The 2010 Winter Olympics have come and gone and although I didn’t think I would be saying this, I miss them.
When we were reminded about the list of sports that are part of the Winter Games experience, most of them seemed foreign to a lot of us. While many people around here may enjoy an occasional trip to the area ski slopes, how many have soared down a mountain, dodging gates along the way? This part of the state has a few ice rinks open for public use, but there aren’t many of us who race around the perimeter at break-neck speed.
I know many folks who enjoy using guns for hunting or target practice. But I don’t think I’ve ever met one who shoots at targets then skis to another location to shoot again. When’s the last time you climbed on your Flexible Flyer and hurtled down a slope at 90 mph while laying prone? I know there are hockey fans out there, but stop anyone on the street and you would be hard pressed to find anyone who could name five players currently playing pro hockey. And don’t get me started on the sport of curling.
So when the event ended Sunday night, you would think that it would have passed with little notice. Maybe it was the continued cold weather or maybe the need to find something new to do to combat cabin fever. Whatever it was, I was drawn to the Olympics broadcasts for several hours each day.
Once again, the networks of NBC did an awesome job of bringing the coverage to America. Thanks to their attention to detail and accompanying features, we not only got a new appreciation for many athletes in this country and around the world, it probably made a lot of us wish for warmer weather so we could pack our bags for a visit to our wonderful neighbors to the north.
Some observations from the coverage:
I can’t remember seeing one ugly athlete during the whole time. It almost seemed that in order to qualify to be an Olympic athlete, you had to not only be the best at your sport, you had to have the face and body that would be an ad agency’s dream. And maybe it was the cool, crisp weather that most of the athletes performed in (except for the skaters and curlers), but their personalities matched their beauty. Most all of them were modest in victory and gracious when they fell short of their goal as they were being interviewed.
Not every athlete had a perfectly smooth road to the Olympics and many battled adversity, which made their performances even more incredible. There was the bobsled captain who battled approaching blindness, underwent an experimental medical procedure and came back to pilot America’s winner. There was the story of the American hockey goalie who was playing on his junior team as an eight-year-old and told his dad he wanted to be a goalie. His dad told him if he played a good game on a particular day, he would buy him a goalie’s glove. The player went out and scored a couple of goals and had several assists for his junior team and has been a goalie ever since.
We learned that figure skating not only takes incredible physical strength, but equal parts of mental and emotional strength. A Canadian skater summoned the inner strength to go on after the unexpected death of her mother just days before the competition.
Thousands of viewers who probably can’t remember the last time they watched even one period of a hockey game were glued to their sets Sunday afternoon for two hours watching the epic gold medal battle between the USA and Canadian men’s teams. Even though a lot of us were hoping for an American win, we realize that the sport means so much more to the Canadians and we could probably cheer their win just a little bit.
It was feared that the tragic death of a luge competitor from the country of Georgia just as the games were set to begin would mar the entire event. But while the athletes, coaches, officials and fans honored his memory, perhaps a greater tribute to his sacrifice were the wonderful performances the athletes had.
The Olympics reminded us that while some of us may have never been on skis or ice skates or still have no idea how the sport of curling is scored, this world presents such a wide variety of options in recreation and careers that for maybe a couple of weeks every two or four years, we can step out of our normal routines and be reminded what else is out there.
In two years, the world’s athletes will gather once again for a whole different set of sports for the Summer Olympics in London. Then two years after that, the Winter Games will be back, this time hosted by Russia. It will be tougher following the action because of the time difference, but there will undoubtedly be plenty of new stories and different wonderful athletes to follow that will make a few sleepless nights and drowsy mornings worth it.
I can hardly wait!

By Jeff M. Brown
www.boredfactoryworker.com
“Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.” – Jim Fiebig
“Age and possible lactose intolerance don’t diminish the extreme disappointment I have if a scoop of ice cream falls from the cone.” – Jeff Brown
So, I turned 40 recently. Yep, the big four oh, I’m getting old. (If you feel sorry for me and would like to send a card or present, it’s not too late.) Somebody asked me if I felt any different after reaching this milestone (translation: do you feel rustier, stiffer, achy, or just plain like crap?). I shook my head and replied in the wisest, most authoritative, most age appropriate 900 year old Yoda-like tone I could muster, “State of mind, age is. Hmmmmmm.”
