A local radio station played old Superman shows every weekday after school. On Saturday mornings, I watched reruns of “Superman” with George Reeves. George Reeves was a terrific actor, perhaps the most gifted thespian who ever lived. To give you an idea how talented he was: Even though Clark and Superman were indistinguishable in appearance, nobody ever knew Clark and Superman were the same person. I carried my love of Superman well into my teens. I was a subscriber to Action Comics, which debuted Superman in 1938. I never missed an issue. My teens were hard years. I went through some very difficult stuff during my youth. We moved a lot. I dropped out of school. We weren’t exactly well-off, fiscally speaking. And to make matters worse, I had red hair. But no matter how bad it got, I always had Superman. I knew he wasn’t real, of course. But in a way, he kind of was. And he embodied more than truth, justice, and the American way. Aside from all the other super-powers, he was actually a nice guy. And believe me, Clark Kent had nearly every superpower known to man—flight, X-ray vision, super strength, heat vision, impenetrable skin, ice breath, superhuman hearing, electricity absorption, super speed, biological longevity, tactile telekinesis, microscopic vision, time travel, and (as seen in Superman #62) super-ventriloquism. And he was STILL painfully humble. Clark could have been the king of the world. Master of the universe. Had any girl he wanted. Won every high-school football game single handedly. Had his face on Fortune 500 magazine. He could have bullied the entire universe into his will. But he chose to be nothing. He chose to be anonymous. He chose horn-rimmed glasses. Would that I might be such a man. Superman’s popularity might have faded from mainstream attention, but I wonder what that says about us. Your modern Marvel-movie heroes are nothing like Supes. In fact, I’m not sure what your Marvel heroes are even fighting for these days except likes and shares. Not to be critical, but your modern cinematic superheroes are little more than clinically depressed computer-generated underwear models who DON’T EVEN HAVE CAPES. I placed my comic book on the conveyor belt. The little boy was still unconvinced. When the elderly lady cashier rang me up, she looked at the comic book and wore an amused smile. I asked the cashier, “Who do YOU think the best superhero is?” She thought about it. “Matthew McConaughey,” she said. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com
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Father's Day... a time to remember the dads we treasure. They've taught us well in the ways of life. I remember a lot about my dad. In fact, it would be fair to say that I had put him on a pedestal while growing up... not a wise placement for anyone. But it seems he could do anything and everything, a jack-of-all-trades, almost perfect in my little-girl eyes. Though none of us can measure up all the time, there is One who is perfect... who forgives all our failings... our heavenly Father. Yes, there is so much my Dad taught me and my five siblings, including all about the love of Jesus. As a small child on the farm, I would say, “Jesus is my best friend!” But, for a time as a teen, I forgot my childhood friend until my Dad reminded me of those words I used to say as a little girl. Oops! I loved playing board games on Sunday afternoons with my Dad, especially Scrabble. I love the challenge of this game and tend to play aggressively, perhaps because I was in tough competition with my Dad. Though I won only one game against him over those several years, it was a sweet victory knowing that I’d accomplished the win without his having given me an edge… his way of readying us for the world. He taught me honesty was the right way such that in 8th grade English class I chose to write an essay entitled “Honesty Is The Best Policy”, receiving a coveted A. Actually, I may have gotten writing and art abilities from him. Although he was an exceptional storyteller, perfectly imitating voice and mannerisms of various comedians, I speak best through the written word. He also had a gift for drawing with his talent for art passed on to me and my son. He loved trains, especially the old steam engines, having grown up next to the tracks in Clifton, NJ. I loved watching him as he built a passenger car for his train set, using tweezers to handle those tiny parts. I watched him build Packard and Duesenberg model cars, and a German Focke-Wulf plane from WWII, taking us with him as he flew it using a remote-control system… until an unexpected gust of wind dove and smashed the plane into the ground. As we grew up, we loved hearing Dad tell family stories of his and our childhoods. He had a gift for telling any story in a humorous unique way, and how I long to hear them all again. I asked him to write them down for posterity, but he never did. When he drove truck in the 1960s through the 1990s (and later huge tractors for an Iowan farmer), he’d come home with stories from the road. He shared radio routines by Bill Cosby and Southern Cajun comedians, recalling their stories and imitating accents perfectly! That was way better entertainment than TV any day! I recall a few stories of his time in the Army at Fort Greely, Alaska (1956-1957), a foreign assignment before official statehood. From 18 months to 2 years of age, I was too young to remember my 6-8 months at Delta Junction with my baby sister. But I also remember having heard how he, his best buddy Roland Neefe, and two other friends found a sunken rowboat. As it lay not far below the surface of a lake, they pulled it up, cleaned it off, and took it out to fish. It made for an interesting adventure to say the least – while they took turns fishing, the other three worked hard at bailing to keep the boat afloat! Now that’s dedicated fishermen! Fort Greely is also where he learned to drive big rigs. With someone ill, he was asked to take over in the motor pool one night. Proving he could handle backing up a trailer perfectly, the commanding officer asked where he’d learned to do that since everyone else struggled. “Backing up a manure spreader, Sir!” was his dutiful reply. They kept him in the motor pool, where he gained invaluable training for later driving 18-wheelers. He was also given a rare promotion because he took the time to thoroughly clean an office coffeepot, a skill learned from his Dutch immigrant mother who had taught him all aspects of housekeeping while growing up, like any good Dutch mother. When a general visited Fort Greely, the coffee-making task was passed off to my Dad as no one wanted to be making coffee for a general! He didn’t complain but took pains to provide a clean urn for making fresh-percolated coffee… which greatly impressed the general. When the general asked who made the coffee, the aide who was supposed to have made it “blamed” my Dad. Instead of the feared reprimand for the typically bad-tasting coffee the office was known for, the general complimented my father on making the best cup he’d ever tasted! Turning to the senior officer, he ordered him to give my father a promotion! When we were younger, he always had time for us. When we lived in Jersey, I loved it when he took us fishing at Garret Mountain in Clifton, Lake Hopatcong and Upper Greenwood Lake. It got me out of the city and into nature where I felt at ease. And, though I could never bring myself to touch those worms (still can’t!), let alone put them on a hook, and never did catch “the big one,” it was the quality time with our Dad that meant so much to us kids. As a tomboy, I especially enjoyed working outside with my Dad whether it was in the barn learning to care for the animals, in the huge vegetable gardens, or traipsing the fields and woods to hunt rabbits and deer. That love just naturally transferred to enjoying time spent working alongside my husband in the barn or in the yard, and growing and weeding gardens of my own. As we grew older, we teens were often in our own little world yet I still adored my Dad. He listened and gave sound advice. I recall the day he didn’t go to work, taking me instead for a drive to discuss a problem I was dealing with. At times though, I wasn’t ready to listen to him because, as life moved on, his anger took control and he wasn’t always there for us as a family, causing division with his divorce by expecting full support for his side. No parent in a divorce situation should ever do that their children. But I treasure our renewed relationship later in life. With apologies for my own errors as a teen, I heard his sadness as I expressed how family dysfunction affected all of us, and he understood my saying I/we all had needed him more than he realized when he was on the road for 2-4 weeks at a time. I appreciated his compliments on my writing for a local newspaper, my own blogs, publishing genealogy research on my mom’s ancestors in a nationally recognized journal (The New York Genealogical & Biographical Record), and for how well I raised my family and took care of my Mom, even saying he’d never realized all the difficulties I’d faced in my life. Honesty and forgiveness cleared the way for a better relationship with love expressed to both my parents. God truly takes our most difficult situations, working them for our good when we love Him, admit our errors, and make amends. My Dad’s careers changed from his love of farming, to driving a grain truck delivering feed to dairy farmers (winning top NY State Purina Feed salesman awards for 1961 and 1962), to carpentry with his Dad, a revered general contractor in northeast New Jersey, to driving an 18-wheeler hauling tanks locally and later OTR (over the road/cross country). When we lived in Clifton, NJ, he drove chemical tankers “locally” in northeast Jersey, southern New England, and New York City. What stories he brought home from his experiences! I got to ride with him only twice and wish it could have been more. But I was never so happy as when we moved back to New York on August 16, 1969! Though I hated city life, I can now look back at special memories of Clifton where I was born. As we settled into “backyard farming,” he taught me how to care for our mare, War Bugg, a granddaughter of Man O’ War, a retired Western working ranch registered Quarter Horse. One of his trucking buddies also rode the rodeo circuit and put War Bugg through her paces – she did a figure-eight so tight you’d’ve thought she’d fall over! I helped Dad build her corral and box stall in the barn, along with re-roofing and remodeling the old chicken coop for our flock. And then came the heavy-duty barn chores of bringing hay down out of the mow, hauling 50-lb bags of grain, mucking out the pens, learning to groom War Bugg and pick up her feet to clean the soft undersides, devouring books on horses and their care, dreaming of being an equine vet. I saw his deep concern when I stepped on a wasp’s nest in the haymow with 11 stings on my leg, and his gratefulness for my dousing him with a 5-gallon pail of water when a torch threatened to catch him on fire while trying to burn tent caterpillars, chuckling later that I almost drowned him! He did have a great sense of humor, which I valued in my husband Ed, too. But I also learned the hard way that running War Bugg flat out up the road and back could have killed her, hot, sweaty and lathered. Not realizing the depth of War Bugg’s Western training, I’d simply clicked my tongue and she took off like a rocket, so I let