Politically Not right

I have a severe disability. OK, I probably have many disabilities but today I want to expose one of them. I’m politically challenged. In the old days they’d call it politically stupid. I don’t get the idea of politics. Politics is reportedly relating to “I do something for you so you’ll do something for me in return”. Maybe it’s “Do unto others so that they’ll do unto you”. I’ve had it explained to me many times but I fail to internalize it and forget how it works.

Let me try to reason this out. I’ve had issues at work all of my life. If my boss makes a decision that’s not in line with what we’re trying to achieve, I tell the boss he’s wrong. I always do what I’m told, but my opinion is well known if I disagree. When my vocalizations are not appreciated, I’m truly amazed. When someone that pretends to always agree with the boss gets promoted over me, I’m shocked. The only answer for my surprise at getting passed over is political ineptness from being politically challenged.

So here we are in a small town. I would have been run out of town on a rail some time ago if not for my political caregiver, which is also my wife. She has developed a clever code to let me know when I’m on political thin ice. She says, “Charlie, shut up”. I take that cue and even though I don’t understand why I need to shut up, I comply.

Let’s say I live on a main street and the speed limit is 30 mph. Let’s say a car is doing around 50 on the main street whereupon I live. My inclination is to remind the driver of said car by yelling, “Slow down!” In my mind I’m reminding a dear friend or relative that the speed limit is 30. In my mind I’m providing a valuable service. I’ve been told that the subject of my reminder might take offense and tend to block my achieving something, like getting a pizza delivered or my candidate elected. When I commit the faux pas, my wife will give me a cue and I’ll stop.

I get into trouble when my wife isn’t around. I cringe when I have to go to a meeting of some sort. I find it’s best for me to keep quiet because I can’t discern what is acceptable and what is not. I’ve frequently pointed out what would be the moral course of action but I’m surprised when I’m not congratulated for my insight. I believe that I’m only keeping the organization from doing a wrong thing, but I guess I’m stepping on political toes. I’ve even been threatened with banishment and bodily harm. The threats are completely unexpected. Perhaps if the persons offended by my observations knew I have a disability they would be more tolerant.

I think we need an international symbol to denote people with my disability. Maybe we could all wear a bracelet with a big question mark on it. Maybe a t-shirt with a big “I don’t get it” would be a good cue. A telethon to provide special equipment, like muzzles, for people like me may be in order. The guy that hosted “Politically Incorrect” may want to host “Caring for the Politically Inept”. We also need an acronym for political ineptness. Then I could explain it all by simply saying, “Excuse me, I have PI”.

When Stuff Hits the Fan

When the S.H.T.F. (“stuff hits the fan” is the polite form) and society collapses, everything we trust about our daily lives will take a beating. Lots of people are spending a lot of time and money getting ready for the apocalypse.

All city people need to pay attention to this and be prepared. Folks in the country are good to go.

City people, stock up on food. During the apocalypse you won’t be able to go eat at the mall. The mall will be full of looters stealing TV’s and hair extensions. You’ll have to actually cook. There is probably a thing called a stove in the kitchen, so now is the time to familiarize yourself with it.

Country folks already have food. It was preserved from the garden. The meat probably isn’t from the deli case; it’s from the farm or hunting and fishing. Cooking it comes natural to those in the country so it can be done on a stove, grill, rock, or on the exhaust manifold of a truck. We’re good on this one too.

City folks stock up on medicines. You need to have a supply of your hair growth drugs and those little pills that keep your feelings from being hurt.

Country folks generally just need aspirin, Vicks Vapo-Rub, and duct tape. If we need something else, some of our neighbors will have it or know of a suitable substitute. For example, we don’t need pills for hurt feelings. We just take a big swig of “walk it off” and we’re good.

Some people say to stockpile firearms and ammunition for self protection. I know city people have guns. I see it on the TV every night.
City folks, get rid of your guns. You don’t know how to use them. Every time you pull the trigger you end up shooting a Grandma or a little kid. If you insist on having a handgun, don’t hold it sideways when you shoot. You look like an idiot. Hold the danged thing straight up and down just like the big boys do.

I don’t even need to discuss guns in the country. We have them, always have had them, and always will. We know how to shoot and not hit a Grandma.

I think I’ve demonstrated that we country folk are better prepared for the collapse of society than the city people are. If that is so, what’s the chance that we’ll be invaded by refugees from the cities? I think we don’t have anything to worry about. City people aren’t coming over here for many reasons.

Firstly, our counties don’t have street lights or curbs. These things are like locating beacons in the city. Without them, people don’t know what to do.

At night places with street lights are interpreted as civilized. A lack of light means danger. Nobody wants to go into a dark alley or other place that’s dark and full of boogeymen. To city people, this entire area is dangerous because it’s dark at night.

As for curbs, all city streets have them. They’re used to let people know where to drive. Without curbs, they won’t know what to do. They’ll keep edging over to the curb and never find it. If they try to come over here, they’ll all end up in a ditch within a few miles of the city.

City folks are anonymous as they move around doing business and burning convenience stores. In our area there’s no anonymity. If I spit on the sidewalk everyone knows it before the spittle lands. Anyone that doesn’t belong stands out like an elephant on an ant hill. They’re not getting away with anything.

Lastly, city folks are afraid of us. We’re unpredictable in their minds. They think we do dangerous things for fun, and they’re right. We drive in mud, dig minerals out of the ground, and shoot cute furry things. We’ve even been known to run while carrying scissors.

Almost everyone from the city has seen the movie “Deliverance”. In the movie city guys go on a canoe trip deep in the forest and things go really bad for them. City people consider it a documentary. I tell them we call it a love story. The movie is scary enough to keep the toughest city gang-banger in his jammies drinking from a juice box.

Everyone thinks society will collapse. I’m not worried. We’ll be fine. Our President said it well when he said that people in rural America are holding on to their Bibles and guns. He is correct. He forgot to add that people in cities are holding on to their TVs and hair extensions. We’ll see who survives.

Free At Last

I’m sitting in the truck watching, trying to understand it. I’m wondering how I can ever explain it. I sit and try to understand why it’s a beautiful scene.

The Grandkids are climbing on a gravel pile. It’s sizeable by any standards, but to them it must be like climbing Everest. They take turns trying to run up the side. They slide down one side and then the other. The littlest, at 4, tries going down head first. He survives, so the bigger kids try it too.

This little play date is near the last of the summer. The kids will go back to the city, and to school. They’ll be deep into the morning rush to catch the bus. There’ll be homework and a plethora of after school activities and events before falling into an exhausted sleep.
But for now, it’s “The good Ship Summer” and Grandpa is the cruise director. The kids can’t imagine it, but Grandpa has painfully few summers left in him. He’s starting to feel the urge to make the most of the ones he has.

Maybe it’s really a grasp to catch a little of life in the moment. The kids have no thought of civilization or rules or responsibility. They’re purely in the moment. Their universe consists of their comrades, the sky, and the mountain of rock.

The previous days were spent camping, if that’s what you call it when you take your air conditioned comfort with you to the country. There were butterflies to admire, hills to climb, and frogs to chase. There was the creek, oh yes, the creek.

All the rules were broken. The slide down the muddy bank into the unpasteurized water stirred up billions of germs and other foul things. Hands weren’t washed or feet wiped. Maps were useless in the uncharted meandering stream bed. Every curve held a surprise and a new obstacle. I followed the little explorers and for a moment became 8 again, seeing this for the first time. Tomorrow could bring itchy insect bites and allergic sneezing, but not this day. This day it was just the eternal creek and its treasures.
The sun started sinking and I led the explorers back to the world.

We threw caution and common sense to the wind. After brief instructions the kids each split wood and emerged with all of their limbs intact. Their parents would never allow it, yet we ventured on. They learned about matches, and used them to light the fire. No one died, and another memory was fused into the little brains.

Our being completely out of control exhilarated us. Rules are made to be broken, and we complied. I let the kids ride in the bed of the truck, which was so alien to them they thought they’d gone to heaven. I even left my seatbelt off in disobedience to everything we’ve been taught for the last 40 years, and it felt wonderful.

The natural culmination of our civil disobedience resulted in each child, in turn, taking the wheel and driving over hill and dale. The conveyance was permeated with the fear and joy of piloting a real truck in contradiction to everything parents and police enforce.

