Census Tests Good Citizenship

Everyone should take responsibility for being a good citizen. Part of living in a free society (ok, we can discuss the accuracy of that description later) is that everyone must do their part to keep things working. And for Americans, in many cases, we do it voluntarily. I love those signs along the highway, for example, that announce which civic and business organizations are keeping that stretch clean: The Kiwanis, First United Methodist Women, Al’s Plumbing and Heating, The American Nazi Party … Ok, maybe not all of the groups are nice ones, but they are doing an important service by picking up the trash along the road.

It concerns me that with Social Studies increasingly cut out of the curriculum, our children learn less and less about citizenship in school. Even the word itself seems old-fashioned. The most visible example of Americans “participating in our democracy” are those annoying “Tea Party” people who not only make demands purely in their own self interest, but don’t seem to understand even the basics of how our government works.

I take pride in my good citizenship. I recycle (most of the time). I vote in every election. I obey traffic laws (well maybe not always speed limits, but I have a very full schedule… ). My cats are spayed and neutered. And I drive a hybrid car which is a never ending source of self-righteousness.

Unlike many complainers in the United States, I have no problem with the census. It is, for one thing, constitutionally mandated. The data is helpful to government and businesses in countless ways. So if I can, I would like to help.

Except for one thing - I think I threw away my census form.

See, it’s because of junk mail. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even go to the mailbox unless I’m expecting a Netflix DVD. It’s a pain to stand over the trash can and carefully sort out the bills and rare personal correspondence from the newsprint, pizza coupons, and catalogs of companies I haven’t ordered from in years (this is a time when I should recycle …). It’s not hard to imagine a piece of business class post, mass mailed from some obscure federal office, getting lost among the junk. I must have tossed it without a thought.

This is surely a blot on my citizenship. I would be embarrassed to have a census worker come to my door. It’s not like I’m too ignorant to know it’s a census year. I’m not going to answer the door holding a shotgun, proclaiming that I don’t want to be counted because I don’t trust the “govermint.” I would probably apologize for making them come to my house because I was so careless with the mail.

Apparently I’m not the only one who, for whatever reason, almost didn’t participate. As I tried to enter King Soopers the other day without being accosted by the usual folks asking for something (you know, the Shriners, pollsters, girl scouts), a woman intercepted me and asked if I’d been counted.

Before I could snarl that all I wanted was some milk and cereal, and couldn’t I just enter the store one time without being harangued, I realized she was giving out census forms. I stopped in my tracks, took an envelope and thanked her.

The next day, my stats were on their way to the feds, my model citizenship restored for one more day.

stamping out! Random acts, of Capitalization and, senseless Acts. of punctuation

i have a Sign, Above; My desk at Work - proclaiming the Title; above Which is one of My Missions in Life - writing! poorly On Purpose Is harder, Than it Looks (for me - but. i spend Several Hours a Week! editing sloppy Punctuation even, stuff Written. By Upper management who. should Know better has our Educational System, deteriorated that Much or Is This, A result of The internet, age, which,. includes, An increase In texting that usually results in writing, Shortcuts abbreviations Etc. or perhaps it Has Always Been this Way i believe english is a Living Evolving language and I make A distinction between casual Writing on say facebook versus a More formal, report at Work! but Without some Standard's. it Is difficult 2 Communicate don't get me Started on grammar usage and, the way, other People drive i may b a Snob but. 1 Thing i Know 4 sure; My Ability to Edit and correct, Other's horrible, punctuation, and, capitalization, Ensures greater Job, security At Least I Hope so

I Do Not Clean Alone

I don’t believe in ghosts in the usual sense, but I do believe that I am haunted by my mother every time I clean the house.

I hate cleaning more than anything. I’d almost rather go to the dentist. I really hate it. But is it worse than living in a dirty home?

I like to play a little game called, “How many inches of dust can you stand?” It’s even more challenging when I don’t feel well, like this week when I missed two days of work.

