Thought for the Day: Answering Questions

"When a child asks you something answer him, for goodness, sake. But don't make a production of it. Children are children but they can spot an evasion faster than adults, and evasion simply muddles 'em."  - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Thought for the Day: Help

Remember what she says:

In the event of a decompression, an oxygen mask will automatically appear in front of you. To start the flow of oxygen, pull the mask towards you. Place it firmly over your nose and mouth, secure the elastic band behind your head, and breathe normally. Although the bag does not inflate, oxygen is flowing to the mask. If you are travelling with a child or someone who requires assistance, secure your mask on first, and then assist the other person.

It's always a good idea to make sure you have prepared yourself before you try to help others.

Herb Ratliff

Thought for the Day: Work Tracks

Choose the advice you follow carefully.

There are no calluses on the hands of self appointed experts.

©Herb Ratliff

Why Not Dance?

If we’re kept within a prison

there’s no lock can make us stay.

Lest our hapless, weary posture

simply let’s us waste away.

And if songs are sung around us

in the Winter or the Spring

But our voice is deathly silent

It’s not the fault of quieting.

When the wren darts to the sill plate

of the window we look out

And the song bursts from his small heart

lauding life and love, no doubt.

Dare we not release the handcuffs

which lock us down each day

And find somewhere within us

Something good or kind to say?

Reach out farther, oh my brother,

give your heart and mind a chance

Lift your spirit and your heels

It is your life, so why not dance?

Herb Ratliff, January 4, 2013, All Rights Reserved

Nothing but the Truth

I've been trying to remember the earliest event in my life that I can recall in some detail. Most memories of early childhood are more akin to a panel or two from a Sunday Cartoon page. Not because they are funny or a vehicle for satire but because there simply isn’t enough trapped information to give it a beginning, a middle and an end. The other difficult part of such memories is memory.

I have been writing stories about my life for about nine months now. They have not been based on any chronological order just what I remember. In one such story about my father, my sister, Jo Ann told me the information in my story was incorrect. That has to be true because her story didn’t have the same details as mine but as far as I am concerned it’s her story that is wrong. And I know that is true because I have the memories to substantiate it.

So what, exactly, is a memory of a childhood event if not a combination of history, belief and idealization mixed with a little fantasy? The truth is what is in your head. It isn’t as if you are knowingly reorganizing or manufacturing data to misrepresent an historical fact. The story my sister took exception to was as clear to her as my recollection was to me. The big difference in that particular incident was two other sisters who agreed with her memory of the story. I’ve always felt like an outsider, who wouldn’t as the only male among five sisters?

I read an article once that described what happens in memories. What I recall is this: When an incident occurs we almost immediately lose a large percentage of the details of the event. A large percentage of those lost details are gone forever. The parts that are most important remain in our more immediate memory and are retrievable but not necessarily accurate. Then there is the matter of the connecting material.

What happens is the brain realizes the story has to flow. If part of the story is missing the flow is interrupted. The brain doesn’t like interruptions or premature ends to its stories so it fills in the missing information with plausible or preferred flow material. That changes the story but might even make it a better one. We may like that story better than the real one so that becomes the story. See?

You are a human being with a brain that does what it wants sometimes. That does not make you a prevaricator or inaccurate purveyor of historical events. It makes you an extemporaneous historical information creator who smoothes out the potholes of failing memory. It just works better if you can avoid people who were at the same places you were when the events happened.

In no way is it my intention to appear critical of my sister(s), I’m only interested in enlightening my readers with relevant information about these stories I tell. I applaud their interest in the accuracy of my meanderings. I just beg their indulgence and yours when there appears to be a discrepancy in the facts. I would never deceive you dear reader, never.

Herb Ratliff, August 29, 2012, All Rights Reserved

We Had Some Chickens

Thought For The Day

My grandpa Johnson was a farmer. When he was alive I was too young to know much about farming or life on a farm. But, it was sufficiently different enough from my normal lifestyle to be pretty interesting.