We grew into wild things, and charted our own destinies. We had no fear of anyone or anything. Rules of etiquette and safety were alien and indecipherable. Each of us was truly free. Each of us survived and thrived without the ever present, debilitating rules against everything fun. We wore no helmets, no shin guards, and used no sanitizer. We survived. More importantly, we really lived. For them, they really lived for the first time in their lives. For me, it was the first time in decades that I’d really lived.

The sky is showing red streaks and the pile of gravel in noticeably shorter and wider. It’s time to go back to the grind of school and practice and homework. Maybe in half a century they’ll each come back and lead their Grandkids down a creek and up this very mountain of rocks. Maybe in half a century they’ll each throw caution to the wind and live free for one last summer. Maybe I’ll somehow be there with them, watching. We’ll all be truly free for just a while.

Dessert Detective: The Case of the Caloric Car Ride.

An envelope slipped under my door. It could only mean one thing. It could only mean I need to fix the weather stripping. A guy could get a draft and get sick. Even the toughest guy could get a chill. The cold could even affect the “Dessert Detective”.

I’m the famous “Dessert Detective. I can find any lost dessert. In a snit over a snatched snicker doodle? I’m your guy. Perplexed about a purloined pie? No problem. Why, just today I solved a big case.

My wife yelled from the kitchen. “What happened to the cookies I made for the kids?” she implored. “I ate them”, I replied. Another case solved, and solved right. It’s what I do.

I walk over the envelope two or three days. I was on my way back to the recliner and another envelope slithered under the door. I really need to get that weather stripping fixed, and I will, as soon as Food TV gives me a break. Non-food related commercials were on, so I picked up the envelope. Something was in it. I shook the envelope over the coffee table and a note fell out. It was a paper note, not the musical kind.
I noted the note was annotated. Printed on it was “Open the other envelope, you idiot.”

I opened the other envelope. Printed on the contents was one word. It merely said “Horace”. I tossed it on the table and settled back to watch the show about diving into a diner. That guy really needs to do something about his hair.

Early the next morning I was slathering Nutella on my jelly donut when the phone rang. I answered it with my sexiest “Dessert Detective here, what do you need, sugar cakes?” A voice whispered one word, “Yellow”. The caller hung up. I was curious. I was intrigued. How could I get Nutella inside the donut? How?

I went upstairs to shower and shave. There, written on the mirror in lipstick was one word, Nuevo. That was curious. Why is someone doing Spanish homework on the mirror? The kids must be out of paper.

After a refreshing shower I went to the bedroom to get dressed. My wife was packing a suitcase. “Where are you going, to see your mother? Tell her I died, that should make her day.” I said.

“We’re going. We’re going to follow the clues.” My wife replied.
Clues, what clues? I ain’t got no stinking clues.

The wife started in on a lecture. She droned on like a ceiling fan with a bent blade and a bad bearing that screeched on and on.
“The clues are Horace, for Horace Greely. He said go West. Yellow in Spanish is Amarillo, which is a city in Texas. Nuevo is Spanish New, like in New Mexico. So we’re going West to Amarillo, and then on to New Mexico. I can’t believe you didn’t even know they were clues to a mystery.”
“Maybe I missed it, but I have a bigger mystery. Where are we getting lunch? I’m hungry.”

We got the snacks and suitcases in the car and drove west. We moved west like the first pioneers that braved hot deserts and violent natives to bring baked goods to the far reaches of the continent. We drove on into the night. We drove into a night as dark as a vegan chef’s soul. We drove ever nearer to dangerous gluten-free lands.

I dozed off while the wife drove. She shook me awake. I jumped up ready to do battle. I jumped up ready to do battle and stop at an IHOP for breakfast.

At first, I thought I was dreaming. I awoke as confused as an ant at a sugar-free picnic. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked at my smirking wife and then out of the windshield. I opened the car door and stepped out. I felt weak. I dropped to my knees. It was so beautiful. It was just perfect.

My wife leaned over. “Happy birthday, you pie detective. Welcome to Pie Town, New Mexico.”

I went to heaven, and it’s west of the Mississippi. It’s Pie Town. Many are called; few are chosen- for Pie Town.
Tune in next time for Dessert Detective: Ganache me not.

Aborting Our Future.

I’ve been advised not to write about abortion because it’s a very emotional issue on all sides. Before reading this let me tell you that I am strongly anti-abortion. If this offends you may want to move on to the funnies or want ads. If not, please follow this chronicle of the war on our future, the war on our young.


Planned Parenthood is all over the news, so you undoubtedly know what has been going on lately. A group has filmed executives of that organization apparently negotiating to sell “fetal tissue”. Selling this tissue is illegal.

If you had the stomach to watch any of the videos you may agree with me when I say the films were horrifying. These people are monsters. I can’t even fathom the inhumanity these people wallow in every day.

As a result of the apparent transgression of Planned Parenthood lots of people are up in arms. Certain Congressmen and women are investigating the outfit, and others are trying to take away their federal money.

The Department of Justice is investigating the people that made the films to determine if they can be prosecuted for revealing an inconvenient truth. I’m not surprised that they are pushing against the truth to save a political agenda I don’t want to understand.

I’ve found that Planned Parenthood does deal in abortions. They say that they don’t sell tissue; they just recover their costs for processing, and perhaps shipping and handling. Their press releases say that abortion is only a small part of their business, which is about 3%. It doesn’t sound as severe if you phrase it that way, but if you think about it, it’s still severe. If I’m the model citizen 97% of the time but rob banks 3% of the time, I still belong in jail. If I’m the perfect husband except for 3% of the time I will still have a lot to answer for and home will be a chilly place indeed. Saying Planned Parenthood is involved in abortion only 3% of the time is like saying the Nazis only spent 3% of their time exterminating Jews. It’s not a valid argument.

The best thing about this is it brings the abortion debate back to the forefront. Legal abortions have been available in this country since 1973, and in that time we’ve killed about 56 millions babies. Fifty six million lives are too many for me to fully understand. That’s twice the population of Illinois, Indiana, and Missouri combined.

We don’t talk about these abortions as lost lives. We manipulate the language to make abortion prettier. We call it “women’s health”.
Instead of talking about killing babies we talk about terminating pregnancies and dealing with fetal tissue. This technique is the same one we use to justify killing adults. To be able to kill, we have to dehumanize the enemy. During the early settlement of this continent, Puritan leaders rationalized that Indians were children of the devil, so they could be killed without remorse. Like genocide, we separate ourselves from the subject of the termination to soften the implications of what we’ve done.

You’ll know that this is true if you notice the news reports when a pregnant woman is murdered. The criminal is accused of murdering the woman and her unborn child. It’s never reported that he eliminated fetal tissue. Humanizing the unborn baby serves the purpose of those involved just like dehumanizing serves other interests.

I believe we’re hard-wired to have strong affection for and a strong need to protect infants. It makes sense that to survive as a species we have to love our young. This makes the fetal tissue language necessary.

Almost anyone that can see a life form that closely resembles a baby can’t bear to see it harmed. If I were wrong on this point then deceased infants would appear on weekly TV crime shows along with the gory remains of adults. That is not done because it’s too horrible to see. That is, unless you are without normal human feelings.

I could go on and on about abortion being a war on minorities or that we are aborting our own futures with every procedure that stops a beating heart. Perhaps that is a discussion for another time. For now, I’m just glad that so many are talking about this. I hope we stop this war on babies. They are not our enemy.

Road Trip

We just completed another memorable family adventure. It was every bit as harrowing as bungee jumping into a burning vat of ravenous rattlesnakes. We took a trip to Chicago.

A normal family would fly to Chicago or take a train or drive any of the hundreds of modern expressways. A normal family might forego Chicago and go to anywhere else on the planet. We are not that normal family.

After extensive research consisting of watching “Chicago Fire” and a musical named after the city, I decided we’d save 3 or 4 dollars staying in the camper in Indiana and driving to the city. We’d get the city experience and wind down in the pastoral countryside. That sounds almost sane, doesn’t it? Wait, there’s more.

To make this a perfectly memorable trip, why not forget the Interstate and drive up old US 41? We did just that. I know now why they made interstates.

It takes a while just to get to Highway 41, as we all know. In the southern part of Indiana, it’s a good 4-lane on which you can make pretty good time if you make it through all of the 8,000 traffic lights some sadist installed. After Terre Haute there aren’t any more stop lights for a long time because the road turns into a 2 lane winding goat trail laid out by a drunk. Dragging a 6,000 pound trailer around tree infested hairpin turns makes this an especially remarkable experience.

