Much ado about nothing

I have been posting to this blog for nearly 18 years now. I have published so many posts and discarded so many potential posts that it is difficult to remember what I have actually told you versus what I may have intended to tell you but thought better of and discarded before it ever saw the light of day. Adding up all of the yearly totals in the archive list over there in the sidebar produces the number 2,286 posts, and doing the math (British, maths) reveals that my average annual production of blogposts is 127 posts. Some years are higher than others, of course, and some are lower. In fact, dear reader, that is the very definition of average.

For a while I included Feedjit in the sidebar and enjoyed keping count of the number of countries from which readers came and seeing the little flags Feedjit displayed. If memory serves (and it obviously doesn't), the country count was either ninety-something or one hundred thirty-something. After a while the little game I had invented lost its attraction and I deleted Feedjit from the sidebar.

For a long time I didn't include labels in my posts, then for another very long time I did, then for a third very long time I didn't again, and now I do when I remember to.

Please don't tell me I shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition. Someone once criticized Winston Churchill for doing so and he replied that that was the sort of criticism up with which he would not put. I think that people who never end sentences with prepositions don't know what language is all ABOUT, and don't know what prepositions are FOR.

You may try to diagram the sentences in the preceding paragraph if you care to, but no extra credit will be given.

Why am I telling you all this?

I don't know, but a shrink (British, psychologist) could probably give you reasons. I could even recommend one, my first cousin, Dr. Philip F. Caracena, but since he died in 2016 at the age of 81 he probably isn't taking new patients at this time.

I am in rare form this afternoon.

I think the reason is that I am composing this post on my desktop computer's keyboard rather than on my smartphone, and my fingers can almost keep up with my mind on a full-sized keyboard. They lag disappointingly behind my mind when I'm using my smartphone keyboard. Ergo, I am somewhat giddy at being able to keep up with my thought processes (I am a fast typist) and am capturing all the flotsam and jetsam along with the pithy stuff.

If you have encountered any pithy stuff so far, please let me know where it is.

I will now close and post this, my 2,287th post, because Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie) and I have to get ready to go to our friend's house later today for homemade pizza and root beer floats. The basic food groups are so important, n'est-ce pas?

Truth in posting: No alcohol was consumed during the creation of this post. I'm just happy to be alive.

Ah, yes, I remember it well

Whether you know it or not, June 23, 1969 was a very important day. On that day IBM (International Business Machines) "unbundled" its software and services from its hardware. Up until that day, if you bought IBM hardware, you also were required to buy IBM software. With a stroke of the pen at IBM's corporate headquarters in Armonk, Westchester County, New York, and a little help from a lawsuit initiated by the United States Department Of Justice, the computer software industry was born.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

I thought you would want to know.

After being honorably discharged from a four-years-and-nine-months stint in the United Stated Air Force, during which time I had received training as a computer programmer, I was hired by the IBM Corporation on November 1, 1965, and began working for it/them in Poughkeepsie, New York. Almost exactly three years later, the company transferred me to its brand new faciliy (evidence: we were housed in temporary trailers for months until the new building was built) in Boca Raton, Florida.

On February 1, 1969, I flew to Stockholm, Sweden, and worked at the IBM facility on Lidingö until March 1, at which time I flew back to Boca Raton (and, boy, were my arms tired).

The next big date in my work history for I've Been Moved is the "unbundling announcement" (as it was called) on June 23, 1969. Later events inclue my transfer to Atlanta, Georgia in 1975 and my resignation from the company in 1978, and my re-entrance into the company in 1997, and my retirement from the company in 2000. None of this is probably of any interest to anyone but me.

As a matter of record, I also posted about the unbundling in two other posts, in 2014 and 2016. You can read those posts if you type "unbundling" into the search box at the top left of the blog's header. You may even learn what a troglodyte is.

Onward and upward to more important things, or as Buzz Lightyear often said, "To infinity and beyond!"

That is, Ta-Ta For Now.

Nostalgia Porn, anyone?

I am not a fan of "country music" because I often find it twangy and nasal and performed poorly. But I heard a song recently that has been around since 1972 that I really like. You may have known it for years but it was brand new to me.

Someone said many years ago that a great country song consists of three chords and the truth. That phrase is now inscribed on a wall of the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee.

