Terry Stephan
Changing Lanes:internetsales
According to the flyer a friend gave me, I would receive an MP3 player and lunch, just to sit in on a FREE 90-minute “2009 Internet Marketing Conference”. The leaflet included testimonials - people had already made bazillions of dollars following the advice given at these conferences.
I knew it was a sales pitch, probably software. The leaflet added, “join us at this fun, relaxed, informative 90-minute Conference that is guaranteed to give you a new way to think about making money like never before.”
I hoped to glean some internet savvy by attending. The invitation insisted on ‘business casual’ attire. The ironic thing is, people I talk to list working in their pajamas as the number one benefit of working on the internet at home.
I have attended sales seminars with “free” giveaways in the past and found them to be time consuming and irritating, the giveaways junk – I decided to go anyway.
As people showed up for the meeting, one and two at a time, staff ushered them to specific seats. I couldn’t help but notice the younger people were placed up front. They would be more enthusiastic and, had less shyster-exposure. As I write this, I think it likely there were one or more ‘plants’ in the front row. I have nothing to back that claim, other than the fact that those up front had an unrealistically enthusiastic passion for the sales pitch.
The further from the front, the greyer the hair was.
The speaker began by claiming to be a former FBI special agent and asked if there were any law enforcement people in the room. Negative responses assured him there were no police in the audience. That and the notice requesting no one record the event, made it so there was no need to stay within the confines of the law in this assembly.
The presentation started late and lasted far longer than the originally stated 90 minutes. The speaker was friendly and funny. He pitched software and a support system to build a website. You could vend whatever products you choose to, on line. There were stiff monthly fees and internet tool packages, some costing upwards of $3200.00.
The sales group passed around “business order forms”. The forms asked for your credit card information, needed so you could attend another conference in Erie Pa, to be held in several weeks. It would only cost $48. There, you would sit through a second push so these wonderful people could gain access to a larger portion of your bank account.
Our friendly speaker said we could eat lunch as soon as we filled out our order forms. The whole pitch had boiled down to this, after two hours of camaraderie, jokes and an impassioned plea for this software it would be an embarrassment not to fill out the form for this superb company. I did not feel friendly or pliable; I never do when backed into a corner.
As I stood to leave, I noticed the people in the front rows, bent over their forms, eagerly filling in the demanded information. I turned; most of those seated behind me, hair just a bit more grey than mine, had their arms stubbornly crossed in front of them, no pens in hand, no credit card info entered on their forms, they were ready for a fight. They wanted their “free” MP3 player and lunch.
It was nearing 2PM and I was hungry and extremely perturbed. I had not ‘gleaned’ a single useful fact.
Including drive time, I had invested four hours. I figured the lunch and MP3 player were at least half hour away, possibly longer, depending on how the standoff between the grey-hairs and the ‘friendly’ staff ended.
I cut my losses and walked out the door. Half an hour later after a nice lunch for which I gladly paid, I savored coffee and something I remembered.
There is no such thing as a free lunch.
I’m not sure about free MP3 players.
Comments: changinglanesterry@gmail.com
Or http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Blackberry Blues
I’ve always wondered what a Blackberry was and why President Obama was having such a hard time parting with his. I’ve had one for a while now. I have a slight headache, a stiff neck and sore thumbs from operating the clever little device. I’ve become very attached to it.
There was a time I kept every phone number of acquaintances, my employers and most addresses I considered necessary, in my head. I could also remember the list of a half dozen items I needed to get when I walked the aisles of my local super market. Back then, if I ambled to the living room from the kitchen with a purpose, I could recall what that purpose was. Now I wait for it to come to me or walk back empty handed. Somewhere along the line, my brain has turned to oatmeal.
Several years ago, I purchased a PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) smart-phone. A long time before that, it had been cutting-edge technology, ridiculously overpriced. After years of production, (read ‘after it became much cheaper’) I bought one.
The smart-phone performed a plethora of important functions. It stored my appointments, my calendar, and address book. It contained my ‘to-do’ and grocery lists. Once a week I attached it to my computer with a cable and ‘synced’ all of the above. If I changed or added something on either the PDA or the computer, the two would talk it over during ‘sync-time’ and exchange the information. It even was a good calculator.
I loved the touch screen at first, but became less fond of that later. The PDA did many things wonderfully, but it wasn’t a good cell phone. It was a step backward in that area. When talking to someone, it felt as though I was holding a brick to the side of my head. Not a regular brick either. It was more like one of those heavy, dense Olean paving bricks. Some part of my face would hit the touch screen and end the call early or start a conference call, or play loud music. During the call, my ear would sometimes touch the screen in an inappropriate place and it would activate an unwanted application.