I won’t bore you with the details of my illness, but I will say that I knew I was feeling better when that little dust ball near the TV (the screen of which itself was covered in a layer that dulled the color of every broadcast) – that little dust ball I’d been staring at for 48 hours finally got to me. Like Lazarus, I rose from the sofa, summoned the Windex and went at it.

This is where my mother comes in. She wouldn’t tolerate, for one minute, a dust ball near the TV. Dust simply wasn’t allowed in her home. Her standards were extremely high. When I came to visit from graduate school one time, I tried to help her clean, and she yelled at me for vacuuming the stairs wrong. How many ways can there be to vacuum stairs? I stopped offering.

Mom was notoriously hard on professional house cleaners. Even near the end of her life when she could barely walk or talk, she’d leave sticky notes around the house reminding the cleaning woman to “dust the banister” or whatever was “forgotten” last time.

That’s why she haunts me now.

It’s all I can do to dust the surface of things. But her voice is in my head reminding me to get under the knick knacks, not just over the surface. She still tells me to get the floor’s edges, vacuum under the chairs, and dust WITH the wood’s grain instead of against it.

I don’t think she liked cleaning any more than I do. She was just tougher. Her sheer grit overcame any inclination to be lazy.

For several years, I hired a service to clean for me. I had to stop that when Charles, my 18 month old (kitten) came to live with me. Unlike every other cat in the world that I know of, he doesn’t hide when the vacuum is going. He chases it. In fact, he loves to help clean. Chasing the dust rag is great sport, and attacking the sheets as I throw them over the bed is tremendous fun (see photo). Making the bed always ends with a kitty sized lump in the middle. This makes hospital corners, which my Mom bent over backwards to teach me, very difficult. And it makes me unable to subject the cleaning service to his attentions. I would have to pay more for them to put up with him, or they’d accidentally let him out because he runs to the door whenever someone comes over.

It was only recently that I could overcome my mother’s voice as I cleaned the house. It occurred to me that I don’t have to feel guilty for not edging the carpet or washing the kitty nose prints off the windows every time. Or ever. Oh I still hear the voice – I just realize now that I don’t have to let it control me.

I live alone (well, with Charles and Lily). I clean for myself. If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough.

My neighbor loves to clean. She vacuums every day. In spite of her cats and dog, the place is always spotless. I wish I loved to clean like that. But it will never happen. I’ll have to settle for not feeling guilty when I finally do run the dust rag over the tops of things and vacuum around the chair, and I’ll do the windows some other time. Maybe.

Open Up that Golden Gate – Maybe (Part 2)

Last week, I announced that I was seriously considering a move to Southern California. This week, I promised some pros and cons. On impulse, I created a survey and asked my Facebook friends to comment. This was not a scientific poll. But it also wasn’t a Fox News poll where every question was completely slanted towards a predetermined result.

I am impressed by the thoughtful responses to the survey. For the most part, folks seem happy where they live. Coloradoans in particular are passionate about their home. I was also touched at the amount of care expressed for me. I have some truly wonderful friends, coast to coast.

Here are some of the data from the survey:

• 63% of the respondents came from Colorado/Wyoming/Western Nebraska (in other words the “local” region); 16% came from the west coast; 5% came from Nebraska (east of the Panhandle), and 16% from somewhere else. I’m sure the fact that the majority of respondents are local affected the percentages in the rest of the survey.
• 68% prefer four distinct seasons; 21% agree that Colorado has only two seasons (summer and winter, all year around); 11% like the idea of green grass throughout the year.
• Given a choice, 68% prefer the mountains; 27% prefer the ocean; 5% don’t take advantage of living near either one.
• For solitude, 26% prefer the beach and 74% prefer the mountains.

The best part was the advice written to me. While anonymous, I have a pretty good idea of who many of you are.

