I HAD AN SK

so I went to a dermatologist. I still don't know what an SK is, but it got numbed and sliced off the top of my head where a part used to be. But, once I used to part my hair down the middle. Wow,that sounds nerdy. But now, my hair looks like I've been riding a motorcycle all day. Just blown straight back without any part. I think all the Native American I have in me went straight to my hair. Maybe some skin tone, too.

So I dreaded going to my new skin doctor. I knew I would get lectured about being out in the sun so often. But no. She said, "You don't go to tanning beds,do you?" And when I assured her I did not, she said I was fine. She looked me over pretty thoroughly with a Romper Room looking glass, even checking between my toes for any bad signs.

I volunteered that I lather up on sunscreen daily, but I don't think I impressed her much. I have that effect on a lot of people these days. But rarer than an NBA player without a tattoo, one of her office girls had a deep tan. I spoke with her asking if she needed any money, but she declined citing its circuitous trip to insurance first. I started to warn her about the dangers of tanning beds but figured I wasn't too expert, so I passed.

As I left the office, I looked heavenward and thought, "Another nice day. I think I'll take a nice nap by the pool. Hope I don't get anymore SKs, whatever they are."

AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN RELATED TO ME



Two stories. Both true. Both about three-year old boys. Both about the depth of the mind and soul. Neither has much to do with the picture, but I love the picture and how else could I work it in?


The first boy is on a pre-school field trip to the doctor's office. I can see our general practitioner allowing a visit like that. He's well staffed and he worked his way through Johns Hopkins Med School by being a clown. So one of the nurses in this brief tale allowed the three-year old to listen in her stethoscope. When she placed it on his heart, he said,"Is that God knocking on my heart?"

"Sure is," I hope she said, but now I'm just embellishing the true story. I wasn't told her response.

The second story comes from Charles Stanley's book The Glorious Journey, page 392. How's that for referencing Dr. Bach? Elisabeth Elliot, a former missionary who is the mother of the author of At The End of a Spear, was watching 6 of her grandchildren. One, a three-year old had acted up, as we used to say, but now I'm hearing more say acted out, and required a scolding. His response to getting in trouble, "Well, we're all sinners, you know."

Classic. Am I too old to use that line? I think so, but I love those two stories and the picture, so that's how they go together On The QT.

ANOTHER SPUTNIK

That may be the only way to change American education. I know our Prez has ideas on change (what the heck does he like about our country?) and it's extended into the education arena. Nothing new about that. Except that it keeps going down the tubes. So do I have an answer? Long time readers fully expect me to say no here, because that's what I always do. But this time, yes, I may just have some plausible answers.

Money. Pour it in to the schools. Hear me out. We're so much in debt now. Stimulus and job programs produced relatively little if anything. Now it's education's turn. No naysaying about how we've tried that before with no improvement in test scores. Wrong. The last time any real money was put into education was after Russia launched Sputnick in the late '50's and we panicked. Thank goodness.

Was it successful? Well, less than a decade and a half later, the US landed on the moon and zoomed ahead in the space program. Do it again.

Pour money in the schools. The only mandate is that the money be spent on teacher salaries, teacher education scholarships, and building. No Child Left Behind, no socialist programs supported by the teacher unions, and no grant monies. If you're doing something worthwhile then why do you need to get approval for it and pad another non-teaching educator who oversees grant applications? If you're going to cut anywhere in the ed. budget, get rid of those educators who don't teach students.

If parents aren't going to help in the process, then the schools should and would discipline. And when the courts support the student instead of the schools, then the media or some watchdog group should report the decision. Letters of protests should flood the local and state newspapers, but now I know I'm being too idealistic.

The NDEA (National Defense Education Act) I believe was the title, supported education back in the Russian scare years and provided audio-visual equipment to schools, lots of it, that was still being used when I retired in 2001. Just one example of schools that need equipment and how they do take care of it.

This is one area where I have some expertise. First hand. I've felt the needs, I've felt the pain. I've seen a once outstanding school drop significantly. And it all comes down to what a school board member's husband once used as an argument "You don't get much of a show for a nickel."

"YOU WANNA GO FOR A SPIN?"

We had run out of popcorn. Not the microwave kind. We had plenty of those 100 calorie packs in the cupboard. Actually, we don't have a cupboard. Just cabinet shelves. But we still had some of those packs. But, as you know, if you're not real careful you can burn it and there's nothing worse than the lingering odor of burnt microwave popcorn. Again, a disclaimer. I guess there's lots of worse stuff, but you see what I mean.

We thought of going to the movies and buying a nice $10 bag, but declined. The last movie we saw was so bad it bordered on pornography so I'm not even telling you the title. But don't bother with a Gere recent movie with Wesley in it. Ok, no more clues. And we really didn't think of going to that length for popcorn, but we used to love movies, and there's not much out there anymore for our tastes.

