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He was a good kid. You could just tell. He was maybe 11. Twelve at the most. He was in the supermarket. He had his little sister balanced on his hip. You don’t often see boys carrying toddlers out in public. The kid was filling a shopping buggy. He was reaching for a bag of tortilla chips on the top shelf. I saw one of the older ladies in our aisle reach upward and remove a bag of Tostitos for him. They were Tostitos Scoops. The greatest invention by the chip industry, and perhaps the finest human achievement of the last century with the possible exception of penicillin. “Thanks,” the boy said. His buggy was nearly full. He had lots of adultish items in his basket. Coffee. Vegetables. Diapers. The older lady asked where the boy’s mother was. She asked this in a concerned, parental tone. Her concern, of course, is understandable in our modern day. You don’t often see kids wandering around by themselves anymore. During my youth, however, shortly after the close of World War I, kids almost never had parental supervision. We walked to school. Our mothers sent us to the store on errands. We hung out at the mall without supervision. We rode bikes into the woods, built campfires, constructed deathtrap treehouses, and made serious attempts at discovering new ways to break our own legs. We were feral. “Where are your parents?” said the older woman. “My mom’s waiting in the car,” he said. The woman’s brow furrowed. “She let you come in here by YOURSELF?” He nodded, then readjusted Little Sister on his hip. Little Sister had a snot bubble the size of a Canadian territory. “You’re GROCERY shopping?” the woman said. Nod. The lady was aghast. She wore the patented look of disapproval. “You shouldn’t be in here without an adult.” The kid didn’t reply. “Your mother should be with you,” she said in a half-scolding voice. “It’s dangerous. You’re too young to be by yourself.” “But,” the boy explained kindly, “shopping’s not that hard.” “That’s not what I meant. Your mother could get into a lot of trouble for leaving you unsupervised. This is unacceptable. Someone should tell the manager.” Little Sister’s snot bubble reached critical mass. The kid apologized. He looked embarrassed. He left the aisle and pushed his buggy to the cashier lane, often glancing behind him. Like he now realized he was doing something wrong. I watched him load items on a conveyor belt. I saw him use a credit card to pay. Later, I saw him in the parking lot. I saw the idling Honda that contained his mother. I saw Mom sleeping in the front seat. Then, I saw the middle-aged mother crawl from the vehicle. She was a skeleton. I saw her pale skin. The bandanna over her balding head. The hospital bracelet on her wrist. The bandage on the bend of her elbow. She was trying to help her son load groceries, but she struggled to lift a single bag. When they finished, the boy gave her a hug. And they held each other for a long time. Longer than a normal hug. Because, as I say, he was a good kid. You could just tell. 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

It is a terrible scenario... should never have happened. Pretty much energy action this administration had taken has been plagued with errors.... and not error like someone transcribed something wrong, or missed a small detail - these are issues that are too big to call "errors", they are illegal and/or overreach actions that will have devastating real world implications on the individual and societal level Habeas Corpus is a bedrock concept of government limits, and had been around since the Magna Carta. It is terrifying that this administration is throwing that out.... with so much else

A smaller, community celebration is still a celebration without millions or billions in Federal funding. Street parties, community picnics, fireworks with local sponsors. If bigger is wanted, let corporate sponsors step up to the plate. Yes, it’s a milestone but America, like millions of families, must work within its budget. You shouldn’t go into debt to celebrate something, work with what you can afford. Been there, learned that.