The volume settings were unruly, refusing to adjust the way I wanted. It would inexplicably convert to speakerphone between calls. After leaving scar tissue on my eardrums a few times, I knew to answer the phone carefully.
My two-year contract with Verizon wireless ended a year or so ago. Because I didn’t attempt to sign up for another service contract or get a new phone, Verizon began pestering me, sending me special “deals”, almost on a weekly basis. The longer I did not sign, the phones offered for “free”, got better and more elaborate. Competition in the wireless market is fierce and I was one guppy they didn’t want to lose. Verizon seemed frantic to win me back.
Following my brain’s example, my PDA smart-phones’ thinking became cloudy. When I entered information on the touch-screen, the wrong numbers and letters came up, I would hit a “t” on the virtual keyboard and an “r” would register on the screen. I had to ‘realign’ on a daily basis.
I finally accepted one of Verizon’s offers. My new Blackberry does all the things my old smart phone did, only faster and without prompting. I don’t turn on my computer many days because email comes to the Blackberry. I can get CNN news, the weather, and Google anything, anywhere, anytime. It reminds me to take my medications and to take out the garbage. I can download audio books from the library or listen to music from any number of sources and, it’s a great calculator.
Technology has come a long way. As evidence, when used as a phone, the Blackberry feels like a much smaller brick than the old PDA did. Oh well, you can’t have everything.
Comments? Changinglanesterry@gmail.com or
http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
There was a time I kept every phone number of acquaintances, my employers and most addresses I considered necessary, in my head. I could also remember the list of a half dozen items I needed to get when I walked the aisles of my local super market. Back then, if I ambled to the living room from the kitchen with a purpose, I could recall what that purpose was. Now I wait for it to come to me or walk back empty handed. Somewhere along the line, my brain has turned to oatmeal.
Several years ago, I purchased a PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) smart-phone. A long time before that, it had been cutting-edge technology, ridiculously overpriced. After years of production, (read ‘after it became much cheaper’) I bought one.
The smart-phone performed a plethora of important functions. It stored my appointments, my calendar, and address book. It contained my ‘to-do’ and grocery lists. Once a week I attached it to my computer with a cable and ‘synced’ all of the above. If I changed or added something on either the PDA or the computer, the two would talk it over during ‘sync-time’ and exchange the information. It even was a good calculator.
I loved the touch screen at first, but became less fond of that later. The PDA did many things wonderfully, but it wasn’t a good cell phone. It was a step backward in that area. When talking to someone, it felt as though I was holding a brick to the side of my head. Not a regular brick either. It was more like one of those heavy, dense Olean paving bricks. Some part of my face would hit the touch screen and end the call early or start a conference call, or play loud music. During the call, my ear would sometimes touch the screen in an inappropriate place and it would activate an unwanted application.
The volume settings were unruly, refusing to adjust the way I wanted. It would inexplicably convert to speakerphone between calls. After leaving scar tissue on my eardrums a few times, I knew to answer the phone carefully.
My two-year contract with Verizon wireless ended a year or so ago. Because I didn’t attempt to sign up for another service contract or get a new phone, Verizon began pestering me, sending me special “deals”, almost on a weekly basis. The longer I did not sign, the phones offered for “free”, got better and more elaborate. Competition in the wireless market is fierce and I was one guppy they didn’t want to lose. Verizon seemed frantic to win me back.
Following my brain’s example, my PDA smart-phones’ thinking became cloudy. When I entered information on the touch-screen, the wrong numbers and letters came up, I would hit a “t” on the virtual keyboard and an “r” would register on the screen. I had to ‘realign’ on a daily basis.
I finally accepted one of Verizon’s offers. My new Blackberry does all the things my old smart phone did, only faster and without prompting. I don’t turn on my computer many days because email comes to the Blackberry. I can get CNN news, the weather, and Google anything, anywhere, anytime. It reminds me to take my medications and to take out the garbage. I can download audio books from the library or listen to music from any number of sources and, it’s a great calculator.
Technology has come a long way. As evidence, when used as a phone, the Blackberry feels like a much smaller brick than the old PDA did. Oh well, you can’t have everything.
