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That was a first. A guy walked up to me yesterday at MacDonald's. I go there to get a cup of coffee when I am driving. When a young guy approaches you, it is usually for money. He was a young guy about 25 or so. He had "meandering" tattoos which is usually a sign of prison rather than the artsy tattoo parlors on O Street. I was all set for the money hit.
"Hey, are you driving that van outside?" he asked. I was. "There is a sign on it that says you need drivers. Is that true?" he asked. It was. "Well, I am living under a bridge and I need a job. I have a wife a two kids."
They were sitting at a nearby table sharing some fries. We are talking little kids here. One was a baby. I asked him if he knew about the Peoples City Mission a couple of blocks away. He did. The wife and the two kids were staying there but he was banned when he was twenty. So much for forgiveness, huh. He is doing time under a bridge in Nebraska. Thank God the winter is mostly gone.
They key point here is the guy didn't ask me for money. He asked me for a job. I called my boss and put them on the phone together. Maybe they can work something out.
He didn't have a phone. So many people worry that they don't have the latest iPhone and here is a guy, under a bridge in Nebraska, in winter, without as much as a signal.
Clearly, this kid messed up big time when he was a younger boy but now the man is trying to find a way out for his family. I hope my company gives him a chance. The driving job is not the greatest of jobs but hopefully he will get his chance. There are so many people out there trying to go the scam route that I really took notice of this kid. And his worried wife. And the two little kids.
Can you imagine?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, December 25, 2009
The Snowstorm on Christmas
Well white Christmas lovers, you got it! The Blizzard of 2009 has arrived in Lincoln and there is plenty of snow, wind, and of course, big drifts.
Now for me, that's a problem. I am "afoot" as it were and frankly, folks just don't scoop their sidewalks like they use to scoop them. My Dad would have nothing to do with this meandering path stuff. He wanted the entire walk scooped so you could see grass on either side. That would mean when it started to melt, it would melt into the grass and not on the walk to re-freeze and put up a nasty hazard for Mrs. Lubeley. (I never understood why he was so worried about her. She never went out except to bring me a freshly baked apple pie for scooping her walks and that was usually a day or so after the storm.)
Well I am not that smart. I was born with cabin fever. (Not to be confused with a manger.) When the storm slows down, I have to get going. That's why I have three cracked ribs right now. Thanks for the lousy job of clearing your walks Bennett Martin Library!
So much for complaining. It's beautiful outside right now. I get the Bing Crosby song today. I am alone, my choice, and have had my morning oatmeal and coffee. We were "Eve" people so Christmas morning was never any big thing unless it snowed or we got something really cool that required the outside environment to use--bunnies beware!
But, I miss it. I miss the dear head with the blinking red nose that mom fashioned from a flashing bulb in a liquor display and a musty old dear head. She was an early recycle fan, don't you know.
Lutefisk? Well I can't say I miss that. Mice, sugar cookies we helped her make; and mint cookies where she could never seem to find "those" mints until the last second; all fond memories. I miss Uncle Bill showing up on Christmas Eve in his best overalls and Dekalb hat. I miss Uncle Jelly and Aunt Rebe coming in from the country. I miss the crowded kitchen full of wonderful smells. I miss the golden brown huge turkey. I miss Penny, our Scottie zooming in and out picking up crumbs and more from young hands under the table. I miss the quiet of the night except for the last pieces of wood crackling in the fireplace downstairs. (The whole house smelled of smoke because some bird forgot to tell Dad he had built a nest in the chimney and the smoke backed up.) I miss that huge tree in the alcove with all of those lights and ornaments. I wonder where all of those things went?
I miss the tink tink tink sound of snow hitting the window pane, just like it did last night. It's a White Christmas after a blustery snowy night. That's neat that God created a memory for so many young boys and girls that someday far in the future, they will sit down and remember...and miss.
Merry Christmas!