Wake up early. Saturday morning. Leap out of bed. Oh, the bliss. You sprint to the television set, racing your sister. Last one’s a rotten egg. You are still wearing Superman pajamas. Beneath your Man-of-Steel PJs, you’re wearing Batman skivvies, which is a slight conflict of interest, but you make it work. You slap the power button on TV. The old Zenith console warms up. The television is cased in a faux wooden cabinet, with warped oak-grain veneer from a bygone Dr. Pepper someone once placed atop the television, even though this someone’s mother told them to NEVER set ANYTHING atop the TV, not that we’re naming names here. So anyway, you’d sit on the floor, before the old tube, criss-crossed, which we used to call sitting “Indian style.” (No hate mail!) Cartoons blared. It was undefiled rapture. Until your mom yelled from the other room, “Don’t sit so close to the TV or you’ll hurt your eyes!” But you HAD to sit close. They were playing all the greats today. Bugs, Daffy, Elmer, Porky, Marvin the Martian. Yosemite Sam growled, “Say your prayers, varmint!” Speedy Gonzales would be chirping, “Ándale, ándale!” Wile E. Coyote and the bird were hard after it. Then came Yogi and Boo Boo, “Smarter than the average bear.” George, Jane, Judy, and Elroy. Fred, Barney, Wilma, Betty, and Mister Slate. After cartoons, you’d eat a wholesome breakfast of Rice Krispies. Rice Krispies had the same dietary value of No. 4 Styrofoam packing pellets. But it was okay. Your mom increased the nutritive value by topping your cereal with liberal spoonfuls of refined white sugar. Next, it was time to go outside and play. Mainly, we played Army Man. We used imitation firearms, pump rifle BB guns, and Andy’s dad even had a real bayonet from World War I. We used these items to keep America safe from the spread of Russian communism. Sometimes, however, we played Cops and Robbers. Or, Cowboys and You-Know-Whats. (Stop typing that email!) Then we’d hop on our bikes and ride to the closest filling station where we would purchase Nehis, or Ko-Kolas and peanuts, or Moonpies and RCs. We rode bikes great distances. Unsupervised. Without helmets. Usually, we’d try to convince Mister Peavler behind the gas station counter to sell us some tobacco for (air quotes) “our father.” Usually it was Copenhagen chew, Beech-Nut, or Red Man. (Do not send that email!). Sunday mornings were even better. You’d run out to the driveway, early before church, wearing your little trousers and penny loafers. There by the mailbox was a newspaper, rolled in a tube about the size of a NASA Saturn rocket. The paper was so big it required four or five men just to lift. The paper was jam packed with coupons for Mom, box scores for the old man, and just for you: Three pages of full-color funny papers. You had Dick Tracy, Peanuts, Garfield, Family Circle, Calvin and Hobbes, Wizard of ID, Andy Capp, B.C., Blondie. God bless the Far Side. Many of those things are gone now. But you can still remember it all. The way you felt. The way you looked. The way you would read the paper all morning until it was time for the family to go to church by piling into your dad’s old Jeep Cherokee. (What the heck. Go ahead and send the email.) 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

first thought i had was cool, but Jurassic Park? perhaps more important issues like Diabetes, Cancer, or even figuring out how telomeres function might be better ideas

I say no. If something goes extinct, it should stay there. Next they'll want the Wooly Mammoth. No thanks. With the way technology is evolving, we need to have a filter. Just because we can, doesn't mean we should.

Pretty sure I've been around since day 1. Even before that actually. 😁 Quite an interesting transition over those 11 years for sure. From the physical paper Broader View Weekly to where we are now. I have had the pleasure of meeting so many folks from here in person and practically feel like part of the family now. It's been a good trip really

Happy birthday to us! It was 11 years ago today that the switch was flipped and "ElmiraTelegram.com" was born. It's hard to believe it's been that long. Well, most days. Some of you have been here since Day 1. Any fond memories or laughs that stand out over the years?

i think theyve spread themselves too thin between the three other establishments they own.

They haven't really brought anything back per se. They've just created gray wolves genetically modified to look like dire wolves. Shold they be doing it? I'm kind of torn. As interesting as the end results could be, it's also a slippery slope. And then how does one determine which extinct species to try to "bring back"? Dire wolves went extinct by natural selection, there was probably a really good reason for that as opposed to, say, the Dodo. Someone online put it best though, "There's literally an entire movie franchise that illustrates that this is a bad idea."

Barbara Streisand is, and has always been, vastly overrated.

It's getting on time to start working on the next wildflower plot on our land. I did some looking at the "blank canvas" yesterday and decided to make a change in the location of the bench. There's a nice level spot under one of the existing trees that kind of overlooks the entire field. That's where it's going. As a bonus, there won't be a need to wait for the little tree I have to grow to cast chade, there will be plenty from the trees and the hillside. I got started on the property down the road and the little "Please Do Not Mow" signs look quite wimpy. So I took a chance and bought some really nice looking ones that should be here in a couple of days: They were about twice the cost of the wimpy ones, but they certainly look more official. I have a message in to American Meadows to see if seed would take with the existing grass there or if it would be a waste of money. I'm really tempted to dig up a section where there's not so much milkweed, but also don't want to overstep since it's not our land. But if it "just happened" to be randomly seeded, no one would mind, I'm sure.