Eventually the 4-lane unrolls again and you’re off to the next red light, and the next, and on and on.
Our destination of Cedar Lake scrolled past before we knew it. I had the pleasure of turning into a dead end alley and backing a trailer between a light pole and a covey of gang-bangers so we could turn around. After some swearing and screeching brakes we got on the right track until we got lost again.

Our RV Park claimed to be on 137th Avenue, which didn’t really exist. I later learned the address was implied and everyone else knew exactly how to translate the address to English.

While I’m thinking about it, no self respecting town needs 137 streets. Ten numbered streets are quite enough. If you exceed 10 streets, you need to make it another town. I can say Bob lives in the same town as Bill, but if they live 15 miles apart that’s not really true. They live in different places. If your town is that big, and you say “I’m going to the store in town” and you disappear, nobody will know which store you went to. Keep towns small. It’s safer.

So after 5 phone calls and 3 threats by other drivers, we found our designated RV spot. It was nice, so it was worth the effort getting there.
Not having learned anything the previous day, we continued up Highway 41 to Chicago the next morning. Without the trailer, how hard could it be?
Being an old road, 41 takes a lot of turns but is well marked every once in a while. Somewhere on the South side, a sign is missing. I didn’t know that at first but I figured it out.

I learned a sign was missing and I’d missed a turn after about an hour on 87th Street. To the uninitiated, that is a bad South-side street. The neighborhood got exponentially worse as we drove. I wasn’t sure where I was at. I could have gotten my bearings from the sun but it was hiding due to the bad neighborhood. My wife turned on the GPS but it just kept saying “You’re an idiot”. The thousands of people on the street looked angrier and more dangerous the more I drove. I think some of them were zombies hungry for my meager brains.

We finally asked directions which directed us to drive in circles for a while. After seeing the same gang graffiti on a wall over the same wino 14 times we turned against directions and eventually found a major road. The GPS said, “That was luck” and then directed us to downtown where we got lost in a much better neighborhood.

We decided to go to the Navy Pier because we couldn’t find any of the other attractions. We found a parking garage too small for a truck but paid $43 to park there anyway.

The rest of the adventure wasn’t nearly as exciting or dangerous. We learned to be as rude as the natives and managed finding the truck at the end of the day. The sun frequented the area of the city we were in, so we found our way back to the RV on the mystery avenue. It ended up being a good trip.

The next time, I think we’ll try Route 66. Want to come along?

I Forgot to Remember

By Charlie Melton

I sit down on the loveseat and turn on the TV for some midday viewing. I notice the seat doesn’t feel right.

I turn the loveseat over and see a spring is broken. I can fix that with some wire. I think I have some in the junk drawer in the kitchen.
I go into the kitchen and open the drawer. What a mess. I start digging through it hoping to find some wire.

I start emptying the disaster of a drawer. I toss nasty wooden skewers in the trash. Odd paperwork goes into a zip-lock. Odd change goes in the piggy bank. I scrape the hundreds of screws and bolts into a jar, and I’m done. The drawer looks fabulous. I make a sandwich and go back to the living room.

Wait, the loveseat is upside down. What happened in here? Then I remember I went in the kitchen to get wire to use in a repair. It’s a good thing I’m home alone. Nobody will ever know that I forgot what I was doing.

A faulty memory is a scary thing. Every lapse brings a little thought that this is the sign that we’re losing our minds. For me, it’s a harbinger of eventual inability to control my mind. I picture myself wandering aimlessly around town in my bathrobe unable to remember where I live.

Have I told you this before? I don’t remember.

I don’t know about anybody else, but the eventual loss of control of my faculties scares the heck out of me. I’m a well documented control freak and I often say I won’t ride a roller coaster because they won’t let me drive. Control issues also have made my work life what you could call “chaotic”. It’s the same issue with impending memory problems. They mean I won’t have control.

I really became concerned when I overheard an Alzheimer’s patient doing an oral test to determine his level of dementia. He was asked several basic questions about the year, where he was, the name of the President, and other simple things. He got a higher score than I did.

Being a control freak with a big fear of not being able to control my mind or memory I work to overcome or delay impending dementia. The internet is full of techniques to improve mental agility and memory. I’ve probably tried them all at one time or another.

First up is nutrition. Reportedly if you eat certain things your memory will stay and even get better.

Certain oils like olive oil, coconut oil, and fish oil helps the brain. I didn’t notice my memory getting better when I ate the oils, but my bowels noticed the oil intake and kept me well informed.

If you eat lots of berries, nuts, and seeds your memory will improve. Those worked well because I definitely remember they were very tasty in the cakes and pies I put them in.

Certain foods reportedly harm memory. Two of these are coffee and sugar. Let’s just forget about them.

Next, mental exercise is supposed to help the brain. This method is more to my liking.

Reading is good for you. I kind of dig reading, so I do all I can get away with. Recently, I even started reading instruction manuals for items I buy. It helps my brain and keeps me from breaking any more new appliances.

Puzzles and games are good for your mental agility. Crossword puzzles and Sudoku are good. Chess is a good game you can get for free and play on a computer or smart phone. It helps you think systematically. In chess you have to think several moves ahead, which for me is the mental equivalent of running a marathon.

My wife plays those games where you have to find microscopic things in a hodge-podge of unrelated scenery. She’s very good at it, and it must help. She remembers everything I ever did to make her mad.

I try to stave off the imminent loss of faculties, but what if it sneaks up on me? I work in a nursing home. To be honest, I think I work in a nursing home. I could be a resident in a nursing home. I learned a little technique from a family member. It helps me know the difference.

Every day when I get ready to leave work I check to see if I have my car keys in my pocket. If they are, I work there. If they’re not, I no longer drive because I’m a resident. This works for me, except for the day I left my keys on my desk. I had a few minutes of panic until I located them, but I’m good now.

Oh, and don’t ask to borrow my keys. You’re not getting them. I will play chess with you, though.

Fly Your Flag

It may not seem like a big deal. In the aftermath of the shootings in South Carolina almost everyone wants their flag, which is the Confederate battle flag, gone. When the issue first came up, I thought it was a non-issue. It’s the flag of a losing side in a long-ago war. It’s the flag of people that wanted to keep slaves. Since the war, the flag has served racist organizations and “good old boys”. I could care less about having a Confederate flag.

The entire Confederate flag issue is far removed from us, and has no real affect on our lives. Am I correct in that thought? No, I’m not correct.
Then, as I thought about it, how can we dictate another person’s symbols? To some, the Confederate flag stands for the sanctity of the state over the federal government. For others, it’s a sign of Southern pride that they seem to have plenty of. Others see the Confederate flag as a “Dukes of Hazard” type of redneck independence. You may have one because you like the pretty colors and really dig stars and bars.

I’m seeing the Confederate flag as a freedom of speech issue. I have the right to say what I want. You don’t have to like it. I make a statement by what symbols I choose, and that is my right. With the state being made of individuals, if enough want the flag to be their state flag, then it should be so. If you don’t like my speech, or my symbols you can ignore them or go away. It’s your choice.

So major retailers have jumped on the wagon and will no longer sell that flag. We can choose who we buy from, and what we buy. If we feel strongly enough about the issue, we can stop giving our money to businesses that oppose our views.

With all of that being said, it gets tiresome that groups try to dictate what everyone does. It gets tiresome that the thought police have to impose the current political correctness on us. They really do believe that they know what is best, and we are too stupid to make even the most mundane decisions on our own.

The attack on symbols is an attack on people. We are the people under attack.
Most of us hold the American flag dear. It is also under attack. Our favorite activist Louis Farrakhan has already started attacking the stars and stripes. He says that the flag must be “put down” because people have suffered under it even more than they’ve suffered under the Confederate flag.

Some neighborhoods try to restrict the American flag because someone may be offended. Even our local Walmart carries very few of our flags, and usually hides them in the corner in the bowels of the store.

With most of us being Christian, we have a deep reverence for the cross. It has been under attack for as long as I can remember. The people that regulate the rest of us have a pretty good record of limiting cross displays. It’s well documented that every aspect of Christianity is under attack, and that attack on the symbol is just part of it. Even Bibles are forbidden in some venues.

By attacking a person’s symbols, you attempt to outlaw the person. By outlawing symbols you outlaw a certain way of thinking and acting. By outlawing a way of life you eliminate the people that live that way.

I had a sociology professor that taught that when we brought Chinese over to build our railroads, they brought their way of life and their opium. When we finished with them, they were still here and we didn’t like it. We outlawed opium to outlaw Chinese. The same thought processes apply to many of us today. We are slowly being outlawed.