When brothers Harold Reid and Don Reid wrote the words that became "Class Of '57" they documented truth.

"Class Of '57"

Tommy's selling used cars, Nancy's fixing hair
Harvey runs a grocery store and Margaret doesn't care
Jerry drives a truck for Sears and Charlotte's on the make
And Paul sells life insurance and part-time real estate

Helen is a hostess, Frank works at the mill
Janet teaches grade school and prob'ly always will
Bob works for the city and Jack's in lab research
And Peggy plays organ at the Presbyterian Church

And the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, we all thought we'd change the world with our great works and deeds
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs
The class of '57 had its dreams

Betty runs a trailer park, Jan sells Tupperware
Randy's on an insane ward and Mary's on welfare
Charlie took a job with Ford and Joe took Freddie's wife
Charlotte took a millionaire and Freddie took his life

John is big in cattle, Ray is deep in debt
Where Mavis finally wound up is anybody's bet
Linda married Sonny, Brenda married me
And the class of all of us is just a part of history

And the class of '57 had its dreams
But living life day to day is never like it seems
Things get complicated when you get past eighteen
But the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, the class of '57 had its dreams

(end of song)

Truth in blogging: I was not a part of the class of '57, I graduated in the class of '58. But the song resonated with me nevertheless. Apparently I have reached the age where what might be described as Nosalgia Porn is attractive. My date on the night we graduated actually was named Brenda, but she didn't marry me.

No matter when you graduated, I think every class has had its dreams, and every class looks back with a combination of fondness, accomplishment, failure, and regret.

What thinkest you?

To hear the song performed, and performed well, enter Class of 57 Brothers Of The Heart into your favorite (British, favourite) search engine.

Food for thought, episode 17,643

I have wondered about something for a long time that I think we have never discussed on this blog. Let's discuss it today. It's the little word 'as'.

Say what?

Let me explain. I'm referring specifically to the word 'as' found in the middle of a particular sentence in the middle of what Christians call The Lord's Prayer. If you're unfamiliar with that prayer, it's the one that begins "Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be The mame."

Here is the sentence I'm talking about:

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.

Some traditions use this wording intead: And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

But what does that 'as' mean exactly? Here are some possibilities:

1. Because.
2. Only to the same extent that (and not one whit more than).
3. At the very same instant that (and not one second sooner than).
4. At some future unspecified time, possibly just before I take my last breath or even later such as on a Day of Judgment).
5. Inasmuch as (that is, since).
6. For it is our intent to (even if we never actually get around to).

My mother would often say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Let that sink in.

Perhaps I am overthinking this. Perhaps it is enough simply to note that immediately following the 'Amen' on that prayer in the sixth chapter of Matthew's gospel are the following words:

'For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will forgive your trespasses: But if you forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive you.'

It is sobering to contemplate on a day when a great deal of so-called "mostly peaceful" but often quite violent "protest" is being predicted and even encouraged in some quarters.

Perhaps we ought to stop saying 'God bless America' so much and start praying 'God save America' instead.

P.S. - Today is (a) Flag Day, which commemorates Betsy Ross presenting George Washington with the first American flag on June 14, 1777; (b) a military parade in Washington D.C. in observance of the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army, which the Continental Congress in Philadelphia established on June 14, 1775; and (c) the 79th birthday of President Donald J. Trump, who was born on June 14, 1946. These are apparently occasions of either pride and happiness or hate and disgust, depending on one's political views.

Today is an important anniversary

(Editor's note. This post from the archives was originally published in 2009. --RWP)

On June 6, 1944, D-Day went forward as planned, World War II eventually ended, and names like Eisenhower and Churchill made their way into the history books.

On June 6, 1958, in the early afternoon, on the soap opera As The World Turns, Claire finally married Dr. Doug Cassen. Claire was the mother of Ellen Lowell who was a friend of Penny Hughes who...it really is too complicated to explain.