Living on a farm is a classroom for self sufficiency. Attica, Arkansas is in the northeastern corner of the state. It is quite flat but, there are plenty of rivers, springs and lakes. There was a small creek near my grandpa's farm and a spring which provided refrigeration for the Johnson family perishable goods. The Spring House was where fruit, meat, butter, milk, and eggs were kept. 

The largest quantity of meat was kept in the smokehouse. The meat was salt cured and didn't smoke very much at all, only a couple of weeks a year. That confused me. I don't think I was ever there when the smoke house smoked.

There were animals to support life on the farm: milk cows, pigs, chickens and assorted horses, mules and dogs. Each of them had something to offer. Dogs were sentry's, guardians and hunters. Milk cows need no further explanation. Pigs ate a lot, rolled in the mud, ate slop and then became residents in the smoke house. The horses, mules and dogs performed services that seemed too difficult for grandpa to explain satisfactorily. And the chickens? Now there is a useful animal.

Chickens provided eggs, of course, feathers, their entire bodies and often provided a bit of entertainment. They were also self sustaining. A chicken gestates for 22 days on average. They can live for 7 -  8 years, 14 is the record life span. It only takes three to four months before they mature and they begin laying eggs in 4 - 6 months. This does not mirror the lifestyle of the chicken you eat. I am going to spare you that detail. They are a product controlled by profit motives. You know what that does to anything.

On a farm with chickens you can eat eggs indefinitely, chicken occasionally, with sensible management of resources, make a mattress or pillow and sit in a rocking chair while you enjoy the scratching, clucking and pecking of the barnyard denizens. But watching peaceful chickens clucking around the yard was not my idea of fun. I liked to throw rocks at them.

Right alongside the chicken yard was a stand of sweet corn. Once in a while the chickens would wander off into the cornfield. The rooster considered this behavior unsafe since he was unable to keep a wary eye on them and any predator that might have designs on a chicken dinner. So when the chickens would wander into the field, he would go find them and chase them back into the yard. I thought he was a bit of a bully and saw no danger anyway. So, when he chased them back into the yard, I would pick up a stone and throw it at the rooster. I wasn't that good with my aim so the rooster was not in any great danger of bodily injury. Nonetheless, the rooster would, on occasion, look at me with a jaundiced eye when the pebble came too close to him.

Now chickens, roosters too, have bad days and good days. And, all things considered, the country fowl don't have a bad life, albeit a short one, and so most days little irritations just don't cause them any aggravation. But, every now and then, they just seem to get up on the wrong side of the nest, so to speak, and just come a spoiling for a fight at the least provocation.

It was a dry, dusty afternoon and I had grown tired of whatever my cousins were doing. I decided that I would go "play with the chickens" for a while. I made my way around the smoke house, behind the corn crib and into the sweet corn plot. Once in, I moved slowly and quietly through the rows, (they were two feet over my head) until I caught sight of the rooster. I had a pocket full of pebbles from the creek where I had been playing. I reached into my pocket and tossed a stone at the rooster. It was so dry that it looked like an explosion when the pebble hit the ground beside him and continued on a rebound into his side. At that moment, he jumped like he had been shot and I felt like I had just shot my first elk in the Wind River Range of Wyoming.

I continued to throw pebbles and for some unknown reason, kept hitting the rooster. What happened next happened in ultra slow motion. 

The rooster raised his head and looked at me with reddish-yellow eyes filled with fire, the hackle on his neck looked like razor sharp mini blades of death. His comb was erect, his head held high and his chest was blown into an exhibition of raw power and fury. He put down his head and began advancing toward me with a menacing walk that increased in speed as he got closer and closer.

I was paralyzed. My feet refused to move. I had forgotten to breathe and so I was gasping for air. It was then he hit me with his full fury and began pecking and wing flapping around my head and shoulders. I found my legs and my lungs and began running and screaming back into the barnyard. The hens then joined in the fray. I was near death until my grandpa stepped in and shooed off the birds and saved me from an untimely demise. 