My garage door went all wonky a month or so ago and was at an angle with the left side on the ground and the right up a foot or so. Well I researched on the internet and figured it was something I could fix and I was right, for exactly 1 opening and almost closing. Then it was the exact opposite with the left side up about a foot while the right was in the ground. I filled out the form on their website and within a couple hours they emailed me back saying they scheduled me for today. At about 1 they called and said someone would be here about 2. Well Brandon showed up at about 1:30 and fixed everything including adjusting the track and straightening out the bent parts, lubricating everything and even replaced 2 rollers with ones with longer shafts. In all he took about 45 minutes and the door is operating like new. He is going to drop off a brace that I offered to install to prevent the door from sagging. It's a 16' door and it's starting sag in the middle They bill you, so I don't have a cost yet, but as long as it's reasonable I am okay with it . Overall I would recommend them to anyone that needs a garage door fixed.

Each day, I watch five hours of business and news programs. One program in particular appears to be focused on investors who are, for the most part, "day traders". I believe the producers of the show make certain that the host invites someone who is or believes in buy-and-hold investing. It is only fair that all aspects of investing be offered, and I am glad this happens. Today, one of the guests was a man whose name was Mr. Alllan Boomer, representing Momentum Advisors. He was recommending three stocks: BRX, VNOM, and BDC. I have not done any research on them yet, but as he spoke, he emphasized they paid generous dividends. What caught my ear was the way the host made a joke over the fact that he had never heard of them. This was annoying to say the least. The host of the show trivializes income investing and occasionally says the word "Dip Buying". I am a strong supporter of income investing and support the investing strategy of finding good stocks that have a record of increasing their dividends and producing a product the consumer buys regularly. So why do I continue to watch this show? Well because I know occasionally a gentleman of Allan Boomers mentality will appear and give some recommendations for viewers such as I.

"[No person shall be] deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law" The Constitution means something. All of it. And in the spirit of full disclosure... I rarely bring up the fact that my own mother was an illegal alien who lived in the US for nearly 40 years before applying for Resident Alien status. She arrived from Canada in 1960 and was in a common law marriage to my (US born citizen) father and mother to two US born US citizen children (including me). She worked under a fake SS# and didn’t come forward when the “amnesty” was passed during the Reagan administration. She was a taxpayer and otherwise a productive “non-criminal” resident who was granted a green card in 1999. (OK, I know she actively volunteered on Reagan's campaign, and may have actually voted for him. So technically "if" she voted in an election, that could have been a criminal offense). So yeah. If her status had been questioned at any point.... I hope that she’d have been entitled to due process FFS.

aware of this guy's case from the get go, as it has developed(devolved) i am more sickened. he was afforded no due-process, was given protected(legal) status, with zero proof to date of gang affiliation, and you have these two peckerwoods shrugging their shoulders. SCOTUS has said get him back to get due process and same....reporter asked trump in that same setting about SCOTUS order and he replies thats why CNN has such low ratings. at that point office or job be damned, id of been, verbally, up one side of him and down the other until they carried my ass out.

Well, since the family farm is spoken for, I guess I’ll have to settle for a place on Seneca. Preferably on the eastern side in the Burdett to Lodi stretch and on level ground that doesn’t require a hike up and down flights of stairs just to get the mail. My second choice might be in the village of Spencer, preferably on an end of a street somewhere. I’ve always thought it’s a nice little town.

Just random stuff I guess. I put out the new signs today and they not only look nice, they look really “official.” I did some quick trimming near the landowner’s mailbox and then took pics to send to him. He said it looked good, so we’re both happy. Some native wildflower seed may end up in the ground there in the future. We’ll see.

I think it's time to try the no-buy movement. Since I hate to shop, this will be easy for me.

Ray Maratea has asked for a section where he can post items of interest pertaining to the economy and about investing. This is an excellent idea, and I appreciate Ray's suggestion. To cover both Ray amd our rears, please keep the following disclaimer in mind:

Two things can be true at once. It’s possible that “data” in the past few years was skewed toward a confirmation bias that eggagerated potential risks (suicide, etc) of not indulging gender dysphoria while ignoring data that points to potential risks, which can result in “regret” of irreverible treatment. And it’s also just as possible that the current administration’s “data” will be skewed toward confirmation bias that there is irreparable danger in rushing permanent treatment for gender dysphoria. Given the permanency of treatment of many surgical and hormonal treatments....the prudent path is probably to lean toward “waiting” and exploring the least invasive options (particularly for minors).

