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     So as this whole virus/pandemic thing is unfolding, it has finally had a major impact on me. I had been hanging in, maintaining a fairly low profile, but there came a tipping point. 

     As of this writing, in the U.S., nearly 2,000 people have died, and we're just getting started (hold my beer). After over two months of poo-pooing and golfing, denials and outright lies, tRump is declaring how well we are doing because "the mortality rate is, in my opinion ... way, way down." The Peter Principle personified!

     When tRump was first elected, I posted something saying if people are ignoring the sea of red flags and can't see what he is, we are in trouble - there is little depth of thought - I was adamant because I did see so any red flags (at least I thought I did). I also said, "Down the road, I will either say to you, 'Yes, you were right. I am sorry," or I would say, "I told you so."

     "I told you so!" 

     BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER because over three years later, seeing who and what he is, his worshipers are more convinced that ever that he is a god, the second coming, and can do no wrong! Along the way I learned there is nothing he can do or say that will change a single mind in his base.

     I know that as I am beginning to post more comments, it won't matter, but it will make me feel better letting some of it out, and that's why I am doing it - I need to. I have no illusions it will make a difference. It won't, but that's okay. 

     And I'm okay.

     

IT'S ONLY MONEY...

     A brief life lesson from my good friend.

     Some years ago, a former student called me. She was sobbing and said she didn't know what to do. I asked what the problem was. She choked back tears and said she was out of work and had run out of money; she had her kids to feed and had nowhere to turn, and she thought of me.

     The last time I had seen her was when she needed to be bailed from an arrest. I don't remember what the charge was, but I was there for her (and didn't even collect my fee because I had her in school and liked her).

     This time, she sounded so lost and desperate... and her kids.... I advanced her $100 (I was working then and thought it was the right thing to do).

     Longer story short, it turned out she used the money for drugs. I tried numerous times to have her do the right thing and pay me back, but it was clear it wasn't going to happen.

     I was angry and told my bestie about it (I actually have two). He set me straight. He said I had to decide on an amount of money I could let go - money that wouldn't make me if I had it or break me if I lost it. It was a life lesson, and I should move on. As I thought about it, he was right, and $100 was a good place to settle on.

     Along the way, I have helped numerous people since with no expectation of return. I have not been disappointed.

    Good advice.

EXTRAPO...WHAT? EDUMAC...WHAT?

     You know, extrapolation. 

     When I introduced the Science Fiction class I taught, I used the term extrapolation. In my context, it meant to look at a current trend and, assuming nothing intervened or changed, predict future possibilities and outcomes. So many works of science fiction or speculative fiction do just that; they were warnings. Cutting edge science provides much fodder for such consideration (runaway viruses, over-population, nuclear power, robots, cloning, genetic engineering, AI, etc). Good science fiction is based in science. Or, as had been said, many science fiction move starts with people ignoring a scientist's warnings. 

     Now, on to edumacation. That's all that stuff you supposedly learned and carry with you after spending years in school supposedly giving one tools to help navigate Life. One question that has been successfully avoided for years (but still answered wrongly year after year) is what should a student know and when? When a person is graduated from high school, do they know enough to successfully navigate their way through Life, and, again, what is it they should know? Should a diploma guarantee a certain level of knowledge? (That was a thing for a while.)

     Learning never stops (at least it shouldn't). "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." Aristotle. These days are unlike I have ever seen. If a thought/idea is presented and goes against what a person believes s/he knows to be true, to them, it is wrong. Period. It is a generational tribal model. The great grandparents passed along their learning to the grandparents who passed it on to the parents who passed it along to you. And when people don't move around much, pockets form, and where all think alike, no one thinks at all.

      You can pretend to be stupid, but you can't pretend to be smart. Anyone who is smart can see stupidity, but anyone who is stupid can't see smart - especially when it goes against their beliefs (and what's happening in front of their face.

     Sad.

A GOOD SPORT

 "Good is not good when better is expected." Vin Scully

     I like sports! A lot. Although nowhere near as knowledgeable as others, I know enough to enjoy what I watch. I love excellence.

     The only sport I never got into is basketball. I never learned the details of the game beyond throw the ball and hope it goes in the basket. My experience was limited to playing 'HORSE' or 'GHOST' in my best friend's driveway (it's the same game - just spelled differently) I rarely won.

     In elementary school, I was the 'Carrie White' player, usually getting picked last when it came time to make teams. I now know my problems were because of lack of confidence and not so much my lack of skill. I never played in any development leagues, so the skills never came. I was so uninformed, I once even fell for the first-baseman pretending to throw to the pitcher and got tagged out when I stepped off the base. Sad.