He looked into my tear streaked face and told me to calm down, the chickens were gone. I was still sobbing when my mother came running out of the house. Before she reached me he quietly said, "This won't be the last time you'll get henpecked." I didn't really understand what he meant then, but I do now.

©Herb Ratliff, July 13, 2012, All Rights Reserved

While You Were Out: Part II

Thought For The Day

From yesterday: While You Were Out


On a fourth of July weekend somewhere around their child's third year I invited them over for a cookout. As fate would have it the event we speak of was just after the Berber carpet was installed.  In planning the event I gave no consideration to child care. Since it was a cookout, hot dogs and hamburgers seemed the logical choice along with cold slaw, potato salad and baked beans, finished off with chocolate cake and ice cream.

This is going to take a little longer than I thought. Stop by tomorrow for the rest of the story.

Part II

When my friends arrived I was almost surprised to see their daughter. I was not accustomed to being around people with small children. She was a lovely child, pretty and charming but then she started exploring. A three year old in an adult males apartment is not a pretty sight. Everything needed to be picked up and put in a holding area until the tiny explorer left.

This is when my obsessive nature began to rear it's ugly head. I began thinking about the food. How could I manage cooking, serving and controlling a three year old with baked beans, chocolate, ketchup and mustard on a paper plate? I knew the guests would not be concerned about my cream Berber carpet. I could see the ketchup on it, being ground into the fibers with grubby little hands. Damn! What could I do?

Seems like something else was happening of interest, maybe Wimbledon. Anyway, there was something being watched on tv and people were wandering around inside and out chatting, munching exploring. I was preparing the hot dogs and hamburgers while obsessing over the carpet and ketchup.

When the burgers and hot dogs were finished I placed them on a buffet table along with condiments and accessory dishes. I invited people to help themselves to food and went back into the kitchen to take a quick inventory of what was out and what would come out later. Then, she caught my eye. The little person was getting her own food. Damn! I rushed over to help her. She didn't require any assistance. (I think that's the adult version of: "No! Me get.") I was hovering over her with fear and trepidation and wondered why her parents were so calm and relaxed. I needed a quart of Maalox.

To my absolute amazement. She got her food, accessorized it, ate it and put her plate in the waste basket without a crumb hitting the floor. (I , on the other hand, had developed a bleeding ulcer.)

When folks left I sat on the patio for a bit and then went to the pool and took a swim. I didn't realize how tired I was until I woke up from an hour long nap. When I awoke I was starved. It was then I realized I had not eaten. I was seriously hungery.

I went back to the house and fixed myself a couple of hot dogs, slathered with onions, ketchup, et al, loaded my plate with potato salad, cold slaw and baked beans; threw on a couple of brownies and headed for the TV room to watch some more tennis. As I hustled through the living room I stumbled when the plate started to give way under the weight of the meal atop it. Only then, in painfully slow motion, did I see what all of those things that I worried about a three year old spilling, could do to a new, cream colored, Berber carpet.

So, if it gets in your head and you start focusing on it, it will happen; just not necessarily in exactly the same way you think it.

©Herb Ratliff, July 3, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Feeling Good

Thought For The Day

Zoe and Charley

I'm not sure you ever really understand how much giving is about satisfying your own need for acceptance and appreciation until you have a dog. Where I have written dog you may substitute, cat or horse. Children also may be used there, but only if you have figured out how to have a predictable relationship with them. I'm about to lose control of this and I've only just started.

Charley is my part this and part that "rescue" dog. He enjoys being brushed. For him, that is like a day at the spa, I suppose. I have never been to a spa. Anyway, he sheds, big time. I am constantly aware of his unwanted contribution to my untidy house. It just goes with the territory. It occurred to me once while I was bathing him  and using a brush to make sure the shampoo got down to the skin, that if I had done that before the bath I might avoid dealing with all of that wet dog hair. And so, I began brushing him regularly. At first he was not interested. Gradually he became more and more appreciative of the activity and now when I offer to "brush" him, he is at the ready the moment I offer.