Here’s how I think it should go. Suppose my daughter brings home a guy in a leather jacket with a big swastika tattoo on his neck. I don’t like him on a great number of levels. I tell him I’m offended by him but I don’t hold him down and try to remove his tattoo. He may think I’m a jerk but he doesn’t expect me to learn to like his tattoo. It’s his right to have the tattoo, and my right not to like it. We hopefully go our separate ways and that’s the end of it.

We have to quit giving up our way of life and its symbols. We have a right to be. They have a right to be. As my least favorite son-in-law once told me, “I’m a grown man. You can’t tell me what to do.” He was right, and I admitted it even after I chased him out of my door.
Clint Eastwood nailed it in the movie “Gran Torino” when he said “Get off my lawn”.

The Challenges of Healthcare, Part III

The Challenges of Healthcare, Part III

By Charlie Melton

We were talking about the problems in health care. I pointed out that I believe nurses have to spend entirely too much time charting. They have less time to care for patients because of it. We all get less care and nurses can’t give all of the care they wish to give.

We were discussing why so much documentation is required of nurses. Some even have to chart that they washed their hands and put on gloves.
Nurses do acknowledge the need to document patient care that contributes to patient management and treatment. This communication between caregivers is essential. We’re not talking about the necessary charting. We’re talking about excessive charting.

We went through the belief that the threat of lawsuits is the driving factor for excessive charting. I said that malpractice suits are brought by people that feel they’ve been wronged or are looking for money, or both.

Why are people suing due to being wronged or looking for a payday?

The answer is that the state allows, and even encourages it. The state is complicit in excessive paperwork by nurses. In Illinois, the limits on malpractice suits are mostly non-existent. The caps enacted were ruled unconstitutional so there is really no limit on how much you can be awarded. This in itself is very enticing and very dangerous for nurses. It should be noted that states that have limits on malpractice awards have fewer lawsuits. I do not know if this equates to less charting by nurses.

Illinois also lets you sue in counties other than where the incidents occurred. Many cases end up in St. Clair, Madison, and Cook Counties because the counties give out more money.

Against my best efforts I ended up on a malpractice jury in St. Clair County when I lived in that county. The medical practice and the home of the injured party were in Monroe County. The attorney followed the money, and expected an enormous amount of it. After the longest 2 weeks of my life, we gave the person and his attorney absolutely nothing. That case, which should have been in the home county, was the exception. Most juries gave huge awards in that courthouse.

Lawyers are part of the cause of nurses being under fire. Greedy clients are part of the problem. The state itself is at fault as well. With all things being equal, I think the state limiting money available in malpractice suits will reduce a lot of the fear of lawsuits that causes excessive documentation by nurses.

I spoke to an attorney about my concerns. He doesn’t see a problem with nurses documenting so much information. His opinion is that as a professional you document. He relayed that he spends a lot of time documenting his actions. I thought it was funny that part of the reason is to protect himself from being sued by a client.

In my unqualified mind I think the medical establishment is to blame as well. Medical organizations are notoriously top-down. They give instructions and mandate actions often without input from any staff members affected by the mandates. Leaders make sweeping policies and have no patience with any dissenting opinions.

The issue of nurses’ reduced opportunities to care for patients is “standard practice” and taken for granted. It doesn’t have to be. Other industries have developed and embraced all sorts of process improvement techniques. Systems like “Lean”, “Six- Sigma”, and other methods have saved entire industries from oblivion. Some medical corporations have embraced process improvement, but not to the extent they’re needed. Leaders have to give up power to embrace the changes needed to free up nurses to do what they’re supposed to be doing. Leaders must learn that decisions need to be made at the lowest level possible.

We’ve talked a long time about excessive charting being required of nurses. We should be concerned because we want better care and more expedient care. Nurses are concerned because they want to care for people and heal. They know, and we know, that paperwork never healed anyone.
This is an opportunity for us to improve our lives. This is an issue to bring to legislators. This is an issue to bring to your medical providers.

I want to urge the state to enact limits on lawsuits. I want cases to be tried in the appropriate county. I want to get the care I need. I want to go home without waiting on a ton of paperwork. I hope you want the same thing and help achieve it.

The Challenges of Healthcare, Part 2

We were talking about the problems in health care. I pointed out that I believe nurses have to spend entirely too much time charting. They have less time to care for patients because of it. We all get less care and nurses can’t give all of the care they wish to.

The National Institutes of Health commissioned a time and motion study of 767 nurses at 36 hospitals. The study found that nurses spent the vast majority of their time (35.3%) in documentation, med pass (17.2%), and care coordination (20.6%) for a total of 73.1%. Only 19.3% of their time is spent on patient care and 7.2% of their time on patient assessment.

I brought this concern to nurses, and they believe they have to chart excessively because of the danger of lawsuits.

Is there a real threat of lawsuits against nurses?

Historically we think of malpractice lawsuits as being against doctors or institutions. That is no longer the case. Nurses are frequently named in malpractice suits. Multi-million dollar awards from malpractice suits aren’t unheard of. One source claims that Illinois malpractice case fees collected by attorneys exceed $200 million a year. This amount is only a portion of the total money awarded. Nurses are often part of those lawsuits.

The threat of lawsuits is a real danger to nurses. The professional nursing associations encourage nurses to carry malpractice insurance. The fear of lawsuits may influence how they have to perform their jobs. Because institutions fear lawsuits, they may demand an ever increasing amount of documentation to protect from lawsuits.

What is the root cause of excessive charting? As I’ve stated, I lean towards lawyers causing this disruption. I approached one of my former professors from SIU. He’s the most analytical and methodical person I know. He never makes assumptions and always follows the data to its conclusion. He’s not convinced that this is the root cause of excessive documentation by nurses. When I announced to him that I’d identified the cause, he asked how I determined that the threat of lawsuits causes excessive documentation by nurses. He teaches to repeatedly ask why until you run out of “whys”. At that point you’ll be closer to the answer.

In this case, why is there a threat of lawsuits? There is a threat of lawsuits because people want to sue. Why do people want to sue? Because either they have been wronged or are looking for a payday, or both.

It should be noted that lawyers only do what the client allows them to do.

I know that some people sue to make money. There was just a story on the news about a policeman that was getting free coffee at a business and was burned by that free coffee. He sued. We all know similar stories. Some people sue because they can. It’s further verified by the fact that when the Illinois economy goes down, malpractice suits go up. It appears that you can supplement a lowered income with the proceeds of a lawsuit.

I’ve pointed out what I see as a problem. I’ve tried to start a discussion that someday may contribute to a solution.
How bad is it anyway? Is excessive time charting enough of an issue to even care about? Are there novel solutions to the problem?
Next week in my final installment I want to look at the results of all this paperwork. Has it really protected nurses? What is the impact on the patient? What can we do, and what can nurses do?

Illinois Healthcare- Nursing part 1

The Challenges of Healthcare, Part 1

By Charlie Melton

Everybody talks about how healthcare is a mess. Too many of us have no insurance or insufficient insurance. Too many of us have to choose between food or rent or medicine.

I don’t understand all of the aspects of healthcare. I understand very little. What I do understand is that health resources often go to the wrong place for the wrong reason.
If you’ve ever been to an emergency room you know the drill. You appear, wait, get assessed, wait for the doctor, and wait some more. The nurse tells you that you can go home and then you wait more. You end up concerned, then irritated, then border on furious.

You look out of the exam room you’re interred in and see nurses sitting at their station. They’re either peering into a computer monitor or writing on paper at length. If you stroll around and spy on the nurses they’re not writing a love letter or playing Angry Birds. The nurses are charting. They’re writing down every interaction with the patient, every observation, and every action taken or not taken.

While charting is an essential part of healthcare, to the uninitiated it seems to be excessive. With that concern I asked several professionals about charting.

I’m friends with several nurses on Facebook. I messaged them individually and asked each the same question. “My perception is that nurses spend most of their time on paperwork. What do you see as the biggest factor that makes this necessary?” About 10 nurses responded with almost identical observations.

Heather Tille is a self described “Ninja Nurse”. She works in a large hospital as an ICU nurse and she is a nursing instructor at a local college. She’s currently working on her master’s degree. She says that the amount of time charting varies according to the type of unit the nurse works in, but it ultimately takes away from direct patient care. Mrs. Tille says that nurses and their employers fear being sued and that influences the charting they do. She decries the fact that attorneys go for every conceivable person involved in patient care when suing for malpractice. She says this system makes fear and the quest for money the dominate factors in how a medical provider does business. Patient care suffers.

