Hey Kids,
You only get one chance at first impressions.
I’ve never flown with United Airlines but seeing the now viral video of the bloodied man wrestled out of his seat and spending two days listening to the bad apologies, I’m pretty sure that won’t change anytime soon.
A quick scan through my G+ feed proved that the United-memes formed the majority. Here’s a few of them:
Everything is Awesome!
Good luck United. You may never be forgotten.
Post 3-102
“I was so broke, I couldn’t pay attention.”
Yeah. That.
Post 3-101
Hey Kids,
One-at -bat, as my online mentor Gary Vaynerchuk would say.
You get one shot at this life. Within the one-at-bat you’re granted,
you’ll have moments of strikes but ultimately one result. A result you’ll never realize until it over.
Except in this scenario there is no 3 strike limit.
Reggie Jackson- Mr. Oakland
No limit to hits, no other inning but the ninth, and always playing for the win.
I’ve had some worries lately and I’ve been letting it get me down. But my dear Annette
also reminded me how stupid that approach is. She lives for today with an eye to the future. She never passes a good laugh, time spent with those she loves, and a good long bath with bath salts.
She reminds me of what’s good in this world, what’s important, and what’s not.
Success and happiness are always waiting at the next pitch.
I think it’s time to let it rip and swing for the fences.
Post 3-100
Hey Kids,
For as long as recent memory serves, the warning sirens have been sounding. It’s a shortage here, water restrictions there, and “one good year does not a drought end” everywhere.
In the western US, water is always a concern; there’s more of us than there is of it. For most of my life, the threat of sudden death (exaggeration) has always been the water forecast it seems. The number of good years are few and far between and the memories faded by endless reports of dead fish, dry swimming pools, and brown lawns.
Stolen from: Friends of Lake Powell
This year is a good year. The reservoirs are full or filling- big Lake Powell has added four feet already; the rivers are flowing to excess, and the snow is still falling in the mountains- nearly two feet of new snow this weekend alone.
There are no reporters talking about new city restrictions, low snow packs, or crops drying in the sun-dried and cracked fields. In fact it seems this year may be one of those years that not only erases a multiple year drought, but postpones the begining of another for a few seasons. My hope is that everyone remains in conservation mode, that we all learned how valuable water is and not to waste it anymore in a year of plenty than in a year of little.
It’s truly a year to savor, void of the water doom and gloom warnings and alarms.
Flooding excluded.
Post 3-099
Hey Kids,
Every once in a while I have a good idea.
Most times I walk around in a complete stupor; void of direction, purpose, and unhelpful thoughts.
But a spark fires, the idea strikes, and I wonder how I ever did not know that thing that now appears so obvious. Epiphany is the word one uses to describe this sudden strike of brilliance.
Almost as often as these moments of brilliance occur I also like to show off that they happen. I wait for the right opportunity, and then spring my genius new idea onto my unsuspecting wife, sure to dazzle her and make her feel amazed to have had the good fortune to be within the glow of such world class savoir-faire.
To which she almost always says, “Yes, you already told me about that.”
That’s when I realize that I had already had that idea before, but had never acted upon it. It doesn’t change the brilliance but it does rob me of showing off, at least any more than once.
This process of this reincarnation of good ideas is what I now call Repiphany.
Post 3-098
Hey Kids,
I hold to the thought that the university where I work, as well as possibly many others, is the biggest collection of educated idiots you will find anywhere. Sometimes the thought process gets a little ahead of themselves.
Today, an official questionnaire was distributed to our department. The first question was “Can you read? (Please circle) Yes or No” I think I’ll urge all to check mark the no answer and skip the rest of the questionnaire.
This same institution has a policy of no potluck functions. This isn’t as obviously dumb as asking an employee who is paralyzed to raise his hand if he wants to request accommodation; but it’s still bad.
The thought behind the potluck band is to limit the spread of illness. If food is to be shared it needs to be purchased from another place of business by other unknown employees who obviously are illness-spreading free. The logic continues that because others will prepare food for other others, in a place of business, it’ll be safer than if one prepared food meant for self-consumption and shared with others.
Breaking bread together is a human trait that dates back a very long time. If you’re willing to share of your own sustenance, you recognize a commonality and will hold less ill-well towards those with whom you shared. Likewise if your enemy will feed you, does it not make that person less an enemy?
We no longer, at modern places of business, engage in lethal clan warfare, but work places can be just as divided as the people of the British Isles. Having meals together, not provided by the company but from the staff’s preparations, breaks down walls between us. If I make a potato salad that gets rave reviews, I will move up a notch in respect. And everyone who compliments said potato salad is now less my antagonist.
Hot dogs and bags of chips will only carry peace so far, but over time and with some frequency, I believe the tribal tradition of hospitality is worth the fear of a shared cold, which actually has value as well, but in the form of shared misery.
Being a rule keeper as I am, I do not condone banned Pot Luck luncheons. A shared lunch, however, a happy staff builds.
Post 3-097
Hey Kids,
I hate looking at old pictures. Actually, I hate looking at me in old pictures. I wonder what I was thinking, and what was I wearing?