For my part, I began the process because it helped reduce the amount of ambient fur in the house. OK, not much but it gave me illusion of being helpful. Then, I noticed how much he had gotten into the process. His whole demeanor would change when I offered to brush him. He would run for the door and wait for the fun to begin. 

As I brushed him I could almost hear him making grateful groans and saying "a little to the left" as we proceeded. After I decided that enough of this had happened he would start running in circles and jumping about. That is his method of saying thank you or I'm very happy. But what really surprised me was how good I felt. And all I had done was brush him. 

I've learned a lot from Charley. He has been responsible for teaching me a number of things. And, a reminder that being attentive and thoughtful to those around you is a very good thing, even if you get some pleasure from it too.

©Herb Ratliff, June 18, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Communication

Thought For The Day

Communication in a nutshell:

I can explain it to you, but I cannot understand it for you.

Herb Ratliff, June 13, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Paying Attention, Really

Thought For The Day

Sometimes what is really amazing is how little attention we pay to things that are truly amazing.

When I worked in the financial field of computer technology and development there were many things that were done by both hardware and software engineers which were literally changing the world. It was sometimes hard to comprehend how these ideas could be conceived, let alone produced and made available for use in the home and office.

Consider how it would have sounded to Thomas Edison if you had suggested that you had created a language which if used properly would allow you to talk to a machine. Further, you would be able to tell the machine to follow a variety of different instructions if and only if you could create a machine which could read instructions which were essentially a series of electrical impulses which did nothing more than say open or close.

That would be amazing, right?  OK, it's a little difficult to compare yesterday's world with today's. But that is, in a nutshell what the early computers did. They read one's and zero's as yes and no, or open and close. What made it all work was the exceptional speed at which the processor was able to read these instructions. By the way, those speeds today are snail like.

I am fairly certain that people who don't even care about computers would be willing to agree that they are exceptional tools. So let me get to the point of this thought, paying attention to amazing things which came to me as I was thinking about all the flying I did when I was working in that field.

One day I was sitting on a plane bound for California from from Michigan. The early instruction sets had been offered by the flight attendants, preparations were being made for beverage service and I was settling in with a book when the captain in a smooth, confident voice began to give us a bit of a trip tic for our journey. He began by saying that we would be cruising at an altitude of     35,000 feet. (That's a little over six and a half miles above the ground, I thought.)

Hmm, I murmured, that's about how far it was from my childhood home to the High School I graduated from. He then said, "We'll be traveling at about 550 miles per hour." That's when I pulled out my calculator. After a bit of figuring, eye brow raising and reconfirmation I discovered that in understandable terms that meant that we were moving in a straight line at the rate of  807 feet or a little over two and a half football fields a second.

That, is amazing, wouldn't you agree?