My good friend Brandie Walters is a RN. Brandie says, “If you’re involved in a lawsuit, if you didn’t write it down it didn’t happen. I even have to chart that I washed my hands and wore gloves. It’s a waste of time. I also have to chart the same information every time I see a particular patient. How about I spend that time taking care of someone? It’s the biggest thing I hate in my career. Charting is about money any way you put it.”

What I gleaned from nurses is that nurses, doctors, and companies fear lawsuits. Their perception is that they could do a better job for patients if the fear of attorneys wasn’t so pervasive.

Is that a rational fear? Do nurses really get named in malpractice suits? Does charting have a purpose other than to protect the individual care giver?

Am I naïve when I say that nurses are dedicated and caring professionals and the very idea of suing one is reprehensible?

Over the next couple of weeks I hope to explore what nurses do. Is the paperwork your nurse has to do excessive? Does it reduce the amount of care you receive? I’m not skilled enough to rewrite standard practices, but maybe we can start a discussion that will ultimately benefit us all. Please tell me what you think by emailing me at chasmelton@gmail.com or write me at P.O. Box 378, Norris City, Il 62869.

Road Rage

Sometimes things aren’t what they seem to be. Our experiences taint our perceptions. Our view of ourselves and others affects how we see things. I think this gives order to our world. It can also make us very wrong when we deal with circumstances.

Last week I was late to work because I had a certain view of the world. If I held a different view I would have been early enough for a cup of coffee and a few words with the girls before I clocked in. I had a good excuse for being late, but ultimately it was my view of the world that betrayed me and made me late.

I’m tooling to Enfield at my regular “look at the scenery” clip. I just achieve the speed limit North of Norris City when a car passes me and the driver starts tapping the brakes. I figure I must have taken his turn at the 4 way like a lot of us have the habit of doing. I salute in apology and slow way down to show I’m sorry.

He hits the brakes and slows down. I must have cut him off without realizing it because he really seems upset. I slow down even more to increase the distance between us and placate him. He speeds up and the situation seems over.
In a short time the other driver starts his antics again. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I start mouthing oaths in his general direction. I find I still have all of the vocabulary I honed in my years in the military. Even though he can’t hear me, he senses my attitude. The situation just escalated.

My nemesis slows way down. I press the issue and get dangerously close to his bumper. He slows even more. I get a testosterone surge, and get ready for battle. He continues to slow.

The car’s turn signals come on and the driver points out of the window to a turn off. He turns in and so do I. He opens his door and I open mine. It’s time for battle.

“Something flew out of your truck back by Norris City”, he yells. “I thought you might need it.” I take a moment to process his words. “Thanks”, I respond. I continue to process the change in the circumstances. He gets back in the car and proceeds towards Enfield. I sit for a second and head back to Norris City to pick up my missing cargo. What just happened? How did I get this so wrong? Even if it was road rage, why would I get involved at my age?

I think my interpretation of the situation came from my experiences in life. I’ve lived in cities where a certain behavior facilitates survival. Some of my neighborhoods weren’t the best, and projecting a willingness to fight ensures continued breathing. Even my career rewarded aggressiveness and punished the timid. Experience may be the best teacher, but it’s still possible to get the lesson wrong like I did.
The point I’m trying to make is don’t make assumptions, and don’t jump to conclusion. A wise person I know says to think before speaking. I’d extend that to think before reacting. Something may have fallen off of your truck.

How to Backpack

How to Backpack

Don’t get too fancy. Publications that make their money selling ads for gear make you think you need a lot of fancy stuff. The gear is cool, but for the most part unnecessary.  Remember the basics. You need shelter, water, and food. You need it in that order. Lastly you need some tools and something to carry it all in.

The backpack: The backpack the kids use for school won’t cut it. You need a waist belt, shoulder straps, and a chest strap. Good packs normally have an internal or external frame. Most of the weight in the pack will ride on your hips. The chest strap transfers weight from your shoulders to your chest. If your pack doesn’t have a chest strap, you can improvise one with a bandana or something similar. Avoid a cord, over time it’ll cut you. Plenty of pockets are handy but not necessary. When you load your pack, it’ll probably work better if you keep the heavier stuff on the bottom. A lower center of gravity is more stable. Do put emergency and commonly used items where they can be easily accessed. Don’t hang a lot of crap on the outside of your pack; it’ll drive you crazy when it’s swinging around.

Shelter: Weight counts and less is more. Dome tents can be very light. Pup tents are usually a little heavier. I prefer to take just the rain fly from my dome tent along with some cord. I’ve rigged a shelter that kept me dry in a torrential rain. A lightweight waterproof nylon poncho can double as a shelter. Before you start, use waterproofing spray and seam sealer to make sure the shelter is waterproof. An emergency poncho or even a large trash bag can work as a shelter.

A big part of shelter is something to sleep in or on. You won’t want to carry a heavy air mattress, let alone blow it up. The foam sleeping pads don’t weigh much and help a lot with comfort and warmth. I usually tie mine to the top of the pack. A sleeping bag is good, but can be heavy. I’ve used a Mylar space blanket as a ground cloth and a fleece blanket to cover up with. Just remember that most of the cold comes from the ground you’re laying on, so insulate under you. If you have plenty of dry leaves you can put them under you for insulation. You can also fill a trash bag with dry leaves and make a mattress. Just remember that you won’t be able to call the front desk for another blanket, so plan for the absolute worse weather possible.

Water: this is heavy. Carrying enough for 2 or 3 days can be backbreaking. Carry some inside your body by drinking two quarts before you start. If you are where the map shows streams and ponds, carry 2 or 3 quarts in your pack. The Nalgene water bottles are best because you can put hot water in them and use them for extra heat in your bed at night. Do not drink unfiltered or untreated water unless it is an emergency. Take a purification pump or purification tablets, or both. When you finish drinking the first quart of water, find a way to replace it. Remember that if you don’t have to pee, you’re dehydrated.

Food: You want the lightest food with the most calories. Mac and cheese, ramen noodles, instant rice, and the like are light. Lighten them more by removing from the box and putting the contents in a zip lock bag. Cut out and include the directions. Tuna, chicken, and other proteins are available in pouches. Jerky is OK, but makes you thirsty. Peanut butter is available in pouches or small cups. Trail mix is good. Granola bars, breakfast bars, and the like pack a good calorie punch. I have taken a frozen steak in a zip lock. It was thawed by dinner, and tasted good after a hard hike. Always remember to keep all food away from where you sleep. You don’t want late night visits from raccoons or something bigger. Hanging your food bag in a tree is a good idea.

Tools: I carry a multi tool and a good pocket knife. You normally won’t need an axe. I sometimes carry a fixed blade knife as well. I rarely need it, but I like to have it just in case.

String is a tool. Strong twine is OK but para cord is better. It’s very strong and light. Rope isn’t needed unless you’re going to rappel. Take twice as much string as you think you’ll need.  Also carry a couple of feet of string in your pocket.

Take at least 3 ways to start a fire. I carry my trusty Zippo, which I fuel up before I start the hike. A couple of disposable lighters are good. Add some stick matches in a waterproof case. A candle is good for starting tinder. You can also put petroleum jelly on cotton balls for a fire starter. Believe it or not, potato chips are good fire starters.

A couple of small flashlights are good to dig through your gear at night. You can get an LED light that is the size of a quarter. A LED headlight is very handy. Glow sticks are OK, but are one time use.

You need to take any meds you are prescribed. A few NSAIDs and a few antihistamines could be useful. Band aids, alcohol pads, and antibacterial cream are a must. Most importantly take moleskin. You’ll use it when you first feel a hot spot on your feet. Cut a piece to go around, not on, the hot spot. Blisters are the enemy on the trail.

I don’t carry a lot of clothing. I make sure I have plenty of good socks, and a couple of bandanas. Just remember cotton is “dead man’s clothing”. Cotton is cold when damp and can give you hypothermia. Wool, polyesters, and fleeces should stay warm when wet. The clothing you wear should be treated with permathrin to keep bugs away.

Get a trail map and a compass. GPS is for sissies. Study the map before you leave. Learn how to use it with the compass. If you learn where you are in relation to major highways you can always go cross country if you lose the trail.