I suppose if that were really true, I’d be about 10 years old. I still like dinosaurs, the space program, old cars, pizza, and ice cream. Too bad I’ve reached the big four oh, my aching stomach! For the last year or so I’ve been experiencing on and off again intestinal discomfort (I’ll spare you the details). According to my doctor, as we age sometimes people who have never had problems with milk or dairy products (translation: anything that makes me go “yum.”) may suddenly develop lactose intolerance.
I still don’t know if I have it or not, (I’m being tested) but I’m worried this might be the first domino. Lactose intolerance today, the big four oh, pass me another incontinence diaper tomorrow. Speaking of incontinence, I recently saw a TV commercial promoting the fact that Medicare will now pay for up to 200 brand new clean catheters a month. This apparently is great news for a lot of folks and it makes me wonder how far away I am from reaching the big four oh, I’m so excited because I hit the catheter jackpot!
Where was I? Please forgive me if this column meanders and doesn’t make sense. I have a good excuse because I’ve reached the big four oh, I can’t remember what I was talking about. Doctors say this is closely related to the big four oh, I can’t find my car keys and the big four oh, honey, where’s the new tube of Preparation H?
It’s not a cure, but I think I’ve found an effective treatment for the big four oh, my aching back and the big four oh, is it cold in here or is it just me? It’s my seed corn pillow. (As the name implies, it’s a pillow with seed corn in it.) Although it’s not related to dinosaurs and it doesn’t have a creamy filling, I love it because you can heat it up in the microwave and it will stay warm for a long time. I pop mine in for three minutes and take it to bed with me during the winter. I place it on, under, or near whatever body part happens to be aching. What I really need is a seed corn mattress, but I’m not sure how to heat it.
My wife is a little younger than I am. (I’m not going into any more detail because I’d like to live to see my next birthday.) Despite this, I think she’s already reached the big four oh, it’s so late I think I’m going to bed. This happens nearly every evening about 8:30 PM. When I point this out to her, she insists that she’s never really been a night person.
If I was younger, I might use this as an opportunity to tease my wife, but at my age I’m older and wiser and, did I mention older? As Yoda would say, “It is smart to provoke your wife not. Yes, hmmm.”
Besides, after having officially reached 40, I’m too tired to defend myself at 8:30 PM- it’s way past my bedtime.

Eagle stories, chapter two: Either the food supply is getting a bit scarce in the late winter or perhaps the opportunity was just too good to pass up. A caller knew my interest in bald eagles and said he had just seen one feeding on a dead deer north of Countryside Veterinary Clinic Thursday afternoon.
Not expecting to find anything on the busy highway, I still decided to take a little road trip. Up ahead I saw what turned out to be the freshly killed deer lying on the east shoulder of the highway. But the only birds I saw flocking around it were crows. Then I happened to look across the road and there he was, sitting about 10 yards off the fence row in the middle of the snow-covered field.
The young but mature male eagle didn’t seem too concerned with the busy highway. In fact, it looked like he had just decided to leave his meal to rest for a minute, not more than a few yards away. He didn’t flinch when I pulled alongside the east side of the road and fired off several pictures. Then I went on ahead to Irving and turned around. By this time, he had decided to go for the second course and was perched atop his prey. With no traffic in the area, I stopped for a brief second right across from him and fired off the picture seen here. He apparently then decided he had enough and took off.
They say the bald eagle is making a comeback and there are more of them than they were a few years ago. But any time I get a chance to get a picture of this majestic bird, I jump at it. Thanks, caller.
On to another topic – This week the Belle Plaine Board of Education reviewed a possible revision in the district’s academic eligibility policy. The current policy allows students to fail a class and still maintain eligibility for sports, music or other extracurricular activities. The proposed revision would mandate that students must be passing every class to participate.