At the time of the picture taking, I’m sure I thought I looked great with that haircut. My clothes, of course, would never be consciously thought of as embarrassing. The bell bottoms, the mullets, or the wide flared collars were, in their time, cool.
Yet if I took a picture of me today, I would assume I have moved past all those “childish” fashions. I now look as good as I have and ever could be. The thought that today’s photo would ever look out of style is not possible. And yet it will be. It always ends up that way. It could be a simple as the photo’s quality when compared to what it might be in 5 years from now. Or 10. Or 20.
And there lies the fallacy of every generation: the idea that the present is permanent.
It’s not.
The styles are changing. The materials are changing. The technology is changing. The style of things we use is changing. The phones, the media, the foods, the fuels, the attitudes, the beliefs, the understandings, the climate, the earth, and our language; are all changing.
It’s ok. It’s how we progress.
The problems comes when we hang onto the present as if it’s the only way. Or when we decide that the new generation will never survive itself. Or when we long for the past so much, we can ignore the future.
The only thing that doesn’t change is the past and the resurfacing of those damn embarrassing photos.
Post 3-096
Hey Kids,
I’ve been at my job for nearly 25 years now. In those 25 years, I’ve accumulated a desk full of papers, gizmos, and trinkets. I decided it was time to empty some of those items. Mostly because my desk is full and I might be there for a few more years.
Within the reaches of the drawers, I found my weight in mystery keys, a bible’s worth of pages of old notes and scribbles, and two decades of memories from past employees.
I threw out piles of worthless Coke caps that I never got to enter the codes for some grand prizes never realized. There was a mountain of business cards from companies and people with which a few we did business- most we did not.
A few ID badges had been left behind. I read the names and looked at the pictures of their past owners. I recalled their stories. A small number of them left due to immigration issues. Others moved on to different opportunities- some have stayed in touch, most others have not. I found a letter written to me by an employee who passed last year. It was written during a trying time in her life and she had wanted to thank me for my support during that time. It meant a lot to me then, but even more now.
My runner-up find was a voucher assigned to me on my very first day with the University. I was to exchange it for an ID card within my first few weeks of employment. I never did, but got an ID card anyway. I don’t know why that amuses me, but it does every time I see it. Apparently, I rebelled against the rules even way back then.
The grand prize find was a copy of my oldest son’s fishing license. It is the most valuable because it has his signature on it, something he did with his own hand and I own it. I miss him and it makes me feel closer to him.
Life marches forward and these treasures of 
memories get caught on the riffles of time, much like gold in a sluice box. And like the largest nuggets in the sluice box, they can disappear under the mundane black sands and irrelevant gravels of life and disappear out of sight, and out of mind. Today reminds me to not fill up on the trivial but to unbury and cherish those moments and people that are important today, and not when I clean out my desk every 25 years.
Post 3-095
Hey Kids,
I know it seems silly to some, but others might relate. This past weekend, I stepped aboard a boat that I own. I know it’s just a share and I have to share it with others, but when I have the helm, the boat is mine.
Years ago, I lived on the Sacramento/San Joaquin delta. I watched the boats head out as I fished from the shores. I dreamed of my own cabin cruiser. I thought how cool it would be if I could head out to the distant parts of the maze of islands, drop anchor, and sleep to the sways and lifts of the river current and tide.
I watched boats for sale but it never seemed possible. Not only did I have the struggle to buy a boat that would accommodate the dream, I had to figure out how to pay for a vehicle to pull it, or the ability to pay for a berth in a marina.
I backed off my big boat dreams when we relocated to Utah; trout lakes didn’t need them. I figured though that any boat would do. I still had the vehicle issue but I was ready to concede to a small fishing boat. After many discussions, the stated promise was a baby for a boat.
Five babies later, no boat appeared on the horizon. Responsibilities called and I happily answered. Although dormant, the dream remained.
Last October I stepped on a dock of boats equipped for big water, on another big river. This time it was the dammed Colorado they call Lake Powell. The slips were full of all varieties of cabin cruisers, yachts, and houseboats. Some of the boats were as short as 25’ and others stretched out to near as 80’. It made me recall the days and desires of the delta.
I decided then and there the time had come. After scanning listings, reading specs, and calculating costs; we landed on our ship. A 47’ house boat named the Skipper’s Dream. This past weekend I made the baby step off the dock and onto my new and first boat.
It’s been a long time coming and it’ll be another month before we get to power it out of the slip. And then another week after that before we’ll have the helm. Unassisted and unhindered in our decision of heading and destination, the dream will be fulfilled and room made for the next one.
Post 3-094
Hey Kids,
To drop off the grid, to end all contact with the outside world, is one wish that many people wish.
But I can attest that as one whose phone stop working altogether when I least could afford it not to be working- it’s not all that it’s built up to be.
The glass on my phone broke some time ago, but when loading the car for our little trip, it broke more. The screen from that point bleed to a dark screen. The phone works but is blind.
For the next few days, it’ll be the mid-90’s all over again.
Post 3-093
Mike M Jensen 