©Herb Ratliff, June 1, 2012, All Rights Reserved

The Pelican Brief

Thought For The Day

It was just a few months into being a single parent. Scheduling ended up being one of the bigger problems. Everyone seemed to have something to do other than being on time. The lives of the kids get busier because they were busy to start with and now the going back and forth just added to the normal confusion. I was on my way to pick up my youngest from her alternate home, wondering what we would have for dinner, whether we would make it to the meeting on time and reminding myself to make sure she had all of her school books. It was an unusually pleasant evening for south Florida. The humidity was low, temperature very comfortable, a clear sky and just a zephyr of a breeze off the ocean. I pulled the car up to the house and Lindsay was waiting with her things on the porch. It still seemed odd to do this dance. Lindsay has a smile that can light up a room. When she saw me she was smiling and when I got out of the car she met me with a big hug and a handful of stuffed animals.
After we loaded the car, we exchanged our hellos and got to the business at hand, what are we doing for dinner? Most of the reliables were not hitting the target and I needed to get some gas so I pulled into a station to fill up. We went into the station together to settle up and Lindsay spotted some junk food racks and asked if she could have something that could not have been anything but colored sugar. I took a quick inventory of the available food stuffs and decided to attempt to make a meal out of what was there.
Loaded up with what could only be termed the most non-nutritious meal since Boy Scout camp, we headed out and Lindsay said, "Let's have a picnic.", I agreed and we headed for a local Park. It was pretty much deserted so we had a lot of choices for a spot. We parked and for some reason which now escapes me, decided to eat in the car. It was party time and the sugar just helped it along. We were laughing and talking and giggling when out of the blue it sounded like someone had launched a basket full of oranges into the air and they had all individually fallen on the top of the car. It absolutely shocked both of us into statue like states. We were frozen in place, looking at each other and then out the window. I immediately thought it was kids making mischief but unable to see anyone or anything, I got out of the car and there in perfect formation, just beyond the car were a half dozen pelicans. I turned and looked at the car, it had been thoroughly whitewashed and the mystery was solved. Lindsay let out a primal yuuuuuuuuuuck and we headed for the car wash.
Now, whenever Lindsay and I are together, if we should happen upon a pelican or two, a wide grin begins to form and sometimes uproarious laughter emerges without control. The food may have been without any nutritional value but the laughter and the memory still makes us smile.

Herb Ratliff, April 25, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Bulls-eye!

Thought For The Day

In the mid summer of my seventh year my parents were investigating the merits of a variety of churches. One Saturday afternoon they had invited some missionary's over for dinner. I don't recall whether it was two or four but there were enough that I was able to snare one long enough to take me down to the local market to buy something my mom needed for dinner. Because this was in many ways like a hunting trip, I decided to take along my bow and arrows for protection from bear, wolves and cougars. There was enough diversion that my mom and dad were unaware of my need to bear arms and even though the missionary questioned my motives, she was more interested in attracting my interest than offering another source of judgement.

As we walked I stalked all forms of game for the larder. Rabbits abounded and I think I saw a deer or an antelope on the edge of the woods. There was even a moment when in the shadows I'm quite sure the movement my eagle eyes detected was a black bear. My hunting persona was alert and prepared for any challenge and I was feeling very strong and manly.

As we walked together we talked and laughed. I would aim and draw back on my bow from time to time to stay alert in case of danger. Without any warning an open milk truck drove by and without a moment's hesitation I raised the bow, slotted the arrow, drew back and released the perfect shot into the unsuspecting milkman and hit him in the knee.

I do not know who was more surprised, the milkman, the missionary or me. What I do know is that I stopped breathing, the missionary stopped breathing and the milkman stopped the truck. He got out, arrow in hand, (the arrow was the kind that had the little pink suction cup on the end) and began to walk toward the missionary and me. We were transfixed. He slowly advanced until he was standing, towering over me, knelt down and offered the arrow with a simple, "I believe this is yours." . My heart was in my throat. In the deadly silence that followed I knew that I was headed for jail and maybe the hangman's noose. Then, he stood up and laughed the biggest belly laugh I have heard before or since. His parting words were, ""That was an amazing shot."

It was a while before word  of the event reached my parents. I used a bit more restraint with my bow and arrow for a while but I still think that was a bear I saw in the woods.

Herb Ratliff, April 23, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Searching For Raisins

Thought For The Day

I was two, maybe three, but whatever the age, it was pure focus that led to this little tale
We had arrived the night before at my grandparents house in Pocahontas, Arkansas. The house was simple in design with two or three bedrooms, a dining room and a kitchen. The year was 1944 or 45 so plumbing for interior conveniences had not yet reached this particular house. I was in the care of my mother who was discussing something with my grandmother. Grandpa was at work in his smithy, a card he played quite effectively when company came.

I wanted some "razers", raisins to those of you who do not speak early childhood English. As politely, then as forcefully as I could the request was made only to fall on deaf ears. This, of course, resulted in an unaccompanied adventure into the kitchen in search of treasure. It was not far and the conversation was engaging enough that I was able to quietly slip away.