During the discussion, there was some indication that at least a few of the board members might favor an even more strict policy. One commented that perhaps students should have better than a “D” average to participate.
Make no mistake, students who play a sport or sing in a choir or play in a band are representing their school, as well as themselves. Schools have every right to expect the students to be of good moral character and in good academic standing to participate. There have been way too many reports in other school districts of star athletes cruising through their high school years while teachers looked the other way and allowed them to play even though they weren’t learning anything.
But speaking from personal experience from the dark ages, I would urge the board to tread cautiously in making any serious revisions to the policy. Early on I realized I was not as academically gifted as some of my close friends. I would never be a doctor or lawyer. At best I was an average student who happened to do well on standardized tests. There were many days when the only reason I wanted to get out of bed was to get to jazz band or choir practice before school or because we had a football game that night. I don’t recall a single day when I sprang out of bed in eager anticipation of a math or science test. But I knew I had to take care of business in the classroom in order to be allowed to sing or be with the football team.
It is not too much to ask that students be passing all of their classes in order to take part in extracurricular activities. But if they had raised the standards to make students carry a “C” average, for example, there were semesters I wouldn’t have been able to participate.
Studies have also shown that students who participate in extracurricular activities tend to be better students. There’s good reason to believe that if a student has the discipline to succeed on the field or in the concert hall, then they will do better in the classroom.
Another concern expressed at the last board meeting was how at-risk students were being served in the schools. Perhaps school officials might suggest to some of them, at least, that they become involved in an extracurricular activity. Keep the interest up, develop the discipline and the grades may improve.

By Jeff Brown
www.boredfactoryworker.com

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” – Ray Bradbury
“I must stay drunk on writing so reality doesn’t set in and I have to enroll in Bigfoot School.” – Jeff Brown
What do I want to be when I grown Up?
During the weeks leading up to my layoff from the factory last December, I put a lot of brainpower into what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. This was my big chance, I thought, to pursue my dreams. It’s time to turn the page, turn over a new leaf, turn lemons into lemonade, and turn that knob on the door of opportunity and step in it, so to speak. Then I heard on the news that funding for NASA’s manned space program had been canceled.
Well, I guess it’s back to the drawing board for me.
Although my ambitions of becoming an astronaut have been dashed, I’m not letting it get me down. (Hey, Mr. Obama, how about spending a little of that stimulus money on something that actually matters, like, say, sending me to the space station so I could float around in zero gravity and flush the space toilet. That would be so cool.) Believe it or not, I have other (if not more realistic) dreams too.
For instance, I’ve always wanted to be a newspaper columnist. Although the pay at this stage of my writing career sucks, (they don’t call it “free-lance” for nothing) the fringe benefits are terrific. My old job had big inconveniences I had to deal with daily such as a “boss” and “regular working hours.” Can you believe I was actually expected to show up every day at the unholy hour of “the morning” and do things like “work?” (Oh, the memories. I shudder just thinking about it.)
Now I can write whenever I want, day or night, and it doesn’t even matter. Heck, I don’t even have to be dressed to write. In fact, I could write an entire column in my boxer shorts (a somewhat unpleasant image, I know) and you, the unsuspecting reader, wouldn’t be the wiser. At my old factory job, the boss was perpetually concerned with how often I visited the bathroom. Heck, nowadays, I could write an entire column in the bathroom if I wanted to.
Special Note to the Editor: You might want to wash your hands after proofing this story.
But, I know I have to be realistic. I need a career of some sort to fall back on in the unlikely event that I don’t make it as a writer (please, please, read my columns!). That’s just the way I’m wired- always dreaming big with my head in the clouds and my feet planted firmly on terra firma. This is why I’m contemplating higher education in the sciences. After hours of research, (I fell asleep the other day with the History Channel on) I’ve narrowed my areas of interest into three entirely possible and realistic career goals.
Ufologist.
Paranormal Investigator.
Bigfoot Researcher.
