RRN Online Volume 260

May 26 '01

Volume 260

Leos Hot Time Ahead

Generous, warm, and loyal In The Stars are among the traits that characterize those of us born under the sign of Leo, and that's just for starters. I don't put a lot of stock in astrological charts or readings, but I must admit to finding more personal hits than misses when it comes to personality traits of Leos. Naturally, I dismiss those negative qualities such as opinionated, overbearing, or autocratic, while accentuating and reveling in the positive qualities.

I'm not sure how folks get caught up in horoscopes, as I always found them to be of such a general nature that one could read about anything and find some common ground with the star-based "predictions and revelations," but I'm certainly not going to try to convince anyone I'm a typical Leo.

Leos love "center stage," and the audience that goes with it. Perhaps, that's a valid reason for a party. If so then blame the stars for my inclination toward sponsoring an annual event for readers of this newsletter and other friends.

In the early days of this newsletter, I shared the names of subscribers from time to time, but once the number of readers grew to twenty, I reconsidered my actions and discontinued the practice. As a privacy advocate, it occurred to me that some readers would just as soon have their anonymity respected. More recently, I have shared statistics from the database of subscribers, but have stopped short of listing the names of subscribers. Approximately half of all subscribers reside in Pontotoc or Pontotoc County, and most of them would recognize the names of other subscribers if they saw those names in print.

Instead of broadcasting the names of subscribers, a better method of introducing readers to one another seems to be an annual gathering rooted in fellowship and food. This practice was begun on Memorial Day weekend in 1998 with that first event being the occasion to celebrate the second year of this publication. A backyard barbecue was enjoyed by the four dozen in attendance.

The second celebration did not get scheduled until late the following year. The second celebration was held in late November of 1999, due to our household being in a transitional state during the warmer months of summer. We had changed our minds about remodeling our house and bought another one instead. Thus, the second convocation was an open house event.

The third of the annual events, a fish fry, was held last July at our present home on Dogwood Circle. More than sixty people were in attendance. Lee Gordon and Jim Hess served up some fantastic tasting catfish and hushpuppies. So well received was the event, that I have enlisted the same duo to try to outdo themselves again this year. Anticipating an even bigger crowd to attend this year, I have also invited my brother-in-law, Gene Crouch, to bring one of his fish-cookers to help with the massive undertaking, and I have asked my son, Jason, to come up with some musical entertainment for the late afternoon event.

Realizing some folks will not be able to attend the celebration, regardless of the date, and realizing that some people require a lengthy notification to work something into their hectic schedules, and mindful that others need sufficient time to make plans to be somewhere else other than at an RRN bash, the date of this year's celebration will be July 28^th. Two months out should be sufficient time to accommodate any and all of the above. If remembering dates is a problem for anyone, I suggest he or she associate the occasion with the last Saturday in July.

Invitations will be sent by mid July to all living within a respectable driving distance from Pontotoc. Persons living outside a one hundred fifty-mile radius of Pontotoc should not expect to receive an invitation but are surely welcome to attend.

Make a Leo's day and make plans to attend a late afternoon get-together in late July. Details will follow, but plan on having a hot time.

Numeric Flashback Pesticides And Herbicides

I'm not one who regularly experiences flashbacks. I have them occasionally, but they’re not of the type experienced by trauma victims or war veterans. Mine are more subdued. I had one while driving in the Arkansas Delta, recently, and I was grateful for its image breaking the monotony of the flat, long straightaway before me. There, while pushing the Arkansas State Trooper’s acceptable grace limit above the posted speed limit and in the quietness of my mind’s eye, I clearly saw numbers. They were on the side of a bottle whose shape was closer to rectangular than cylindrical or round. The numbers represented fluid ounce gradations which are useful markings when mixing a chemical solution from a bottle of concentrate.

My sister’s back lot, the one in which I made a dent with a chain saw about six weeks ago, had a thriving crop of poison ivy among the undergrowth. I didn’t locate it early enough to keep it from finding my delicate skin, but the following week I mixed up a few gallons of Roundup, the heavy duty version for brush and stubborn plants, and proceeded to spray everything I could see that remotely resembled poison ivy.