her run… on the paved road. I was scolded hard, yet taught to walk her slowly, allowing her to have only small sips of warm water till she cooled down. After riding her another time, I dismounted, tied her to the backyard light pole, and ran into the house briefly. On returning, I realized she’d pulled on and broken her bridle, standing as if still tied with reins straight down. And it was then I realized she was Western trained to be “ground tied” and to take off at the click of the tongue, very responsive to touch, the absolute best horse! I still miss her… and her gentle neighs when I put grain and hay in her feed trough. Soon enough, I got married and began a new life with my new family, while my siblings and parents scattered themselves around the U.S. Life changes, and we change with it. We learn from those childhood mistakes and grow up wiser for them. As a child, I teased Dad when he turned 30 that he was old, and that when he’d turn 50 he’d be “over the hill!” Well, Dad, guess what? Your oldest daughter reached that milestone a good ways back, and she’s still thankful to be alive and working! Giving him this writing in 2014 before he passed away April 17, 2015, his wedding anniversary with my Mom, he knew I felt blessed to have him as my Dad. Sometimes I wish I could go back and relive the childhood fun of days long ago, but I treasure those memories that linger still... and I love you, Dad! May you each be blessed with very special memories of your Dad, too! Happy Father’s Day! I Remember A Dad Linda A. Roorda ~ I remember a dad who took me fishin’ And remember a dad who hooked my worms, Who took those hooks from fishy mouths, And showed me the country way of life. ~ A family of six, two girls and four boys Fun and trouble we shared as we grew. From farms and fields to paved avenues, Walking and biking, exploring we went. ~ I remember a time spent playing games, A dad who’d not cheat for us to win. Family and friends and holiday dinners, Lakes and farms and countryside drives. ~ Weeds were the bane of childhood fun, So ‘tween the rows we ran and we played. But as I grew and matured in age, Weeding was therapy in gardens of mine. ~ I remember a dad who thrived on farming Livestock and gardens, and teaching me how. I remember a dad who took me huntin’ Scoutin’ the fields, always alert. ~ I remember a dad who taught us more For growing up we learn by example. I remember working alongside my dad Roofing a barn and building corrals. ~ I remember a dad whose gifts were given In fairness to meet each child’s desire. I remember a dad whose wisdom we honor In memories of caring and love in small ways. ~ I remember a dad who brought us laughter With Cajun and Cosby stories retold. For blessed with a gift of retelling tales Family and childhood events he recalled. ~ I remember a dad whose time was given To help his children face life’s turmoils. Time spent together are memories treasured For things done best put family first. ~ I remember a dad who taught me more To treasure my faith in Jesus my friend. In looking to Him as Savior and Lord, Salvation by Grace, not earned by my deed. ~ As I look back to days long ago, I remember the dad I knew so well. For I miss the dad who took me fishin’ And remember the dad who taught me more. ~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
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Waffle House. My waitress has a bunch of tattoos. The women customers in the booth behind mine are talking about it in voices loud enough to alter the migratory patterns of waterfowl. “Did you see ALL her tattoos? Our waitress?” “I know.” “Why do they DO that to themselves?” “I know.” I personally do not have tattoos. I come from teetotalling fundamentalists whose moms ironed our Fruit of the Looms. If I had come home with, for example, a Superman tattoo on my chest, the proverbial fertilizer would have hit the proverbial oscillating fan. But I don’t dislike tattoos the way some do. No, tattoos weren’t in fashion when WE were young, but if they had been, believe me, we’d have them. I know this because during my youth members of my generation were clambering to purchase $10 polo shirts with $90 alligators embroidered on the fronts. My friend Pete and I were the only ones in the entire fifth grade who did not own Izod polo shirts. So Pete and I took matters into our own hands. Pete’s mom had an embroidery machine. We begged her to craft a dozen alligator patches to sew onto our Kmart polos and—voila!—instant cool factor. We gave Pete’s mom DETAILED instructions, then left her unsupervised. Which, looking back, was a mistake. Because Pete’s mother delivered 12 polo shirts bearing colorful patches of Snoopy, Papa Smurf, and four of the original seven dwarves. The waitress was visiting each table, warming up coffees. She visited two ladies behind me. The ladies represented my generation. Their conversation kept growing louder. “They just look so trashy. Tattoos.” “I know, I wish I could tell these kids, ‘Quit screwing up your bodies.’ It’s stupid.” The young waitress finally made it to my table. I saw her inkwork. Her arm was painted in a sleeve of faded reds and greens. Images of dragons adorned her forearms. “I like your ink,” I said. She smiled. Then she glanced at the ladies in the booth behind me, who were evidently trying to speak quietly but were still using voices that rattled most dental fillings. “Thanks,” my waitress said. That’s when I noticed a date inscribed beneath one of the dragon tats. The waitress noticed me staring. “It’s my son,” she said, giving me a better presentation of her artwork. “He used to LOVE dragons.” “What is your son’s name?” She smiled again. This smile looked like it hurt. “His name was Daniel.” Was. She moved away from my table and kept about her busywork. Meantime, the women behind me kept about theirs. “I see so many pretty girls with tattoos. I JUST don’t GET it.” “Why would anyone want to LOOK like that?” “No idea. I’d be SO embarrassed.” The waitress visited my table again. She tore off my check and placed it facedown. “Anything else?” she asked. “May I ask you a question?” I replied. She waited. “What happened to your son?” There were no tears in her eyes. But there were tears in her voice. “He was 11. His uncle was driving. It was instant.” None of us said anything. She looked at her own forearm and admired it. “My son designed this one.” The ladies behind me had quit talking. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com
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Latest Albany Mandate Sets It Sight On Dairy Industry
Senator Tom O'Mara posted a blog entry in From Albany
“To say that I’m a frustrated dairy farmer in New York State would be an understatement. I don’t understand how a bill like this even gets remotely this far.” That was the reaction of just one New York State dairy farmer at the Capitol last week where a proposal coming out of New York City stirred a rallying cry of Upstate opposition from the New York Farm Bureau and many others, and rightly so. The “Upstate-Downstate divide” has been one of New York’s longest running shows and there have always been reminders that we remain worlds apart. There’s no denying, however, that these reminders have escalated since 2019 when New York government fell under total, one-party, all-Democrat control. It’s been especially concerning since what it has meant is that state government over the past six years has effectively been under the thumb of New York City-based and oriented leaders whose agendas often seek to impose across-the-board, one-size-fits-all laws, mandates, and rules that might serve big city needs yet inflict unfair and unreasonable burdens on the rest of New York, especially Upstate. The latest example is legislation introduced by two prominent New York City Democrats that would effectively ban future dairy farms in New York from expanding beyond 700 cows. It’s an attempt on their part to control what they wrongly view as the proliferation of “factory farms” and their environmental impact. The opposition has been swift, even among some Upstate Democrats who fully understand the consequences of a proposal like this one if it ever became law. For now, the measure remains in committee in the Senate and Assembly, which is where it needs to stay. Upstate United said, “They don’t have dairy farms in their districts, and legislation like this suggests that either they don’t care or are unaware of the industries that support Upstate’s economy. More than 95% of New York’s farms are family owned. At a time when New York State is making significant investments in major processors like Fairlife, Chobani and Cayuga Milk Ingredients, it makes absolutely no sense to restrict or limit the number of cows those farms can have when the milk they’re producing is needed for those companies to be successful.” From the Northeast Dairy Producers Association, “Dairy farmers are the original stewards of our natural resources. Regardless of farm size, 95% of New York State farms are family owned and operated. For generations, they have been committed to continuous improvement in caring for the environment, their animals, and their local communities. We aim to work collaboratively with legislators across the state to ensure a future that allows New York’s family farms to continue to provide for New York families.” One upstate county agricultural coordinator said, “They haven’t done their research. They’ve never been on dairy farms. How dare they try to regulate something they know nothing about.” The trouble is that these Albany Democrats have gained a foothold at the highest levels of New York government, and they do dare. They have successfully enacted laws, mandates, and rules that simply ignore Upstate New York’s economy, traditions, and ways of life at great cost. We’ve seen it time and again. In recognition of June as National Dairy Month, Steuben County recently reflected on the importance of our regional and statewide dairy industry with these words, and it can’t be said any better: “Did you know that Steuben County is home to over 1,300 farms, generating more than $250 million annually? And here's the kicker: half of that comes from milk production alone. That’s not just impressive – it’s essential. From family-run dairy farms to large-scale operations, our local farmers are the backbone of an industry that feeds New York and beyond. Their hard work supports beloved food companies like BelGioioso Cheese and HP Hood, right here in our region. “But the impact doesn’t stop at the barn door. Dairy farming has one of the highest economic multipliers of any industry – meaning every dollar earned on a dairy farm creates even more earnings across our local economy. Jobs, transportation, equipment, retail, food production – it all connects back to the land and the people who care for it.” This recent attack out of Albany on the future of family dairy farms is just the latest in a long line of ill-informed, misguided, outrageous, and ridiculous proposals. It continues to show a complete lack of understanding. It continues to push government overreach that would have a devastating impact on our rural, upstate local economies where the dairy industry has long been and must remain a mainstay of our region. Senator Tom O'Mara represents New York's 58th District which covers all of Chemung, Schuyler, Seneca, Steuben, Tioga and Yates counties, and a portion of Allegany County. -
I think Honey would be happy with the light you are sharing.