My personal favorite is “Bigfoot Researcher.” (I wonder if the University of Phoenix has a good Bigfoot program.) I also know that in today’s world of rising unemployment rates and challenging job markets, it pays to have multiple marketable skills. This is why I’m thinking about majoring in Bigfoot and minoring in UFO’s. (Realistically, I think of ghost hunting more as a hobby.)
So, after writing this column, I’m going to grab the bull by the horns and enroll in Bigfoot school. A little insurance policy in case nobody likes my writing (please, please, read my columns!). Chasing Sasquatch won’t be easy and I guess it’s true what they say: the hardest part of any journey is taking that first step. But, before I do,
I’d better put my pants on.

To the editor:

Well friends our governor is desperate. This time in 2009 Governor Culver’s approval rating was a sky high sixty percent. As of Valentines Day a Des Moines Register Poll shows that thirty-six percent of Iowans approve of Culver. A forty percent drop in one year. Ouch. The Register also showed with the intention of an election being held today, that two Republicans would upset the incumbent. Former Governor Terry Brandstad and Representative Bob Vander Platts were the lucky ones. Not only will the incumbent face a major challenge, but every seat in Congress in my view is ‘up for grabs.’ Polls show it throughout the nation. The American people are ailing and weary of our elected representatives not following the saying…by the people, for the people. Instead it’s where they can make the most money. This midterm election season will be very fascinating to watch and finally be part of.
Culver recently visited our community to speak about his I Jobs campaign. I viewed his entrance awkward in all honesty. I loathed at the clever joke given about former Governor of Alaska Sarah Palin, as this was not needed to be addressed. However, it is our nation’s job to humiliate elected officials. Just do not attack the liberals because it isn’t right. But I did find it an amusing tale that was a great fire up the crowd gesture.
As I listened to the governor speak, I got the thought that this I Jobs campaign was a great idea. Culver touched on the wind and renewable energy movement. He spoke about manufacturing within the area, such as West Branch, Newton. I think I speak for all of Belle Plaine when I say this would be a great addition to the community. This is the answer to how we will attract families. With our aquatics center, schools, road facades, and sewage control being brought up to date, I think if our city leaders can converse with a wind renewable energy plant into making Belle Plaine their home, I think we will be just fine. We have a perfect area south of town for our own little wind farm. Imagine our community with a wind plant providing jobs and all the other exciting occasions happening. Belle Plaine is looking at an attractive opportunity.

Sincerely,

Anthony Jones

Bob Uecker was a second string catcher in the major leagues for several years. More recently, he is better known to younger fans as the radio voice of the Milwaukee Brewers. He was once asked how he caught knuckleball pitchers. For those who may not know, the knuckleball is a trick pitch that does strange things on the way to the batter.
Uecker’s advice for young catchers was to watch it go past you, wait until it stops, then go pick it up.
That’s the philosophy I’ve adopted for this seemingly never-ending snowfall. Wait until it stops, then shovel if you have to. As we were coping with the latest winter blast, I was amazed at the people who seemed to think it was their duty to shovel their driveways and sidewalks, even as the snow continued to fall!
Thankfully, city crews, as well as county and state road crews, haven’t adopted my knuckleball philosophy. Tuesday morning, as I was still contemplating which brush I would use to knock the snow off the van, I could see numerous city dump trucks drive by, hauling snow, plowing snow off the street, etc. Don’t forget that while most of us are snug in our beds, our city crew is attempting to clear our city streets so that we can get to work or wherever we need to be the next morning.
One nice feature of the business I’m in is the ability to work from home, if necessary. As long as the we have electricity, I can post stories on this site from home. I took advantage of this just once so far this year, when we had that ice storm earlier. I seriously considered staying home Tuesday, but I thought of all the folks who were traveling a lot further than I was to get to my job and decided to tough it out.
My decision was confirmed when I got out on the streets. I saw at least one downtown merchant who came in from the farm to open her store. I saw a FedEx truck making local deliveries. I saw one of the most inspirational people I know who said she has walked every day for over 40 years out making her daily route on foot.