I had purchased the non-selective herbicide last year to use on my neighbor’s kudzu that invades the illeagnes shrubs at the back of my backyard, but I never got around to spraying the kudzu as it was late in the growing season when I bought the Roundup. The week after I sprayed the poison ivy at Sarah’s place, I mixed another sprayer-full and "gassed" some weeds at my house, especially those in flowerbeds and along the perimeter of the houses.

It takes almost a week to see the results of a given spraying with Roundup. By the time I decided the kudzu needed a good soaking, the poison ivy at Sarah’s and the weeds around my house were brown as toast; Roundup had done its job.

When I mixed the chemical with water to douse the kudzu, I carefully noted the current ounce marking and poured only the recommended quantity of chemical for use in the 2-½ gallon sprayer. However, weekend before last, the kudzu showed no signs of being less healthy than the day I sprayed it, though a full week had lapsed. The grass in the expansion joints of the driveway also showed no evidence of being subjected to a growth inhibitor, though I had sprayed them the same day I sprayed the kudzu.

Something clicked in my mind when I had the flashback experience, and suddenly I remembered the Roundup bottle did not have any numbers or lines to gauge the amount removed from the bottle. In fact, I remembered using a pen to divide the height of the translucent container into approximately equal fourths just so I could keep up with how much of the contents had been used.

Given the set of circumstances as I viewed them almost two hundred miles from Pontotoc, I concluded that I had sprayed the kudzu with something other than Roundup. What is was, I didn’t know, but the one thing I knew for certain was it wasn’t worth a hoot as a herbicide.

They say that as one gets older, mistakes due to carelessness and forgetfulness increase. I won’t readily admit to getting older, but carelessness played a major role in my recent mistake.

I returned to Pontotoc on the afternoon of my flashback experience, and, after unloading some boxes of files that Barbara had asked me to bring to Pontotoc from Greenville, the next thing I did was look to see what I had used to spray the kudzu. The bottle I saw in my flashback sat about one foot away from the Roundup. It was Diazinon, an insecticide, which Barbara had bought thinking it might sterilize fire ants. No wonder, the kudzu seemed to be thriving, I had soaked it with a pesticide.

It was then I remembered wondering why the supposed "weed killer" had smelled so much like cotton poison. There must be a ‘thion type chemical in the pesticide, and its distinctive odor should have told me it wasn't Roundup I was spraying. I had worn rubber boots while spraying the pesticide, and after tromping through the kudzu and weeds I was spraying the boots had too strong an odor to take inside the house, so I stashed them in the carport without once thinking I might have been spraying a pesticide.

I don’t know what triggered my flashback, but I know I had fretted for several days over why the Roundup I had sprayed, or thought I sprayed, was not producing any results. I suppose as I mentally replayed my actions of that day my thoughts finally came together, like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and picture was complete. As I saw the numbers in a flashback, my brain flashed a second memory, namely, the Roundup container had no numbers for measuring ounces. Another mystery solved, but a greater mystery remains. How could I have sprayed insecticide thinking it was a weed killer?

Boomers Faulted Social Ills Explored

It's either the fault of the "baby boomer" generation or else it's a direct result of school desegregation, but it could be both. The fault to which I am referring supplies an answer to the question "What's wrong with our society?"

The "boomers" are responsible for turning my world upside down. I was almost a "boomer" myself, but I didn't quite qualify as I was born the summer following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. For boomers and those that follow, I won't fill in the timeline, since it would be to play into their outstretched hand. No, it's better they look up the date, for they'll remember it better if they do.

Prior to the "boomers" rearing their children, children at social gatherings were required to eat last. It was a rule that was strictly adhered to during my childhood, but by the time my children were born, the children of "baby boomers" were being moved to the front of the serving line. "Boomers" considered it unthinkable to have a child wait on food while adults ate.