I was appropriately sized for a two year old, short basically and therefore everything I could see or reach was pretty much at ground level. This was useful for frequently used staples which were building blocks for baking primarily. So I began where I could and pulled out a container which turned out to be sugar. Since I pulled from the top it became unstable and softly fell forward and my little hands accidentally removed the top which resulted in a rather nice sized pile of sugar on the kitchen floor. Undaunted, I sought another container, even larger which I unfortunately handled in much the same way with the same result. Now I had two merged piles of white stuff and containers which were in the way of my quest and so I managed to crawl into them as I searched for the elusive "razers".

Before mother and grandma found me I had combined a month's supply of baking supplies into a pile in the middle of the kitchen floor and found not a single raisin. When you are young desires are not complicated but the desire is intense, good stuff to remember.

Herb Ratliff, April 20, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Nymphs, Midges and Streamers

Thought For The Day

You can: 

let go, 

drop,  or toss, 

throw out, cut off, or  abandon,

back out, bail out or bow out,

flake out, fly the coop, or give up the ship

quit, run out on or storm out,

take a powder, take a walk or wash your hands of,

leave behind, relinquish or withdraw

 but the truth is it's probably

a lot better to

just 

release gently.

©Herb Ratliff, February 10, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Little Girls, Fly Rods and Early Mornings

Little Girls, Fly Rods and Early Mornings

Anyone who knows even a little bit about me knows that I love to wade streams and tempt trout with hand tied flies. It has been a part of my life for a long time. So it would probably come as no surprise to people that wanting my children to join me in such an activity would be a logical next step and they would be spot on. The story begins with a trip the family took to Frankfort , Michigan sometime in the seventies, my guess is about seventy six. That would make Bud six, Julie four and Lindsay a coming attraction.

We were to be there for a week and the weather had been very nice. Bud and Julie wanted to get up early and go trout fishing with dad so we planned for each of them to have their own morning to go alone with me. So far, so good. Bud's morning began with twittering birds, light on the horizon, the sun's head just beginning to rise and so we went to a dandy little breakfast place and had hot chocolate, pancakes, sausage and the lot. We trekked off to the river and gathered some trout and went back to the cabin for the cheers of the waiting crowds of expectant, adoring fans. We were not disappointed, they treated us like royalty returning from battle, victorious.

Julie's morning was somewhat less idyllic. It was raining torrents, we could barely see out the window. I meekly suggested we put off the adventure for a better day and Julie howled her disapproval and demanded we not let a little rain stop our adventure. What could I do. I did not have appropriate rain gear for a four year old or sufficient creativity to come up with a reasonable alternative plan to satisfy the desire of a four year old to go fishing with her dad. (This single minded determination was not a single incident. Did I mention that she is a CPA?) I tried a variety of approaches all designed to try a delay but that was useless. Finally, I had to come up with some kind of plan that would come close to keeping her protected from the elements. I searched through my fishing equipment but sizes were simply not compatible and so I had to take another tack. 

Garbage bags. Yep, that's what this great mind came up with to solve the problem. A cutout for the head and arms would work for the torso, the corner cutoff for a hat, a small bag tied at the thigh for each leg, (wading) and sleeves fashioned out of other bags. You've heard of  "The Man From Glad"? This was a little twist on the theme.

Dressed and protected, at least momentarily, for the elements we took our gear to the car and went as fast as we could to the little breakfast place for hot chocolate and warm food. I won't detail the fishing because what I remember most clearly is that I was with my little girl dressed in fly fishing gear and we were on our way to a glorious adventure. And do you know what? That is without a doubt one of the finest fishing or fathering experiences I have ever had.

©Herb Ratliff, January 26, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Gratitude

This picture is from 1993. Left to right back:Bud, me
Front: L to R:Julie, Lindsay, Dora holding Nick, Cory holding Lindsay.
There are now ten more grandchildren:Lindsey,Kirkland, Joshua, Skylar, Zachary, Logan, Keaton, Xander, Zoe, Brayden.

Have you ever thought carefully about the things you are most grateful for? 