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Maybe we don’t say it enough… those little words that mean so much - “You make a difference…” or “I appreciate you…” or “I love you!” Along with the words, there are ways we can show how much we care, and here are a few I’ve been pondering. Since retiring, I have totally enjoyed a second “career” - subbing in our public school district, and noticed something right away that has been consistent… the welcoming words and smiles from staff on up to the principals and superintendent – words of appreciation and thanks for coming in and helping out, for being there for the kids, no matter their age, from pre-K3 thru high school. And it got me to thinking about us as family and friends. I appreciate each of you for who you are, for your being a very special part of my life, for your kind loving words, for words of wisdom and words that teach me… Thank you! You’ve made a difference in my life! And I love you! In thinking about others, one of the best ways we can express how much we care is by simply serving them, expecting nothing in return. As the Apostle Paul wrote, “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4) Ask how they’re doing and truly listen when they express life is not going so well. Make the effort to really understand what someone else might be feeling, or what they might be going through. Volunteer your time, that rare commodity in our hectic schedules. We can help those in a difficult situation, or those recovering from surgery or illness. We can provide a meal or simply give attention to a shut-in to let them know they’ve not been forgotten. Perhaps we’re able to volunteer in a program where serving will benefit many… such as the local fire department, ambulance squad, or a local food cupboard. There are so many ways we can share our time to express care. Be a mentor to others. Encourage them in their endeavors. Help them succeed. Lift them up emotionally. Listen to their concerns. Cheer them on! Perhaps helping to widen their horizon in a favorite hobby might lead them into a fulfilling venture. Be there for the grieving. Many words aren’t necessary. Simply ask how they’re doing. Sharing the silence with a hug and sitting with them brings comfort. Listen to their heart as they express their sorrow. Share their pain. Show you care. And know that so many have done this well. Give a smile to those you meet along your daily path, even strangers! Watch their face light up knowing that you care enough to share a simple smile to brighten their day! Be joyful for each other! Praise them for even their smallest accomplishments, and express how happy you are for them in their larger successes. Let someone know you'll pray for them. Make someone a gift using your special talents, or gift them something unique to their interests. Greet others with a genuine friendly tone. Share a positive attitude. Make others feel wanted and welcomed. Let them know how much you appreciate them and all that they do. With the passing of my friend Julie’s daughter a few years ago (the age of my children who shared my March birthday), I shed tears of sadness for her family in their deepest loss. She had become a dedicated funeral director, comforting those who grieved their loved ones. She moved on to a new job, showing those in need, and those she took care of in group homes, the depths of love from her heart. Loved by family and friends, she made a difference in the lives of others. Two years ago, I learned this month that my friend, Mimi (a distant cousin found when I was researching my Mom’s ancestry), was in serious condition in the ICU. My heart broke to hear that news, and then again when she passed away. Treasured like a sister, we bonded right away, learning we had so much in common when we first met online. We shared family ancestry data that we had gathered, while I learned much from her. A former nurse, she next found fulfillment as a teacher’s aide, assisting special needs children. In so many ways, she made a difference in the lives of those with whom she came in contact from her own caring and generous loving heart. In the past, I’ve shared some of our daughter Jenn’s writings for a college psych course, as a memorial to who she was. Passing away too young at 25 in 2003, she had much to look forward to, but God knew her days before even one of them came to be… She made a difference in the lives of everyone around her with gentleness, wisdom, and a kind and caring heart of love. As a sub for teachers and TAs since March 2021, I’ve enjoyed giving each of my students a listening ear and caring. Sometimes I feel like their “adopted grandmother”, giving time and attention as they each need. And it does my heart good to hear some of their comments, “You’re our favorite sub… we really appreciate you… it’s because you care.” Little do my students know that their responding well to my input and caring completes the circle of love. And I know that you, too, can name many examples of how others made a difference in the world around them, even in your life… just as you share this same loving kindness to make a difference in someone else’s life… someone in need of your compassion, comfort, kindness and generosity. Feel free to share your thoughts with us all below. We can each make a difference wherever we are in whatever we do! Shining our inner light as a reflection of Christ’s love within us, we let others know how much we care about them. Be the one who makes a difference in the world today! You Made A Difference… Linda A. Roorda You made a difference in the world today… You gave a smile to someone in need Your face truly showed you cared from the heart For your love was felt wrapped up in the glow. ~ You made a difference in the world today… You lent an ear to someone hurting You listened to tears and heard their story You held their heart in the depths of your soul. ~ You made a difference in the world today… You walked the path where a friend was plodding You carried their burden, you went the extra mile, You eased their stress and brought hope to their day. ~ You made a difference in the world today… Your hands rough and worn, were held out with warmth Bestowing attention, you covered their needs As your arms enveloped to guard and protect. ~ You made a difference in the world today… You spoke words of truth with gentle kindness You showed concern, asking how they were And shared their dreams scattered in the storm. ~ You made a difference in the world today… You took the time to sit in silence You held their hand bringing peace and comfort When their life was torn apart in sorrow. ~ You made a difference in the world today… You shared their joy with laughter’s ring You praised them for a job well done As your love and hugs showed the depth of care. ~~
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“I’m dying,” the older woman says. Her name is Honey. She is in the meet-and-greet line after one of my shows. She holds one of my books. White hair. Tiny frame. Maybe five-foot. The theater ushers move her to the head of the line because she is using her roller walker. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says through wheezing breaths. “Your name is Honey?” I say. “Yes.” “Why do they call you that?” She is too winded to answer my question. And she has a lot to get out, so she cuts right to the car chase. “Before I die I have always wanted to meet you. My son brought me here tonight.” Her son stands by. He is crying, too. Honey’s son’s wife is also crying. People nearby are crying. So I follow suit. If you can’t beat them, join them. I lower myself to Honey’s eye level. “You wanted to meet ME? Are you sure you don’t have me confused with someone else?” “I’m sure.” “Don’t you think it’s time to raise your standards?” “No.” Then we hug. Her body is so small and frail. During our embrace I can feel her ribs in my arms. I’m thinking I might break her if I squeeze too hard. Then again, what good is a hug if the other party doesn’t squeeze? You have to squeeze during a proper hug otherwise people will mistake you for a communist who doesn’t love the Lord. So I apply gentle—almost imperceptible pressure to our embrace. Neither of us let go for a little while. Two of us holding each other for a long time. Eyes closed. Honey says into my ear, “I love you. I’ve never met you, but I love you.” Still hugging. “Love you, too,” I whisper. “What’s killing you?” “Cancer.” There are rules to hugs. If you’re going to hug for more than five seconds, if you’re going to KEEP the hug going, it’s required to start rocking back and forth. Otherwise, as I say, communist. So we just sway for a few moments. Honey and I. Two bodies. Two humans. One love. When we release, I open my eyes and the real world is still there. People are looking at us. I wipe my eyes. The old woman kisses my cheek. She touches my face. Her eyes are bright. “Be a light,” she says. “Be such a bright light.” And now I know now why they call her Honey. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com
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Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head
Carol Bossard posted a blog entry in Home, Garden, & Other Wonders
We are coming to the end of a rainy but beautiful May. Those gardeners who didn’t succumb to the early-planting bug (who already have little green shoots in nice, neat rows) are planting gardens now. We were out yesterday putting in sunflowers and cosmos. Supposedly we are frost-free by the end of May, but I do remember a couple of June frosts. You’d have seen us running around and putting brown paper grocery bags over the tomatoes and old sheets over the corn and cucumbers. Lawns need mowing more often now. Peonies will soon be in bloom and roses will follow, to scent the air. Memorial Day is just past; it seemed very early this year. This holiday was quite special to me as a child, because I accompanied my parents to the cemeteries in Orleans County, where many of my mother’s family were buried, and Fairport, where my father’s father and aunts rested. When we went near Holly, that always included a visit to Grampa and Grandma Dusett. My mother took flowers (sometimes to plant), and as we went along, she told me about the names on those cemetery stones. In that way, my ancestors became quite real to me. Some of the names are so unused that they are enchanting: Huld Elizabeth Weatherwax (formerly Weiderwax in the Netherlands), Selenda Pellett, Abner Dusett (a carrot farmer), Aunt Belle Dibble, Jenny Mae Allen, etc. They are part of the tapestry that our family has become. I didn’t think much about the actual reason for Memorial Day back then, although I did have family members who were in WWs I and II, and in the Korean Conflict. My two older brothers, who were in WWII, taught me their military anthems for the Army and the Marines. I was only about 4 or 5, but with one finger, I could plunk out those two tunes, and also learned the words. Later, high school and college friends went to Vietnam, the sons of friends were called for the Gulf War, and a nephew served in Iraq and Afghanistan. Now I know a whole lot more about Memorial Day and wars. Currently, we are watching innocent civilians become collateral damage at the least, and perhaps even genocide, in Africa, the Ukraine, and the Middle East. As General Sherman said: “War is Hell!” And not just for soldiers---- for entire populations, for those who lose loved ones, for the economy of wherever the war is happening. Civilized people ought to be able to figure something else out, but apparently our primitive tribalism lingers. Even as we wish there were no wars, we have this special weekend to honor the people who did what they had to do because we haven’t figured it out. When celebrating Memorial Day, I mustn’t forget our local parades. My school didn’t have a special marching band at that time, but the concert band members became marchers for the Memorial Day Parade down the Main Street. In Junior Hi, even though my instrument was the flute, I marched with the Bell Lyre. I suppose they had enough flutes at that point, so I was assigned this large, instrument much like an upright xylophone. Its center spine fit into a leather pocket which was attached to straps over the shoulders. Then the 18-inch instrument tilted out from the body so it could be played with a “hammer.” And, hopefully, I could hammer the right metal strips while also marching along in, usually, heat and humidity. But small negatives like those didn’t deter us, for, who doesn’t love a parade? Other kinds of parades come with college graduations, and, in some states, high school graduations. High schools in NYS, graduate students in late June because of the infamous (my opinion only) Regents Exams. Graduations can be exciting, or merely an expected closure, depending on one’s attitude. High school graduation was exciting for me. I think we seniors all realized that life wouldn’t be the same anymore; that we, as individuals would be different the next time we saw each other, we would be experiencing a multitude of things from military service to marriage, to college or jobs. Graduation was, perhaps, more of a family event then too, rather than a time for a series of parties, as it is now. College graduation was, for me, sort of mundane. I was glad to be getting a diploma after four years of work and fun, and I dutifully listened to President Perkins, but I was far more focused on my wedding coming up that September. A lot of years have passed between that summer of wedding plans ----- and now. There have been difficult times, scary times and some grief-filled times. But mostly, they have been incredibly good years, with more fine memories than there are scrapbooks to put them in. One of the blessings of being old/elderly/aged/age-challenged 😊 ---- is that most of us have learned what really matters in life, and what can be shrugged off. One question we’ve learned to ask ourselves is: “Will this really matter in 5 years? In 10 years? Even a day from now?” We’ve learned that people we love should never be taken for granted, nor should disagreements become separators. We all need the love and affirmation we feel from family members and good friends, so nourish it. This little excerpt from Cowboy Lyrics by Robert V. Carr* sums it up nicely: “What’s the use to worry, or even to fret for the things of this world you will never get? An’ likewise it’s true fer me an’ fer, you, there’s jus about two tricks that we can do. Be as good as you know an’ cut out the bad, an allers be cheerful, an’ never get mad; For the frownin’ face gathers the wrinkles, my friend, an’ the smilin’ one stays like a boy’s to the end.” If you are on FB, you probably have seen several lit candles, suggesting that FB- users keep the candle burning for any number of causes. One I actually liked, suggested that we keep a candle burning in a window of our home, to let people know that “hope lives here.” I like it because, for many people, hope has been replaced by despair. Many observe the growing disturbances, and suffering around the world and in our own country. Whether it is the world situations, our national politics, or illness, people simply cannot see any light at the end of the tunnel ---- unless it is that proverbial freight train coming at them. They bear a daily burden of anxiety and discouragement, as they focus only on what is wrong. Since I believe we are all called to be beacons for someone; probably for more than one someone, the next questions must be “When things are so desperate, how do I keep my inner light burning brightly?” “Who lights my path? Who lights your path?” For some, it is a central spiritual belief; a tenet of faith that strengthens. For some, it is the experience that “this too, shall {eventually} pass.” Also, we should keep ourselves aware of all the good in the world as well as the bad. Frequently, the light comes from other people sharing their lights, metaphorically as we do at a Christmas Eve service. In that way we are beacons to each other. As I thought of people, over the years, who have kept me from despair, I realized that there were many. There have been family members, family friends, teachers, speakers and writers whose material has struck a chord. My parents lived through four wars and the Great Depression, and yet could still plan for the future, laugh with friends and go courageously ahead. So they were good examples, usually. All along the way people have shared their sparks and their radiance with me. Isolation is terrible for people. We need each other - we learn from each other and we hold each other up. It is a current practice in prisons to use isolation as a punishment. Perhaps a short-lived time out is appropriate, but continued isolation will only make that person desperate, unstable and even angrier. Therapy would be more useful for reformation although our prisons do not have restoration as a priority. Older people, living alone suffer from isolation. As one’s ability to move around, to drive, to hear, to participate in a social group dwindles, there will often be days and days without visitors or conversation. If you know someone who is alone, and home-bound, it would be a kindness to visit them, or even take them out for a ride. We may sometimes think that solitude away from this troubled world would be good, but too much of a “good” thing is not good for us! “No one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of anyone else.”** As we step out of May and into June, even as I wonder how May could possibly vanish so quickly. I’m hoping for a few more days of sunshine and rain drops in proper proportions. There is also a full “Strawberry Moon” in June. Congratulations to the graduates; may the time just ahead of you be a time of discovery and peace. Courage to those of you taking the NYS Regents exams (and any others); you will do better than you expect. And to those of us who are long out of school, may we look with pleasure on our summery world, and enjoy every moment. Carol writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *Robert V. Carr -American poet, well-known for his “Cowboy Lyrics.” *Charles Dickens –English novelist, journalist and social critic. 1812-1870. . -