I may not stay the entire day, but I thought it was important to come into the office and check to see if any cancellations needed to be posted. Our scheduled trip to Des Moines on Wednesday to make a presentation to the Community Attraction and Tourism Committee for a grant for downtown redevelopment was canceled. As I write this, I am waiting on several other scheduled events for the next couple of days and will post any changes as needed.
Earlier I made a baseball reference. A Quad-Cities friend whose father played minor league baseball many years ago posted a comment on Facebook saying that her favorite phrase this time of the year is “pitchers and catchers report.”
In less than two weeks, pro baseball will awaken from a long winter’s nap and players will begin getting into playing shape in Arizona and Florida. By the first part of March, televised preseason games will remind us that the sun and warmth will return eventually.
It seems inevitable that whenever we get slapped by another winter blast, the skeptics snicker at former Vice President Al Gore’s campaign against global warming. The Tea Partiers, Fox News and Obama-is-foreign-born fans seem to come out of the woodwork, sneering, “Where’s the global warming?”
I’m certainly no scientist, but I wonder if these people are missing the point. Even the folks who worship at the altar of Glen Beck would agree that we’ve had some strange weather in recent years. Just maybe the effects of global warming don’t mean we will soon be experiencing sunny skies and 80 degree temperatures in January.
The whole point to the global warming facts are that for many years man has been messing with the atmosphere and if we don’t change, our weather will continue to go haywire, with more extreme heat and yes, maybe extreme cold and snow in the future.
That’s my collection of random thoughts for today. So curl up next to the fire, sip that hot chocolate and repeat over and over, “pitchers and catchers report.” You’ll warm up immediately!

By Jeff M. Brown
www.boredfactoryworker.com
“It’s funny how dogs and cats know the inside of folks better than other folks do, isn’t it?” – Eleanor H. Porter
“It’s funny how I know the inside of my wife’s dog better than he does.” – Jeff Brown
Black and Brown Friday
The horrible scene keeps replaying itself in my mind. If I had a psychologist, I’m sure I’d be diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. All I can say about the incident is that it was the most horrible ordeal I’ve ever had to overcome in my life.
Ever since that day (I call it Black and Brown with a touch of Green Friday) I’m terribly preoccupied with the digestive cycle of my wife’s dog, Traveler. “Hey, dog,” I say at least one or two or ten times a day in a concerned, but reassuring tone, “when was the last time you did your business? In other words, how are you feeling today, Traveler, intestinally speaking?”
To say the dog had an accident would be a colossal understatement. This was no fender bender in the world of doggy misdemeanors; this was a major chain reaction pileup (literally). The first inkling I had that something might be wrong was when I got home and stepped through the kitchen door. Something didn’t smell quite right. Did I forget to take the garbage out last night? Did the sewer back up?
When I went into the living room, there was no doubt of the source of the offending smell molecules: the dog had apparently exploded. Don’t get me wrong, Traveler was fine. He was fast asleep near the front door waiting patiently for my wife to get home. But, somehow, I didn’t quite understand because it must have violated several laws of physics and quantum mechanics, the entire “inside” of the dog had somehow materialized “outside,” or, to be more specific, “on the surface of my living room carpet.”
It was everywhere. There were (not that I was counting) 23 globs of dog poop scattered haphazardly from the kitchen, through the living room, all the way to the office, not unlike some sort of canine minefield. Unfortunately for me (and the carpet I had just vacuumed the evening before) these were no ordinary dog turds that could easily be picked up or, as some dog aficionados (which I am definitely not) might say, “scooped.” They were more of a pudding like consistency comprised of the remnants of the previous night’s supper (kibble and bits and bits of pure evil).
How was I going to clean this up? For a few moments I just stared at the carnage slack-jawed, but that didn’t last long because I almost puked, so I stepped outside to clear my head. Okay, Jeff, you can figure this out, but you need a plan. Let’s see… I could wait for my wife to get home. It’s her dog. She should do it, but she won’t be home for hours.
“Jeff,” I said aloud, “you’re a man of action. You can’t just let a sleeping dog’s poop lie, especially all around the inside of your house!” With renewed resolve, I marched back inside and grabbed the cat’s litter box shovel, a container of Lysol Disinfecting Wipes, a can of carpet cleaner, and the trash bucket. All the while I worked out a 5-step cleaning procedure.