Comments? Changinglanesterry@gmail.com or
http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Timonium
By Terry Stephan
Blog…
I am ashamed of the amount of time I have not posted on this blog. I have a lot of reasons or excuses why I haven’t, but I should try harder. Betty and I have been on a ‘road trip’ selling her jewelry in Virginia, North Carolina and Maryland.
I didn’t want to advertise that my house was sitting empty most of the time except when my cousin Spike and his pit bulls were watching the place.
We are now a week from home and Spike has informed me he will be released from the county holding center today and will be in residence this afternoon and will pick up his pups Killer and Softy tomorrow.
Our show trip has had little in the line of spectacular results, our revenues in most cases were a little less than last year’s, except for Greensboro. We took in about a third of what we did last year there. The area has a 12.7% unemployment rate. The powers that be chose to close a major downtown highway, the weekend of our show.
That was last week, I write this from Timonium, at the Maryland State Fair Grounds. People have referred to this place as “The Cow Palace”. It wasn’t until we got here that we found out that really is the name of the place. For verification, I drove around the building and out back were several huge steaming piles of manure..
Betty received some good ‘hype’ from the promoters on their website for this show, so we are hoping for some decent sales.
Blog…
I am ashamed of the amount of time I have not posted on this blog. I have a lot of reasons or excuses why I haven’t, but I should try harder. Betty and I have been on a ‘road trip’ selling her jewelry in Virginia, North Carolina and Maryland.
I didn’t want to advertise that my house was sitting empty most of the time except when my cousin Spike and his pit bulls were watching the place.
We are now a week from home and Spike has informed me he will be released from the county holding center today and will be in residence this afternoon and will pick up his pups Killer and Softy tomorrow.
Our show trip has had little in the line of spectacular results, our revenues in most cases were a little less than last year’s, except for Greensboro. We took in about a third of what we did last year there. The area has a 12.7% unemployment rate. The powers that be chose to close a major downtown highway, the weekend of our show.
That was last week, I write this from Timonium, at the Maryland State Fair Grounds. People have referred to this place as “The Cow Palace”. It wasn’t until we got here that we found out that really is the name of the place. For verification, I drove around the building and out back were several huge steaming piles of manure..
Betty received some good ‘hype’ from the promoters on their website for this show, so we are hoping for some decent sales.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Terry Stephan
Changing Lanes: ode to Susie
The conversation turned to Susie a while ago. She had been toasted multiple times. Thoroughly warmed to his subject and thoroughly warmed by the wine, Susie’s long time companion Matt continued, “I’ve slept with Susie under the stars more times than all the other women I’ve known, including my ex wife.”
“Here’s to Susie,” said a dozen voices in unison.
We were at a party, the original reason for which has long been forgotten, but it could have been for Susie or Matt or for the both of them.
I just met Matt and took an instant liking to him. I’d only heard about him from his sister Doris. She is a good friend of mine and Emmy’s. I had heard her speak of him often. He was in the Coast Guard, he admired and wanted to be a cowboy, and he lived in Montana; he seemed to have chosen that state as home after having drifted around for a number of years. Most of those years, he traveled with Susie, but he was a man who generally had bad luck with women.
Matt had come home to see his family and visit his Susie.
“Susie is the kindest friend a man could have,” said Matt
The chorus saluted, “Here’s to Susie.”
With a tender softness in his voice, Matt said, “I got my first glimpse of her when I was stationed in Michigan. I was in the Coast Guard. We traveled around together, but then I had to leave Susie stateside...”
“Here’s to Susie,” at the mention of the celebrated Susie, the partiers interrupted Matt’s train of thought.
With a slightly annoyed glance at no one in particular Matt started over, “I had to leave… her, with my parents when I went to Puerto Rico.”
When Matt came back to the states, he picked up where he had left off with Susie. He drove his old F 150 pickup that pulled the horse trailer in which his friend and companion Susie, the sweet red roan mare, traveled.
When it was time to settle for the night he would chose an out of the way pull-off, park the trailer and take Susie for a walk. He’d make a small rope paddock for her, roll out his sleeping bag, and he and Susie would spend the night under the stars beside the truck and trailer.
He eventually left the Coast Guard. Their travels brought them to Montana. Matt loved the state, he loved ranches and he loved the life of a cowboy. He worked as a jack of all trades. He had training as a forester, and a mechanic. He could weld and he knew horses, all assets to any ranch at which he took up residence. They were as glad to have him as he was to be there.
Matt dealt with severe migraine headaches and a multitude of other medical symptoms for many years. He was recently diagnosed with adult onset encephalitis, a form of brain swelling, the cause for which could be any number of things.
