Still bothered after all these years

I first published this back in February of 2009. It still haunts me.

"I was reading a friend's blog today and she writes about being troubled by a worrisome incident in her past that she was powerless to do anything about.

This reminded me of an incident in a grocery store some years ago. I think about it every once in a while and it continues to bother me.

I had pushed my cart half-way down an aisle when a family of four was coming toward me. The father, a 40-ish beer-bellied type was pushing the cart. When our carts came side-by-side, the man was barking orders to a boy of around 10 on what grocery items to grab and put in the cart. The boy darted back and forth frantically while the man kept harassing him and calling him names.

The scariest part was that close behind the guy were huddled a thin, pale woman and teenage girl. They cowered close together with expressionless faces. The disturbing scene screamed ABUSE. I was angered and appalled that this was going on right in front of me. I desperately wanted to do something. I stood there watching for a moment while I debated whether to ask the woman if she needed help but she avoided making eye contact with me. I was terribly conflicted but afraid of making the bad situation worse. I looked around and other carts were now coming down the aisle and those shoppers were trying to ignore the whole situation. Reluctantly, I moved on and I have felt guilty ever since.

I always wonder what happened to that poor woman and her kids. I stew about what I should have done--alert the store manager? Intervene no matter what? Call the police?

I try to comfort myself that maybe the management saw the incident on security cameras and stepped in to help. But to this day, I wonder what would have happened if I had been more courageous."

Out, Damned Spots!

Yesterday, I went over to Target to get a new ink cartridge for my printer. As I'm walking up to the store, the sidewalks and entrance are dotted with chewing gum. Once again, I'm wondering...WHO THE  HECK DOES THAT?

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I can understand that occasionally someone might have gum accidentally fall out of their mouth, but obviously, the slack-jawed slobs in question chose to spit their gum out right in that spot. What is the thinking behind it? Are they afraid they might run into their old 3rd grade school teacher and be caught chewing gum and humiliated into spitting it out in her hand? Is it that they have spaced-out the fact they have gum in their mouth until they get to the entrance? Or, do they see all the other dirty gum blobs and take that as a invitation to disgorge the contents of their mouth? In addition, it seems likely that most of them are women!

You might see cigarette butts amongst the stains and blotches, but the butts are biodegradable. Those ugly gum spots resist the elements for a long time. The cleaning guy at the clinic where I volunteer says that to clean up the gum pressed into concrete, he has to get down and spray it with something to freeze it, then scrape it off. It's hard work and not entirely effective.

It seems that this has been a problem for a century so it is not going away, but maybe it's time to bring back those old-fashioned signs that say "No Spitting". Of course, human nature being what it is, everyone thinks it doesn't mean them.

                        SOME CHEWING GUM STATISTICS
Average # of sticks of gum a person chews each year is 300.
Annual chewing gum sales is $2 billion.
Total number of US chewing gum companies is 30.

Summer

My three great-granddaughters are here with me this week so we're on the go. It's lots of fun doing different things but also time-consuming.

We're off to have a picnic later today. We're also going to get out to the Minnesota Zoo and the Minneapolis Institute of Art this week. And then they have a list of kids movies they want to see. A trip to Snuffy's Malt Shop is a tradition whenever they are here too. And of course, swimming is high on their list of things to do.

Bad day for the Twin Cities

We had really bad storms move through the Twin Cities on Thursday and Friday nights. They were powerful storms with destructive lightning that caused a number of fires and straight-line winds that toppled hundreds of trees and caused wide-spread power outages. There are big sections of the area that have been without power for several days and won't get it back for several more days.

The terrible winds whipped up fierce sheets of rain that tore off lots of branches and along with them the birds and squirrels sheltered in them. The wooded lot is a shambles with broken branches everywhere. I keep looking out there to see if there are any survivors of the storm but nothing is stirring. I threw some birdseed down in there. This usually produces a several squirrels to come running. Today there is nothing.

The Wildlife Rehab Center is swamped with birds and animals rescued from downed trees. Sadly, there are many that cannot be rescued.

Toddler Property Laws

Toddler Property Laws

You may have seen these before, but they are so laughably accurate it makes me smile.

1) If I like it, it's mine.
2) If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3) If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4) If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5) If it's mine, it must never appear in any way to be yours.
6) If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7) If it looks like mine, it's mine.
8) If I saw it first, it's mine.
9) If you play with it and put it down, it's mine.
1) If it's broken, it's yours.

As a mother of four, a grandma and a great-grandma, I can attest that these are still true!

Meeting the Rhode Island neighbor

I had to take the car in for an oil change this morning. Coming back up the street, I saw that my neighbor lady was working on a flower bed next to the curb. Also digging around in the flower bed were two industrious chickens.

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I knew there were chickens living over there on the other side of the wooded lot because I could sometimes hear them clucking. I really wanted to meet them, so I stopped the car and jumped out to get a closer look. The owner, Catherine, was happy to share her love of the little assistant gardeners. The soil she had turned over was being meticulously inspected at close range by the pair. One was a Rhode Island Red and the other name I forget, but it was a pretty golden color with black specks on the head and shoulders.

After a few minutes, the golden bird suddenly turned around and started marching back to the coop behind the house. Catherine said, "I think she's probably going to lay an egg." Sure enough, several moments later, the successful hen started cackling loudly as if announcing her accomplishment. ( She said that with her three hens she gets two or three eggs a day.)

We finally had a sunny day today. A doe crossed the lawn past our patio this afternoon and the four bachelor turkeys came by. Breeding season is over so their heads are no longer bright red and their snoods have shrunk. Most noticeably, they don't gobble anymore. I haven't seen any of the seven female turkeys for over a month. They are safely hidden away somewhere. Maybe they're all mommies by now.

Another old post

This is a rerun of a posting from back in 2008. I didn't have any followers at the time and I was clueless about how to get some. So anyway...

Danger, Sparrow, Danger!

I've been getting some recorded telemarketing calls lately. They start out, "Do not be alarmed!" (They go on to offer some credit card insurance.)

This is so devious. How better to get you to listen to the message than to imply there is danger!

I don't know about you, but I don't have nearly enough danger in my daily life. My adrenalin level remains pretty constant. The most hazardous thing I ever do is back the car out of my tiny garage--and I have the dents to prove it.

The only wild animals I encounter are the opossums that I feed on my patio. There are also voles, squirrels and a few raccoons that come around, as well, but the 'possums are the stars. This is because they are newcomers.

Possums are common to the South, like armadillos. Because of Global Warming, however, they have been working their way north over time. And now, I am privileged to have my very own tribe.

Their arrival each evening is an eagerly anticipated event. The three cats and I sit inside the patio door and watch them eat the jelly or peanut butter sandwiches, meat scraps, fruit and whatever. The possums ignore us even though we're only a foot away.

I never know which ones will show up, but they always come separately. The first one was a big light-colored one with pretty pink ears that I promptly named Petunia. Next came Tank (a solidly-built little fella), then Elvis (a young one with small black ears). Last night, a new one appeared with a torn ear and 2-tone tail, so he became Rocky. The gender assignments are arbitrary, of course, and naming them is pure self-indulgence.

Now that the snows have come, I'm worried about where they've holed up for the winter. The poor things are not well-adapted to Minnesota with their naked tails and sparse coats. I worry about them--and so I feed them.

After, they face real danger every day!