I don’t remember the former event (I was only three) but I distinctly remember the latter because at seven in the evening on the same day, my dad and stepmother were married in one of the smallest churches I ever saw (Methodist, before they merged with the Evangelical United Brethren and started calling themselves United Methodists) in one of the smallest towns I ever saw (Coppell, Texas, population approximately 600). Dad was 52. Mildred was 43. I was 17. Two weeks earlier I had graduated from high school in a town 30 miles away. Two months before that my dad and stepmother had been introduced by one of her brothers-in-law who worked at the same aircraft plant as my dad. Five months before that, on October 4, 1957, the day the Russians launched Sputnik, my mother had died after an eight-year battle against cancer.

Suddenly I was no longer an only child living with a widowed father, I was the middle one of five children. Suddenly I had two new older siblings (Bob and Ed) and two new younger siblings (Patsy and Billy). Suddenly I had a new name to avoid confusion (Bob Jr.). Suddenly I was no longer two thousand miles away from any aunt, uncle, or cousin. I had four new aunts (Cleo, Margaret, Faye, and Sue) and their husbands (Romie, Fritz, Oliver, and Jack) and five new uncles (J.D., Russ Jr., Marvin, Billy, and Freddie) and their wives (Ovaline, Dorothy, Thelma, LaWanda, and Martha) and an endless supply of new cousins (Kenneth, Janice, Jerry, Jimmy Wayne, Mike, Gary, Helen, Carol, Libby, Danny, Larry, Daisy, Ray, Brenda, Connie, Cindy, Barry, Terry, Jeff, Paula, Russ, and a few I have probably left out). And even though both of my grandmothers had died before I was born and one grandfather whom I had never met died in Iowa when I was seven and my other grandfather whom I had seen only once when I was 14 lived far away in Pennsylvania, I had a brand new set of grandparents (Russ Sr. and Virginia). And every last one of these new relatives lived nearby, and they were used to getting together often. It felt a lot like this:

...only bigger. Don’t bother clicking; it’s futile.

All of my new ready-made family absorbed my presence rather easily (what's one more among so many?) but for me it was a real culture shock at the time.

Eventually I adjusted and life went on. Sometimes my dad would call my stepmother Ruth by mistake and sometimes she would call him Clarence. My dad lived for nine years after that eventful day in June 1958. My stepmother eventually married again to a man named John and they were together for nearly thirty-five years, and I said all that to say this:

You can get used to just about anything if you put your mind to it.

Eventually I even had sisters-in-law (Linda, Judy, and Beverly) and a brother-in-law (Clyde) and lots of nieces and nephews -- Stacy, Sam, Donald Bruce, Pam, Penny (who is named, and I’m not kidding, after Penny Hughes from As the World Turns), William, and Sandra. And now there are even great-nieces and great-nephews.

But it did take some time to get used to being called Bob Jr.

The two men in the photo above are not Bob and Bob Jr., they are Winston Churchill and Dwight D. Eisenhower.

(Editor's note. Coppell, Texas, is not so tiny any more. According to the U.S. Census Bureau folks, it had about 42,000 residents in 2020. That fact will take me more time to get used to than being called Bob Jr. --RWP)

Sic transit gloria mundi, memento mori, and other Latin expressions

The following three sentences did not originate with me but they provide a good jumping off place (translation: inspiration) for what I want to say today:

In my 20s, I spent a lot of time wondering what other people thought about me.

In my 40s, I didn't care at all what other people thought about me.

In my 60s, I realized that other people were not thinking about me at all; they were much too busy thinking about themselves.

I want to add a fourth item to that list:

In my 80s, I have realized that most of the people I ever thought about or who might ever have thought about me are dead.

One day I will be dead too.

And so will you.

Everybody dies eventually. The mortality rate is 100%.

I hope this hasn't come as a shock to you.

Actress (or more linguistically preferred nowadays, actor) Loretta Swit (Major Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan in M*A*S*H) died this week but Margaret O'Brien is still alive.

If you don't know who Margaret O'Brien is, look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls.

Dick Martin of the comedy team Rowan and Martin used to say "look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls" on Laugh-In. Today he would probably say to google it. If you have never heard of Rowan and Martin or Laugh-In you are probably a member of Gen Z or Gen Y or Gen X or even possibly a Millennial. If so, you should stop reading the blogs of old people and find a more productive way to spend your time, preferably on something that pays well.

P.S. - Fortunately, for Christians there is the hope provided by the resurrection of Christ. Look it up in your Funk & Wagnalls.