Completely understand but I would do it just to waste their time with the paperwork anything really to jam them up at this point.

I’m positive there were more fun / funny discussions throughout those 11 years but the fog of time doesn’t allow for any specific conversations from this end lol 😂 HAPPY 11th trip around the Sun !!

More than likely pissed off whoever is above him and that's their little dig back at him. However now that technically they terminated his position he could go for unemployment if he so wished they may fight it but they had no reason to terminate him so it would just hold up the process that's the down side of NYS being a hire/fire at will state from an employer standpoint. Now this is wrong if they have an employee manual and you have a copy look through it and see if it mentions anything about losing gym privileges. (congratulations on the new job anyways)

report to the labor board for sure, sounds like a cut/dry retaliation perhaps even discrimination aside from that, you better have my stuff clean and ready when i call for it @Matthew

I disagree with this Bill currently being introduced. It doesn’t matter what crime was committed (I used bold on the first sentence of third paragraph) Does this include a life sentence? Section 3 amends Correction Law § 803 to make good behavior time allow- ances vest at the end of each calendar year, after which such credit cannot be withheld, forfeited, or canceled. This section requires DOCCS to demonstrate at a hearing by a preponderance of the evidence that a person violated institutional rules in order for time allowances not yet vested to be withheld, forfeited, or canceled, and allows for the subse- quent reinstatement of good time allowance credit for good behavior or progress or achievement in an assigned treatment program. This section further provides that, following any final determination withholding a time allowance, the incarcerated person has the right to take an admin- istrative appeal and the right to legal assistance in taking the appeal. Section 3 also amends Correction Law § 803 to increase the good time allowance credit to one-half of the maximum term imposed by the court for those serving indeterminate sentences, and to one-half of the term for those serving determinate sentences. Section 3 also expands those eligible for merit time to all persons, regardless of offense. It increases the merit time allowance credit to one-half of the minimum term imposed by the court for those serving indeterminate sentences, and one-quarter of the term for those serving determinate sentences. It provides merit time credit for additional programmatic opportunities, and where an institution does not provide opportunities to earn merit time allowances, merit time is automatically credited. Section 3 requires that these merit time allowances shall apply retroactively and shall be credited toward every incarcerated individual's sentence within ninety days of the chapter of the laws of two thousand twenty-two Section 4 amends Correction Law S 804 to apply the changes to good behavior time allowances outlined in Section 2 to those serving definite sentences. JUSTIFICATION: Encouraging incarcerated individuals to pursue personal transformation, and providing meaningful opportunities to do so, furthers the goal of rehabilitation. This Act will provide incarcerated individuals increased good time and merit time allowance credit to incentivize good behavior and enrollment in educational, vocational, treatment-related, and other beneficial programming. The Act will also provide rehabilitative opportunities for all incarcer- ated people, regardless of offense. It will enhance rehabilitation efforts by protecting earned time credit, requiring good time credit to vest at the end of each year, imposing a higher burden for the withhold- ing of good time credit, and incentivizing facilities to provide programming for merit time allowances. Finally, this Act promotes the safety of the public and eliminates unnecessary financial burdens, as earned time allowance credit opportu- nities have been shown to reduce recidivism rates and lessen correction- al An inmate’s “good time” is vested. How many will play the system, do the programs to qualify, then once released it’s business as usual.

LOL… Exactly! I mean who has never had Shit On a Shingle ?! And pardon the salty language please but when you’re brought up by a Sailor then become a Sailor yourself SOS is in your blood , quite literally it seems, in my 72 years around the Sun .

Ya, I was just told it is TA. 113 trucks can park at once.

Good ole' SOS. LOL

100% I’m all for free choice. But after decades of protesting that mandates infringe on their right to choose (to not be vaccinated), they need to see the irony in wanting to take away other people’s right to choose (to be vaccinated).

Anti-vaccine community can not vaccinate THEIR children and watch them get really sick. They have no right to be angry at the rest of us.

Same I make mine with Italian as I am not a fan of breakfast sausage. Also over all sausage gravy is a cheap meal to make so shorting you on the actual gravy is pretty sad. Last time I had the half moons from there they were super dry and not what they used to be. Was is just mashed potatoes or did they deep fry it like a potato cake should be?