Now for me, that's a problem. I am "afoot" as it were and frankly, folks just don't scoop their sidewalks like they use to scoop them. My Dad would have nothing to do with this meandering path stuff. He wanted the entire walk scooped so you could see grass on either side. That would mean when it started to melt, it would melt into the grass and not on the walk to re-freeze and put up a nasty hazard for Mrs. Lubeley. (I never understood why he was so worried about her. She never went out except to bring me a freshly baked apple pie for scooping her walks and that was usually a day or so after the storm.)
Well I am not that smart. I was born with cabin fever. (Not to be confused with a manger.) When the storm slows down, I have to get going. That's why I have three cracked ribs right now. Thanks for the lousy job of clearing your walks Bennett Martin Library!
So much for complaining. It's beautiful outside right now. I get the Bing Crosby song today. I am alone, my choice, and have had my morning oatmeal and coffee. We were "Eve" people so Christmas morning was never any big thing unless it snowed or we got something really cool that required the outside environment to use--bunnies beware!
But, I miss it. I miss the dear head with the blinking red nose that mom fashioned from a flashing bulb in a liquor display and a musty old dear head. She was an early recycle fan, don't you know.
Lutefisk? Well I can't say I miss that. Mice, sugar cookies we helped her make; and mint cookies where she could never seem to find "those" mints until the last second; all fond memories. I miss Uncle Bill showing up on Christmas Eve in his best overalls and Dekalb hat. I miss Uncle Jelly and Aunt Rebe coming in from the country. I miss the crowded kitchen full of wonderful smells. I miss the golden brown huge turkey. I miss Penny, our Scottie zooming in and out picking up crumbs and more from young hands under the table. I miss the quiet of the night except for the last pieces of wood crackling in the fireplace downstairs. (The whole house smelled of smoke because some bird forgot to tell Dad he had built a nest in the chimney and the smoke backed up.) I miss that huge tree in the alcove with all of those lights and ornaments. I wonder where all of those things went?
I miss the tink tink tink sound of snow hitting the window pane, just like it did last night. It's a White Christmas after a blustery snowy night. That's neat that God created a memory for so many young boys and girls that someday far in the future, they will sit down and remember...and miss.
Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Science of Economics
I "learned" economics from Campbell McConnell at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
Back then, the course was taught on television and was mandatory for first year business students. There were a lot of us and not enough space at UNL so Econ 101 was one of those "eliminator" courses. UNL operated on a 9 point scare-that's ADCD with the plus and minus stuff put in there. Most important, the draft was hanging over the heads of every able-bodied male student. Get below a 3.0 and the letter would soon come..."Greeting...you're going on an extended vacation to sunny Viet Nam."
There were no big screen TV's back then. A 30" screen was a monster. The TV's were mounted on top of metal stands and put in front of the class so you could squint and watch Dr. McConnell go through the science of Economics. He presented a series of graphs as the TV flickered along.
There was also a lab taught by an underling. In my case, a Korean underling. He was very hard to understand and therefore, so was McConnell's course. Tests were impossible.
Micro. Macro. Macroroni and cheese. I really didn't give a damn. This was not why I came to UNL. Next to Statistics, this was the most worthless course I have ever taken. UNL got good money for a bad presentation and that was the bottom line. The economy didn't gain a thing. Only the Army benefited.
As you might guess, I am not a big fan of Economics. I am not a big fan of Economists, either. All I got out of that class was eyestrain; Korean pig English; and a new definition of economics that still works today.
Economics is the science of applying labels to cover theft by the government, banks, and the stock market. Today, we call that kind of theft...bailouts. The Korean might have actually nailed this one...bailrouts.
Back then, the course was taught on television and was mandatory for first year business students. There were a lot of us and not enough space at UNL so Econ 101 was one of those "eliminator" courses. UNL operated on a 9 point scare-that's ADCD with the plus and minus stuff put in there. Most important, the draft was hanging over the heads of every able-bodied male student. Get below a 3.0 and the letter would soon come..."Greeting...you're going on an extended vacation to sunny Viet Nam."
There were no big screen TV's back then. A 30" screen was a monster. The TV's were mounted on top of metal stands and put in front of the class so you could squint and watch Dr. McConnell go through the science of Economics. He presented a series of graphs as the TV flickered along.
