This morning we went in to get absentee ballots and found out we could do everything today, which we did. WE VOTED!
Then we donated blood. Again, the person there told me I have to pee sitting down - she said not to lift anything heavy.
Finally, a Lions Club meeting tonight.
Some days are like that, you know.
A friend just posted some pages from the 1975 Plymouth AREA High School yearbook. Besides my being quite the fashion plate (picture below if I can figure out how to import it [try not to swoon]), the book brought back some memories, which probably wouldn't fly today.
First was the annual Miss Halloween contest. If I remember correctly, there were three competitive categories in the contest: swimsuit, evening gown, and talent. The one twist is all the contestants were guys including football players, etc.
The other annual event was a class fundraiser - the Senior Slave Auction. Students would "buy" a senior for the day to do things like carry their books to class, clean their lockers, get and serve their lunch, etc. An all-school assembly would convene and the highest bidder(s) would get the services of their senior for the day (but sadly not everyone played along).
Sadly, many (most) did. While it may not have been the event that ended the continuation, I do remember one year the students who bought their senior had him push a peanut up the ramps between floors... with his nose. The good sport did so. When he was discovered, his nose was raw and his face bloodied.
When given freedom, many (most) people won't 'play the game' and do the right thing.
Sounds like today.
Every time I finish a book on my Kindle (not as many or as often as I used to), I am asked to rate the book. I struggle with this. I have the option of one to five stars. It takes a couple of weeks to finish a book as virtually the only time I read is in bed before I try to sleep. I do remember one weekend way back in the day when I read five books in a weekend.
These days, I read for entertainment and escape - thrillers, mysteries, police procedurals, and courtroom dramas (with an occasional horror novel tossed in [or political expose]). I rarely read non-fiction any more. Most main characters are retired whatevers (military, CIA, etc.) and virtually always come out on top (think Jack Reacher, John Milton, or ). The bad guys are the worst of the worst - someone created them, which makes me wonder about the authors.
Anyhow, I digress. Most of my ratings are three, four, or five stars. The problem is discerning what a five-star book really is. When I was teaching, I dealt with true five-star creations (Dickens, Bradbury, Lee, Golding, etc).
Today, I love earlier Stephen King, Dean Koontz, John Lescroart, Lee Child, Patricia Cornwell, etc. Most of their offerings are legitimately four and five star books, but what makes them so?
I love detailed description, realistic dialogue, fleshed out characters, and a strong story (something that keeps me turning pages to see what happens next or how the protagonist gets out of whatever seemingly impossible situation s/he got into).
So, if I give a Kindle read five stars, is it really?
Usually not, but in the Kindle context, maybe... if you know what I mean.
As long as ratings are relative, I can live with it.
I have been doing a lot of thinking about this thing called 'America.'
Growing up, I thought I knew America. Over the past few years, I am not so sure anymore.
In my early days, I was taught to see America as the proverbial melting pot - a stew of sorts contained in the borders of a pot in which there were many different ingredients, each with a separate identity but contributing to a whole, something that was far greater than the sum of the parts.
Today, we still have those who remember, adhere to and fight for the old vision but we also have those who, whether they can admit it or not, want a straight, white, Christian, male-dominated, armed country. Anything short of that is not America. There is little in-between. America started off with the former and is struggling today with the latter.
People don't want America - they want their version of America.
When I arrived in rural New Hampshire, it struck me as Mayberry-ish. I came from a place where debutants had balls (not that kind), females had nose jobs, and lots of material goods. None of that up in rural NH. You’ve got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know....
I suspect the section of NH where I ended up was and is tribal. Attitudes of locals was passed down by their parents who learned them from their parents, etc., etc. When I got here, New Hampshire was 99 percent white. Some forty years, it hasn't changed much - I believe latest census estimate (last year) put her at 93.1 percent white.
The true locals resented outsiders, especially when they brought 'their ways.' I adapted pretty well, but the loud, pushy tourists ruined it.
I am going to stop here because this is sounding familiar (I am sure I posted something recently that reflects these thoughts).
Next time will be something totally different.
Thanks for understanding.