1. Take a deep breath and hold it.
2. Scrape the poop off the carpet with the shovel.
3. Scrape the shovel off in the trash bucket.
4. Wipe up the carpet as best as I could.
5. Rush outside for another breath of fresh air before I passed out.
I repeated this procedure no less than 23 times (not that I was counting) and then I steam-cleaned the entire carpet. Finally, I thought, Black and Brown with a touch of Green Friday was over. Too bad for me the cats, not wishing to be outdone by the dog, were already planning Upchuck Saturday.

How many of us have heard someone described as a “pillar of the community?”
It’s a phrase that may seem overused at times. When I think of someone who is a pillar of the community, I think of someone who will volunteer for various community projects when asked and perhaps will suggest new projects as well.
Another fair definition would be someone who serves the community in a public way for many years or who conducts a business in such a way that draws positive attention to his or her hometown.
In the last week, we have had a chance to honor three people who are the very definition of a pillar of the community. One served in elective office, one taught many of our children how to swim and another headed a quality business whose work is known around the Midwest. They have done this for a grand total of almost 120 years!
When Bob Storm decided to run for the Belle Plaine Park Board, he probably didn’t know that it was to become a 30-year adventure. He recently decided not to run for another six-year term, after being elected five times. What’s more, he served as the president of the board for his entire tenure.
Bob will say one of the secrets of a good governing board is to know who to hire to handle the day-to-day operations of the agency, offer guidance where needed, then step back and let the professionals work. Belle Plaine is fortunate that is has had a city council that has been supportive of a vibrant parks and recreation program for many years. There are undoubtedly many cities of our size in this and other states that are nowhere near as advanced in providing the recreational activities that are available here. Of course, a series of good park and recreation directors is vital to make this happen. But you still need a strong governing board to help with the budget, make decisions on improvements and guide the director. Bob was a part of that board for many years.
If you are a part of a successful program for many years, when you decide to move on, you can be assured that you have left a positive imprint on it. Whenever Bob drives by Box Park or Franklin Park or meets a young man or woman who has gone on to achieve great things after being a part of the recreation program as a youngster, Bob should rightfully feel a lot of pride in what he did to help form that person’s future.
Back in 1958, when Nadine Thomasson agreed to give Red Cross swimming lessons at the Belle Plaine swimming pool, if someone had told her she would be doing it for the next 50 years, nobody would have blamed her if she had said, “I don’t think so!” and run the other way.
During the other parts of the year, she was supporting her husband in his dental business and helping to raise three sons. But in the summer, she took on the task of teaching many people how to respect and enjoy the water. And we’re not talking about five or six kids per summer. Hundreds of mostly children took lessons each year. There were probably plenty of them who can thank Nadine and her assistants for giving them the ability to save their lives when they got into difficult situations on the water.
She started the year after the Belle Plaine pool opened and had input in the design of the bathhouse. She decided that when the old pool was replaced, it would be a good time to give someone else the chance to teach the swim lessons. But she was also on the committee that planned the new aquatics center and is looking forward to it opening this spring. But for the first time in more than half a century, she will be able to go swimming if and when she wants.
Enjoy the new aquatics center, Nadine, you deserve it!
Nearly 40 years ago, a young man picked up a hammer and began working on building projects with his father. When he measured that first board or drove that first nail, did he have any way of knowing he would have a hand in creating places of business, learning, worship and many others that would affect literally thousands?
When church boards, school boards or heads of business are planning facility improvements, they usually have a choice of several general contractors. For many years, Garling Construction has built some of the most impressive, cost efficient and quality buildings in and around the state of Iowa. And when you consider that the nerve center for this business has been headquartered in a little town in southwest Benton County all these years, it’s really amazing.
Denny Garling went into business with his father back in 1971. Over the years, the business has grown to the point where many of the more modern Casey’s convenience stores, many schools, churches and other business buildings have been created under the watchful eye of Denny and Barb Garling.