There was also a lab taught by an underling. In my case, a Korean underling. He was very hard to understand and therefore, so was McConnell's course. Tests were impossible.
Micro. Macro. Macroroni and cheese. I really didn't give a damn. This was not why I came to UNL. Next to Statistics, this was the most worthless course I have ever taken. UNL got good money for a bad presentation and that was the bottom line. The economy didn't gain a thing. Only the Army benefited.
As you might guess, I am not a big fan of Economics. I am not a big fan of Economists, either. All I got out of that class was eyestrain; Korean pig English; and a new definition of economics that still works today.
Economics is the science of applying labels to cover theft by the government, banks, and the stock market. Today, we call that kind of theft...bailouts. The Korean might have actually nailed this one...bailrouts.
Monday, November 2, 2009
For the Children...
KFAB had an item on it's newscast this morning that caught my attention. Some city government type wants the schools to pony up with some of the money they get from fines and share with the cities. The cities need the money because they are running out of ways to collect it. (The recession has caused cash flow problems and things like the $200,000 payoff to a mayor's mistress are causing problems.)
These folks are going to run into a brick wall.
Schools are never going to give up a dime. Make that a penny. They tell you they are in the business of creating the next generation of great Americans and they are running on a shoestring right now. If you doubt that, walk into Lincoln's Northstar or Southwest high schools. Dumps.
School administrators are suffering through impossible budgets because they are better than the rest of us. Their lives are devoted to making life better...for the children.
Anyone who goes after the school system budget may as well stand up at the NAACP convention and use the "N" word in the greeting. It's for the children. Hands off.
Well, maybe it's time we put that to the test. What is for the children? Unless times have drastically changed since I was there, children still hate going to school. Children hate homework. Children hate cafeteria food. The only folks who appreciate all of the nice stuff that got put into the new school budget at the teachers.
Maybe all of this untouchable money is "for the teachers..."
Administrators will tell you students are more difficult these days and the classroom is out-of-control. What do you expect from people who view success as being a rapper, or a drug dealer, or a pimp driving around all night in a black SUV with dark windows? Who needs an education to do that? Well firearms training maybe.
These are tough times. I don't think they will get much better very soon. At some point in time-probably sooner rather than later-the tax payer will be taxed out and those without children are going to say..."enough of the children."
Schools, you have enough money. You have adequate facilities. You have adequate training. Teach. Show us something for all of that money you get. Teach. Stop bitching that the conditions are deplorable. Teach.
And to parents, if you can't supply a home environment that points children in a positive direction other than dealing drugs and prostitution, take birth control pills.
We could make those free for the asking by diverting some of that fine money. Now that would make a difference.
These folks are going to run into a brick wall.
Schools are never going to give up a dime. Make that a penny. They tell you they are in the business of creating the next generation of great Americans and they are running on a shoestring right now. If you doubt that, walk into Lincoln's Northstar or Southwest high schools. Dumps.
School administrators are suffering through impossible budgets because they are better than the rest of us. Their lives are devoted to making life better...for the children.
Anyone who goes after the school system budget may as well stand up at the NAACP convention and use the "N" word in the greeting. It's for the children. Hands off.
Well, maybe it's time we put that to the test. What is for the children? Unless times have drastically changed since I was there, children still hate going to school. Children hate homework. Children hate cafeteria food. The only folks who appreciate all of the nice stuff that got put into the new school budget at the teachers.
Maybe all of this untouchable money is "for the teachers..."
Administrators will tell you students are more difficult these days and the classroom is out-of-control. What do you expect from people who view success as being a rapper, or a drug dealer, or a pimp driving around all night in a black SUV with dark windows? Who needs an education to do that? Well firearms training maybe.
These are tough times. I don't think they will get much better very soon. At some point in time-probably sooner rather than later-the tax payer will be taxed out and those without children are going to say..."enough of the children."
Schools, you have enough money. You have adequate facilities. You have adequate training. Teach. Show us something for all of that money you get. Teach. Stop bitching that the conditions are deplorable. Teach.
