A New Year's Affirmation
My affirmation for the new year is to more fully know my true nature.
My True nature enables me, as Emerson said:
“To laugh often and much,
to win the respect of intelligent people and
the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of
ones critics and endure the betrayal of false friends.
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others,
to leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child, a garden patch…
To know even one life has breathed easier because I have lived.
This is to have succeeded!”
I would love to know what your affrimation is for the new year.
Click on the comment option below and let me know!
Happy new year! - Jack
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Our Voices Must Remain Raised!
It is a myth that domestic partners (even in California) have the same rights as traditional married couples. In fact there are 1138 rights that domestic partners do not have. More importantly, I invite you to ponder this: I did not join the “No on 8” campaign because I was seeking permission to “be allowed” to marry the one I love. I joined the cause to raise my voice to say: You have no right to tell me that I can not marry the one that I love. I will not be marginalized, nor will I willingly surrender my civil rights to anyone.
I invite everyone to check out www.equalitymatters.org .
I invite everyone to check out www.equalitymatters.org .
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Tin-foil Lessons for Aluninum-foil times
“8,420; 8,440; 8,460; 8,480 . . . ah, sir I don’t think I should count any more – these last bills are disintegrating. Shall I deposit what we have so far?”
That was the last “surprise” my step father left my mother and me after his death. Nearly $8,500, all in twenty dollars bills – stacked neatly into an empty “Wonder Bread” wrapper.
Surviving the great depression taught my parents some interesting values. Lessons regretfully I didn’t fully learn, now as I and many others face the challenges of a mere “recession.”
I was helping my host tidy up after Thanksgiving when he commented. “Now remember we recycle – think of the planet!” I noticed the aluminum foil wasn’t soiled, so I neatly spread it out and folded it into nice squares for easy keeping. A task I had done a thousand times as a child. In fact, my mother had a “special drawer” dedicated to washed-out zip lock bags, margarine tubs and lids, and aluminum “tin foil” squares that could be used again.
“What are you doing? I’m not going to keep it. I just want you to put it into the “blue” bin out in the garage for the recycle guys.” I made a trip to the garage, but not to put the aluminum foil into the recycle bin. Instead I put the nicely folded squares into my jacket pocket.
As I drove home I reminisced about some of my parents other frugal habits. My parents were not rich. In fact – barely middle class. However, they always had money. They each owned a brand new car every other year. Owned their home and when I say “owned” I mean paid cash for it, never financed it. My college was “paid for” from their savings account. They never had a “debt” of any kind.
Yeah, it was a different time, but not really. Not when you watched how they managed their funds. Every Friday when my Dad received his weekly pay check from the local “glass factory” he’d go directly to the bank and cash the check. He’d bring all the money home and lay it out on the kitchen table.
If the Electric bill was $45.00 dollars, he’d count out two twenties and a five dollar bill and place it into the envelope the bill had arrived in. He’d then count out the cash for every other bill that had arrived. Once all the bills had been “handled” he’d give my mom $60.00 for groceries. He would write into his “ledger” each bill that had been paid.
The rest of the money would go back to the bank after he’d gone downtown to pay each bill – in person. But before he left the house, he’d hustle me out of the kitchen. “I’m going to set a little something aside just in case you need it. Your Mother will remember where it is – if she ever needs it to - put me away.” I can honestly say, I never really understood what he meant.
Several years later, my mom and I came home after making his funeral arrangements. His funeral was going to cost $8500.00. I was stunned at the expense. I asked my mom if that was going to be a burden. And of course her response was – “Well no. We planned for this.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, the drawer! Jack, go to the “tin foil” drawer and pull it out.”
I went to the kitchen and opened the drawer. I saw nothing but aluminum foil squares, zip lock bags and margarine tubs. “What am I looking for?”
“Pull the drawer entirely out of the counter.”
When I did, I noticed that the drawer was only about ½ as long what I expected it to be. When I looked into the cavity I noticed a Wonder Bread bag. I reached in and pulled the bag out. It was filled with twenty dollar bills.
When the teller stopped counting at $8,480 dollars, I was so touched by the irony that I reached into my pocket and handed her another twenty.
“This makes it $8500. Even. Just enough to “put him away” as he had planned.”
That was the last “surprise” my step father left my mother and me after his death. Nearly $8,500, all in twenty dollars bills – stacked neatly into an empty “Wonder Bread” wrapper.
Surviving the great depression taught my parents some interesting values. Lessons regretfully I didn’t fully learn, now as I and many others face the challenges of a mere “recession.”
I was helping my host tidy up after Thanksgiving when he commented. “Now remember we recycle – think of the planet!” I noticed the aluminum foil wasn’t soiled, so I neatly spread it out and folded it into nice squares for easy keeping. A task I had done a thousand times as a child. In fact, my mother had a “special drawer” dedicated to washed-out zip lock bags, margarine tubs and lids, and aluminum “tin foil” squares that could be used again.
“What are you doing? I’m not going to keep it. I just want you to put it into the “blue” bin out in the garage for the recycle guys.” I made a trip to the garage, but not to put the aluminum foil into the recycle bin. Instead I put the nicely folded squares into my jacket pocket.
As I drove home I reminisced about some of my parents other frugal habits. My parents were not rich. In fact – barely middle class. However, they always had money. They each owned a brand new car every other year. Owned their home and when I say “owned” I mean paid cash for it, never financed it. My college was “paid for” from their savings account. They never had a “debt” of any kind.
Yeah, it was a different time, but not really. Not when you watched how they managed their funds. Every Friday when my Dad received his weekly pay check from the local “glass factory” he’d go directly to the bank and cash the check. He’d bring all the money home and lay it out on the kitchen table.
If the Electric bill was $45.00 dollars, he’d count out two twenties and a five dollar bill and place it into the envelope the bill had arrived in. He’d then count out the cash for every other bill that had arrived. Once all the bills had been “handled” he’d give my mom $60.00 for groceries. He would write into his “ledger” each bill that had been paid.
The rest of the money would go back to the bank after he’d gone downtown to pay each bill – in person. But before he left the house, he’d hustle me out of the kitchen. “I’m going to set a little something aside just in case you need it. Your Mother will remember where it is – if she ever needs it to - put me away.” I can honestly say, I never really understood what he meant.
Several years later, my mom and I came home after making his funeral arrangements. His funeral was going to cost $8500.00. I was stunned at the expense. I asked my mom if that was going to be a burden. And of course her response was – “Well no. We planned for this.” And then her eyes widen. “Oh, the drawer! Jack, go to the “tin foil” drawer and pull it out.”
I went to the kitchen and opened the drawer. I saw nothing but aluminum foil squares, zip lock bags and margarine tubs. “What am I looking for?”
“Pull the drawer entirely out of the counter.”
When I did, I noticed that the drawer was only about ½ as long what I expected it to be. When I looked into the cavity I noticed a Wonder Bread bag. I reached in and pulled the bag out. It was filled with twenty dollar bills.
When the teller stopped counting at $8,480 dollars, I was so touched by the irony that I reached into my pocket and handed her another twenty.
“This makes it $8500. Even. Just enough to “put him away” as he had planned.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)