Toilet paper is a very valuable tool for obvious reasons. Bury or burn used TP. It’s nasty to pack it out. A small plastic trowel is light weight and useful digging a cat hole to use as a bathroom The TP stays there and you cover it up. Like in the movie “Up”, dig the hole before you go to the bathroom.

Aluminum foil is the most versatile thing you can take. It’s a cup, it’s a skillet, and it’s a hat. Use it for a roof over your fire in even the hardest rain. Wrap your cold toes in it to warm them. Put a few sheets of the heavy duty foil in your map pocket of your pack. You’ll be glad you did.

Here’s how I make camp. I look for a high spot as close as possible to water. If it’s hot I try to catch the wind. If it’s cold out I try to be sheltered from the wind by topography or a stand of trees. Never camp directly under a tree.

After I find a spot I rake sticks, leaves, and other debris away from where I’ll sleep. I use my small bottle of DEET and spray the area so I’ll be bug free all night. I rig my canopy, lay my sleeping mat, and lay out my bag or bedroll. I make my fire away from my shelter and on the downwind side. I set about getting water and making dinner. I find a place to hang my food bag to keep it from the critters. By dark I’m all done with chores and am ready to enjoy the fire. When I turn in I undress and roll my clothes up for a pillow. I never wear my clothes when I sleep. They can be damp from perspiration in the morning and can give a chill.

Safety on the trail

If it’s hunting season wear an orange vest or hat. The reason is obvious.

You’ve seen the guy with the outdoor adventure shows that does all of that daredevil stuff in the wilderness. Don’t do that. If you try climbing sheer cliffs and hopping over wet boulders the coroner will get to examine your mangled remains. If the path is treacherous go another way. Go around a steep place instead of over it.

If you have to cross a stream undo your waist belt and chest strap so you can drop the pack if you slip. Pick a crossing where the water is moving slowly. Use your walking stick on the downstream side to make you more stable. Go slowly. When you get out on the other side, empty the water out of your boots and change to dry socks to prevent getting blisters.

While we’re on the subject of walking sticks, you don’t need to get fancy. You can find one on the trail that works fine. I started taking to cheap light wooden canes. I carry them backwards and sort of sling them forward as I walk. They slide well in my hands and have never given me a blister. I also look real cool as I hike with them.

Be wary when going downhill. You’ll want to hike faster, but you are more likely to get injured if you speed up. Steep descents are easier if you go down at an angle. That’s why most trails have switchbacks on hills. If you meet another hiker the one going downhill has the right of way.

Its night and you’ve finally laid your sore and exhausted body down. Every sound is magnified. A field mouse in the dry leaves sounds like a grizzly bear. If the ground isn’t shaking, it probably isn’t big enough to eat you. Probably not. 

As you look out the night is pitch black because you’ve got the light of your fire and your flashlight killing your night vision. If you must have light, put it several feet away. You’ll want to light the campsite, not yourself. Only use the light nearby for close work, like finding your pills in the pack. Besides, bugs and zombies will be drawn to the light, so keep it away from you.

Oh yeah, and have fun.

Hold the Line to Save Our Seniors.

 Medicaid cuts are endangering our loved ones in nursing homes all over Illinois.Cuts are making it impossible for caregivers to care for the people they've grown to love.

 Caregivers from all over Southern Illinois rallied at Benton to protest impossibly low funds for nursing home residents.

They braved torrential rain to make their voices heard.

Everyone acknowledges the fact that Illinois is in dire straights financially. Playing politics with the lives of senior citizens is not the answer to our fiscal crisis. Forcing nursing homes out of business for a devious goal is reprehensible.  

Contact the Illinois Governor and your state representatives to stop this madness.

Region- Beta Paradox

Get Over It Already

By Charlie Melton

The year is 1973. I’m driving through Atlanta. This guy cuts me off on I-75. I honk and he gives me the finger. I remember it like it was yesterday.

The little things that bother us never seem to go away. I remember every time someone stole my parking place and each time still bothers me. I have a dose of OCD, which doesn’t help with my inability to let things go. If you want to be remembered, just do something rude to me and I’ll never forget.

I have less trouble forgiving the big things. I once had my wallet stolen along with every cent I had in the world. I not only resolved the situation, but I was able to forgive the thief. I rationalized his motives and got past it.

None of that ever made sense, unless I’m just a psychological mess. OK, I probably am a mess, but there is a reason I’m like this. It’s called “Region-Beta Paradox”.  The way I understand it, we have psychological mechanisms to deal with severe trauma and stress. We don’t have mechanisms to deal with minor irritants, so the little things actually bother us longer than the big things. It may make sense if we look at it in a different way.

Let’s say you get a paper cut. It bleeds a little and is sore. You suck it up and deal with it. You don’t bother cleaning it and don’t put a band aid on it. It still bothers you days later. It may get infected. It limits some activities and generally nags at you for a while. It takes forever to heal.

Now let’s say you get a severe cut. It’s bad, so you go to the emergency room. You get it cleaned up. You end up with 5 stitches and a bandage. You take prescribed antibiotics. In a couple of days you’re back up to speed. “Region-Beta Paradox” explains the difference in the two processes.

How about another example? You live on West Main Street. You walk down to the Cardinal to get some pie. It takes you 15 minutes. Later you decide to go to Wal-Mart. Its 10 miles away, so you get in the car. You arrive in 12 minutes. It takes you less time to go further because you chose the mode to fit the situation. That’s “Region-Beta Paradox”.

Why do we care? This knowledge can help us in our daily lives. We know that our spouses get really irritated when we leave our smelly socks in the middle of the floor. That’s because it’s so minor the wife can’t get over it. The same thing goes for not putting the toilet seat down. It’s minor enough that she can’t get past it. If you understand the paradox, you know that if you do something major, she’ll get over it. That being said, I guess if you take your wife’s sister dancing, she’ll forget all about it sooner than she’ll forget about your socks in the floor.

You know how much you’ll suffer if you’re late for dinner or your Mother-in-laws funeral. Maybe it would be better for everyone concerned if you didn’t show up at all for a few weeks. By understanding the paradox, you can see how much nicer it’ll be if instead of being late you don’t show at all. Your significant other will undoubtedly use all available resources to calm the waters stirred by your absence. It’s a win-win situation.

If you try these things, remember that your results may vary. You could say that “objects in the mirror may be larger than they appear to be”. The psychological mechanism your wife may use to get over you going on a date with her sister could involve attorneys and court appearances. You may find it’ll lead to alimony, which is one of those irritants that never heal.

There is also a possibility that not showing up at home for a few weeks will result in her having another man leaving his socks on your floor. In that case, you may find it severe enough that you work to get over it quickly.

It is a paradox, indeed.

My Happy Place

My Happy Place

By Charlie Melton

Many years ago my girl-child gave me a painting of a cabin. It’s in the high plains on a serene river. The sun is setting over the mountains far off on the horizon. A small canoe is tied to the rough hewn dock. Smoke curls lazily from the stone chimney. The fire casts a soft glow through the windows. It’s a beautiful pastoral scene. It makes me happy and calm when I look at it. It’s my happy place.

I’d be content there. The cabin is away from the hustle and bustle of modern life. It’s so pretty; I would post it on Facebook. I would, but there’s no cell tower. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add that. It’ll still be serene. It’s my happy place.

I’d be content there, but I’d have to charge my phone and laptop. I have to communicate that it’s serene. I also have to eat, so the power poles will pay off by keeping a refrigerator going. It won’t hurt to have power lines and poles. It can still be my happy place.

I’d be content there, but I noticed there are no roads. I have to buy food, and it looks a long way to town. Just one road won’t hurt. We had better pave it so I can get to town. I’ll also need a car. That won’t hurt the painting. It’ll still be serene. It’s my happy place.

I’d be content there just like it is. I’d only have to add a cell tower, electricity, a car, and a road. That’s the only changes to make it nicer. That’s all I need, except for maybe cable, or satellite. It can get boring out there on long winter nights. I might want to watch TV sometimes. A satellite dish won’t hurt. It’ll still be serene. It’s my happy place.

I’d be content there. I could take the little canoe from the rough hewn dock and paddle down the river. I’d go slowly and enjoy the day. Life would be so good. It’ll just be me and the canoe and the river. It does get a little hard paddling upstream, so a small motor won’t hurt. It won’t be really loud. Maybe it should be a bigger motor so I can get back sooner. I’ll have to get a bigger boat for the motor, but that won’t hurt. It’ll still be serene. It’s my happy place.

I can’t wait to really go there. It’s so serene. I love my happy place.