Beware of the final days of any legislative session in Albany -- and be ready for last-minute surprises. That’s especially important to keep in mind this year. It’s critical for all New Yorkers to keep an eye out. There are legislative proposals under discussion that deserve high-alert status. Legislation known as the “NY HEAT Act,” for example, would effectively ban the use of natural gas as an energy source for homes and businesses. It would have disastrous consequences, including driving up already high utility costs for most ratepayers; forcing homeowners to spend thousands of dollars to retrofit their homes to eliminate natural gas; removing consumer choice on how to heat their homes; and escalating costs for building homes and homeownership. A recent analysis from the Empire Center pinpoints the ramifications: “New York has some of the most ambitious climate goals in the country: electric school buses by 2035, zero emissions electricity by 2040, etc. Why New Yorkers, who already consume less energy per capita than any state (other than Rhode Island), should lead the charge in saving the planet is the question for the politicians who voted on these policies in 2019.” The HEAT Act specifically, according to Empire Center, “consists of two basic ideas: first, New York will make you heat your home with electricity, and second, you might end up paying your neighbor’s electric bill.” It’s a disaster in the making for most middle-class ratepayers. New York is already one of the least affordable and highest taxed states in America. We lead the nation in population loss. The Heat Act would make it worse. Albany Democrats continue to impose unaffordable and unrealistic energy mandates with no concern for affordability, feasibility, or reliability. They keep reaching deeper and deeper into the pockets of middle-class taxpayers, destroying family budgets, killing local jobs, and weakening local economies with the promise of very minimal or realistic benefits for most New Yorkers. From the start, our Senate and Assembly Republican conferences, business leaders, and other advocates have repeatedly called for a cost-benefit analysis of New York’s ongoing imposition of these far-reaching energy mandates, like the HEAT Act, since the approval in 2019 of the “Community Leadership and Climate Protection Act” (CLCPA). We have consistently demanded answers about what the CLCPA agenda will cost ratepayers and local economies, expressed concerns about the broad mandates being enacted, and questioned whether the goals are realistic or achievable. New York State only contributes less than a half a percent of global emissions. China and India are each adding more coal burning emissions each year in an amount greater than New York's total. Even if New York could get to zero, we will have no impact on global climate change and therefore, no benefit for the hundreds of billions, if not trillions of anticipated costs trying. The HEAT Act alone would raise rates for at least 75 percent of New Yorkers, eliminate thousands of good-paying local jobs, and slap up to $50,000 in costs on homeowners who may be forced to transition from natural gas to electric heat. New Yorkers already struggle to pay high utility bills. Even before CLCPA was approved in 2019, 25 percent of the delivery charges on utility bills were made up of New York State taxes and fees. NYSEG/RG&E recently declared that now over 50% is related to state mandated costs. For months now, my office and the offices of many of my colleagues in the state Legislature have been inundated with ratepayer complaints of exorbitant bill increases. No acceptable explanations have been forthcoming by the utilities or the state Public Service Commission which regulates utilities. Over the past six years, things have only gotten worse. According to an Empire Center analysis of the first CLCPA report published by the Department of Public Service last year, rates had already risen by as much as 9.8 percent while recent rate increases had not been fully phased in yet. Yet on it goes. Last week, the Democrat-led state Senate passed the so-called “Extended Producer Responsibility Act,” known as EPR, which will drive up costs of all packaged goods, including food products, due to outrageous mandates and recycling requirements on companies that sell anything packaged. Not a single Republican voted for it. And if all that is not enough for the Albany Democrats, reports revealed yet another proposal introduced by two New York City legislators that would effectively ban future dairy farms in New York from expanding beyond 700 cows. One upstate county agricultural coordinated reacted this way and he’s right on target, “They haven’t done their research. They’ve never been on dairy farms. How dare they try to regulate something they know nothing about.” It's the latest in a longstanding tradition of ill-informed, misguided, outrageous, and ridiculous proposals coming out of a state government now dominated by one-party, New York City-based leaders and interests. It continues to show a complete lack of understanding and calls for government overreach that would have a devastating impact on our rural, upstate local economies where the dairy industry has long been and must remain a mainstay. While the Albany Democrats constantly talk about affordability, or the lack thereof, of living in New York State, they consistently take actions that drive up the costs of living here. Senator Tom O'Mara represents New York's 58th District which covers all of Chemung, Schuyler, Seneca, Steuben, Tioga and Yates counties, and a portion of Allegany County.
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“You never think of your parents as much more than parents. It isn’t until you are older yourself that you begin to realize they had their hopes, dreams, ambitions, and secret thoughts. You sort of take them for granted and sometimes you are startled to know they were in love a time or two…. You never stop to think about what they were like until it is too late…” (Louis L’Amour in “Tucker”) Oh how true!! The tomboy that I was while growing up in my teens, working and learning beside my Dad, prepared me for later becoming a farmer’s wife. After all, the love of farming is in the blood of both my parents! I was not fond of housework, though certainly took good care of my home, but I much preferred to be outside or in the barn. Yet we women fill so many different roles. Not all of us are wives and mothers. Some of us remain single. Some of us are meant to pursue life-time careers. Some of us work to support our family, when we would prefer to be at home raising our children. Often, our likes and dislikes, and even careers, change throughout our lifetime. Typically, we women are great multi-taskers, but I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad! We come from different walks in life, and we’re very different from each other in feelings, perspectives, and opinions. I’ve had several “big sisters” or “surrogate mothers” and mentors in my lifetime who added a special dimension to my maturing and learning - my Dad’s mother, Grammy, with whom I wrote letters every other week for decades from my teens on, who helped raise me as an infant and toddler, and was there with an ear and advice as I raised my own children; my cousin Howard’s wife, Carol, like a big sister to me and whose four children my sister and I babysat during their weekend auctions in our teens, and with whom I continue to keep in touch; and his brother Robert’s wife, Virginia, briefly my hunting partner in my teens, also taught me how to cook certain meals when I lived with their family while working in Ithaca several months before my marriage to Ed, learning to make delicious homemade spaghetti sauce and a down-home scrumptious simple goulash, both a favorite in my own family’s supper menu. But I remember my Mom for many things… as I grew up, she was a traditional housewife, taking care of the home and growing a large garden. She continued her mother’s example by canning and freezing the produce every summer except the years we lived in Clifton, NJ. When we butchered chickens, Dad put them on the chopping block, we two sisters were the “dunk-and-pluck” crew, while Mom knew how to properly dress them for the freezer from her growing-up years, showing us one hen’s set of graduated eggs sans shells from large to very small! She was quiet and reserved, did not share much, if anything, about herself or her family as I grew up, but she had a strong faith in God. Her mother died when I was 9 so I have limited memories of her, though eventually my mother shared stories of growing up and of her mother’s busy life raising 12 children, helping on their large chicken and dairy farm. My mom loved the country/farm life as do I. And she knew how to deliciously cook up the squirrel I shot, and all game and fish my Dad brought home! A few things she shared included making true homemade ice cream (no pre-made mix) as we kids clamored for a turn at hand cranking, bottling homemade root beer, and cooking up the best hot cocoa with real cocoa powder, sugar and milk on the stove – all things from her childhood. She also made a Dutch barley soup with buttermilk and brown sugar that I loved, as well as the most delicious cream puffs in the world using our duck eggs. She could sew, but it was not her favorite. She taught me to iron clothes and Dad’s handkerchiefs before permanent press fabrics hit the market. I loved her homemade bread and made some a few times after I was married, but it was not my favorite venture. As a kid, I savored her delicious toasted-cheese sandwiches with her homemade dill pickle slices tucked between slices of her homemade bread – long before Vlasic ever thought of selling bottled dill pickle slices for that very purpose! My sister and I did a lot of the bean and pea picking, snapping and shelling. Though we tossed some of those veggies as youngsters when we were tired of our chore, freshly picked and cooked peas remain my favorite. I loved visiting the farm my Mom grew up on, and later in life enjoyed hearing stories of her younger days. She shared some of her wisdom, but typical of teens, I wasn’t always listening or accepting. I did not hear much of her childhood until I began researching and documenting her family’s genealogy decades after I got married. And treasure the time I drove her around her hometown of Carlisle, NY, sharing and pointing out places connected to her life, as I wrote down her childhood stories. My only desire had been to be a stay-at-home mother like my Mom, but circumstances beyond our control put me back into the workforce when my children were very young. Each of my secretarial jobs (beginning part time as a high school senior in an Owego law office), built the foundation and skills for the next job, preparing me for my final medical transcription career before retiring and changing direction once more - subbing for teachers and their TAs, jobs I absolutely love, “being there” for “my” students. Sewing many clothes for myself, husband and children, and canning and freezing a year’s worth of garden produce and fruit while raising my little ones were all reminiscent of the “good ol’ days.” But whether it’s being a mother or having a career, that’s not where all our satisfaction is found. It does our heart good to “be there” for someone else, whether to provide emotional support, bring a meal to a shut-in, or lend aid in other ways to someone in need… sometimes even if only to give an ear and a shoulder for their hurts. And that doesn’t begin to describe the love felt by the recipients of our gifts of love and time. But doing good for others is not where we derive all our satisfaction either. For several years, a popular women’s Bible study has been the “Proverbs 31 Woman.” I like this passage of Scripture in Proverbs 31:10-31 (NIV), written by Israel’s King Solomon who had achieved fame as the wisest man in the world. It speaks about a wife of noble character, and what she does to bring blessing to her husband and children… her family. She works to care and provide for the needs of her household. She buys and sells property and goods for a profit. She respects her husband and brings him good in all she does, whether at home, among her friends, or in the city at large. She speaks with a wise heart. She does not sit around in idleness; instead, she demonstrates strength and dignity in all situations. As I ponder this passage, I feel like it shows that I clearly don’t measure up. For I know all too well my own failings. Yet, there’s no reason why I cannot pursue change within. So, I seek that quiet time to study, meditate, pray, and listen to what the Lord has to say within my heart. It’s the Lord’s approval I long for… to guide my steps, to change my course, to cover me with forgiveness, peace and contentment, and to find satisfaction in doing what He expects of me even when it’s not the easiest path, nor the one I would choose. May you be blessed - whether or not you are called Mom - for all the love you share, and for all the time and effort you put into being there for those around you… Happy Mother’s Day! I Am A Woman Linda A. Roorda ~ I am a woman. I am a mother. I’m a little girl, deep in my heart. I am emotions, raw and revealing. I am deep strength when life overwhelms. ~ I’ve carried love within my heart For family dear, and friends held close, For husband wise, light of my world And children young, growing their dreams. ~ I see the needs to be fulfilled. I reach to you, a life to touch. I shed a tear, and hold your hand To ease your pain, and bring a smile. ~ In quiet time, I seek Your will, Lord. A time to renew, to calm my fears, To savor sweet dreams, my hopes and plans As You care for me and meet all my needs. ~ I fail at times to walk the straight path Yet You, oh Lord, are at my side. You pick me up each time I fall To gently remind, Your child I am. ~ I’ve harbored pain of losses that wound. I’ve weathered storms, battered and scarred. But my weary soul with peace You fill, That I may praise and bless Your name. ~ I hear Your voice and will in Your Word, For wisdom I’ve gained upon this road Will lead me on to comfort and love Others in need with You at my side. ~~
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Are We Doing The Right Thing As Parents?