Once upon a time, when I was still a paramedic and we’d just finished a particularly unusual call, I remarked to the E.R. doctor that someday I was going to write a book about what it’s like in that world. “Honey, they’ll never believe it,” she said. And I know now that she was right. Between my time on the streets and later when I worked in the emergency department, I spent sixteen years of my life, from age nineteen to my mid-thirties, seeing and dealing with the worst that humanity has to offer. Blood, brains, guts and more… If I knew then what I know now, I’d go back to 1994 and stop nineteen year old me from walking in that door for an interview. Then again, maybe not. Because I also know that with the bad came some good. That every now and then someone got a second chance, some are still alive today, because I was there and told Death, “No.” It’s what any medical provider can take pride in, and I do. But the job takes a mental toll, as you can well imagine. Things are changing now for the better, but there was still a time, not that long ago, that you didn’t talk about that. You sucked it up and kept going. That pressure needs a relief valve though, or it becomes dangerous. For some, it can even be deadly. And though I didn’t realize it until much later, for me that relief valve was writing. So I began doing just that, writing down the good, bad, and ugly of those years with the intent of someday publishing them. However a few years ago it occurred to me that, while the stories were mine to tell, they didn’t belong to just me. These are the stories of someone else’s life, their loss, etc. Who am I to reveal that to the world? And so I decided that they would remain untold. However while going through them this morning, one stood out that I think is rather timely considering all that’s going on in the world. And a little part of me thinks that, if we were able to ask him, the old man would want me to. ******** The old man couldn’t talk. A previous stroke left him that way, and he was probably having another one now. Well into his seventies, time was taking its toll on him, and he was taking one more trip to the hospital. First order of business was a blood pressure. As I pulled his arm out of his sleeve I saw it there on his forearm. The tattoo. Faded blue numbers told me what he couldn’t. He was a Holocaust survivor. It stopped me dead in my tracks. After all, I’d heard about these but I’d never seen one before. Of course the old man watched me stop and stare at it. I looked at him, and as his eyes met mine a silent affirmation passed between us. He knew that I knew what I was looking at. Sitting here now if I close my eyes I can see him looking back at me. If I were an artist I would draw him so well his own family would recognize him all these decades later. His gaze seemed to burn into my very soul. Time had slowly robbed him of what the Nazis tried and failed to. He had seen and endured horrors I couldn’t begin to imagine, and a stroke left him unable to tell me. Yet in his eyes I could sense something pass between us, an unspoken message. Those eyes spoke a testimony and a message, if only in one word: “Remember.” I’ve never understood how anyone can try and deny that the Holocaust ever happened. And, for as much as I believe in the right to free speech, it’s one of the rare conversational red lines I have. I simply won’t tolerate it. Because I know better. The old man told me everything I need to know. Chris Sherwood writes from his home in North Chemung. He is the author of the In Times of Trouble trilogy a post-apocalyptic series set in Upstate New York. To learn more, go to cmsherwood.com

Outback sucks. The wife got some gift cards from a Doc who was leaving the hospital and we used them. She got a Caesar salad with shrimp and I got the blooming onion chicken sandwich and a side salad instead of fries. First they forgot the shrimp the main ingredient. Second her entree salad was the same size as my appetizer salad and cost 10-12 more. Last Red Robin burger I got was like they let is soak in a grease bath done with them. Have not been to Applebee's in many many years. Cracker barrel I just go there for the pancakes. The only other place we may order from is Texas Roadhouse generally they dont screw up our orders as they are pretty easy. About the only place we eat at regularly is Nicks on Sunday's as we have the same waitress and she takes damn good care of us and that is reciprocated in her tip

