Oil, Well ....

Oil is on everyone’s minds these days. The gusher in the Gulf of Mexico is the worst environmental catastrophe our country has ever had to deal with. The oil spill has now been going on over two months with at least another month or more to go before it can possibly be stopped. President Obama has issued a six-month moratorium on deep well drilling in the Gulf. That means that thirty-three oil drilling projects have been put on hold, meaning job losses for all of those workers. The governors of Louisiana and Mississippi have strongly urged the President to back off that moratorium. Although he has not, a federal judge in New Orleans has ruled that he must.

I have friends on both sides of this argument. Frankly, I can’t believe we would even consider continuing to drill under the circumstances. Not only BP but also the other major oil companies have all admitted that they have no solutions for a disaster like this one. The argument that convinces me that the oil drilling should be suspended is based on what happened when the Challenger blew up in space, killing the astronauts aboard that spacecraft. Did we simply keep moving ahead with the space program before we found out what measures needed to be taken before we risked another space flight? Absolutely not. Scientists and technicians at NASA worked hard to find the root cause of the disaster and only after they were convinced that space travel could once again be done safely did they okay the resumption of flights. Greed is not worth losing more human lives or more of our precious environment.

Is That Me?

I live alone. I keep myself busy and have the run of the house. When I arise in the morning, I have a routine that I follow that gets my day started: I drink a bottle of water, read in my journals (that I have been keeping since 1954) and have a cup of coffee. None of this involves discourse of any kind and sometimes, when the phone rings, I find that, when I pick up the receiver to answer it, I am either hoarse or not speaking as plainly as I usually do. It’s a strange thing but not uncommon among those of us who live along and don’t talk to ourselves. We haven’t heard our voices until we are required to use them for answering the phone or greeting someone after we leave the house. I will admit that occasionally I do talk to the whistling tea kettle when I boil water for my instant coffee fix in the morning. When the kettle starts whistling, I have been known to shout, “Okay, be patient. I’m coming as fast as I can.” Then at least I have a preview of my voice condition. I don’t consider that as weird as I would if I talked to myself all the time.

Cell, No

We are living in an age where the cell phone, especially for younger people, is an extension of their body. Fortunately, I was raised in an era when the telephone was a member of the community, the telephone operator. When I picked up my telephone as a child, there was a voice saying “Number, please.” The telephone was incidental -- important but not imperative (until the teenage years at least). Today cell phones are ubiquitous -- in the grocery store, in the bank, in the ear while driving, in church, in the theater -- and many times they are intrusive. I have a cell phone. It is a pre-pay service, which I pay once a year. I have the cell phone for emergencies and courtesies -- when I need help with the car and when I am running late. My cell phone “lives” in my car. I do not know my cell phone number, but it is written on the back of the phone. When someone asks for my cell phone number, I advise them that that would be redundant information since I hardly ever turn the phone on except to use it. I refuse to be so important that I need to have cell phone access all day every day. One other thing about my phone -- it is just a phone -- I can’t take a picture, and I can’t text message. I know I have voice mail, but I don’t know how to access it. Lest you think I’m totally turned off to electronics, you should know that my computer stays on all day every day and is a source of great pleasure and learning for me.

My In-Laws Made An Outlaw Out Of Me

My brother is the writer in the family. He has published four books, all about our family and his life in central Georgia. One of the cleverest stories he has ever written concerns the family cat, Fluff, who had to be housed with a vet during the visit of my brother’s mother-in-law, Mary Lou, who is allergic to cat hair. After I read my brother’s story, I wrote the following country music song for Fluff:

My In-Laws Made An Outlaw Out of Me

My life though blessed with loving care
Began to spin ar(eow)nd;
When Joe and Mary Lou, my in-laws,
Aimed to come to t(eow)n.

Her nose is plagued with allergies,
She says cat hair’s the curse.
But when I’m told to shed no hair
It makes me shed it worse!

My owner said, “Fluff, you must stay
Down at the kitty p(eow)nd;”
He packed my bags, gave me a pat,
My life flipped upside d(eow)n.

The other cats were mean as sin,
And treated me real rough;
For five days I was hardened;
I emerged as “Flo, the Tough.”

So when they came to take me home,
I treated them aloof;
And as they tried to scratch my head,
I swigged on 100 proof.

I guess I will forgive them soon,
They didn’t mean to hurt me;
And I will be a purrrfect cat,
If they don’t re-desert me.

(Chorus) My in-laws made an out-law out of me,
They put me in the clink without a key;
It hurt me, so I sing this melody.
My in-laws made an outlaw out of me.

Not NOW

We here in the United States usually associate the letter “W” with George Bush. However, I’m here to tell you that this letter of the alphabet is more important that even former President George W. Bush. It can be the difference between understanding and misunderstanding. If you have been following my blogs recently, you know that my computer crashed on June the 13th. As in all things, it was both a bane and a blessing. It was a bane in that I had to re-install many programs, reload other items, and look for drivers to make needed software compatible with Windows 7, my new operating system. It was a blessing in that my old computer had become lethargic, to the point that I could run only one program at a time and sometimes not even one. Running Skype, the program that allows a computer user to video-conference anywhere in the world, would deplete the resources of my computer so that it would slow almost to zero. Skype, on the new computer, is fast and allows quality communications using both audio and video. Eager to communicate, I wrote my friend who moved to Hong Kong a year ago: “I am now Skype-ready.” I thought he would immediately respond with a Skyping session. Instead I received an e-mail from him which failed to mention Skyping at all. I was puzzled. Fortunately, my e-mail to him had been left below his reply message, and I looked back to see what I had said regarding our Skyping. And there it was: “I am not Skype-ready.” What a difference a “T” instead of a “W” makes in getting the message across effectively.