Over the years, I’ve been privileged to meet some people who have accomplished some great things. One of the things that is generally universal among all these people is that they may fall short on blatant self-promotion. Long before the shoe company adopted the slogan “Just Do It,” Denny, Nadine and Bob were practicing it.
I’ve been acquainted with Denny since I arrived in Belle Plaine. I’ve had the honor of seeing many of the building projects his firm has created. I’ve complimented him on his company’s workmanship. While he quietly accepts the comments, he is certainly not one to draw attention to himself in a shallow, blatant way. He lets the work done by his company and talented staff speak for itself.
Denny Garling has done much more than put Belle Plaine on the map with a quality business. He has been involved in many civic endeavors over the years. One of his last building projects involved a lot of community service and should give him plenty of satisfaction. He was the general contractor for the Habitat for Humanity home completed late last year in the city. It was the first Habitat home built in Belle Plaine. It not only gave someone a warm and inviting place to live, it also showed that if you have a good building plan and can recruit and guide volunteers, it can happen.
Another quality of people who achieve great things for many years is the fact that in many cases, they will not rest on past accomplishments. Even as Bob, Nadine and Denny step aside from the activities they have done for these many years, they are undoubtedly looking to the future to see where they might serve again.
Leading by example – a true measure of a pillar of the community!

By Jeff Brown
www.boredfactoryworker.com
“When it snows, you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels.” – Author Unknown
“When it snows, you have two choices: go to the bathroom or blow your nose.” – Jeff Brown
There’s no Business like Snow Business
As I write this column, it’s snowing outside. I’m preparing for another day working with my dad as a Snow Removal Technician. (Official Motto: “Have shovels; will scoop until we’re pooped.”) It’s not a bad way to earn some extra cash, but I hope it goes a little easier today than it did yesterday.
3:30 AM Accidently knocked alarm clock off the shelf.
3:31 Intentionally knocked the shelf off the wall when I couldn’t get the alarm to stop. Stupid clock.
3:33 Put my slippers on and hobbled over to the window. Yep, it snowed.
3:34 Brewed some coffee.
3:38 Got dressed and brushed my teeth.
3:44 Drank some coffee.
4:00 The weather channel said it might snow again this afternoon. Drank some more coffee.
4:05 Put on my insulated cover-alls and boots.
4:07 Downed another cup of joe.
4:12 Went outside and promptly fell on the ice. Stupid ice.
4:15 Brushed snow off my wife’s car.
4:25 Headed for the house and fell on the same spot. Went inside, took off boots, made a beeline for the bathroom.
4:29 Put boots back on, went back outside, almost fell down again. Grabbed bag of salt and threw a few handfulls on the slippery spot.
4:35 Commenced shoveling the driveway.
4:55 Dad drove by in his truck to pick me up. I threw my shovel in the back and asked him to wait a minute.
4:56 Headed back to house, took off boots, made another beeline for the bathroom.
4:59 Exited bathroom, put boots back on, took boots back off. Headed for bathroom again and blew nose. Yanked bunch of Kleenex out of the box and stuffed them into my cover-all’s pocket.
5:03 Dad honked his horn. I raced back to the door, put my boots back on, and ran out of the house. Slipped on another icy spot. Grabbed salt bag and threw the whole thing (plastic and all) on the ice.
5:04 Got into truck and Dad drove us across town to his house.
5:15 We hooked the trailer up to his truck, drove his tractor (with snowblade attachment) onto the trailer, loaded his walk-behind snowblower, and off we went.
5:23 Arrived at first job site. Unloaded snowblower and tractor. Commenced clean-up.
5:55 Finished job, loaded trailor, blew my nose, drove to the next job.
6:00 Unloaded trailor. Commenced clean-up.
6:38 Finished job, loaded trailor, blew my nose, drove to the next job.
6:45 Unloaded trailor. Commenced clean-up.
7:05 Loaded trailor, blew my nose, and drove to the gas station.
7:09 Used the bathroom and emptied used Kleenex pocket into trash-can (yuck), washed hands, bought and consumed donut and bottle of Gatoraide. Drove to the next job site.
