Thursday, November 24, 2011

Thanks for Staying Home

I’m not much of a shopper… more of a buyer. I don’t spend a lot of time trying to find the best deal; usually when I decide I want something I just go get it. However, I do have a great time wandering around shopping malls (“just looking, thank you”). This is true especially this time of year, and this time of year comes earlier and earlier, both on the calendar and on the clock.

I have found from experience, however, that Black Friday is not the day to do casual browsing. Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving and traditionally the biggest shopping day of the year, is the day that puts stores “in the black” on their ledger sheets.

But now more and more of the major stores are opening for business on Thanksgiving Day. By doing this they hope to get a jump on the season by luring the shoppers in with the promise of before-Christmas bargains (some quantities limited and the stores reserve the right to run out of the item before you get there).

Unhappy with this arrangement are the employees of the stores that are open for business on Thanksgiving. They would like to have this time to spend with their families. Imagine.

Thomas Lee, a writer from the Star Tribune, recently wrote about this trend in retailing. He quoted executives from three major stores:
Macy’s - “People want to shop through the night.” Wal-Mart - “Our customers told us they would rather stay up late to shop than get up early so we're going to hold special events on Thanksgiving…" Toys ‘R’ Us - "We know our customers like to get an early start on their Black Friday shopping, so we're …opening our stores at 9 p.m. on Thanksgiving night."

Lee goes on to say that he finds it difficult to believe that customers are actually demanding that Thanksgiving Day should be a day to commence commerce. But for a moment let’s say that consumers really are insisting on more hours to shop, and since the customer is always right we must do what they say.

But why stop there? To satisfy the growing demands of the customers I propose that every store, every office (public and private), every school be open every hour of every day (no exceptions). We could solve our economic woes with such a new world order.

Everyone who wanted a job would have one as the buildings that never close would need to hire more workers. People would have more money to buy stuff and factories would be running at full production just to keep up with the demand. Of course, there would be no time for anything else.

We think nothing of going to a store on Sunday to buy just about anything, but not too many years ago that was quite unusual. In the movie “That Thing You Do,” set in 1964, Mr. Patterson, the owner of a small store, became quite annoyed while reading a competitor’s advertisement in the newspaper.

“Open Saturday 10 to 10. Open Sunday 12 to 6... open on Sunday from 12 to 6! You know, I don't believe I want to live in a country where you have to stay open on Sunday to do business. You shouldn't have to work on Sunday to support your family.”

That’s right Mr. Patterson, and you shouldn’t have to work on Thanksgiving either. I am going to stay away from the stores on Thanksgiving. I’m not sure about Friday though.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Menu please

I missed an opportunity last week; one that may not come my way again if things don’t change. I could have and should have gone out to eat for one of those big “hungry man” breakfasts, the kind where you get a couple eggs, sausage or bacon, hash brown potatoes, some toast (with jelly), maybe some pancakes, a glass of juice and a cup of coffee. After one of those you can skip lunch, maybe even supper and use the extra time for something else – like taking a nap. It could have been like the last meal they give to the condemned.

It’s too late now; a reordering of my menu has been called for. I have been advised to go on a low-fat, no-fun diet. Apparently, I was killing myself with my dietary decisions. Last week I went to the doctor for my annual physical. As part of the arrangement it is assumed that I will submit to some rather unpleasant probes and prods by the practitioner. In addition, blood was drawn and tested for the existence and absence of all manner of things.

The results came in a couple days ago. Of the four categories, I am outside all the accepted boundaries of where “they” say I should be. Nothing alarming mind you; however, the nurse did ask if I had a health-care directive.

So now to survive another 48 years I have to eat the “right” foods. From what I read from “the list” this means, among other things, to decrease or eliminate sweets. Soda is listed as an example. Why anyone would eat baking soda is less puzzling than why it’s listed as a sweet. Oh well, check that off the list.

Candy is also on the list. That’s an easy one to give up since I don’t really like hard candy anyway, especially the sour stuff. I didn’t see chocolate, so I guess that must be O.K. I’ve heard some good things about dark chocolate, so I’ll load up on that instead.

Refined carbohydrates were mentioned as something to avoid. Refined anything sounds rather cultured and high-brow for my mid-west palate. I lean towards the simple, some would even say unsavory tastes. Give me a loaf of bread, a plate of noodles, a quart of chocolate milk, and I am as happy as I can be.

Further down towards the end of the list omega-3 fatty acids were brought up. I guess I missed the first two of the heavy-set Greek acids. Anyway, I thought I was supposed to avoid fat. Now I am told to consume fatty fish twice a week. Sounds like a good opportunity to visit a nice seafood restaurant – doctor’s orders. Other foods high in omega-3 fatness are walnuts (they taste great in brownies) and dark leafy green vegetables. I like them in a salad generously topped with croutons and French dressing.

Next, to confuse me even more, I am told high fat meats are off the table, but fat fish can be the catch-of-the-day twice a week. Meats with a high fat content include lunchmeats, hot dogs and variety meats (you don’t want to know what that is).