     In junior high school, besides the usual stuff, we climbed ropes, wrestled (not while climbing the ropes), and boxed. Yes, boxed! I had arranged with a friend to pair up and go easy on each other. The teacher had other ideas and paired me with someone else. I think there were three one-minute rounds, and I actually held my own (mainly to protect it). 

     When high school rolled around, I actually tried out for baseball thinking all those hours with my friend tossing the ball back and forth in the field next to my home was enough. I remained on the team until we went outside from the gym, and then things got real. When the roster was posted (much like a cast list in theater after tryouts), my name was missing. 

     I split the difference and ended up as the football manager for a couple of years. It was neat being around and helping the team.

     All of the above was a lead-up to my college years. I ended up at Emerson College in Boston (Emerson Football - Undefeated since 1880 [true]) and was a frat boy and served in the animal fraternity (we made "Animal House" look tame). Our faculty adviser was Jim Peckham (a big name known to real wrestling fans - he wrestled in the 1956 Olympics). In the pre-Pinocchio-ad days, he looked at me one day and said, "You have potential." He talked me into going out for wrestling! Really!

     I lasted one day! On the first day of practice, we had to piggyback teammates up four flights of stairs.

     I ended up playing ice hockey for the school and made the team, but that's another story. I also played fraternity sports (all but basketball) and did okay.

     Those were the days!

SERIOUSLY?

     It's getting dire - I am writing this at work and have exhausted my food supply for the day. There are 57 minutes left until I can leave - I am not sure I can make it. For snack in the morning, I had a small bag of trail mix and some pepper jack cheese and crackers. Then before lunch, I polished off a banana. For my actual lunch, I had a turkey sandwich and a snack bag of grapes. For my afternoon snack, I had a few Girl Scout cookies, and now... I wait - wasting away. Maybe writing something will get me through...

    (Whew! I made it.)

     ...Back in the day when my weekly print column covered the state (and beyond), I used to give away tremendous 'Berman's Bits' t-shirts (best shirts ever) I had made up as prizes for excellent trivia questions, drawings, and the like. I even went through a tremendous 'What-would-you-trade-for-a-Berman's-Bits' T-shirt'? period. One amazing trade I remember was a personal guided tour through the DYS facility in Manchester - woo-hoo!

     None of that has anything directly to do with what follows except the t-shirt featured a quote blazoned across the back. The quote is "Life is much too serious to take seriously." It really is! Especially these days.
     
     These days there have been more than a few memes along the way about toilet paper, nurses, and the police joking about serious things. As we are now learning with the Corona virus, matters are very serious! To cope, I and many others appear to make light of it all, but in reality, I suspect we all know it is deadly serious. But instead of wringing my hands and lamenting, it's easier to joke about it. If there is something we can do, we do it. If not, we do the best we can and move on. 

     Back in 1957, On the Beach, a novel by Nevil Shute was published. It follows different people in Melbourne, Australia, as they await deadly radiation from the northern hemisphere comes closer and closer following a nuclear war. How they handle their impending deaths is the novel.

     In a way, I feel the same way waiting to see what happens with the virus. There have been other novels and movies dealing with diseases, vampires, and zombies. But the thing is they are all fiction - or should be. Today, I am wondering if i will get the virus, how bad it will be, and if I will survive. We can read all the books we want, see all the movies we want, but they are escapist entertainment.

     Back when I taught a course in science fiction, we looked at future possibilities. The books and stories were a warning of what could happen if we didn't wake up and change course. It's happening.

     On a positive note, today, I am okay. As long as I can say that every morning, it's all good. We all should do the same.

     Today, I am okay. I embrace that.

TMI

     Full disclosure - I have to level with you - I suffer from a condition called witzelsucht, but I have managed it pretty well. Witzelsucht is a tendency to make puns or tell inappropriate jokes in improper situations. Combined with another condition called hypersexuality, if there is the remotest double entendre or innuendo (what's the Italian word for enema? Innuendo [there - that is a real-life example]), I'm right on it .

     When I was teaching, it took all I had to suppress such comments that popped into my mind. The last thing a teacher wants is a phone call from a parent/guardian or a request to appear in the principal's office, so that motivated me to bite my tongue.

     Students, on the other hand, often felt free to make such comments, and the problem was trying not to laugh as many were actually clever and appreciated, but I couldn't let on - it would just encourage them. If we were reading a story aloud, and the line: "She put the pot on the stove" appeared, some student (or many) would chime in with: "Heeyyy, pot, man!" (Of course, I have a voice I use to say it after the student(s) did. Seeing it in print here doesn't do it justice.) 