7:20 Unloaded trailor. Commenced clean-up.
7:40 Finished job, loaded trailor, blew my nose, drove to next job.
7:44 Unloaded trailor. Commenced clean-up.
8:11 Finished job, loaded trailor, blew my nose.
At this point we were finished with the commercial properties that had to be cleaned before 9:00 AM. Dad dropped me off at my house for a coffee (and bathroom) break before we headed out to the residentials.
9:00AM to 3:30 PM Dad picked me up and we drove to the first job site. We unloaded the trailer, shoveled, loaded the trailer, drove to the next job, unloaded the trailer, shoveled, loaded the trailer and I blew my nose. Then, for a change of pace, we shoveled a couple properties by hand without unloading the trailor and then we stopped at the gas station to go to the bathroom (and I unloaded my icky pocket again). We drove to the next job, unloaded the trailor, cleaned, loaded the trailor, drove, unloaded the trailor, cleaned, loaded the trailor and I blew my nose as we drove to the next job.
To finish off the day, we loaded and unloaded the trailor four more times. When we were finally done, Dad dropped me off at my house. I staggered in, removed my boots, and plopped on the chair. It felt so good to relax. I fell right to sleep and the next thing I knew was my wife getting home from work. I yawned and asked her how her day went.
“Fine,” she said, as she took off her coat. “Do you know it’s snowing outside?”

I think it’s time for another singular cry from the wilds of rural Iowa: government, especially the federal government, is too complicated.
I am reminded of this each year when the tax forms arrive in the mail. Depending on your circumstances, property ownership, investments, etc., it could take you from now until the April 15th deadline to accurately figure out your taxes or to find a qualified tax professional to do them for you.
I still think the solution might be to eliminate the Internal Revenue Service and go to a national sales tax. But that’s an argument I’ve put forth before and may resurrect at another time.
I’ve commented on the health care debate in the past. But what’s bothering me this time is the sheer complexity of the bills before Congress now. Congress decided it would tackle health care reform and almost overnight, we had a bill of over 1,400 pages to consider. At last report, after some members of Congress successfully got sweet deals for their states or districts, we now have a bill that may be over 2,000 pages.
Has anybody outside of Washington had the courage to ask why? We seem to be living in an era of a camouflage of words and it’s only getting worse. This is not a Republican vs. Democrat issue, nor is it a Conservative vs. Liberal issue. By literal definition, a true conservative would want to simplify language in bills and communications coming out of Washington. Liberals, it would seem, would want to use even more words in bills and their reports home. But can it get much worse?
When the president or a member of Congress makes a lengthy statement of some sort, almost immediately the cable news channels assemble a panel of a half-dozen “experts” to interpret what we’ve just heard. Fewer words would seem to equal the need for fewer experts.
I’m convinced that many politicians are in love with the sound of their own voice. If you want a laugh sometime, tune in to C-Span some day or even some evening when Congress is in session. Sometimes you will see a member of the House or Senate giving some long, drawn-out speech. Quite often, if you look closely in the background, you will see a lot of empty seats. The speaker will act like he or she is addressing a stadium full of spectators, when the only other people in the chamber are staff members who must be there whenever the lights are on. But in order for the views of the speaker to be recorded in the Congressional Record, he or she must read the speech on the floor of the House or Senate.
Another glut of words.
A few decades ago, as a freshman in a college journalism class, I was stunned when our instructor walked to the blackboard and wrote in big letters: K.I.S.S. When the muffled laughter subsided, he added these words: Keep It Simple Stupid. In high school and college, when a teacher would assign a paper of 20 or 30 pages, I always wondered if they really read each of our submissions. I was tempted at times to slip in Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address just to see if anyone would catch it.
Sometimes I wonder if the same could be said of some of the legislation coming from Washington. How many members of Congress have read every word of those proposed health care bills? Maybe they should be tested on the contents of the bills they consider. If you can’t pass the test without any help from a staff member, you don’t vote on that bill. Fail a certain number of those tests and you’re sent back to your home state.
Word camouflage – does anyone have the courage to run a campaign against it?