Excerpts:

• “I think Bill should do what he wants … and stop paying attention to what I say in the comments section of his blog.”---- Oh, by the way Phil, you do seem to comment more than others on the blog, but I think that’s because Blogspot makes it difficult to leave comments unless you’re a scientist or engineer.
• “I cherish seasons, have never met a natural wonder grander than the Rockies, and (also dream) of relocating to Southern California.”
• “If you’re bored, I say get out. You can always come back.”
• “Getting off my mountain bike on a quiet trail in Boulder County may be the only place I’ve ever found that I can just sit still and “be” for a while. If you haven’t found that place ... yet … keep looking until you do.”
• “DON’T MOVE DON’T MOVE DON’T MOVE DON’T MOVE DONT MOVE”
• “Just don’t move to (someplace in Nebraska). 12 distinct seasons a year, secluded places to get away … but you need them … because of the closed mindedness that is such a part of the culture.”
• “Do what your heart tells you to do.”
• “So Cal is expensive! Traffic is even worse than Denver. Denver has more sun than So Cal. The people are nicer in Colorado … You can almost always see the mountains (from anywhere) in Denver (but) You need to be at the beach to see the ocean.”
• “Rattle your cage.”
• “I love the ocean, but having grown up … where the seasons NEVER change, I’d never live in a place without seasons again … it overrides my love of the ocean and indifference toward the mountains.”
• “You would miss the mountains!”
• “Move to California!!!”
• “Just do it! … Life is truly an accumulation of your experiences … The mountains (are different) in CA, but there still are mountains and they’re really beautiful.”
• “Be careful about trying to make your get away place home.”
• “Plenty of fun in the sun in California, just find a place where you aren’t living on top of others … there is (also) all the good wine and wine country.”
• “Do what your heart tells you to do … the grass always looks greener someplace else … you will find yourself in a tough housing market with high pollution in a highly body conscious gay community where it is tough to make new friends …”
• “Your soul belongs in Colorado.”
• “I would miss you … but you have to do what makes you happy.”
• “Reach for the sun.”

While the conclusions are not all in agreement, this gives me some good material with which to think. Sometimes it helps just to know that I have the option to do something. If I don’t feel stuck, I’m less anxious to make a change.

Meanwhile, here are some of my responses to other comments received:

• Yes, I know about the earthquakes, but when the Yellowstone supervolcano blows, we're all doomed anyway.
• I'm pretty sure there are doctors in California. Also Mormons.
• Orange County in particular is heavily Republican. You can't even swing an underfunded social program without hitting a Republican. But I've lived among those people before. I can do it again.
• No, Alaska is not under consideration, no matter who resides there.
• I wouldn't move to California without a huge increase in income. I am not cheap.

Just wait until I get into one of my periodic fantasies about moving back to Nebraska.

Open Up that Golden Gate – Maybe (Part 1)

I’m seriously considering a move to Southern California. That’s a big temptation considering we’re in the middle of one of those famous Colorado March snowstorms. But this has been on my mind a long while.

I’ve considered the Golden State many times over the decades. When first graduating with my teaching degree in the 1980s, I interviewed with several California school systems. I even passed the California Basic Educational Skills Test (CBEST) to qualify.

Later, I married a man from San Francisco who made the move east to be with me. He nearly talked me into returning to the Bay Area with him, and then decided to go - alone. I came that close to living in Frisco (that’s passive aggressive for San Francisco – they hate it when you say Frisco – and while you’re there, ask them about their trolley cars – they hate it when you call the cable cars trolleys).

Probably best I didn’t go.

The past decade I’ve vacationed in San Diego once or more a year. Southern Cal is warmer and less densely packed than San Francisco, which has a somewhat Manhattan feel to it – including the provincialism and snobbery. I did time in Manhattan long ago. No need to repeat that miserable experience.

Historically, Colorado’s Front Range is a stop on the way west. Many young Boomers were on their way to California when their VW vans ran out of gas near Boulder and they ended up staying. Perhaps I’m gassed up again and ready to go.

I know what you’re thinking, but Denver has traffic and smog too.

Last month in San Diego, for some perhaps fortuitous reason, I ran into a lot of people who had lived in Colorado for many years. To a person, they loved California and had no regrets about relocating. When I asked about contending with traffic, high cost of living, and earthquakes, they replied that it was, and I quote, “Totally worth it.”