Nursing Home Miracle

Miracle Man

By Charlie Melton

Miracles are all around us. One of those miracles just walked out of our door. We’ll call him Hank.

In April last year Chasity and Roas went to screen him at the rehab facility. Hank was alone as often happens. Other nursing homes had turned Hank away. He had no hope.

Hank had a stroke in January. He could move his eyes. He could move his left hand slightly. He had no other functions. He couldn’t eat. He couldn't communicate. He was just an inanimate shell of what he’d been 4 months before. In those 4 months Hank made no progress.

Chasity says Hank not having health insurance was an issue. Even when a person has health insurance, it’s hard to pay the bills when giving long term care. Hank obviously needed therapy, but even if he had Medicaid they only pay for outpatient therapy. With the decreased payments in 

Illinois, even with Medicaid it would be difficult to provide his care.

Roas tears up a little when she talks about Hank. Roas saw something in his eyes that compelled her. Roas took Hank’s hand in hers. She told him they work in a small home in Enfield, not far from his town. She asked if he wanted to come to Enfield and he cried. Hank tried to kiss her hand but couldn’t. The deal was cemented at that point.

Chasity and Roas brought Hank to the home in Enfield. They went about the business of providing for his needs, as they do for every resident.

The consensus is that Hank had no will to live. He thought he had no value. Hank gradually learned that he was wrong.

Darlene provided the restorative care for Hank. She hung a red balloon over his bed. Darlene told him to hit the balloon. He couldn’t. She didn’t give up on him. She became his coach and sometime nemesis. One day, probably to make Darlene shut up, he hit the balloon. That was the first step on a long journey. Hit the balloon. Such a simple but profound act forever changed everything.

Three weeks after coming to Enfield Hank spoke. In the 4 months at the rehab center since his stroke he’d not progressed but in 3 weeks in a nursing home he spoke.

Hank had been unable to eat, but after 4 weeks in the nursing home he was able to eat. His feeding tube was removed.

Jennifer was one of his nurses. She’s from the same town as Hank, and knows some of the same people he knows. She used this as common ground to talk to him. Jennifer learned about his family, especially the Grandson he adores. She engaged him in small talk. She, and many others, helped him see that Enfield had a support system for him. He’d never had one before

He cried, he got angry, he laughed. Every day with Darlene he would mouth the word “Why?” Darlene told him they just have to try. Just try. He mouthed “I hate you” every time to Darlene but she kept coaching him. When he could manage holding his hand up he’d give Darlene the finger but she still persisted.

Hank began to care.

Whether willingly or unwillingly, he worked and ultimately followed Darlene’s directions. Hank went from immobile to sitting and then walking. From blood, sweat, and tears he walked.

At first he couldn't even lift a 1 pound weight. He mastered and surpassed the weights. From heroic efforts and supported by the love of his caregivers he grew stronger and functioned better.

Hank worked for a year. He made friends. He got his sense of humor back.

Hank walked out the door to his own home.

Joyce was one of many aids that cared for Hank. Joyce says, “He worked so hard. He came so far and did so well. He is a miracle.”

Amy is another of Hanks nurses. She also tears up when asked about Hank. “He came here a compete invalid and walked out” she says. “He makes me feel I succeeded as a nurse. I think Hank is a miracle”.

None of us know how miracles work or why. Occasionally we all get to be a small part in a divine plan. Though impossible to explain or quantify what happens in a miracle, it’s incredible to see one.

Hank, your caregivers are thankful for the miracle that is you. Thank you for coming into our home. Thank you for walking out the door.

Earth Day Exposed

Exposing “Going Green”

By Charlie Melton

I really intended to write a nice, feel good piece on Earth Day, which is the 22^nd of April. A key tenant of this is “going green”. Going green is good for the earth. I really want to do that because I like the earth quite a bit. I've lived on it most of my life, and it hasn't killed me yet. I really want to do that but I can’t. I can’t because I did my research and I won’t lie to you.

Earth Day was started in 1970. Though I didn't find anything that said so, I assume it is an outgrowth of the hippie movement of the 60’s. That gives it a “coolness factor”, which I like. It also coincides with Vladimir Lenin’s 100^th birthday, which I don’t like. For you youngsters that don’t know, Lenin is the guy that brought Russia a revolution and communism, and the rest of the world a cold war. He was known as the leader of the commies, also known as “reds”. It’s probably just a coincidence that Earth Day is on his birthday. It would be paranoid to think otherwise. My research just made me paranoid.

Earth Day is an international event endorsed by the U.N. We all have opinions on the U.N. and for most of us it’s not favorable. I think they’re just another group of egomaniacs intent on telling me what to do.

The focus for this year’s international Earth Day is “Green Cities”. That seems like a good idea on the surface, because most of the cities I’ve been in could use some greening up. What could be so bad about that? City people growing gardens have to be a good thing. I looked up a green city in Virginia. They have more rules than a maximum security prison.  They’re green because green is good for you and you’re going to like it or else. When you build you pick one of 5 exterior finishes. There are a plethora of 7 materials to pick from. You don’t get to pick the atrium garden because you’re going to get one whether you like it or not. . Hooray, it’s Earth Day.

Do you have the curly compact fluorescent light bulbs? They use less energy than other bulbs. They’re “Earth Day” compliant. That means they’re “green”, so that makes it OK paying ten prices for one. They’re green unless you break one. According to the EPA if you break a CFL bulb you have to evacuate the room, turn off the ventilation, and do a lot of other things. Hooray, it’s Earth Day.

While we’re on the subject of electricity, hybrid cars are green. We believe that they’re energy efficient and good for the earth because “they” say so. I've found it requires more energy to make a hybrid car than to make a regular car. You make up the difference in gas, though. You’ll save about $300 a year on gas, and after only 7 years you’ll offset the higher cost of the hybrid. You’ll offset the cost unless you have to buy a battery pack for several thousand dollars. Hooray, it’s Earth Day.

The E.P.A. really made up my mind on the “Earth Day”-Lenin connection. They’re heavily into the Earth Day/Green Cities. One of their key indicators for a green city is equal distribution of wealth. For us familiar with communism, this is their thing. I couldn't believe I found this in the literature from our own government but I found it and many other troubling statements. Hooray, it’s Earth Day.

To sum it up I found that the United Nations likes Earth Day. They like “going green” as well. Going green means I use the things they want me to use, live the way they want me to live, and share my money with people who don’t have any. Am I paranoid, or is green the new red?

 Hooray, it’s Earth Day.

Smart Phones Are Destroying Families

Technology You Shouldn't Dare Use

By Charlie Melton

We baby-boomers are embracing new technologies. We've gone from a dumb old crank phone to a very smart phone. We gave up vinyl records for 8-tracks, then cassettes, then CDs. Our TVs are flat but hold hundreds of channels somehow. It’s hard to keep up. Even if we study new technologies we don’t really understand it. Let’s have a look into the seamy underbelly of one of the new gadgets.

Let’s start with the “smart phone”. It’s a computer. It’s a music player. It’s a camera, although frequently a fuzzy one. It is pretty good at just about everything, except functioning as a phone. If it was really a phone, wouldn't it look like one? Wouldn't it be ergonomic enough to actually hold to your ear? Using a smart phone feels like you’re holding a brick to the side of your head.

The ungainliness of using it as a telephone is a clue. I believe the unknown purpose of smart phones is to prevent communication instead a facilitating communication.

Smart phones are great to send text messages, but text is a method to communicate when you don’t want to commit to a real conversation. The messages are as obscure as semaphore on a foggy day. Typing a message requires use of a virtual keyboard with virtual keys the size of a grain of rice. You can barely see where you have to press. Being able to hit the correct spot 2 out of 10 times is about as efficient as it gets. The net result is that the recipient gets information totally unrelated to what the sender intended. Couple this with the devilish “autocorrect” and this can go very badly. An attempt to relay good cheer may result in getting beat up or fired from your job.

A smart phone is full of “apps”. That’s short for “Ain't Pertaining to People”. Many of them are games designed to make you obsess over something stupid, like crushing little candies.  Do you think I’m wrong? Try to talk to someone in a waiting room. Try talking to a teenager anywhere at all. You can’t do it. They’re totally engrossed in the game or whatever the distraction is.  Some apps show where your friends are in relation to your location, but I’m sure that is so you can avoid them so you can continue crushing candies.