Ars76 commented on investsmallpotatoes.com's blog entry in Investing With Small Potatoes
It's an interesting question posed here. I agree that teaching about work ethic is critical, regardless of the type of job. In my role as an educator, I have started adding a conversation with new employees on attendance, teamwork, and personal responsibility to what is covered in orientation. Setting expectations is important, but I think for a lot of people this is a little late to start having that conversation. But it also illustrates that the resources often taken for granted by some (reliable transportation, childcare etc.) are luxuries many people don't have. Individualized training opportunities, or at least introductions to professions that play to interests or strengths is a wonderful concept- but i think needs infrastructure to be built for that. I have learned a lot about S-VE's high school curriculum- they have an agricultural science department! What a wonderful opportunity for the students! And the BOCES programs are another example of structured opportunities for learning that play to individual interests. -
Ahh, spring! My favorite season! And hasn’t it been looking beautiful outdoors? Building on last week’s barely emerging florals and greenery, this week’s warmth and rain has showered us with bursting color! I love to see the signs of new life that slowly appear, almost imperceptibly, after earth’s long wintry sleep. To smell the fresh earthy aroma that follows a gentle spring rain is so refreshing, to see the grass almost immediately turning from shades of crisp tan and brown and dingy green to rich verdant hues of green, and to watch the daintiest leaf or flower bud begin to develop… these all bring joy to my heart. With a bright sun’s nourishing warmth, those leaf buds soon swell and burst open, bringing many more shades of green to life. Then, as flowers open to brighten the landscape, it’s as though all of creation rejoices with an endless bounty of color. “For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2:11-12) I’ve often pondered the great joy and pleasure it must have given our God as He created every aspect of this world, every plant and creature… each uniquely designed! After His work of creating separate aspects of this world over six days of the week, “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31 NIV) Wouldn’t it have been wonderful to have been a witness as this marvelous creation came to be? I’ve also imagined that the first week of creation was spring with vivid colors bursting forth in blooms from every kind of plant and flower imaginable! An amazing palette of color! When God created man and woman in His image to tend and care for the beautiful Garden of Eden, ultimately to be caretakers of the new world at large… they were each uniquely created and loved by God… just as we are in our own time. And to know that all this beauty was created for our pleasure, to treasure and nourish… what an awesome responsibility and beautiful gift we were given! Enjoy the beauty of spring in all its glory as it bursts forth anew to revive and color our every-day world with exhilarating joy! Colors of Spring Linda A. Roorda From brilliant yellow of forsythia arched To burgundy red on trees standing tall The colors of spring emerge in great beauty To brighten our days from winter’s dark sleep. ~ From shades of chartreuse as leaf buds burst forth To pink and white flowers in cloud-like halos Hovering on branches in glowing full bloom Swaying above carpets of undulating green. ~ From rich azure sky with puffs of white-gray To pale blue horizon at forested hills With sun-streaked rays like fingers of God To lengthening shadows as light slowly fades. ~ From velvet black night as moon rises full To glittering diamonds twinkling bright Up over hills on their path through the sky Gliding above trees with limbs reaching out. ~ From earth’s colorful palette awakening clear To the crisp and bold and shades of pastels Shimmering and dancing to brighten our day Created by God, our pleasure to behold. ~~
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An old highway. Somewhere in America. Two lanes. No shoulder. Faded yellow lines. Oh, the things you see while driving old American highways will enchant you. I pass a young woman walking the side of the highway, carrying supermarket bags. She is young. Ponytail. Sunday dress. There is a little boy on a bicycle following her. This makes me smile. Because I am glad to know children still ride bikes. When I was a kid, an estimated 69 percent of American children between ages five and 14 rode bikes. Today, it’s down to nine percent. The percentage drops every year. Growing up, bicycles were our religion. A kid and his bike were invincible. Your bike carried you far from home, into new realms, introducing you to the world at large. We kids had no technology. We had no social media. No smartphones. The bike was our internet, our phone, and our Instagram. Used to, our entire neighborhood would be littered with tiny bicycles, scattered in random front yards. And if you wanted to know where your friends were, you just looked for the bikes. I pass a Baptist Church, tucked in the trees. Big gravel parking lot. Cars parked everywhere. Mostly trucks or economy cars with muddy tires. No Land Rovers. The cemetery backs up to a cattle pasture. On the church lawn, I see a couple kids in dress clothes, roughhousing in the grass. If I were a betting man, I’d say one of those kids is about to get his butt reddened. I pass a baseball park off the highway. And although it’s Sunday, the stands are full. There are players on the field. White polyester uniforms. Parents cheering. Which is unusual to me. Because it’s Sunday. When I was a kid, we were not allowed to play baseball on Sundays. For crying out loud, we weren’t even allowed to clip our toenails on Sundays. Also prohibited was Sunday fishing. Namely, because fishing was considered “work.” And you did not work on the Lord’s day. Which was sort of ironic inasmuch as all the women would toil, sweat, and labor for six hours in the kitchen, each Sunday, cooking a dinner large enough to feed the People’s Liberation Army of China. Whereupon they would spend another nine hours doing dishes. I pass a house in the woods. Nestled in a copse of pines. White clapboards. Wrap-around porch. Both screen doors open—front and kitchen. A cross breeze works its way through the home. Also, I see an old man, seated on a swing, he’s reading—wait—can it be? Yes it can! He is reading a physical newspaper. More churches. Shady Grove Baptist. Pleasant Ridge Baptist. Pleasant View Baptist. First Baptist. Peachtree Baptist. Trinity Baptist. Wallace Farm Supply. Your classic small-town feed and seed. Red-and-white checkered Purina logo on the sign. Seminole Feed products. Get your Bengal roach spray here. I’ll bet they sell real cowboy hats inside. Up ahead are Cedartown, Bremen, and it’s only nine miles to Buchanan. I wish I could keep riding the old American highway. Because this is what I love about our country. The little towns. And the people in them. But, I’m turning onto the interstate now. I’m due back home in a few hours. I’m an adult now. I have commitments. Things to do. Bills to pay. People to see. But sometimes I still miss my bike. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com
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“Camelot* opens with singing about the merry month of May. Knights are brave, their ladies dance around May Poles, and life is beautiful. Northern hemisphere residents are glad to see May come too. Boots alpaca hats, and mittens are put away and light jackets emerge from storage. Today, we are not only welcoming the delightful, new month, but today ( May 1st ) is May Day. Before certain nations began using it to celebrate military prowess, May Day was for children, for whirling around May Poles, for carrying flowery May baskets to neighbors. I prefer to think of it in that way still; as the light-hearted time of bluebirds, hummingbirds, garden parties, and, oh yes, bears! A cute 1-year-old came by last week and sampled our cracked corn. May can bring us some very warm and very cold days. While I was at Cornell, one early May weekend came with snow. Several of us had planned a picnic and awoke that morning to find lawns had turned white. Being intrepid Cornellians, we went ahead with the picnic dressed in boots and jackets. Perhaps that streak of intrepidness is why now we push the limits of garden planting. We know we shouldn’t put tender plants out before May 31st, but we simply can’t resist working the soil on a good day in May when everything smells like spring. Speaking of Cornell, the Botanic gardens on campus are a wonderland of flowers, shrubbery, and herbs. Spending some time there is refreshing and idea-inspiring. It is a foil for the too-many buildings; offices, classrooms, dorms, libraries, and labs. My years at Cornell (after I recovered from being home-sick) were good ones; much to learn and do, a fine group of friends, and extra-curricular activities that taught me as much as classes. There were dances on the third floor of Warren Hall (where I met Kerm), parties at Cayuga Lodge, birding field trips with Ornithology, singing in the University chorus, discussions of spiritual nature in Annabel Taylor with the chaplain, and a variety of chats with friends in the dorm – especially my roommate, Pat. She was a bio-chem major, and she was the only reason I got through inorganic chemistry. Perhaps my favorite and most memorable activity was the Cornell Recreation Team, where we learned about leadership, square calling and folk dancing, and program organization-- a mix of skills I’ve used frequently. Right now, many high school juniors and seniors are facing finals, and looking at colleges. I’d tell them to look carefully at what the college stands for, not its prestige. Does it fit you? Are you more comfortable in a small school or a large one? How much debt do you want to have to pay back? How far away will you be for traveling home? Are you doing what you want to do, or what you think people expect? There is, right now, a threat to all colleges receiving Federal monies. The recently appointed president of Cornell spoke firmly about the traditions of free thinking, scientific research and Ezra Cornell’s vision and he stood strong for those values. His speech made the NY Times, and Cornell received almost immediate notice that its funds were being cut! Harvard also responded bravely and even more explicitly. It obviously has become uncomfortable, and even hazardous to think and speak honestly, so it is important for colleges to remain places where integrity stands firm against pressures from those who would turn the education into a