     Usually, there is a trigger word that brings a joke to the surface - that part of my processor still works. If someone asked me to tell a joke, I am not sure I'd readily have one, but when I hear any one of hundreds of words, the joke is right there; it pops out, and I have to tell it. Unfortunately, the Ever-lovely Miss Kim will hear the same word, and she knows what's coming. When I hear it, I look at her, and she rolls her eyes and prepares to hear the same joke for the umteenth time. I think the Ever-effervescent Miss Jessica is finding herself in the same boat.

     Anyhow, I mean no harm and am presenting this as an educational tool. If such a thing happens in your company, just do what my wife does - smile and nod. 

     Thanks for understanding.

A JOB THAT SUCKS!

     During my teaching years, I would always spend time trying to convince my junior and senior students to complete a Career Project, and that there was a world of possibilities beyond the local area. The project included interviewing people in the field they were considering, and, if possible, some minor interning to see and experience what went on behind the scenes. That sometimes resulted in students getting an in (sometimes, it's who you know).

     After the demise of the Plymouth Fair, the Plymouth Lions Club sponsored a smaller fair in the field below the armory (now a college parking area). At the end of the day, a septic pumper truck would pull in to clean out the lineup of blue (and/or green) portable toilets.

     When the truck backed up to the first one of many, a young man jumped from the cab; he had on long, presumably rubber gloves. I watched as he connected hose sections to the truck, went into the toilet, and did whatever it was that he did. He worked his way down the row.

     When I described the scene to my classes, I asked if that was a desirable job. Most students agreed it was not. And then I asked if it was an important job. After a moment of thought, the consensus was yes. I then asked the same about a dishwasher at a restaurant with the same results.

     My hope was to teach the students that not only is every job important but also to do the best they could. They are representatives of the company they work for, and their job, no matter how small or undesirable, is important for the success of the bigger picture. 

     I hope some learned what they should have,

A BLESSING AND A CURSE!

     "Good manners sometimes means simply putting up with other people's bad manners." (H. Jackson Brown)

     Somewhere along the line, I was given the title "The Man with Impeccable Manners" by the 'woman' who boisterously kicked me off her property over four terrible, horrible, no good, very bad words I muttered (definitely a story for another time). While the moniker is pretty much true, having good manners is both a blessing and a curse.

      Besides having good manners; I am polite, respectful, and reasonably well-spoken in a usually soft manner.  I open doors for people and say 'Please' and 'Thank you.' I was one of the lucky ones; my folks (may they rest in peace) are responsible. Through their words and modelling, I was always told or shown 'Be nice' and 'Don't fight,' and I really am, and I don't. Those concepts have kept me out of trouble through the years. It is rare that I actually speak up because most things simply aren't worth it; something has to be really bad for me to say something. Even in the classroom, I rarely got angry angry.

     Now that things in society have gotten really ba (IMHO), I struggle with 'Should I or should I not say something,' but I usually don't because what I generally don't do is confront people - I don't try to explain why they are wrong. What is happening these days is (IMHO) unprecedented; it's like we are back in the 1950's all over again when people knew their place.

     Picture a large open umbrella (outside, of course - indoors, it used to be considered bad luck. Superstition said if you opened an umbrella indoors, it was an insult to the sun god, and bad luck would 'rain' on you). The umbrella was labeled 'America,' and under the umbrella were balloons; anyone there was'an American.' There were white balloons, black balloons, yellow balloons, etc. That's an updated version of the melting pot analogy, which morphed into a stew in which all the pieces there became a homogenized indistinct unit, but as we have 'advanced,' the pieces still maintained individual identities; they didn't melt but maintained their individual identities and qualities and added to and enhanced a delicious whole.

     Back in the day, when I taught Of Mice and Men, we talked about the American Dream and what made a 'good American.' The lists of positive qualities the classes came up with made the Boy Scouts' qualities look evil (trustworthy, loyal, helpful courteous,,etc., etc). I wonder what that class list would look like today (nasty, intolerant, rude, etc).

     Anyhow, time to stop for now. Remember, ultimately, much of what I post tries to make better individuals, better family people, and better citizens. Please keep that in mind as you read my 'stuff' and think about it.

INTRODUCTION

As I am about to (or just have) formally launch this blog, please allow me to introduce myself.

Originally a Flatlander from Massachusetts, I have lived in rural New Hampshire for 47 years, the last 41 of which in the town of Rumney (population 1,480 at the last census [just under 900 when I got here]). When Flatlanders come to the state, they are barely tolerated by the old-timers because they bring 'their ways' with them). "Spend your money and go home!" is the still-present cry of some. I have endured because I have tried to adapt to NH rather than the other way around. 