So we headed to Trader Joe's for a pack( actually we bought half a dozen) of already popped low something I'm sure popcorn for $1.19. It would last us one evening. A friend of mine concerned for my mortality told me of a woman he had heard about that died because she ate popcorn everyday. So now I avoid movies and my daily staff of life. But I come very close to eating popcorn every single day. I live on the edge.

At the store we encountered a cougar. One in her upper eighties who asked a younger guy, probably pushing 80 himself if he would like to go for a spin. For younger readers that meant go for a ride in her car. He, hard of hearing or a good actor, ignored her. She acted disappointed but determined. "There aren't as many men my age anymore," she exclaimed. I just smiled.

Maybe had she asked him to a movie and offered popcorn. Who knows?

IT ONLY SEEMS

THAT

a nation that rose to be the most successful of any in the history of the world could abandon what got them there and embrace all the cultures of the people who came to this country to get away from theirs.

a nation that was founded on religion and male no mistake our nation was. It was not founded by jailbirds as one history prof of mine declared, it was not founded by greed for gold, it was founded and fostered by religion and now, and now the courts listen to atheists who claim In God We Trust on our coins somehow violates them.

a nation that was the richest in the history of the world would ever consider a redistribution of wealth after those very socialistic schemes have failed in every country that has tried it.

anyone could buy into universal health care and believe that it would be better than the current system. That a government that cannot keep the postal service solvent could be in charge of health care. That it would take a document 2,100 pages long to explain and sell to the legislators.

that the nation would elect as its leader a man who never authored a single bill in his brief time as a legislator.

I'd wake up one morning (I think it was Clinton's first year in office) and everything I had been taught was suddenly wrong.

a nation could tell Israel where to add housing on land God gave to them.

I'm on the outside looking in. I've become a man without a country. Or unfortunately so it seems.

HAPPY, HAPPY DAYS


As DST came in this past weekend, I'm reminded of the euphoria I felt when I was a Midwesterner. No more.

For as a Westerner, we don't change our clocks to conform with the rest of the nation or with the sun and splendid daylight hours. For some reason parts of Indiana don't either. When I've visited there, they should.

What a great idea. To utilize available light. To spend more time outdoors after having been delegated to inside living for so long.

A vivid memory of my youth was playing basketball outside after school until dark. And walking home in the dark for supper. We ate early, too. Man I spent a lot of cold days shooting hoops, though we didn't all it that back then. We'd more likely refer to the old peach basket than hoops. After all we had hoops. But the word hula was in front.

My fingers would get those open sores on them from dribbling on concrete with frozen hands. On the worst days I tried gloves, but the touch wasn't there. I was old school when I was young and still in grade school. No batting gloves either. Even today you won't find me wearing a golf glove. I just have to have the right feel.

But if Daylight Savings, and why is it not simply Saving, Time were up to me, I'd have it all year round, with an additional hour added in the Spring. Not much of a night owl, I'd love to have yet another hour of light. Who cares if it's dark in the morning? And for the young kids at the school bus stop, hey brave it. And you can play more hoops after school and eat supper in the light.

But those of you who spring forward, enjoy the light. It won't be long till the darkness will return and along with that sores on your hands.

FARMVILLE ON FACEBOOK

If you're on FB and not playing Farmville, then you're missing out.

You miss out on control. Most things in this world we cannot control, hard as we may try. But you can decide when and what to plant, how much effort you want to expend, who your neighbors are, and what your farm will look like.

You miss out on community. I have neighbors who help my farm by giving me gifts. One of my neighbors, a high school friend and former school superintendent, never ever gave me a gift. (I'm so tempted to add a sarcastic comment here, but I do have other friends who were also excellent administrators, too, so I'll think of Bob and them instead of some others.) Until he became my neighbor. Just today he gifted me with a gold bar. Wow! He did ask for a return gift and I provided. After farmers accumulate so much gold, then they can cash it in for castles, fountains, or St. Patty's sheep. But there's definitely a community spirit of being dependent upon other farm friends and helping them out, too.

Being in daily or tri-daily contact with them playing Farmville helps relieve stress. You have a commonality that you're not completely goofy as you add or alter your imaginary farm. Or if you are a little out of balance, then so are others. There's always comfort in numbers. Also it helps curb my night time appetite as I try to claim the Mystery Egg,(instead of eating one) or try to cash in a ribbon that another was rewarded for Tree Hugging, for instance.

If I haven't convinced you to join Facebook and/or Farmville, then I've failed at selling an activity that stimulates. Maybe I should have pointed out how it helps manual dexterity when clicking on a little balloon to calm your bull, collect your eggs or goose feathers, or harvest your breadfruit tree.