To the kid with cancer of the bones. Who is up late tonight because his meds won’t let him sleep. To his mother, who is beside him, rubbing his tummy. Mothers have been rubbing tummies since the dawn of the man. To the man who raises palmettos in South Alabama, whose wife passed yesterday morning. The same man who is starting a pecan orchard because it’s what she always wanted. To the woman who is the janitor for the Baptist church. Who clocks out of her other job to push her cart up and down the halls. She cleans bathrooms, dust offices. Who doesn’t get home until eight at night, and still has time to cook her kids a full supper meal before bedtime. To the nine-year-old girl whose father abused her. Whose life will forever be painted with the badness he left. She is now thirty-three. She got married this morning. Someone emailed me photos of the ordeal. Once, that same girl said, “I didn’t trust anyone for a long time, it was a big mistake. I’ve wasted a lot of years being scared of good people.” And to the young man who fell off the roof of a construction site. He broke two ribs. The woman across the street took him to the hospital. She carried him twelve hours to Texas to be in his mother’s house while he recovered. “Sometimes,” said that neighbor woman. “A man needs his mother.” I’m writing this to the Walmart employee who was on a smoke break ten minutes ago. She sat on the sidewalk. She cried while talking on the cellphone. If I didn’t know any better, it sounded like her boyfriend was breaking up with her. And to Jason, who just discovered he’s good a basketball player. Who has felt like a failure until now. Who tells me he developed a love of Mel Tillis after a friend sent him several albums in the mail. “‘Coca-Cola Cowboy’ is, like, one of my favorites songs now,” says Jason. Mine, too, Jason. To the young man who drives a truck for a living. Who thought it would be a great line of work, but doesn’t feel that way anymore. Who finds himself far from his kids and his wife. Who spends his nights on the phone and on his computer, keeping in touch. And to you. The person who believes you aren’t quite enough. No matter what you do, the feeling is there, beneath the surface. It nags at you like the tag in a new pair of underpants. You have waited so long to see your ship come in, you’re beginning to think you’re on the wrong dock. You are sad. You can’t have a baby. Or you’re poor. Your girlfriend wouldn’t marry you—even after eleven years together. She left you and got married a year later. Then had kids. Three of them. I know this is late coming, and I know it doesn’t mean much coming from a stranger. I know it doesn’t take away the ugly parts of life. But I mean it when I say it. And I hope you know that. God bless you. 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

Gold, own physical gold now because we are running out of it. I am writing this column because I have heard that they estimate there to be only 40 years of gold left in the ground. Okay, let us assume this is true. Should you rush out and buy physical gold bars? Costco is successfully selling one-ounce bars of gold, but does that mean you should own them? I will list what follows when you own physical bars of gold, and what follows is laughable: You arrive home and show it to your significant other. You ask your significant other if there is a safe place to keep it. The answer is “I do not know." You cannot find a secure place in the home, so you may decide to buy a safe or open a safe deposit box, and find they are not cheap these days. You ask yourself, was this a clever idea? You decide to sell it and find that what the dealer offered is not what you expected. You know it was a bad idea. Or... The economy goes to hell in a handbasket, and you are happy to have purchased physical gold. Now comes the funny part. You need someone who will offer you reasonable value for a one-ounce piece. You find that someone and you are happy about what you received for the one-ounce piece, and now you say to yourself, “Should I sell all I own?” If greed takes control, you are in a quandary. You are upset because you do not know whether to hold out and see if the market for one ounce good bars will rise. From the onset of this idea, I can assure you anxiety. Sorry, I cannot help you here as I am a Stock guy.

As an adult in the 1990’s to 2000 I developed an interest in Barbie as characters, like Snow White, Cinderella, etc. My Mom even gave me a Holiday Barbie for a Christmas or two. They are in the box, never opened, in a bag in the attic. Years ago I found a Barbie site that showed Barbie and Ken as Arthur and Guenievere (which I have) with a value at $485.00. I couldn’t find that site again unfortunately. I have no idea if these dolls have any value today. The attic holds Fisher Price my boys and grandchildren played with, Wheebles, Depression Ware, dishes from Hubby’s great-grandmother. I just remembered some are in the dining room hutch drawer. My Mom’s 40 year old China, service for 12 with serving pieces. Cups and saucers I collected over the years, one being from 1898, and I’m still trying to find the Romanian crystal goblets in the attic that I bought in the 1980’s lol. I have collected different things through the years, during different phases of my life, without thought to being collectibles.

Frugal … FRUGAL ! 😁

And you’re pretty tightfisted 🤣

That’s a tough cycle to break. The US has enjoyed an increasing level of “abundance” over the past few generations.....largely because of more processing, additives and preservatives that extend shelf stability and increase availability of “ready to eat” foods. As heat ‘n serve convenience became more routine, it evolved into people becoming dependent on the processing that made processed foods so convenient. With the wide availability of those processed foods, too many consumers started losing the concept of putting “effort” into even the most basic food preparations for themselves. To a lot of people (especially under 40 or so).....the idea of washing and peeling produce or tossing raw meat in batter/breading is as foreign and obsolete as pulling laundry through a wringer washer to hang on the line.