travesty of the truth. College education costs oodles and oodles of money, and so, the learning one receives should be based in truth, have breadth, depth and should stimulate curiosity. We will need administrators who are creative in finding ways to cope in difficult times. However, spinning straw into gold is only a fairy tale! I expect that other universities will be trying to maintain their standards, as well; hopefully they will cooperate with each other. We should do whatever we can to cheer them on. While we are considering education, colleges are not the only path to living a good life. College is beneficial for giving you information and experiences it might take you years to learn by yourself. And some careers do demand a 4 or 5-year degree, whether or not one actually needs it for able performance in that career. As an alternative, tech schools and apprentice-ships for trades, are good places to acquire hands-on careers. We are currently short of adequate electricians, plumbers, mechanics, builders, nurses, medical technologists, etc. I’ve heard, though I have no statistics, that many college graduates are tossing their tassels in vain; that there are too few jobs for them. Think fully about what you choose to spend your days doing; what will bring you satisfaction and happiness? Warning: Caution: Small rant ahead! No matter what form of higher education one chooses, it will only be useful if one spends more time in learning than in partying. I am not against having a good time, but considering college costs, and rising health costs, it is the height of foolishness and selfishness to waste money in continuous revelry that distracts and clouds the mind. Too much alcohol or using “recreational” drugs, are both dangerous and unhealthy, not to mention, STUPID! That is blunt, but true! We have each been given a fine mind and body, and to deliberately mess it up is the height of ingratitude. And this from a person who loves parties! Rant over! May and June are traditionally full of more good times and increased parental worrying; proms, parties, alcohol, exams, looming higher education, money, and spring fever itself. There is often a wide gap in communications; kids having no understanding of why their parents are so nervous and picky, and parents having no memory of their own over-the-top confidence in taking care of themselves at the same age. Kids think they are indestructible; Parents know very well that they are not; there are all sorts of dangers out there, and they loom large in a parent’s mind. In one of his books, Louis L’Amour** said: When you are young, you never think of y our parents as much more than parents. It isn’t until you are older yourself that you begin to realize they had their hopes, dreams, and secret thoughts. You sort of take them for granted, and sometimes you are startled to know they were in love a time or two…..You never stop to think about what they were like until it is too late.” I actually do remember that far back; I was so focused on my plans, that my parents’ worries didn’t penetrate my rather (at the time!!) ditzy brain. Mothers’ Day is May 11th, and, for me, it is a whole lot nostalgic. Both my mother and Kerm’s mom have passed on. I think probably that none of us totally appreciate our mothers (or fathers either) while they are with us, but we never stop missing them when they are gone. There are several things for which I’d like to apologize to mine; things I now understand way better. We had a good relationship, though, so I will happily remember the fine times, and the many cups of tea my mother and I shared. That is also true for Kerm’s mother. Of course, she and I hadn’t known each other as long, but, after walking on a few eggshells, thankfully, we soon felt quite comfortable together and, as her first daughter-in-law, our relationship kind of paved the way for when she acquired two more. I am also grateful for being a mother. Except for a few occasions, our sons have added interest, humor, creativity, and love to our lives. Those few occasions when terror or exasperation followed them, we prayed a lot, and stifled the desire to put them through a wall (my frequent threat). Those times must have, in some weird way, contributed to their, or our, growth. Now that they are adults, whose minds have matured (doesn’t happen for boys until they are 30 or so) we enjoy them, are grateful for them and are mostly glad we didn’t create Shawn and Matt shaped holes in our walls. Back to the garden, and the “Merry Month of month of May”, where things are growing and blooming. Pansies spread their little velvet faces around. Violets have popped into bloom all over the lawn, just this week. Many varieties of daffodils are dancing in the constant winds, and shadblow trees are blossoming into white canopies. The very best thing in May, is to be outside. As a child, I hunted for pollywogs in our small stream. Such fun! Now I wait for primroses to emerge. Soon tulips will bloom and marsh marigolds will turn the swamps golden. I think fresh air, watching the wild life and gardens, keeps us healthy, de-stresses us, and allows us to maybe even live longer. So, Happy May Day! And Happy May! Carol writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *Camelot ----written and composed by Lowe and Lerner. Based on the tales of King Arthur’s court. **Louis L’Amour – Wrote novels, short stories, and non-fiction, most focusing on the frontier of the west. Several were made into movies. He died in 1988.
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New York still doesn’t have a new state budget. Instead, Governor Hochul and the Democrat-led State Legislature are running state government on a series of emergency extender measures, ten in total as of this writing. It’s no way to run a government. It produces uncertainty, concern, and a lack of confidence, rightly so, about where the state is headed. Governor Hochul went solo early last week, like she did last year, and announced a “general agreement” on what she claimed will be a $254-billion spending plan for this new fiscal year. To which the Democrat leaders of the Legislature responded with, “Not so fast.” Consequently, we head into another week without a final budget, without critical details of what might be included (or not included) in any final plan, and with all of it sure sounding like there remain more than a fair share of important issues unresolved and under discussion behind closed doors. Meanwhile, we keep hearing and seeing the warning signs of trouble ahead: From Bloomberg News, “A net 30,000 New Yorkers fled (New York City) for Florida’s Palm Beach and Miami-Dade counties in the five years through 2022, taking with them a combined $9.2 billion in income.” Keep in mind that New York State’s revenues overall are highly dependent on the income taxes paid by these high-income earners, many of whom live and work in the city; The budget “agreement” announced by the governor calls for hiking the payroll tax rate for companies with payrolls of $10 million a year from 0.6% to 0.895% -- a move which many see as just the beginning of New York’s unending search for higher taxes to continue paying for unaffordable state spending. From the New York Post, “Business owners and industry reps warned the looming tax increase…will cause bigger companies to leave the state and make cuts that’ll hit workers in the pocketbooks.” From state Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli, “Major cuts in federal funding simply cannot be replaced by state taxpayers, will reduce the services the state provides and will exacerbate the long-standing history of New Yorkers sending more of their hard-earned tax dollars to the federal government than they get back.” Despite this looming uncertainty, state leaders ignore this reality and instead of moving forward with some caution, common sense, and restraint, appear ready to go ahead and hike state spending by at least $15 billion over last year with a pledge to reconvene down the road to make any necessary adjustments which, by the way, the governor is seeking the authority to do unilaterally. The trouble for taxpayers is that we’re still not certain where any final budget enacted by the governor and legislative majorities will wind up. As noted in this column last week, final budget bills will ultimately get rushed through the legislative process, with no reasonable or responsible time for public review, often late at night, and taxpayers will be left holding the bag for a whole host of unwanted – and, once again, unaffordable -- surprises. That’s been the modus operandi defining this era in state government. Last year, remember, Albany Democrats left town in late April touting the enactment of a 2024-2025 budget totaling $237 billion. Turns out, a little over a month later, that their budget actually called for spending roughly $240 billion. That was according to a report quietly released on a Friday afternoon by the governor’s own Division of the Budget (DOB). That was a significant difference. It wasn’t just pocket change. It meant that state spending last year increased by $10 billion. This year, it will be a $15-billion increase – that’s if we can take their word for it this time around and there’s not another surprise readjustment on tap. State government’s spending habits have become so addictive that, eventually, every move that everyday citizens make in New York will come attached with another cost, another tax, or another new fee or mandate. It will have an enormous impact on the future for all of us. It keeps coming down to this, year after year, under one-party control: dire fiscal forecasts keep arriving, not only after an ongoing, unprecedented, multi-year spending spree, but also at the same time the Democrats keep initiating enormous, additional state spending commitments for which they don’t even yet know the final price tag. An ongoing illegal migrant crisis. Increased Medicaid spending. A multi-billion-dollar Unemployment Insurance debt. And let’s not forget the costs of Albany's Green New Deal with its outrageously costly, full electrification mandates, to name just a few. This year’s final, supposedly $254 billion spending plan will be just the latest chapter. Albany Democrats have simply and carelessly thrown caution (along with taxpayer dollars) to the wind. Since 2018, they will have increased state spending by an amount approaching $90 billion -- and far too much of it in a relentless pursuit of a misguided, questionable, unsustainable political agenda. Senator Tom O'Mara represents New York's 58th District which covers all of Chemung, Schuyler, Seneca, Steuben, Tioga and Yates counties, and a portion of Allegany County.
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Are We Doing The Right Thing As Parents?