He was married for a while but never did get along with women as well as he does with horses, it didn’t work out. Their last argument ended when he turned to leave and his wife hit him in the back of the head hard enough to knock him out. She walked out and left him for dead. He was in some bar fights as a young man and did get knocked around a bit as well. Any of these things, or something else entirely could be the cause of his medical condition.
Before he was diagnosed, Matt knew something was wrong. His headaches were so bad he passed out on occasion, but he also drank on occasion, maybe he blamed some of his symptoms on that.
While he and his friends were hunting way up in the mountains, Matt had a ‘spell’ of some sort and passed out. His friends couldn’t revive him and in their efforts to get him to a hospital quickly, Susie was tied to a tree and left to fend for herself.
She was there for three days- the odds weren’t necessarily in favor of Susie’s survival; horses are lower in the food chain than grizzly bears and mountain lions. Matt’s hunting buddies called a ranch in the vicinity of where they had tied Susie and ranch hands from there rescued her and kept her for three months until Matt was back on his feet and could come to get her.
Matt would say, ‘they help each other out in the great state of Montana.’
Matt’s fortunes went downhill from there. His migraines became debilitating and he had other associated medical problems.
When Matt thought he was not taking care of Susie as well as he should, he decided to find her a good home. His sister Doris suggested he bring her back to Western New York, after all, Susie had been around so long Doris felt she was a member of the family. She and husband Jay, built her a nice little barn
Matt lives on a ranch in Montana now. He goes on cattle drives when he is able and copes with his illness as best he can. He tells stories to anyone who will listen about his travels and the best horse he ever knew.
Susie is 29 years old now, her traveling days are done. She lives with a chestnut mare named Velvet in the cozy little barn that Doris and Jay built. The two horses get along well with acres to exercise in and they have their own barn cat named Possum. In Possum’s perspective, he has two large horses. When the mares get close enough, the cat swats at their hooves and legs through the wooden slats in the stall. If things are slow in the barn the cat will climb up one of the horse’s tails and run across their backs and escape by jumping to the nearest timber in the barn.
Anyone who has worked with horses knows each one has their own personality and their own list of ‘tricks’. Susie is known as a gentle animal and an easy ride but she isn’t real talented. However she will give you a big smile after you give her a treat.
I took my five-year-old granddaughter Paige to see Susie. Paige gave her a carrot and Susie took it from Paige with her big hairy lips then gave her a big toothy goofy smile, which in turn gave Paige a giggle and a grin.
Here’s to Susie…
The party to toast Susie was a few years ago. Matt calls periodically to catch up with family and of course to see how Susie is doing. He hasn’t been back “East” for a while though. I can’t wait for Susie’s next party.
Comments? Changinglanesterry@gmail.com or http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
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Thursday, March 4, 2010
Money and Quicken
Terry Stephan
Changing Lanes:dancingwithnumbers:
For years, I’ve used ‘Microsoft Money’ to send out bills, balance my checking account and keep track of finances.
From the first week I started using a computer, I wanted a good money management program. I began using a free version of ‘Quicken’ a dozen years ago. Then my bank, no longer satisfied just giving away toasters, gave away Microsoft’s ‘Money’.
That first software version of ‘Money’ lasted six years. Then Microsoft pushed me to update the program - at a price. They threatened that if I did not upgrade, I would no longer be able to send payments electronically. They hinted of other unknown dire consequences.
I took the threats seriously, grumbled, but paid the thirty or so dollars to keep using the program. There were more upgrades through the years. I objected but I paid. Even though the new software offered more features each time, I felt strong-armed.
I could have gone back to paper and pencil, the old way of taking care of finances, but I wanted the advantages of the series of tubes and wires that mystically bring the internets and their information into my house.
As you can tell from my savvy electronic speak, my knowledge over the years has grown a great deal in the field of computers.
Ms Money has a budget feature; I decided to put into use months ago. I needed a budget, or to specify, one in black and white, recorded and adhered-to, not just the tally I keep in my head.
I began spending long hours filling in figures and moving ‘categories’ around so that it would reflect our spending more accurately. I needed to see where we were going astray. After a week of concentrated work, I had the budget all laid out.
Then I received an email from Microsoft, they were discontinuing the Money software. For years, after the initial setup, I’d spent little time using the software. On a week-to-week basis, it doesn’t require a lot. Then I invested a large amount of effort on my budget and in a Murphy’s Law manner, they took the program away.