Yesterday was a prep day since our new chicks are coming this week. I sectioned off a small area for them to have while they're younger, but then fenced off the remaining part along one barn wall for when they are older and need more room to roam. This will be the second time I've brooded chicks this way. It keeps them in view of the older birds and I think when it comes time for them to joing the existing flock it tends to make it less traumatic for them. You'll still have some pecking by the older ones ( which is where the term "pecking order" comes from ) but I don't think it's as much. Additionally, the older ones tend to go outside anyway, leaving the coop to the younger poults until they're brave enough to wander out the door. Heat lamps are working and I have spare bulbs on hand, everything is cleaned and ready. Now they just need to hatch, presumably tomorrow.

Spring is here; the Vernal Equinox has come. Now if we could only adjust spring weather-makers like the Santa Anna winds, the high or low systems layering in the clouds, and turbulence churning out in the open seas and off the Great Lakes. Our fragile and lovely little blue planet is enduring some violent and damaging storms. An eon or two of calm would be welcome. However, the snowdrops are just pushing through the cold ground; signaling spring. Yesterday it was 72 degrees and they are speaking of snow on Monday. We may be wearing winter coats for a while yet, but we know it’s not for long! New England (especially Vermont) is famous for “Mud Season.” It is the “non-tourist season” when residents can relax, when ski season is over and the summer hasn’t begun; traffic ebbs, and a good thing it does. After all, unwary drivers could be trapped in muddy, rutted roads for days! Up-state New York can be similar, with considerable goo underfoot and under tires. Those with large dogs know well about spring mud. New York has back roads that are equally as muddy those of Vermont, that really shouldn’t be traveled until June, or maybe, at all. How do I know this? My husband’s idea of a good time is checking out back roads, wild roads, precipitous roads. In years past, we have been in some potentially hazardous situations due to: “I wonder where this road goes…”. His tendency toward adventure has diminished slightly. It may be wisdom that comes with age, but more probably it is the memory of my shrieks as we careen from one muddy rut to the other and slither in semi-circles toward deep ditches. Sadly, both of our sons have inherited this obviously genetic, and certainly unwise, tendency for dirt roads, seasonal roads, and corkscrew road explorations. We are hearing the stories now of driving over a chain link fence that had been knocked down to escape the 2nd “Woodstock” traffic, of running a snowmobile over Greek Peak at night, of driving past a dead end onto a seasonal road who knows what time of the year? If only we had possessed one of those trackers that are now available to any parent!! One for each of the boys, and definitely one for Kerm. Mud season is made bearable by spending time with friends over lunch, or perhaps around a nice fire. Conversations are always interesting, and sometimes run in rather strange directions. We chat about everything from bird-feeding to geothermic heating, to education, to the best gardening techniques for clay, and to less useful subjects, like whether girls or boys were harder to raise. I think they all exhibit some unique growing pains. Kerm and I had sons, but I grew up with only-slightly younger nieces (my eldest brother was 20 years older than I). And we have granddaughters, who though exemplary 😊, are girls. In my experience,-boys are unnecessarily loud, and they rough-house ---- often knocking over furniture or breaking glassware, leave large, muddy shoes around, and can be quite obnoxious and crass on occasion. They go into rages, but are quickly over them. Their excuses for their misdemeanors are often exceedingly lame. Girls tend to be deceptively delightful, but they pout, cry more, have a variety of moods, and hold grudges longer than most boys. After age 12 or 13, they have a monopoly on the bathroom while getting ready to go anywhere. Their excuses for questionable behavior are slightly more believable, having better imaginations. However, a common malady for both boys and girls, is whining. The “poor me” syndrome seems to be gender-neutral. I had a sign on my office wall right near the entrance. It was a large red circle with a diagonal line across the word “WHINE.” Most people didn’t, but a couple of individuals refused to take a hint. Whining is quite understandable in a child or adolescent. Their emotions and their psyches are still maturing. Coming from the mouth of an adult, however, generally means that person still believes they are the center of the universe, and that time, temperature, and the state of the world should be adjusted to meet their needs. Whining is really an unsaid: “Alas,” “Oh Woe,” “Poor, Poor Me!” There were two people with whom I worked, both men, who whined regularly, often about each other. It became ridiculous enough that I thought of telling All Wet Productions (a local Spencer & Van Etten occasionally creative group) to devise a skit, though I doubt that the guys who inspired it would have been amused. Those two individuals unfortunately, weren’t then, and aren’t now, all that rare. I see a lot of world-wide whining, don’t you? Here in America, we whine about airport delays, the weather, about potholes in the roads, about inflation, about traffic jams, about inconveniences of all sorts. Perhaps we, as a culture, are discontented with life? Perhaps we need to focus more on what is right in our lives. Currently, I have been complaining (Oh all right; basically whining!) about Macy’s and Joann’s closings. Yes, they were fine stores. Yes, I really liked them but there probably are other resources. My whiney self should be thinking about the many people who lost their jobs in the closings and the buildings that will now stand vacant and crumbling. One would think, after seeing the dreadful situations all around the world, that I, and that we, all might be more content, and less complaining, realizing how small, comparatively, our inconveniences are. But, not so. Too many of us have been spoiled by prosperity and the smooth-workings of most systems around us. If we could realize how unimportant some of our issues are, if we stopped thinking about how each inconvenience impacts us personally, we might do less whining. Perhaps each annoying change or inconvenience is the Universe, reminding us that we are not the center of the solar system! Or perhaps that same universe is telling us to be more aware; to pay attention and to take part in our communities, helping those who do not have the conveniences we have. Perhaps we need to retrieve my little sign; the red circle with a slash, make copies and post them everywhere. Late March, in addition to annoying weather, brings us that much closer to daffodils and hyacinths. William Wordsworth* seemed to be partial to daffodils, as I am. He wrote: “I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils. Beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze……for oft when on my couch I lie, in vacant or pensive mood, they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude, and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.” All that golden yellow just shouts --- spring. I expect that you all have your favorite signs of spring, depending on the climate where you live. However, life can make us very busy and when we move too fast, suddenly spring has passed us by and, it is summer. May I suggest that we all slow down just a trifle and take the time to notice spring moving in. There are wonders to behold, from the first snowdrops to pussy willows, to the violets, daffodils, hyacinths and tulips. There are baby woodchucks poking their noses toward the roads, ignoring mama’s instructions to stay put! Baby rabbits are just coming out into a dangerous world full of hawks, owls, and coyotes. Foxes are sending out harsh, throaty mating calls. And birds are singing with gusto as they attract mates and build nests. Even if we have more snow flakes, we can take heart and know that: “For lo, the winter is past, the {snow} is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing birds has come, and the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land.”** Carol writes from her home in Spencer. She may be reached at: carol42wilde@htva.net. *William Wordsworth –English Romantic poet who helped to launch the English Romantic period along with Samuel Coleridge. 1770-1850. **The Bible – Song of Solomon 2:11.

