The Official Newspaper for Foster County
The Official Newspaper for Foster County
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My brother and I just experienced what I believe was our longest one-on-one, face-to-face chat ever. (Yes, even longer than the long-ago heart-to-heart conversation highlighted by “Throw another dart at me…and another…nyah nyah, missed me…”) We had our differences growing up (maybe I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of his taste in music and TV shows, and maybe I was overly sensitive when he named a cow after my first girlfriend); but it was comforting to be able to talk in a civil manner abou...
According to the National Retail Federation (motto: “Proudly middlemansplaining since 1911”), Americans set a Halloween spending record of $12.2 billion in 2023. (And that didn’t even include earplugs for muffling the seasonal onslaught of “spooktacular,” “boo-tiful,” “to die for” and other undead “dad jokes” shambling in from Father’s Day.) But, citing research from Lending Tree, “Newsweek” magazine says 59 percent of Halloween spenders plan to scale back purchases this year because of tighte...
My handy-dandy “column topic radar” lit up when I encountered an internet article called “12 Phrases You’re Using That Make You Sound Unprofessional.” (This is not to be confused with the equally intriguing online article titled “12 Phrases That Would’ve Been 13 Phrases If That %$#* Black Cat Hadn’t Revved Up My Superstitious Streak.”) The author helpfully pointed out a number of utterances that can make you appear immature, unfocused, unhelpful, inflexible, whiney, too casual or too something...
“Telling Our Stories.” That’s the 2024 theme of National Newspaper Week (October 6-12). Newspaper employees are being encouraged to share with the readers exactly why they chose the newspaper business as a profession. Most of the origin stories are heartwarming and noble, although a few are undeniably embarrassing. (“Um, I heard somewhere that the Tribune and the Intelligencer have a Joint Operating Agreement, and I thought I might be useful, you know, operating the joints, dude. Imagine...
I confess to employing the occasional half-truth. In order to keep conversations moving (and save face), I sometimes mumble, “Sort of” when someone queries, “You know where ol’ (fill-in-the-blank) lives, don’t you?” Around these parts, it’s a major social faux pas if you don’t know some nodding acquaintance’s street address, the Vehicle Identification Number of their conveyance and their middle child’s school locker combination. In this part of the country, “I know where you live” is a nonneg...
For decades, my mother (who was a veterinarian’s assistant during my childhood) gloated about her visit to my third-grade classroom. The dignified Mrs. Shelton accidentally transposed some numbers and Mom quickly corrected her for stating the normal human body temperature is 96-point-8. (With the proliferation of true-crime podcasts, it seems today the normal human body temperature is “room.” But I digress.) And I fondly remember wandering through corn mazes with my son’s elementary school...
Just because there are trained professionals dealing with the infrastructure, logistics and marketing of the Summer Olympics, it doesn’t let the rest of us off the hook. To fulfill our obligations as world citizens, instead of just blundering into nearly three weeks of pageantry and athleticism, we should apply critical thinking to the whole phenomenon. But you’re probably way ahead of me. You’ve doubtless pondered why we don’t have Spring and Autumn Olympics. I can just imagine the former...
As I sit here admiring my 88-cent container of mustard, I can’t help feeling self-conscious. I know that restaurants advertise their “value menus” and retailers offer no-frills knockoffs of their glitziest products, but I keep picturing the corporate CEOs loathing such concessions as a necessary evil to appease the (ugh!) cheapskate rabble. (“I thought all the franchise owners got the memo to partner with Billy Graham Evangelistic Association and upsell customers the Eternally Happy Meal!”)...
The venerable comic strip “Gasoline Alley” is wrapping up a storyline in which the dastardly assistant mayor schemed to change the town’s name from Gasoline Alley to the ostensibly more modern Electric Acres (without even offering a compromise such as Hybrid Hollow). Sentimentality saved the day in the funnies, just as it usually applies the brakes to abrupt municipal name changes in the real world. (“I have no idea which jurist, general or fur trader our town was named for. Neither did my fath...
Bathroom floor tiles that weigh you, analyze your gait and evaluate your fall risk. Bathroom mirrors that initiate telehealth conferences based on your complexion or facial tics. Toilet seats that check your vitals (temperature, heart rate, oxygenation). According to the Wall Street Journal, these marvels (and others – such as self-cleaning capacities and soothing infrared light) could be commonplace in upscale homes within the next decade. If so – and if the restraining orders expire so I can...
A recent Wall Street Journal article provided food for thought about the decibel levels in restaurants. According to the article, in 2023, audio data from the app SoundPrint found that 63 percent of restaurants are too loud for conversation. (Granted, this is a blessing in disguise if the conversation veers toward “SoundPrint? You told me your phone doesn’t have enough space for photos of my trip to the International Lint Museum, but you have room to download SoundPrint????”) My father hated...