I began looking for different software to replace MS Money. I found a trial version of something called YNAB (You Need a Budget), a ‘zero balance’ Excel based budgeting program. I dove in with vigor and spent another week of spare time, filling in numbers and categories, producing another, different budget masterpiece.
Several weeks of juggling figures has caused numbers and categories to dance in my head. In bed at night, nagging questions keep me awake, (Does that expenditure go in the category “Insurance: homeowners,” or “Household expenses: insurance?”).
As I was familiarizing myself with YNAB, I came to realize, it is very simple. You can’t do a lot of the things with YNAB software that you can with MS Money or Quicken, but simplicity can be attractive. I like it; it’s like buying a car with no options, not much to break down.
However, there is something to be said for power windows, AC and a great stereo. I’ve started to look at Quicken again, a full featured product with all the bells and whistles.
Here I am, mired in charts and graphs, columns and numbers. MS Money is leaving. Should I go it alone, pencil in hand? Should I slow dance with YNAB? She has mousy hair and a slightly crooked nose but she is uncomplicated and functions well in her own way.
Or, should I boogie with the ‘Quicken’ girl I brought to the party a decade ago? She’s back, dressed up, experienced with lots of extra equipment. I’m open to suggestions.
Changinglanesterry@gmail.com or
http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
Changing Lanes:dancingwithnumbers:
For years, I’ve used ‘Microsoft Money’ to send out bills, balance my checking account and keep track of finances.
From the first week I started using a computer, I wanted a good money management program. I began using a free version of ‘Quicken’ a dozen years ago. Then my bank, no longer satisfied just giving away toasters, gave away Microsoft’s ‘Money’.
That first software version of ‘Money’ lasted six years. Then Microsoft pushed me to update the program - at a price. They threatened that if I did not upgrade, I would no longer be able to send payments electronically. They hinted of other unknown dire consequences.
I took the threats seriously, grumbled, but paid the thirty or so dollars to keep using the program. There were more upgrades through the years. I objected but I paid. Even though the new software offered more features each time, I felt strong-armed.
I could have gone back to paper and pencil, the old way of taking care of finances, but I wanted the advantages of the series of tubes and wires that mystically bring the internets and their information into my house.
As you can tell from my savvy electronic speak, my knowledge over the years has grown a great deal in the field of computers.
Ms Money has a budget feature; I decided to put into use months ago. I needed a budget, or to specify, one in black and white, recorded and adhered-to, not just the tally I keep in my head.
I began spending long hours filling in figures and moving ‘categories’ around so that it would reflect our spending more accurately. I needed to see where we were going astray. After a week of concentrated work, I had the budget all laid out.
Then I received an email from Microsoft, they were discontinuing the Money software. For years, after the initial setup, I’d spent little time using the software. On a week-to-week basis, it doesn’t require a lot. Then I invested a large amount of effort on my budget and in a Murphy’s Law manner, they took the program away.
I began looking for different software to replace MS Money. I found a trial version of something called YNAB (You Need a Budget), a ‘zero balance’ Excel based budgeting program. I dove in with vigor and spent another week of spare time, filling in numbers and categories, producing another, different budget masterpiece.
Several weeks of juggling figures has caused numbers and categories to dance in my head. In bed at night, nagging questions keep me awake, (Does that expenditure go in the category “Insurance: homeowners,” or “Household expenses: insurance?”).
As I was familiarizing myself with YNAB, I came to realize, it is very simple. You can’t do a lot of the things with YNAB software that you can with MS Money or Quicken, but simplicity can be attractive. I like it; it’s like buying a car with no options, not much to break down.
However, there is something to be said for power windows, AC and a great stereo. I’ve started to look at Quicken again, a full featured product with all the bells and whistles.
Here I am, mired in charts and graphs, columns and numbers. MS Money is leaving. Should I go it alone, pencil in hand? Should I slow dance with YNAB? She has mousy hair and a slightly crooked nose but she is uncomplicated and functions well in her own way.
Or, should I boogie with the ‘Quicken’ girl I brought to the party a decade ago? She’s back, dressed up, experienced with lots of extra equipment. I’m open to suggestions.
Changinglanesterry@gmail.com or
http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
Saturday, February 27, 2010
recycled column on Traveling Animals
Terry Stephan
Changing Lanes:TravelingCircus,
I’m always surprised at the number of people who take their pets with them on vacation. They make sure their animals see the sites and have a good time. We’ve had a menagerie of house pets and goats, pigs, rabbits and chickens over the years. Finding someone to care of so many animals often made vacationing a luxury we couldn’t afford.