We have had them come to the house a couple of times for repairs as well and it’s always been a good experience. Their rates are pretty reasonable too, I think. Particularly when dealing with those big springs, it’s worth it to pay the experts.

I guess my question is....could we please find some local officials who can do 6th grade math? 13 x 6 = 78 gallons 13 x 5 = 65 gallons Source

I kind of did, and I’ll be changing things up once I get the better signs. I was assured that if there’s signage asking not to and there’s no visibility issues, they wont mow. Ultimately I can only do so much though. Once the signage is finalized and I’ve been maintaining it I’ll communicate with the head of DPW again to make sure we’re on the same page. If it belonged to us, I’d be doing this much differently and investing more money into it. But it doesn’t. So I’ll do what I can without overstepping and not spend too much energy worrying about it.

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As a post-apocalyptic fiction fan and author, that's one thing that stands out to me. Sure, you have a stockpile of gold... awesome. Now how much is someone going to demand for something you need vs how much you're actually willing to part with?

I just Could Not skip ahead to your post without reading the article MsKreed as i had an idea what your thoughts were on this subject , hence the 😂.

Old Timers have always told me to plant the taters “ after the New Moon of June . But really , you will be leaving them in the tires till the plant dies back (if for storage ) so a couple weeks either way of Memorial Day isn’t going to hurt IMHO . Me , I know I can put them in when the soil , a little on the drier side , doesn't stick to my plow 🤔 or when the tractor is running well LOL ! Reminds me to get new seed taters this year , Pontiac Reds just didn't yield last year and I have Grandsons that need their Ma’s mashed taters at the Holidays !!