What an amazing coincidence! Two days after Apple released its much-ballyhooed Vision Pro contraption, Joni Mitchell gave her first Grammy Awards performance. It’s a coincidence because someday hordes of Vision Pro devotees will doubtless be warbling, “I’ve looked at life from no sides now/Tripped over something, might be a cow…” Surely you’ve heard of Vision Pro. Apple insists on calling it a “spatial computer,” but reviewers tend to describe it as something like “a mixed reality headset t...
Okay, maybe I’m approaching this from a position of privilege. One of my earliest memories is of tagging along to my mother’s former grammar school when she voted. Social Studies was one of my favorite elementary school classes. Mr. Lowry’s junior high Civics class taught us about polling, current events and debate skills. I made straight A’s when I minored in Political Science in college. So I’m a wee bit prejudiced when I applaud the arrival of the book “Restoring the City on a Hill: U.S....
A course is a course, of course of course … Or is it? According to those madcap bean-counters at the National Golf Foundation, the number of off-course golfers (those going to simulators, driving ranges and entertainment venues such as Topgolf) recently surpassed the number of traditional on-course golfers in the United States. For the sake of full disclosure, I am neither a traditional golfer nor a high-tech golfer. But I do enjoy playing miniature golf with my wife and son when we’re on vac...
Kicking and screaming were not involved, but it did take our 19-year-old son Gideon an interminably long time to show an interest in soloing with the drivers license he obtained at age 16. Finally, the reality of walking 20 minutes from his off-campus apartment in inclement weather made him more agreeable to letting us buy him a sensible vehicle. (Also, my over-protective mother has relinquished her habit of squawking, “Don’t let that young’un get splattered all over the road!” every time th...
My family will soon take advantage of our state’s tax-free weekend for clothing and school supplies, but none of our hard-earned money will go for distressed clothing. Coincidentally, none of the money we spend at the food court will purchase pre-chewed burritos. Call us rebels. Silly me, I had assumed that America’s fascination with faded/torn/threadbare clothing would be a passing fad; but it seems to have settled in as the New Abnormal, along with backwards baseball caps, droopy pants and...
“We are the Cubs from Den 3/And no one could be prouder/If you cannot hear our shout/We’ll yell a little LOUDER.” That chant from my Cub Scout pack-meeting days comes to mind as I explore the issue of moderation-challenged speakers, or, as the prestigious American Psychiatric Association clinically labels them, “bozos who wouldn’t know an indoor voice if it bit them on the rear.” Surely you could name some loud talkers. Maybe you are a loud talker. When you overhear people whispering...
Who needs forensics and gunfire? My wife and I have been catching up on episodes of “The Mysteries of Laura,” the 2014-2016 NBC series starring Debra Messing. Forget murders and chases. The real reason the show resonates with me is because as Laura Diamond juggles the duties of a single mother and police detective, she’s understandably a slob with her car. Yes, my poor Altima gets woefully neglected inside and out. It’s a magnet for the abundant tree sap in my yard and the interior is home to...
I won’t hazard a guess as to whether it achieves immortality like “grassy knoll” or “hanging chads,” but surely the phrase “bomb cyclone storm” will remain in the public consciousness of those who endured its cruelties. We’ll laugh about this someday, but right now an awful lot of Americans have a “single digit” they’d like to give right back to Mother Nature. And we’re not exactly chummy with 2022, which on its way out is taunting us with, “Bet now you wish you had bought the extended warra...
Wow! Will this really be my 19th Father’s Day as a father? My biggest regret is that I’ve had to learn so much the hard way. To make life easier for other fathers and prospective fathers, I’m sharing reader-submitted pearls of wisdom: Resign yourself to the fact that the mother of your progeny will probably never admit that you deserved an epidural for the paper cut you suffered from the Lamaze brochure. Remember that whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you available to encounter the next co...
Hollywood makes iconic catch phrases seem easy. Whether it’s McGarrett’s “Book ‘em, Danno” or Vizzini’s “Inconceivable!” in “The Princess Bride,” we take them for granted. But there is a dismaying amount of trial and error behind the relative handful of utterances that fully capture the public consciousness. For example, the magisterial “Make it so” of Captain Jean-Luc Picard in the “Star Trek” universe. Early versions of Picard’s command included “That’s what SHE said,” “Pretty please with a...
A tiny portion of my “day job” at a farm-and-home cooperative involves writing radio commercials and on-hold phone messages. More often than I like to admit, I get stuck for a closing zinger and settle for trite sentiments, such as “Let our friendly staff help make this your best hunting season/New Year/spring ever!!” (Note to self: next spring, remember to try something dignified like “Please, please make your money quit hibernating!”) But I really do hope my readers enjoy the best spring ever....
Yes, receipts do seem to breed like rabbits in my poor overstuffed-with-credit-cards-and-gift-cards-and-loyalty-cards-and-hastily-scribbled-notes wallet. But that’s my personal problem to sort through at home in my quieter moments. That’s why I’m deeply disturbed by the recent phenomenon of retail clerks putting me on the spot with some variation of “Do you want your receipt?” or “Would you like your receipt?” Snap judgment time! I can understand “Would you prefer the receipt in the bag?” or “W...