Later, when we reduced our stock to just dogs and cats, we arranged to have them kenneled and cared for when we traveled. I always felt Emmy and I needed a vacation from our pets as well as other day-to-day rigors. The animals probably didn’t mind a vacation from us as well.
We most often travel in a small pickup camper. The limited space in our little RV tends to make us covet what little room we have. A litter box or a dog taking even a small percentage of floor space isn’t something we’d consider no matter how much we liked our dog or cat.
There are definite advantages to taking a large dog on the road. If I traveled alone, I would take one for company, possibly protection (Emmy’s job now). I also talk to myself a lot. If I traveled with a dog, I could pretend I was talking to it and strangers wouldn’t know just how deranged I really am.
Even without animals, our own ‘excess baggage’ slows our forward progress. I have a two-nap-a-day habit and, while I am driving, I feel the sirens’ call of a comfortable bed just over my head in the camper. When I pullover for a quick snooze, Emmy not only doesn’t object, she is happy about it. She enjoys traveling in theory, but likes stopping better. She loves to do beadwork, which she can’t do while moving - when the truck stops, she starts beading.
If Emmy had her druthers, we would never hit a four-lane highway. Moving at an average speed of 20 or 30mph in slow-and-go traffic is enjoyable to her. With all the foibles between the two of us, we sometimes lose sight of the concept that we have to keep moving to get somewhere. We travel so leisurely, we often take three days to make the 6 hour drive to Boston Mass. We have fun anyway.
While I am sure pets on the move aren’t right for Emmy and I, a vast variety and number of them travel with their owners. At a trailhead or other tourist attraction, more than once I’ve noticed a couple pushing a baby buggy, only to find a dog in there, sometimes leashed in, so it couldn’t actually get out and walk.
I’ve seen people carry large, thick, snakes around their neck and shoulders, and a few years back you saw as many pet ferrets in public places, as you did teacup-sized dogs.
At the trial head/parking lot for Malign Lake in Jasper National park, we saw a young couple adjusting what we thought was a carrier for a baby, worn on the chest, similar to a “baby Bjorn.” It was obviously hard to fine-tune, to figure where the straps went on the young woman. The openings at the top, where you might install the baby, and the front where the legs of a child might come out were covered with screen and zippers.
They fetched their ‘baby’ out of some sort of strapped-in safety seat in the rear of the car. Out came a big green and yellow parrot. They dropped the bird in the zippered top. The bird hung on fiercely to a perch several inches from the bottom as they hiked down the rough trail. The parrot was out front and had a perfect forward view.
Maybe the young couple was making a statement about rights for birds, or maybe they were practicing child rearing for future offspring. Possibly the two loved the bird so much they could not leave home without it.
In any case, I just couldn’t stop thinking of all the poor ferrets and toy terriers sitting at home twiddling their thumbs, nothing to look forward to, just wishing they could be as well loved and traveled as a parrot.
Comments: changinglanesterry@gmail.com or
http://changinglanesterry.blogspot.com/
Changing Lanes:TravelingCircus,
I’m always surprised at the number of people who take their pets with them on vacation. They make sure their animals see the sites and have a good time. We’ve had a menagerie of house pets and goats, pigs, rabbits and chickens over the years. Finding someone to care of so many animals often made vacationing a luxury we couldn’t afford.
Later, when we reduced our stock to just dogs and cats, we arranged to have them kenneled and cared for when we traveled. I always felt Emmy and I needed a vacation from our pets as well as other day-to-day rigors. The animals probably didn’t mind a vacation from us as well.
We most often travel in a small pickup camper. The limited space in our little RV tends to make us covet what little room we have. A litter box or a dog taking even a small percentage of floor space isn’t something we’d consider no matter how much we liked our dog or cat.
There are definite advantages to taking a large dog on the road. If I traveled alone, I would take one for company, possibly protection (Emmy’s job now). I also talk to myself a lot. If I traveled with a dog, I could pretend I was talking to it and strangers wouldn’t know just how deranged I really am.
Even without animals, our own ‘excess baggage’ slows our forward progress. I have a two-nap-a-day habit and, while I am driving, I feel the sirens’ call of a comfortable bed just over my head in the camper. When I pullover for a quick snooze, Emmy not only doesn’t object, she is happy about it. She enjoys traveling in theory, but likes stopping better. She loves to do beadwork, which she can’t do while moving - when the truck stops, she starts beading.