At church feedings, I have observed that senior citizens and small children get preferential treatment at mealtime. They are allowed to be among the first served, and if seating capacity is minimal these are given first choice of a seat. I have a strong feeling that by the time I'm a full-fledged senior adult, seniors will be overrun by the younger crowd who must hurry off to busy themselves in other activities.

School desegregation is largely responsible for the breakdown of discipline in the American classroom.

When I grew up, the parental rules of obedience were quite clear, "Son, if you get a whipping at school, you'll get another one when you get home."

That was a rule in not only my home but in the homes of everyone I knew. In the lives of others, I knew of several instances of punishment, for a wrongdoing at school, being meted out at home as well.

Desegregation and "boomers" have all but obliterated disciplined students and respect for authority from the modern classroom. "Boomers," more than any prior generational grouping, have continually taken the side of the child and questioned the right of teachers to discipline said child by corporate punishment or other means. Teachers, weary of having to answer for their actions before local school boards, have been forced to suffer the taunts of unruly brats as administrators turn a deaf ear to pleas for help.

Desegregation has dumped a class of children in the classroom whose parents quite literally tell them, "Don't you let no White teacher spank you!"

It doesn't take many lawsuits or threats of lawsuits for teachers and administrators to abandon all forms of discipline that once were sufficient for keeping the average student in line. The breakdown of accepted disciplinary practices by mandated desegregation did not go unnoticed by White students. By the examples of others, they too learned that a few lawsuits go a long way.

This writer attended numerous high school assembly programs where a few hundred students respectfully listened to a speaker or watched a staged performance by an outside group or a peer group, but, these days, school assembly programs are almost non-existent, largely because of the undisciplined behavior of those who are now allowed to misbehave.

I'm not an advocate for military schools, and I most certainly do not support "home schooling." Religious or "faith based" schools may have more to offer than either of the above, but in my view, public schools, for all their faults, are still the best places for children to be educated. Yet, public schools and parents must address the issue of discipline and respect for authority if our schools are to survive.

I'm not sure one can count too heavily upon "the church" to help in this area, either, for just last Sunday, a pastor stopped in the midst of a solemn baccalaureate ceremony to poke fun at the collegiate rival of his own alma mater. Many laughed at the pastor's jibes, but many did not. The roots of poor taste and disrespect seem to have permeated every aspect of our society.

This writer realizes his own answers to our societal woes are simplistically expressed, herein, but hopes the reader finds these musings thought provoking and welcomes differing opinions.

Bodock Beau The Choir

Most folks over fifty can recall the TV program "Name That Tune." Below, Dena Kimbrell challenges readers to "Name That Choir."

It was visitor's day at the lunatic asylum. A few dozen of the inmates were standing in the courtyard singing "Ave Maria," and singing it beautifully. Oddly, each of them was holding a red apple in one hand and tapping it rhythmically with a yellow pencil.

A visitor listened in wonderment to the performance and then approached the choir director.

"I am a retired choir director," he said. "This is one of the best choirs I have ever heard."

"Yes, I'm very proud of them," said the conductor.

"You should take them on tour," said the visitor, "what are they called?" (Try to figure it out without reading ahead. Hint: Think of famous choir.)

"Surely that's obvious," replied the conductor. "They're the Moron Tap-an-apple Choir."

Pat & Ken Gaillard submitted the rather unsound medical advice that follows:

Medical Advice

Q: I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

A: Your heart is good for only so many beats, and that's it. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?

A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable slop.

Q: Is beer or wine bad for me?

A: Look, it goes to the earlier point about fruits and vegetables. As we all know, scientists divide everything in the world into three categories: animal, mineral and vegetable. We all know that beer and wine are not animal, and they're not on the periodic table of elements, so that only leaves one thing, right? My advice: Have a burger and a beer and enjoy your liquid vegetables.

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?

A: Well, if you have a body, and you have body fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?

A: Sorry ... Can't think of a single one. My philosophy is: No Pain- No Pain. (and remember if you want to stay in shape, Round IS a shape)

Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?

A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should be doing sit-ups only if you want a bigger stomach. I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had regarding food and exercise.

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