And to parents, if you can't supply a home environment that points children in a positive direction other than dealing drugs and prostitution, take birth control pills.
We could make those free for the asking by diverting some of that fine money. Now that would make a difference.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Light on Your Path
I am part geek. I like computers and Internet stuff. I do things like Twitter and Facebook.Tech has allowed us to do so much in such and short time. Information is exploding and the flip side, privacy is eroding. Anyone who thinks otherwise is only kidding themselves. There is way too much money on the tech side of things to ever expect the government to do anything to curb the way information is gathered and disseminated.
But that is not my subject today. The look at the past is. And that look comes to me through Facebook. There are some people I found on Facebook that were very important to me a long time ago. One would or could have easily been my bride but things didn't work out and she went a different way. I have always wondered about her path and all of a sudden, along comes Facebook. Not only is her path there, it's a superhighway of links to her children and their children. I am very happy for her and glad life treated her so generously with love.
As for me, my path went a different way, never quite finding another one to share it with. It wasn't in the cards. So my picture album is smaller. The links are fewer.
Am I happy about that? I suppose so. I have done a lot of interesting things with what I have. I have also scratched my way up mountains and fallen all the way down only to find another mountain. That is my life. And, it is certainly a different path from her life. I am content knowing she found her path, lived well, and is surrounded by love.
Thank you Facebook.
How to change the country
Clearly, something has to change. But what?
You hear the Republican drum beating all day long. You hear the Conservative message all day long. You hear Lou Dobbs pushing the Independent message. But will any of these groups really change anything?
I doubt it. Once people get elected and go "there" they change. They learn how to speak a different language other than understandable, clear, English. They fall in love with TV cameras. They look for ways to steal the spotlight and if that doesn't work, they pack good bills with bad spending and name buildings and roads after themselves to remind you how great they are.
They work their way into committee positions that they think are lifetime appointments. That's the heart of Greedyville. Committees. That's the heart of power. It doesn't matter what party you were in back home, if you are the chairman of a powerful committee you're in. Sometimes, you're in until the eventual scandal of power is going to be too much and the rest of your "friends" will have to turn you out. (Don't expect the Attorney General to do it. He is part of the team that got you there in the first place.)
The people can't do anything about those powerful committee chairmen other than vote them out. But, if this day of the 50/50 split in the electorate, that's a tough order. Plus, powerful men generate mega pork.
So what has to be done?
How about term limiting committee positions? How about a new rule that will only permit people to serve on the same committee for no longer than two terms? That would get fresh ideas in there at the least and get corruption out of there at the most.
Let's term limit committee chairmanships. Maybe that will work while we wait for the political parties to rise to the values of the people who started this country.
You hear the Republican drum beating all day long. You hear the Conservative message all day long. You hear Lou Dobbs pushing the Independent message. But will any of these groups really change anything?
I doubt it. Once people get elected and go "there" they change. They learn how to speak a different language other than understandable, clear, English. They fall in love with TV cameras. They look for ways to steal the spotlight and if that doesn't work, they pack good bills with bad spending and name buildings and roads after themselves to remind you how great they are.
They work their way into committee positions that they think are lifetime appointments. That's the heart of Greedyville. Committees. That's the heart of power. It doesn't matter what party you were in back home, if you are the chairman of a powerful committee you're in. Sometimes, you're in until the eventual scandal of power is going to be too much and the rest of your "friends" will have to turn you out. (Don't expect the Attorney General to do it. He is part of the team that got you there in the first place.)
The people can't do anything about those powerful committee chairmen other than vote them out. But, if this day of the 50/50 split in the electorate, that's a tough order. Plus, powerful men generate mega pork.
So what has to be done?
How about term limiting committee positions? How about a new rule that will only permit people to serve on the same committee for no longer than two terms? That would get fresh ideas in there at the least and get corruption out of there at the most.