It is suggested that I reach and maintain a healthy weight. That won’t be too tough on this diet. If not for that fat fish, I would waste away to nothing. Now if I only start exercising on a regular basis everything will be OK. I am already planning my celebratory meal. I should be pretty hungry by then, hungry enough for a man’s size breakfast. I like my bacon crunchy, if you don’t mind.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Just A Few More Minutes

Blame it on November – the darkest, grayest, most depressing month there is. This is my second in a series on old men who have died recently. My own father died on a November day several years ago. Andy Rooney, the man who shared a few minutes with us at the end of the CBS show “60 minutes,” died Friday. The clock finally ran out for him.

Mr. Rooney (I didn’t really know him well enough to call him Andy) had just retired a few weeks ago at the age of 92. Maybe he should have kept working, but I guess if you are going to retire, 92 seems better than 52.

Some people retire at 52. In Cambodia and Thailand early retirement is thought to be about 50, compared to 62 in the United States. I got this from the computer site Wikipedia. That sounds like a made-up name to me.

I don’t like made-up names, or even made-up words for that matter. We have plenty of good words and names that still have some life left in them. The problem with making up words is that there are no rules, traditions of usage or historical origins to give them any validity or experience.

In Greece and Italy, the early retirement age is 57. From what I read in the newspapers, people in those two European countries want to retire even earlier. I guess that will work as long as there are enough people who will work to support them.

I don’t understand the need to retire early. I think it is more of an indicator of someone working at a job they don’t like. Perhaps what they need is a different job instead.

Plenty of people have worked in their advanced years. Billy Graham is still active and he’s 93. Grandma Moses started painting when she was 78. Ronald Reagan was in his 70’s when he was president. Moses was 40years old when he led the Israelites out of Egypt, but it wasn’t until he was 80 that God gave him the Ten Commandments. I guess God wanted to wait until Moses got old enough to handle such a big responsibility.

My own grandfather worked in a lumber yard until he was 85. He took the job after he moved to town from the farm. I guess he wanted to “slow down”. When I was 16 we unloaded a railroad car together. I had trouble keeping up with him, as he hadn’t “slowed down” yet.

Some people retire so they can take it easy. Some just want to fish or play golf everyday. I don’t have anything against these things, I just don’t like to do them. I think it would get kind of boring after a while. A person needs a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Something tells me that Andy Rooney had his reason.

Thanks for not retiring early Mr. Rooney. But could we have just a few more minutes? Please Andy.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Port of Call

I first met Luvern Hinz at the home of my brother-in-law, Rick and his wife Melissa. On that day Luvern generously shared his bottle of port with me – nothing excessive, just a glass. Over that glass of wine was where I met a real-life George Bailey. Bedord Falls, the town in the Christmas classic “It’s a Wonderful Life,” was better because George Bailey had been there. Kimball, Minnesota was better because Luvern Hinz had been there.

Kimball is a small town in central Minnesota, and for over 90 years of his life, Luvern called it home. He died on October 20, one month short of his 97th birthday. Luvern was the grandfather of Rick’s wife, Melissa. I didn’t know him well, but I am blessed to have known him at all.

If not for extended family gatherings I would have never met him. If pressed, I would tell you that I am not a fan of these kinds of things. These family affairs will often have people seeking security by remaining huddled in familiar groups. Separated from each other across the room, any polite interaction between strangers hinges on a brave, yet awkward first step. I will usually find a seat in a corner where I can observe the unscripted play unfold with clumsy interaction between the characters.

Except one time several years ago I sat on a couch next to Luvern. I knew he was Melissa’s grandfather, but up until then I had not taken the time to talk with him. I have found over the years that the older folks have the most to offer. They have life experiences, stories, and wisdom to share. All you have to do is ask.

My first question to him was prompted by the dark liquid in his glass.

“What are you drinking?” I asked him.

“Port,” he replied.

“Port?” I said.

He then told me about how his wife had suffered from stomach trouble, so he picked up a bottle of port one day with the hope that this would settle her stomach. After having success with his home remedy, he and his wife would have a glass of wine together every evening thereafter; and even though she has been gone over 20 years he still has his glass of wine.

“Would you like a glass?” he offered.

“Absolutely,” I said as I sailed over to the cabinet and grabbed a suitable drinking vessel for Luvern’s port.

I found him very easy to talk to. Assuming that a man of his age was retired I asked him what he had done for work in his younger years. This was when I learned the value one man can bring a community. Without boasting, he talked about how he had worked at a grocery store, which he later purchased. He had built the town’s first bowling alley and a self-serve car wash. He had also delivered milk from a horse-drawn wagon.

In addition, I found out that he loved to golf; I would have loved to golf with him, but no one likes to get beat by a 95-year old man. It wasn’t until after he died that I learned just how amazing this man was. Most of this information I got from the obituary notice provided by the Dingmann Funeral Home in Kimball.

Luvern had served in the US Navy, and he, along with several other people, started the Kimball Golf Club. He had been on the city council, the school board, past commander of the Kimball American Legion, and had been a member of the Kimball Fire department, where he had served as chief. Plus, he found time to plant trees in a local park and build bluebird houses.

No one would have criticized him if he had completed just one activity. It would have been less risky, but as William G.T. Shedd said “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

Luvern didn’t stand at the dock and wait for his ship to come in; instead he worked hard and shared the fruits of his labor with his home port of Kimball.

According to the obituary, “Luvern loved his friends, his family and Kimball.” Every town should be so fortunate to have such a man.