If Emmy had her druthers, we would never hit a four-lane highway. Moving at an average speed of 20 or 30mph in slow-and-go traffic is enjoyable to her. With all the foibles between the two of us, we sometimes lose sight of the concept that we have to keep moving to get somewhere. We travel so leisurely, we often take three days to make the 6 hour drive to Boston Mass. We have fun anyway.
While I am sure pets on the move aren’t right for Emmy and I, a vast variety and number of them travel with their owners. At a trailhead or other tourist attraction, more than once I’ve noticed a couple pushing a baby buggy, only to find a dog in there, sometimes leashed in, so it couldn’t actually get out and walk.
I’ve seen people carry large, thick, snakes around their neck and shoulders, and a few years back you saw as many pet ferrets in public places, as you did teacup-sized dogs.
At the trial head/parking lot for Malign Lake in Jasper National park, we saw a young couple adjusting what we thought was a carrier for a baby, worn on the chest, similar to a “baby Bjorn.” It was obviously hard to fine-tune, to figure where the straps went on the young woman. The openings at the top, where you might install the baby, and the front where the legs of a child might come out were covered with screen and zippers.
They fetched their ‘baby’ out of some sort of strapped-in safety seat in the rear of the car. Out came a big green and yellow parrot. They dropped the bird in the zippered top. The bird hung on fiercely to a perch several inches from the bottom as they hiked down the rough trail. The parrot was out front and had a perfect forward view.
Maybe the young couple was making a statement about rights for birds, or maybe they were practicing child rearing for future offspring. Possibly the two loved the bird so much they could not leave home without it.
In any case, I just couldn’t stop thinking of all the poor ferrets and toy terriers sitting at home twiddling their thumbs, nothing to look forward to, just wishing they could be as well loved and traveled as a parrot.
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Sunday, February 21, 2010
Terry and the Pirates
Terry Stephan
Changing Lanes:muchograndkids
My earliest memories include adults asking me if I was ‘Terry’ of “Terry and the pirates”. That cartoon strip apparently had a huge surge in popularity back then, but I was disappointed anyone would think it was the inspiration for my name. To me, pirates were not interesting. An eye patch, a hook instead of a hand, big deal, Dick Tracy had a wristwatch video and audio communication device. I even liked Beetle Bailey better with his cartoon jeeps, army fatigues, and goofy observations.
Over the years, the ‘pirate’ moniker has popped up less and less, but occasionally, someone will greet me with something like, “Hi you old pirate, how ya’ doing?”
Flashing forward, Emmy and I went to visit our kids and grandkids near Boston Massachusetts a few weeks ago.
My grandson Tate is three and it has been decades since I spent any time with a three-year-old. It brought back to mind my own boys at that age. It all came back to me; the most charming thing about a three-year-old is that they act like a three-year old. The most annoying thing about a three-year-old is - THEY ACT LIKE A THREE-YEAR-OLD.
Our visit allowed me to spend hours with Tate, several days in a row. At the start of our visit, his jabber seemed that of a miniature drunken adult, just rambling, but the content soon became a bit disturbing to me.
Tate told me he has an imaginary Grandpa and Grandma. He referred to them as his ‘evil grandpa and grandma,’ “Fire rocks” and “Nancy.” Tate’s sister, our sweet six-year-old granddaughter and Tate’s number one interpreter, matter-of-factly confirmed my understanding of what he said. I found it troubling he referred to any grandparent as ‘evil’, especially Emmy or I. “Fire Rocks” was just weird.
On our previous visit, when he was only two, Tate couldn’t understand that his grandparents were different entities. He called both of us ‘grandma’, kind of disconcerting for me. When I did get him to call me ‘grandpa,’ he referred to Emmy as grandpa also.
Even though he is hard to understand, I realized he was saying that the evil grandpa and grandma were neither Emmy nor me.
When asked who his real Grandmother was, he indicated Emmy. Pointing to myself, I asked him if I was Grandpa Fire Rocks and he said ‘no’ and he asked, “What’s?”
I said “Grandpa Terry”.
Tate looked as though the name made no sense, I was in a hurry to replace ‘evil grandpa’. Still pointing to my chest, I said “Terry ...like Terry and the Pirates”.
His face lit up, he said “Terry and Pirates Grandpa?”
He then added, with a big grin, “King of Pirates.”
I thought that was the end of it. That evening we watched a movie our grandkids had not seen all the way through called “Coraline”.