investsmallpotatoes.com posted a blog entry in Investing With Small Potatoes
Today, while riding with my wife, she told me that an employee of McDonald's stormed out of one of their fast-food restaurants because he could not manage the pressure when managers asked them to do what their job is about, “Service.” I immediately had a flashback to my home in Brooklyn sometime in 1946. Two brothers-in-law, one a general practitioner and the other a worker in the Manhattan garment district who worked for a manufacturer of fur coats. Also present, two brothers, both were meat cutters, aka butchers. They began discussing their hopes for their children. All four had sons. Of course, the physician was hoping his son would be in the medical field, but my brothers remained silent. My other brother-in-law, the furrier, commented “occupations requiring physical efforts, such as plumbing, carpentry, masonry, and electricians, are important also, and where will they count on our children to be professionals. Undoubtedly, my physician brother-in-law was unable to counter. This was odd because his father migrated from Italy as a bricklayer and provided for a family of six. I began wondering whether parents place any emphasis on the work ethic. Get a job, work for the employer, and do the absolute best for your employer so you can be proud of the effort you put forward. I raised five children from two marriages, and early on, I conveyed the message that they had to earn their spending money. I also showed them how different tools were to be used safely. I would tell my children they would need to forfeit a good part of their wages if they could not make a simple repair in the home. Business owners continue to stress the shortage of blue-collar professionals. The wages are good, and college educations are outrageously high, with the value of the college degree being an ongoing topic. I have always believed that teachers should play an integral role in observing the interests of their students. Yes, this is a huge task with the classroom sizes of today. Another possible way of determining the future of a student would be with aptitude testing to try to see where their interests lie. There is nothing worse than sending a son or daughter off to college so that they can have the “College Experience”, only to learn it was a financially costly mistake. Any ideas out there? Raymond Maratea is a retired small business owner who has had some experience investing in the stock market (not a financial advisor or broker/dealer). Having started investing with small amounts, on individual investor platforms, Raymond is offering his experience to individuals who would like to invest, but who feel that because of their income level the stock market is out of their reach. Disclaimer: The author of “Small Potatoes” is not a registered investment, legal or tax advisor, or a stockbroker/dealer. All investment/financial opinions expressed in the “Small Potatoes” articles are from the personal research and experience of the author of the articles and are intended solely as educational material. Although best efforts are made to ensure that all information is accurate and up to date, occasionally unintended errors and misprints may occur. The information given in these articles must not be understood as “risk free” investing. The user must be careful about the quality of stocks being selected. -
Craftsmanship - One Secret To Boosting American Happiness
Guest Writers posted a blog entry in Guest View
by Annie Holmquist Gallup just released its World Happiness Report and found – for the second year in a row – that the U.S. did not make the list of the top 20 happiest nations. Not many of us will be surprised by that result. In fact, we may even raise our hands and admit, “Yes, that’s me, I’m part of the unhappiness problem in America.” Discontentment and unhappiness hit even the most cheerful of us occasionally. We look at our jobs, our marriages, our houses, our social lives, our material possessions, and frankly, they aren’t what we hoped for or expected. Life gets monotonous, we begin looking at the greener grass on the other side of the fence, convincing ourselves that if we just move on and find something else, we’ll be satisfied. How do we fight this discontentment, this unhappiness that seems to plague every one of us at some time or another? One unexpected answer that recently came across my path is craftsmanship. Craftsmanship is something that I often think of in the realm of carpenters or others who create beautiful, high-quality products – something that we rarely see anymore. But in simplest terms, craftsmanship is defined as production – the quality of the labor that we put forth. In that sense, every one of us has the ability to be a craftsman, whether we’re in a high-end job or a menial one. Whether or not we are craftsmen in our jobs, however, depends on the effort and skill we put into our daily tasks. Author Bernard Iddings Bell recognized this in his mid-20th century work, “Crisis in Education: A Challenge to American Complacency.” “Man exists to do creatively, in the most craftsmanlike manner possible, all things that must be done,” Bell wrote, “great things like government, or mothering, or the healing of minds and bodies; small things like making beds, or hoeing corn, or driving a truck; things in the public eye like making speeches, or unleashing atomic energy, or making peace; obscure things like selling groceries, or running a bus, or teaching school.” In other words, even the lowliest jobs and tasks – the ones we feel are unimportant or unnoticeable – are ones at which we can each be a craftsman, excelling in our execution of them. And when we approach each task like a craftsman, that happiness – so lost and unattainable today – bubbles up within, Bell says. "He finds inner peace who works at whatever is in front of him, not for the pay he gets or for what he can buy with that pay, not for applause or gratitude, but for sheer joy in creativity. There are a vast number of tasks to be performed in this world, most of them not romantic. They may be done in one of two ways: just to get them over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible, in which case they become a monotonous burden hard to bear; or each as beautifully and thoroughly as possible, in which case life is good to the taste." And therein lies at least one secret to happiness. Inevitably, each of us will come to some point in time where the tasks in front of us are not what we envisioned ourselves doing, nor are they what we really want to do. We become, as Bell says, “restless, unreliable, combative, caught in a web of doubt and dismay.” When that happens, we have the choice to give into that dismay and despair, joining the ranks of the unhappy Americans, or we have the chance to be faithful, craftsmen determined to do our jobs – no matter how menial – to the best of our abilities. And we must do this not only for ourselves, but for our children as well, as an example of how to approach life when it doesn’t work out like we want. “There will be no recovery of serenity, no mutual patience sufficient for fraternity,” Bell explains, “until we learn ourselves and teach our boys and girls that unless human beings become creative artists [those craftsmen, doing their work wholeheartedly] they remain petulant children, dangerous, predatory.” The wisest man whoever lived once wrote: “Seest thou a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean [average] men.” Faithful craftsmanship has its eventual reward – and that is something which can bring joy to the heart of every American. Annie Holmquist served as the editor of Intellectual Takeout from 2018 to 2022. When not writing or editing, she enjoys reading, gardening, and time with family and friends. This article originally appeared on IntellectualTakeout.org and is is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. -
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A State Budget Process That Blindfolds The Public
Beekeeper commented on Senator Tom O'Mara's blog entry in From Albany
The state rules should change. The school districts, by state law, must create a budget and submit it to a vote the first week of May. If NY State cannot pass a budget so districts don't know how much state funding they will receive by then, the voting should not be held. It is crazy voting on a budget before you know how much state aid you will receive. -
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photo courtesy of NormanyBattlefields.com by Rachel Dworkin On D-Day, June 6, 1944, just as the sun was setting, two waves of Douglas C-47s towing Horsa and Waco CG-4A gliders flew east over Utah Beach in Normandy, France. They were headed for Ste-Mére-Eglise, just a few miles in from the coast. Loaded aboard the 176 gliders were 1,190 troops, 59 vehicles, 25 anti-tank guns, and 131 tons of ammunition. It was Operation Elmira and they were flying into trouble. The first glider combat operation was carried out by the Germans on May 10, 1940 when they used them to land troops inside Fort Eben-Emael, Belgium, allowing them to take what was supposed to be an impenetrable fortress. The United States Army Air Corps began its own glider program in February 1941 in response. In May 1941, army glider pilots began training at Harris Hill in Elmira, New York, on the east coast, and Twenty-Nine Palms, California, on the west. These early trainees were trained on commercial sailplanes, including the Schweizer SGS 2-8, manufactured here in Elmira. After the attack on Pearl Harbor and America’s entry into the war in December 1941, the Air Corps began training its glider pilots in earnest. American forces first used gliders during the Sicily campaign of 1943 and again in Burma in 1944. Gliders proved a valuable tool during the invasion of Normandy in June 1944. Operation Elmira was the third and final mission flown by the 82ndAirborne Division on D-Day. The goal of Operation Elmira was to bring in reinforcements and equipment to paratroopers who had parachuted in earlier in the day. The mission consisted 36 Waco CG-4A gliders and 140 Horsa gliders towed by 176 Douglas C-47 airplanes. They left England around 6:30 pm and arrived in France in two waves. The first wave arrived around 9pm while the second arrived two hours later around 11pm. Things went wrong fast. The original plan called for the gliders to land at two different zones, LZ W and LZ O, but troops on the ground were unable to secure LZ W. Ground forces attempted to communicate with the in-coming pilots to warn them to divert all gliders to LZ O, but the message never went through. Instead, the C-47’s and their gliders flew into a barrage of German ground fire as soon as they began their approaches over LZ W. Of the 176 airplanes, 92 were damaged and five are shot down. Eight of the pilots were injured and one was killed. Things were even worse for the gilder pilots. The gliders came down hard. One pilot, Ben Ward, touched down in a field only to realize that his break line had been shot out and they were headed for a pair of trees at 90 miles per hour. Their Horsa glider slid between the trees, sheering off the sides of the fuselage and killing one of their passengers. All told, most of the gliders were destroyed upon landing. Ten of their pilots were killed on impact with 29 injured and 7 missing in action. Of the 1,190 troops they carried, 157 were killed or injured. The glider crews and passengers were still in danger even after they landed, considering many of them had landed behind enemy lines. Glider pilot Clifford Fearn had barely unbuckled his safety harness when his glider was overrun by Germans and they were all taken prisoner. He was freed a few hours later by advancing American troops. Another pilot, Rollin B. Fowler, found himself in a similar situation but managed to free himself with a grenade he had stuffed down his pants. Despite the initial issues with the landing zones and resulting casualties, Operation Elmira was largely considered a success. Most of their cargo was delivered undamaged, as were the reinforcements. Seeing the first wave arrived in daylight hours helped boost American morale, even as it demoralized the Germans. Gliders continued to be used throughout the war, including on the very next day. Despite how useful they had been in delivering men and supplies, the sun soon set on combat gliders. They were never used again after World War II. Instead, they were replaced in their role by helicopters which had the advantage of being able to fly in and out under their own steam. ****** If you’re interested in learning more about Operation Elmira, the Chemung County Historical Society has a collection of first-person accounts of men who participated as compiled by researcher Adelbert Sahlberg in 1998. Rachel Dworkin is the the archivist at the Chemung County Historical Society. For more information about the museum and to see more of their blog, click here.