Most smart phones come with “social media” programs on them. Social media is a means by which you lie about yourself so you can communicate with others that are lying about themselves. If everyone is lying is it really communication? Communication implies some sort of relationship. I would think that relationships require a genuine person on at least one side.

What is the point of making a phone that prevents communicating with others? It’s just like when you have a jealous spouse. It’s to isolate you so it’ll own you. If the phone thing consumes all of your attention it feels secure. More accurately, the company that makes the things feels secure. When a little plastic brick is your best and only friend, you’re a customer for life. That means you’ll continue to buy and upgrade and download forever.

We've learned what it means to embrace the technology associated with the smart phone. It gradually sucks you into a relationship that supersedes all normal human relationships. It will cut you off from the rest of humanity. It’ll make you a mind numbed drone. Beware the wiles of the smart phone.

Our next topic is Bluetooth: Evil speakers or colorful dental option? Just let me finish the next level on my game and then I’ll be ready.

Tax time is the Right Time

It’s Time to Pay Up

By Charlie Melton

It’s that special time of year. It’s not only the time of year we stare in disbelief at a stack of Christmas bills. It’s also that most patriotic time of year. It’s tax preparation time.

Paying taxes has been a highly revered ritual since time immemorial. Wait, I chose the wrong word. Paying taxes is a highly reviled ritual since time immemorial. Reviled is the word I’m looking for. We despise paying taxes, even though we reap many benefits from this civic duty.

By paying taxes, we get all sorts of benefits. Some, like procuring nice digs for elected officials, are readily apparent. Other benefits are harder to spot.

We pay taxes so that our trusted elected officials have nice places to hang out. Who wants senators or congressional representatives to be uncomfortable while doing what we overpay them to do? We can’t have them uncomfortable like our military is uncomfortable. That just wouldn’t be proper. They have to have those nice leather chairs and polished wood desks to sit at while sending others into discomfort. If we didn’t pay taxes, the legislators might get a splinter or pressure sore from less plush furnishings. Do you want that? I know I don’t. They also need the congressional gym to relieve the stress of spending our money. It’s all very necessary.

We pay taxes so that the less fortunate don’t have to, well, do whatever. I personally feel great going to work under the influence of a soothing balm and ibuprofen so that an able bodied male half my age can go fishing with his buddies. His value is so much greater than mine, I’m glad to pay for his numerous benefits.

If we didn’t pay taxes, protestors wouldn’t protest. There’ll be no time to loot, pillage, and plunder if they have to work to pay their own ways. What would become of our country without the violent and agitated rabble to keep us straight? It could be very bad.

We also pay taxes for prisoners. Judges say that lawbreakers have to be confined. They never say they have to be uncomfortable. If a judge sentenced a person and said, “Ten years in the state prison and no free dental care or college classes”, we’d pay fewer taxes. Would the discount on taxes be worth contending with really unattractive mug shots from a lack of dental care? I just saw an Illinois lawsuit demanding hearing aids for prisoners. I’ll be the first in line to pay for that. Elderly residents would probably agree if they had the appliances available so they could hear the proposal.

I’m being sarcastic, of course. I don’t think any of us would mind taxes if they were spent in a way that resembled sanity in any way. Thoreau felt the same way. He refused to pay his taxes because he didn’t approve of how they were spent. He went to jail because of his refusal, but he saw that as an adventure. They finally released him but he remained unchanged in his opinions.

We fought a revolution against taxes, and we won. I constantly remind British friends of this, but they are unimpressed. They still line up to pay their TV taxes, road taxes, and even taxes on the privilege of an outside faucet.We’re currently not far behind those British. Our legislators spend incredible amounts of energy taxing everything they can get their greedy little hands on. The rock song “Taxman” explains it best: “…If you try to sit I’ll tax your seat….If you take a walk I’ll tax your feet…”

It occurs to me that if politicians served like the military serves, we’d be better off financially. Put up some barracks in D.C. for congress and let the military stay in the capital building. I don’t have a problem with a young corporal having a nice chair and a deluxe gym. Perhaps if congress serves like the military serves we’d have a little more prudence in government.

Grandsons Rule- Literally

A Guide To Church

Papaw can't write today. He needs a little rest. Last time I looked, he had a cool rag on his head and was talking to himself.

My name is Charlie. I'm five years old. I'll write to you today.

What to do at church:

If your grownups make you go to church, like mine do, I can help you get through it. Just follow these simple steps.

1. If you stay close to your grownup when you go in the foyer, it will feel confident and start talking. Count to 3, then move away real quiet. Look for any tables, shelves, or drawers. Sometimes these things hide candy. Try to find a paper that grownups sign their names on. They use these to volunteer to do important things. There is only one copy so wad it up and put it in your pocket to color on later. This is a good place to stick your tongue out at a girl. Don't get too close because they have cooties.

2. Follow your grownup to the pew. Try to get an aisle seat in case you need to escape later. Sit quietly until church starts. Now, it's opposite time. When they stand, lay down. When they sit, stand up on the pew. When they sing, try dancing on your seat. When the grownups pray, count to 5, then drop a song book from real high to the pew. Watch for people to jump. It's funny.

3. Look for a little old Grandma. Get her attention. Give her a big smile. If she smiles back, run to her pew and give her a big hug. She may smell like old people, but you'll get candy or some money. On your way back to your seat run into the aisle and do a little dance.

4. Crawl. When the mood strikes you, get on the floor and crawl away. This causes a big uproar. Nice.

5. Look at your grownup. If it has a red face and bulging eyes, say "I love you." and give them a big hug. Sit quietly until they relax, then repeat steps 2 through 5.

I hope this helped. If you follow these simple steps you'll learn to love church as much as I do.

The State of Illinois is Ill.

The State Is Unwell

By Charlie Melton

Illinois has a disease.  We’re number 1 or near that in everything undesirable about a state.

Illinois is the only state that has an A- credit rating. We’re the worst. The states on our borders are AAA, which is good.

Illinois is bad for job growth. Our neighbor Indiana is near the top of the list but Illinois is near the bottom at number 40. While we’re similar to Indiana in geography and culture, we are way below them in job growth. This really doesn't make sense if you see that the average education level in Illinois is higher than the level in Indiana. We were all taught that education leads to better jobs, but Illinois defies that idiom.

Curiously, the rate of obesity in Illinois isn’t very bad. I can only assume that in Illinois most of us can’t afford to eat enough to be obese. Maybe so many of us are out of work and able to exercise daily it keeps the obesity rate lower.

It doesn't make sense we’re a dysfunctional state. We should have everything going for us. We’re in the center of the continent. We have one of the largest cities in the country. We have 2 of the largest rivers in the country and all of the commerce these rivers can possibly bring. We have use of the Great Lakes. Major air hubs are at our disposal. We have lots of interstate highways for numerous trucking enterprises. We have minerals and an ocean of oil. We can, and do, grow enough food for millions. Our universities are excellent. We have talent and drive and desire to succeed. We have all these things going for us and still can’t get our collective act together.

I think our state is sick but I can’t accurately diagnose it. Perhaps a multidisciplinary team of diagnosticians can come up with a diagnosis and a treatment plan. A couple of psychiatrists, an MD, and a social worker could get together and devise an intervention.

Maybe Illinois is bipolar. When the state is in its manic phase it starts a lot of projects it can’t afford and throws a bunch of money out the fiscal window. The inevitable depressive phase comes and the state locks itself away from everyone and covers its head with a blanket waiting for the sky to fall.

There’s a possibility Illinois is schizophrenic. While we don’t see a lot of officials walking around talking to imaginary friends, there are other indications of this disease. The state is completely out of touch with what the normal among us call “reality”.  Another indication is speech that doesn’t make sense. If you've read or heard the official gobbledygook in press releases out of the capital you know what I mean. The State having hallucinations would explain a lot of their behaviors.

Perhaps the great State of Illinois is psychopathic. The state lacks fear of repercussions for bad behavior. The state lacks any real human emotions like affection or responsibility for actions. Its pastime is torturing people; in this case its citizens.

I’m not a diagnostician but I know nuts when I see it. The state needs some intense therapy or a big injection of a mood altering medication in its rear end. After the State is subdued somebody smarter than me can devise an effective treatment plan.

Whatever the specific diagnosis of our State, we can all agree that it’s just plain nuts. It’s not the endearing “flowers in the hair dancing in the rain” nuts. It’s the scary “chainsaw and leather mask” kind of nuts.

The good news up is that when you’re at the bottom the only way you can go is up. I just hope we’re not chain sawed before then.