It is a ‘stop motion’ animated movie. I only watch animated movies with my grandchildren, but this movie was fascinating. The plot includes Coraline, a young girl who dreams of an alternate family and neighborhood. The alternate parents are perfect at first but in the end they, and most of their alternate universe turn evil. Yup, it is a terror movie for the young’uns.
At one point, a character in the movie who is a neighbor and trapeze artist in Coralines’ evil alternate universe appeared. Tate jumped up, pointing to the screen excitedly saying “Grandpa Fire Rocks”. He was as happy to reveal the “evil grandpa” mystery, as I was to have him show it to me.
Now I’m “King of Pirates Terry”, or “Pirates Grandpa”. How could I object to that? So much for “Terry and the Pirates” being a dull comic strip.
Next visit, we will try to unravel the mystery of “evil Grandma Nancy.” Emmy might like some answers.
Comments? Changinglanesterry@gmail.com
Or changinglanesterry.blogspot.com
Changing Lanes:muchograndkids
My earliest memories include adults asking me if I was ‘Terry’ of “Terry and the pirates”. That cartoon strip apparently had a huge surge in popularity back then, but I was disappointed anyone would think it was the inspiration for my name. To me, pirates were not interesting. An eye patch, a hook instead of a hand, big deal, Dick Tracy had a wristwatch video and audio communication device. I even liked Beetle Bailey better with his cartoon jeeps, army fatigues, and goofy observations.
Over the years, the ‘pirate’ moniker has popped up less and less, but occasionally, someone will greet me with something like, “Hi you old pirate, how ya’ doing?”
Flashing forward, Emmy and I went to visit our kids and grandkids near Boston Massachusetts a few weeks ago.
My grandson Tate is three and it has been decades since I spent any time with a three-year-old. It brought back to mind my own boys at that age. It all came back to me; the most charming thing about a three-year-old is that they act like a three-year old. The most annoying thing about a three-year-old is - THEY ACT LIKE A THREE-YEAR-OLD.
Our visit allowed me to spend hours with Tate, several days in a row. At the start of our visit, his jabber seemed that of a miniature drunken adult, just rambling, but the content soon became a bit disturbing to me.
Tate told me he has an imaginary Grandpa and Grandma. He referred to them as his ‘evil grandpa and grandma,’ “Fire rocks” and “Nancy.” Tate’s sister, our sweet six-year-old granddaughter and Tate’s number one interpreter, matter-of-factly confirmed my understanding of what he said. I found it troubling he referred to any grandparent as ‘evil’, especially Emmy or I. “Fire Rocks” was just weird.
On our previous visit, when he was only two, Tate couldn’t understand that his grandparents were different entities. He called both of us ‘grandma’, kind of disconcerting for me. When I did get him to call me ‘grandpa,’ he referred to Emmy as grandpa also.
Even though he is hard to understand, I realized he was saying that the evil grandpa and grandma were neither Emmy nor me.
When asked who his real Grandmother was, he indicated Emmy. Pointing to myself, I asked him if I was Grandpa Fire Rocks and he said ‘no’ and he asked, “What’s?”
I said “Grandpa Terry”.
Tate looked as though the name made no sense, I was in a hurry to replace ‘evil grandpa’. Still pointing to my chest, I said “Terry ...like Terry and the Pirates”.
His face lit up, he said “Terry and Pirates Grandpa?”
He then added, with a big grin, “King of Pirates.”
I thought that was the end of it. That evening we watched a movie our grandkids had not seen all the way through called “Coraline”.
It is a ‘stop motion’ animated movie. I only watch animated movies with my grandchildren, but this movie was fascinating. The plot includes Coraline, a young girl who dreams of an alternate family and neighborhood. The alternate parents are perfect at first but in the end they, and most of their alternate universe turn evil. Yup, it is a terror movie for the young’uns.
At one point, a character in the movie who is a neighbor and trapeze artist in Coralines’ evil alternate universe appeared. Tate jumped up, pointing to the screen excitedly saying “Grandpa Fire Rocks”. He was as happy to reveal the “evil grandpa” mystery, as I was to have him show it to me.
Now I’m “King of Pirates Terry”, or “Pirates Grandpa”. How could I object to that? So much for “Terry and the Pirates” being a dull comic strip.
Next visit, we will try to unravel the mystery of “evil Grandma Nancy.” Emmy might like some answers.
Comments? Changinglanesterry@gmail.com
Or changinglanesterry.blogspot.com
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