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Note - Sean and his wife Jamie are currently on a pilgrimage in Spain, walking the El Camino de Santiago. You can keep up with their travels on Sean's Facebook page and website. In the meantime, here's a post from January 2025: Dear Lynn, It’s weird. Weird knowing that you won’t be reading this today. You always read my stuff. It’s how we met. Which only raises questions about your taste in literature. Directly after you’d read my stuff, you’d email me. You did this nearly every day. For many years. Your emails were updates on your life. You told me about places you visited. Foods you ate. Ideas you had. About the thousands of medical appointments you endured. About the throngs of doctors in your life. About your hospital stays. Those emails became part of my daily routine. Jamie and I both read them. Daily. We’d get a little worried whenever we didn’t hear from you for a few days. The first time you and I actually hung out, we went to see George “Goober” Lindsey’s grave. You, me, and Jamie. It was a big roadtrip. Jamie drove the van. You sat in the passenger seat, navigating. I was in the back seat, providing the helpful service of eating Chili Cheese Fritos. The next time we hung out, we went to the ACTUAL Mayberry. We visited Mount Airy, North Carolina, for an Andy Griffith Rerun Watcher’s Club reunion. We spent the weekend together, watching reruns, at the Mayberry Motor Inn, along with hundreds of fellow Andy fans from around the US, who are all—and I mean this with all sincerity—clinically insane. One time, you went to Waffle House with Jamie. The waitress thought Jamie was your date. You blushed like a schoolkid. You invited us to Thanksgiving. You were always checking up on us. You came to many of my shows. You heard my jokes over and again. I don’t know how you weren’t sick of me. I’m sick of me. You sat front and center the first time I played the Grand Ole Opry. I took the stage, and I could see you in the audience. You had just gotten out of the hospital. I remember you were walking with a cane. But you were there. And when we hugged after the show you whispered in my ear, “You done good, Ope.” After you came out of your coma last month, several people said they were getting up a caroling troop to surprise you. The troop was a full band, with singers, guitars, banjos, and one accordion. We showed up on your lawn. There must have been fifteen or twenty of us. And we caroled hard. They wheeled your wheelchair outside into the icy cold. And there we were. Caroling our butts off. And this wasn’t easy inasmuch as none of us knew the lyrics to any actual carols, and none of us were singing, technically, at the same time. And then you invited us inside for hot cocoa and cookies. Within seconds, your house was alight with all us wackos, running around your halls, laughing, and hanging out, intoxicated purely on refined white sugar and fun. Before we left, you and I embraced. And you said to me, “Man, I think this is what heaven will feel like.” Someone laughed and told you that they thought you needed to raise your expectations regarding heaven. And yesterday, you finally did. Sean Dietrich is a columnist, novelist, podcaster, and stand-up storyteller known for his commentary on life in the American South. His work has appeared in Newsweek, Southern Living, Reader's Digest, Garden and Gun, The Tallahassee Democrat, the Birmingham News, and his column is syndicated in newspapers throughout the U.S. He has authored fifteen books, and he makes appearances on the Grand Ole Opry. To learn more about Sean or to purchase his books, visit his website at https://seandietrich.com
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Buying Fractional Shares With $5.00
investsmallpotatoes.com posted a blog entry in Investing With Small Potatoes
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a column about how I became the person I am today. There was a time when parents did not have to worry about where their children were, no matter the time of day, and it was then that I learned about small potatoes. We were about twelve years of age. We called the small potatoes Mickey's, and there were potatoes we would take (steal) from our mother's bin, believing their mother wouldn't notice the missing potato. One of us would then search for a discarded crate, which we would break to feed a fire. Of course, someone would bring some salt, another matches, and an old newspaper. Once the fire was ready, we would toss the small potatoes in and wait for the skin to be black, remove them, add salt, and “Yummy.” All this on a winter's night in a vacant lot in Brooklyn. I put you through all this for the following good news: Two days ago, a friend asked me if there was a way to buy fractional shares which, for those who don't already know, are portions of a company's stock that allow you to invest based on a dollar amount instead of the amount of shares you can afford to buy. Although I knew it was possible, I turned to a Schwab representative and was happy that they had this feature for their investors called Schwab Stock Slices. If you were fortunate to have opened an account with Schwab, you would click the “trade” indicator and follow the instructions outlined under Schwab stock slices. The site contains the S&P 500 stocks, large enough to begin building a balanced portfolio. The nice part is that you only need five dollars to purchase a fraction of a stock, and if you place that fraction in the drip program, it will earn fractions every time the stock pays a dividend. If you want to invest a smaller amount, find stocks offering reliable dividends and start purchasing fractional shares. By the way, the disclaimer below is meant to protect me and this website. This does not mean I cannot give you a yes or no answer to a question you may want to ask. For instance, if you ask in these words “Do you own a certain stock, my answer will be either yes or no. I would not recommend a stock I own if you ask the question, I will answer it. Selecting a stock should be personal. I mentioned in earlier columns, you need to remember why you bought it, in case it loses some of its value. Email me with your questions at investsmallpotatoes@gmail.com Raymond Maratea is a retired small business owner who has had some experience investing in the stock market (not a financial advisor or broker/dealer). Having started investing with small amounts, on individual investor platforms, Raymond is offering his experience to individuals who would like to invest, but who feel that because of their income level the stock market is out of their reach. Disclaimer: The author of “Small Potatoes” is not a registered investment, legal or tax advisor, or a stockbroker/dealer. All investment/financial opinions expressed in the “Small Potatoes” articles are from the personal research and experience of the author of the articles and are intended solely as educational material. Although best efforts are made to ensure that all information is accurate and up to date, occasionally unintended errors and misprints may occur. The information given in these articles must not be understood as “risk free” investing. The user must be careful about the quality of stocks being selected. -
A State Budget Process That Blindfolds The Public
Senator Tom O'Mara posted a blog entry in From Albany
The word on the street out of Albany is that Governor Hochul and the Democrat-led State Legislature could be on the doorstep of enacting a new state budget that’s already a month behind schedule. Yet that’s the point. It remains just a word on the street. Which means that whenever the governor and legislative leaders get around to finalizing a new budget, New Yorkers are still going to be left with a broken budget adoption process. It’s a process that every step of the way keeps the public in the dark about fundamental decisions on this state’s short- and long-term future. It’s a process in desperate need of accountability. As the ranking member on the Senate Finance committee, that’s the point I’ve been making over the past several weeks since April 1, when a final 2025-2026 state budget was supposed to be in place. While New Yorkers may hear and read about a “conceptual agreement” out of Albany, there’s never any concrete legislation for the public to review beforehand. It’s always a “take my word for it” deal before the taxpayers get handed the bill for yet another unaffordable state spending plan. Keep in mind that the enactment of a new state budget is the most impactful action that state legislators take every year. It reaches into the pockets and the everyday lives of all New Yorkers. That will be especially true this year when Governor Hochul and Albany Democrats put the finishing touches on a budget pushing spending to its highest level in state history and one that will once again include far-reaching, non-budget policy initiatives that many good government groups believe should not even be considered as part of the budget adoption process. Negotiations take place entirely behind closed doors. That becomes especially troubling – and dangerous -- in this era of complete one-party control of New York government where there is an unprecedented lack of legislative checks and balances. The public is kept in the dark like never before. We know that taxpayers will soon be shouldered with their heaviest-ever burden for a nearly $260-billion spending plan. We know it will be one of the world’s largest governmental budgets! We know that there will be tax and fee increases, and new mandates and debt obligations. We know there will be winners and losers. New Yorkers just don’t know the details. New Yorkers still do not know, with any specifics, exactly how Governor Hochul and legislative Democrats intend to carry it all out – or, for that matter, what surprises are still in store. The bottom line is that New Yorkers don’t know, and they should. Our Senate and Assembly Republican conferences have been making this point throughout the past several budget adoption cycles that have headed this state in the wrong direction, according to most New Yorkers: Before we take the votes on a final budget, our constituents deserve to know what’s in it. They deserve to know more than a word on the street. Specifically, we have continually called on Governor Hochul and legislative Democrats to reject the use of so-called “messages of necessity” once the budget legislation is printed and ready for a vote. The State Constitution includes a vital “aging” provision that essentially requires a three-day waiting period (commonly called “aging”) before legislation can receive a final vote. While three days is not nearly enough time in the context of a stack of budget legislation as thick as dictionaries, it at least gives individual legislators, the press, the public, and all interested parties the chance to review the plan’s details. However, a longstanding loophole in the law authorizes governors to issue a “message of necessity” to bypass this three-day waiting period and allow for an immediate vote on any piece of legislation once it’s introduced. It’s time to bring this state’s budget adoption process into the modern day, especially at this time when one-party control keeps on producing skyrocketing state spending plans that are increasingly chock-full of policy initiatives that should, for accountability’s sake, be given stand-alone consideration. Fundamental checks and balances have effectively been thrown out in this state government. Governor Hochul and the Legislature's Democrat majorities go on working behind closed doors to allocate state taxpayer dollars and set in motion far-reaching public policies impacting our local citizens, communities, and economies in consequential ways. The state budget demands a full public airing and the appropriate time for review and debate, but that’s never what we get. It's a broken process that blindfolds the public and keeps producing bloated state budgets that taxpayers will never be able to afford. Senator Tom O'Mara represents New York's 58th District which covers all of Chemung, Schuyler, Seneca, Steuben, Tioga and Yates counties, and a portion of Allegany County. -
There’s beauty all around us in even the simplest of things… if we just take the time to truly see. Sometimes when the days were hectic and I’d get overwhelmed, just sitting in my gardens would help wash away the stress, like a cleansing of the soul, with time to ponder and pray. But in the depths of a cold winter, I’d set out sunflower seeds, peanuts in the shell, and suet… to quietly watch the birds descend on the dining bounty. Whether sitting in a summer garden surrounded by blooming splendor, or sitting in the warmth of my house gazing outward at a pristine snowfall, there is so much beauty to enjoy. Writing this blog a few years ago, winter had finally settled in with her bitter cold, howling winds, and a light snow. After being spoiled with an extra warm late fall/early winter compliments of El Nino, it was only fitting we returned to more seasonable weather… which prompted me to feed the birds. Almost immediately, a downy woodpecker settled on the upright peanut-in-the-shell feeder I’d made several years ago. It’s been frequented by downy, hairy, red-headed and red-bellied woodpeckers, blue jays, nuthatches and chickadees. And that doesn’t even include the wide variety of birds which have flown in to seek a snack in the other feeders. Some very interesting species during migrations were also drawn in when seeds were set out longer during the season than in the recent few years. While watching the birds though, I couldn’t help but notice the stark-naked tree limbs reaching skyward. There’s a distinct beauty in their coarseness. Some branches drape downward, others reach beckoning hands up and out as they twist and turn in various directions. And they all carry leaf buds that before too much longer will begin to swell with the promise of spring… to once again be clothed in shades of green and dazzling pastels. I especially enjoy the warm days of spring that flow into the heat of summer. I absolutely love to hear the early spring peepers and frogs. They remind me of the first spring after we were married, hearing them through open windows in our trailer. They have a lulling effect on me, taking me back to those early happy days. And I love to hear the variety of birds singing as they fly around our yard, swallows swooping to catch bugs on the wing, and the calls of hungry nestlings to their busy parents… all music to my ears. To watch a gorgeous sunrise as the faintest of color pierces the velvet dark sky, or to gaze on a beautiful sunset with rays of sun which slice outward from behind clumps of clouds is heavenly… taking a long look at those clouds, noticing the different types, forms, and shapes. Again, there is so much simple beauty to be found wherever the eye may look. Take time to peer a little closer at weeds while taking a walk. Their delicate flower forms often closely resemble cultivated relatives. Watch a stream flowing by, water gurgling over the rocks, little fish darting here and there. Observe a bee or a bug from as close a perspective as you can get. Study the bloom of each flower. Appreciate what’s right there in front of you, and drink in the beauty we often casually walk on by… It seems that as we contemplate nature’s beauty around us, life begins to ease into a slower pace. Allow yourself the chance to slow down… stand still within life’s fast-paced frenzy. Look around… and truly see the beauty in the tiniest of details. For as Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time…” So take the time to pause and contemplate life in all its delicate beauty … I See Beauty Linda A. Roorda I see beauty in the world around Where some see a tree I see living art I see God’s hand in the rays of dawn The streaks of light that brighten our world. ~ I hear the chirps of birds in the air Tunes of delight as they share their praise With grateful hearts for daily blessings Their endless singing brings joy to my soul. ~ I gaze upon a flowing river Or gentle stream and watch its passing From whence it came to where it will go While I at the edge can only look on. ~ I climb these hills covered in thick wood To look on scenes spread out far below A miniature world enchanting and calm Creation’s beauty forever enjoyed. ~ It gives me pause to contemplate life Reason and meaning for all in this world Breeze in the air and sun on my face With reassuring peace midst bustling din. ~ While gazing still away to the west This day winds down and shadows lengthen The sunset dazzles as it slowly fades A perfect ending, its treasure to hold. ~~ Linda Roorda writes from her home in Spencer.