Let's term limit committee chairmanships. Maybe that will work while we wait for the political parties to rise to the values of the people who started this country.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Bonehead
It's a little slow at the Burlington yard these days. In fact, I haven't had a trip today. Much of that has to do with the big snowstorm out West. I imagine the tracks need to be plowed out in coal country before the mile- long iron snakes can get moving again and the calls will start coming in to take the pride of the various unions off the trains and back to the yard or the hotel. (They almost get more than I make in two weeks just to ride in a van from Lincoln to Ravenna!)
Most are nice. Some sleep so I don't know if they are nice. Some are not nice. Sounds like America, doesn't it.
And some are dealing with some tough stuff when they get in my van. That happened a couple of weeks ago. I got a call that I was going to take a train crew from Waverly to Creston, IA which is a hub for Burlington. They were being relieved because of an "incident."
The incident started when a motorist noticed an erratic driver on Highway 6 by Waverly. That motorist called 911 and a Nebraska State Trooper responded and caught up with the minivan. He turned on his red and blue lights but the weaver decided to extend his trip. The trooper chased him and finally the guy turned off onto 148th Street near Waverly. He made another turn after that. The problem was he turned onto one of the main tracks of the Burlington Railroad.
Sure enough, a train was coming. The heroic trooper, and I do mean HEROIC ran to the minivan and tried to pull the guy out before the train, now honking like a trumpet player in a Dixieland band, arrived.
The bonehead fought the trooper until there was no time left. The trooper jumped out of the way just a few seconds before the train hit the minivan and turned it into a Mini Cooper.
"The windows just exploded out of that car," the engineer told me as we motored through the Iowa countryside. He was still shaking. It was his first one. The conductor was equally shaken. It was her first crash, too. In the railroad business, the conductor is the one that gets out of the motor and goes back to see what's left. Most of the time, it isn't pretty.
Bonehead lived after the Waverly Fire Department cut him out of what was left of his car and a life flight chopper flew him to the hospital. It took a few hours to do the investigation and get things cleaned up. (Bonehead will get billed for that including $500 for each train that got held up because of his actions.)
But this crew will remember bonehead. These crews remember every crash they have ever had.
People who try to beat trains and people who decided that's a cool way to end things never think about the crew running the train. They just see that huge iron horse coming right at them and never hear the screams from inside the cab.
Most are nice. Some sleep so I don't know if they are nice. Some are not nice. Sounds like America, doesn't it.
And some are dealing with some tough stuff when they get in my van. That happened a couple of weeks ago. I got a call that I was going to take a train crew from Waverly to Creston, IA which is a hub for Burlington. They were being relieved because of an "incident."
The incident started when a motorist noticed an erratic driver on Highway 6 by Waverly. That motorist called 911 and a Nebraska State Trooper responded and caught up with the minivan. He turned on his red and blue lights but the weaver decided to extend his trip. The trooper chased him and finally the guy turned off onto 148th Street near Waverly. He made another turn after that. The problem was he turned onto one of the main tracks of the Burlington Railroad.
Sure enough, a train was coming. The heroic trooper, and I do mean HEROIC ran to the minivan and tried to pull the guy out before the train, now honking like a trumpet player in a Dixieland band, arrived.
The bonehead fought the trooper until there was no time left. The trooper jumped out of the way just a few seconds before the train hit the minivan and turned it into a Mini Cooper.
"The windows just exploded out of that car," the engineer told me as we motored through the Iowa countryside. He was still shaking. It was his first one. The conductor was equally shaken. It was her first crash, too. In the railroad business, the conductor is the one that gets out of the motor and goes back to see what's left. Most of the time, it isn't pretty.
Bonehead lived after the Waverly Fire Department cut him out of what was left of his car and a life flight chopper flew him to the hospital. It took a few hours to do the investigation and get things cleaned up. (Bonehead will get billed for that including $500 for each train that got held up because of his actions.)
But this crew will remember bonehead. These crews remember every crash they have ever had.
People who try to beat trains and people who decided that's a cool way to end things never think about the crew running the train. They just see that huge iron horse coming right at them and never hear the screams from inside the cab.
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