Regular readers will remember that in September, I considered a move to Chicago. Well, as the temperature dropped and relatively mild Denver began its annual six month chill, I realized that one winter in Chicago would kill me dead.

Now it looks like if I want to pursue them, some opportunities may soon arise on “the coast.” Even if those particular opportunities don’t materialize, I may just go find some more.

It’s also possible that as April arrives and the grass greens up, I’ll forget all about it – until November.

In the next BillsWeek, some pros and cons of picking up my middle aged ass and heading into the sunset.

You Can Pick Your Friends but Relatives Are a Crapshoot

I guess genealogy is very popular and easier than ever thanks to the internet (no, I don’t capitalize that word – it’s not a proper noun; I don’t know why people think it is, but never mind).

Anyway, I was recently contacted by what my family calls a “Shirt-Tail Relative.” This was a guy I never heard of who is a cousin to my second cousin’s wife. I do know my second cousin; he’s a great guy. But when he gave this STR my number, I was sorry I answered the phone.

STR wanted some information about my family for his genealogy project – info about my siblings, who lives where, and who begat whom. He didn’t know my mother had died, and he wanted to also talk to my father (who I subsequently called and warned).

Yes, he said, he is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the Mormons, you know), which was predictable enough. Genealogy isn’t just a hobby with those folks. When they go to Heaven (proper noun), they try to take the whole family with them, even to the point of baptizing relatives who have already died.

Also predictably, he said he was a republican (I don’t think they are all that proper so I’m not capitalizing it).

So he was delighted to share with me some exciting news that he uncovered in his research.

Apparently, my mother’s side of the family is related to (gulp) Sarah Palin.

My ears were ringing with shock, but I think he said that I was a sixth cousin to the former governor of Alaska. To drive the point home, STR reminded me that Sarah’s unmarried name was Heath, the same as my grandmother’s. It seems some of the Heaths who didn’t settle in the sod houses of Nebraska kept going west, all the way to, I’m not kidding, Wasilla, Alaska.

I’m sure that Sarah wouldn’t be any happier about our connection than I am. I know sixth cousins are not all that close, but I just shudder to think that I share any genetic material with that stupid, dreadful woman.

Why can’t I be related to somebody awesome, like the Kennedys, or even someone from the same political party, such as Joe Biden?

I’m quite sure that if I invited Sarah to a family reunion, she wouldn’t want to come. I’m also sure that I wouldn’t care to grace Wasilla with my presence, not that I’d ever receive an invitation.

STR assumed I’d be thrilled with this news. I was not. I couldn’t get him off the phone fast enough. I had to call my sister and whine. My niece, who my sister was visiting at the time, thought the whole situation was hilarious.

All of which only goes to prove the old expression: “You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your relatives.” Indeed.

Yoga a Stretch for the Round and Stiff

I have been participating in a yoga class.

Take a moment to let that sink in.

If you've known me for a while, you know that I am not the yoga type. I make fun of anything where someone might say, “Ohmmm.” Until last September, I wasn't the working out at a gym type either, but people can change.

Yoga is great exercise. It’s non-aerobic, so it's easy on the old knees.

Did you know there were a lot of different kinds of yoga? Some types are more mystical, others more physical. There is hot yoga. Bikram yoga. Ashtanga yoga. Power yoga. Tantric yoga. Naked yoga. I'm just in Beginning Yoga.

After the first class, I felt quite righteous about my healthy new lifestyle choice - until the sore stomach muscles kicked in. Who would have thought that sitting and lying on the floor, extending legs and arms, and twisting could lead to such pain? My body, I have learned, is not very flexible.

I’m also ignorant when it comes to muscle composition. When told to stretch our quads, I have to look at the person next to me. I don't know what a quad is.

The instructor is very nice and patiently bends my arms, waist, and ankles this way and that to conform to the pose of the moment, but I'm stiff and my body's not the ideal shape for yoga. I'm not long and thin. I'm round.

But I'm plugging away and I hope to be more bendy real soon.

Namaste.