I am the third most interesting person in the world. The first is that guy in those  beer ads. You know, the guy who taught his dog to bark in three languages, the guy who has aliens asking him to probe them, and the guy who can play Mozart on the drums. The second most interesting is all of you! Everyone has a tale to tell. And then there's me.

My daughter taught me a new word/concept: sonder (noun) - sonder is the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

I am a retired high school Language Arts teacher and an occasionally published writer with pieces having appeared in A 6^th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul (turned into a segment on the Chicken Soup TV series), Yankee magazine, Grit magazine, and various New Hampshire newspapers and tourist publications. Besides my writing, I am also a Justice of the Peace and a former New Hampshire Bail Commissioner. I am currently ‘casually working’ (an oxymoron?) on several writing projects.

Questions? Ask away.

Welcome!

THE TOOL

One of the things about living in the city or suburbs is a relative anonymity. From my experience, beyond one's circle of friends, nobody knew anybody else unless they had some notoriety (in junior high school, a friend took me to his neighbor's home for some milk and cookies - his neighbor was Isaac Asimov). Where I grew up, I didn't know people four houses away, so in a town of around 90,000, as a shy kid, I knew but a meager handful.

When I got to rural NH, however, my new township boasted maybe 900, so it was easy to know many others (as the old saying goes, if you don't know what you're doing, someone else will). As a teacher, I knew manifold kids and their manifold families. As a columnist, I had a small but loyal following, so I did have a modicum of name recognition. 

My wife's folks lived in New York before retiring to NH. I don't remember how it came up, but I suggested to them I was pretty well known up here. How well known? I told them to send a letter address to THE TOOL and with no address other than my town name and ZIP. I would let them know if and when it arrived. It did, and I did.

Think of it - it wouldn't work today, but the postmaster knew among the town's populace I was THE TOOL! I don't remember how the moniker derived, but I am THE TOOL!

(UPDATE: Crestfallen. Unfortunately, I did a search for the actual meaning, and I am thinking ruh-roh! One meaning is "One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool. A cretin. Characterized by low intelligence and/or self-esteem." As a matter of fact, all of the definitions I found were negative.

Of course,when I grew up, 'tool' had another totally different meaning, which I will not share here. As a typical teenager, we had terms to describe things [especially body parts] in unscientific terminology. Without your knowing what 'tool' referred to back then to us, people today may be puzzled when I proudly say in a deliberate, deep voice, "I. Am. THE. TOOL!")

You know what? Disregard this whole post! 

JUSTICE OF THE PEACE RAMBLINGS

     I have been a Justice of the Peace for sixteen years. I have officiated hundreds of marriages and love it! It is a time of such promise and joy and hope (even though not all work out for the best - one marriage I officiated was over in two days). I have married two people in the back seat of my Jeep in an outlet mall parking lot, in front of 250 people gathered in a church (although I can not perform a religious wedding), and everything in-between.

     I have married couples on horseback, on top of mountains (no more climbing for me, however), lakeside, in the woods, at Dunk's, many standard venues, and so on. Most often, I show up, perform the ceremony, and leave. Most couples are gracious and ask me to stay, which I did a few times, but it's usually a bit awkward, so unless I know the people, I just go. When it's all over, I rarely see the couple again, but recently, a couple of people changed that.

     Back in October, I was asked to speak at graveside ceremony; it was the first time I had done something like that. Several attendees were former students and friends from the area. When I was done, and we were all standing around talking, a woman walked up to me and asked if I remembered her. I didn't. I had married her and her husband six years earlier just up the road in a nearby town. She was driving by, happened to recognize me and stopped to thank me and let me now how things were going. Like most couples, they had their ups and downs but hung in, kept working at it, and are doing well.  

     I got a call today from another woman I had married ten years ago. She just wanted to let me know she and her husband were still married and how appreciative they were for the small ceremony (at a highway rest area) and words I offered. They had called me the night before their marriage to see if I was available. I was.They still have a copy of my ceremony, and look at it every now and again. What a nice, uplifting call.

     The shortest turn-around time from call to wedding for me was 15 minutes. There was a medical issue, and town clerk called to see if I was available to come down to marry the couple - I was. Everything fell nicely into place.

     On the other end, I was at home one day hanging around when I got a phone call asking where I was - everyone was waiting for me. After our earlier planning meeting, I am not sure what happened, but I never transferred the information to my active calendar and didn't realize that was the day of the wedding. I was there within 30 minutes. It worked out, but it was embarrassing and could have been disastrous if I hadn't been home!

     In the big picture, it's all been good. I love being a Justice of the Peace and am looking forward to what this new year brings.