I'm very visual and so my eyes are at the top of the list. Ears that function reasonably well, taste, touch, smell and a little esp now and again. I have enough athletic ability to engage in most sports and compete at a better than average level if I choose. I am teachable. That is what I may be most thankful for on another level. Second chances are high on the list too. If it weren't for second chances no one would ever see this blog. Good health, the ability to heal: physically, mentally and spiritually.

I've had numerous opportunities to apply my skills in a work environment that provided rich rewards. Sometimes I did it with a high level of competence and creativity and provided exceptional service to my employer and clients. Sometimes I did not and that's where some of those second chances I spoke of come into play.

I have met and been befriended by some of the finest people in the world. Many of them have taught me about life. All of them have given something special to me: their time, their experience, their forgiveness in some cases, their disdain in others. Most everything I have received has been as a direct result of my actions and attitude. I must add here that while complaining about results that were less than complimentary to me I was complaining to a friend about things not being "fair or just" and he looked me in the eye and said, "Herb, of all the people I know, you are the last who should be asking for justice. You should be praying for mercy." He was right and I hope I never forget it. I also hope I never forget there are a lot of people out there just like me.

Some parts of my life have been a train wreck. There just isn't any other way to express it. I have fallen hard and often on this journey but, I have never laid there and quit. I have hurt other people, sometimes on purpose, sometimes without intent and sometimes from just being too fixed on my own interests to care about anything else.

Most of my life has been a miracle. More good has come into my life from the generosity of others than I can begin to list. But I cannot continue without acknowledging the best part of my life, my children. They are smart, thoughtful, generous, forgiving. They are wonderful parents. They are dependable friends and they are good neighbors. I hope you get a chance to meet them someday.

Give some thought to making a list of your own. I think you will find that life is good, hope enriches it and experience can be the catalyst for change or plunging you deeper into the denial that life isn't fair. Thanks for stopping by, I'm grateful for you too.

Herb Ratliff, January 24, 2011, All Rights Reserved

The Magic Of Believing

In many ways life is a lot simpler when you are very young. You know who is in control. You have a pretty clear idea of what they want you to do. You have a strong sense of self and a pressing desire to meet your wants and needs.  The difficulty begins when you come to an impasse built of your needs coming into conflict with your providers belief that they know more about the importance of satisfying those needs than you. Here begins the seed of misrepresentation for self benefit. For example: Crying.

Crying is useful, necessary and conditional. It is communication that works when vocabulary is limited and need is high. There are, of course, a lot of different forms of this emotional display of dissatisfaction. We are familiar with most of them through personal experience. The problem is the action occurs without labeling. There is not a distinct cry for "I'm hungry" or "I'm thirsty" or "Ouch, I hurt myself". What crying elicits in parents is an immediate response, attention and some cuddling, warm milk or both. The satisfaction derived from this activity persuades us that crying is a very useful tool indeed. In a fairly short period of time we find that it is useful for any number of manipulations that result in cuddles and warm milk. O.K., we say, this is worth remembering.

So, crying is great until we are found out and while even being found out does not lessen the overall effectiveness of crying it does grow tiresome and can result in some distressing behavior from the tall people who bring the milk.

As we grow older, begin to wander around the house and participate in activities in our small community we discover the art and magic of believing. This is something that comes from training. We are conditioned to peak out appetites at certain times of the day for convenience and order. When we do that we expect food to magically arrive when the desire for it arises. Television soon finds it's way into the scheme of things and we are presented with a whole new world of desirable things that are made for us which can be delivered to us by the same people who bring the cuddles and milk. And you get them by being adorable or crying or both.

(So here is the problem. I meant to write a short piece on this but I find I am already over the self imposed limit I set for myself so rather that make this too long to conveniently read in one sitting. I'll finish it tomorrow. O.K.?  I hope you aren't disappointed.)  Don't cry!

Herb Ratliff, December 9, 2011, All Rights Reserved

Willingness to Share Your Bounty

I know you are the kind of person who is more than willing to share whatever bounty you have with those less fortunate than you. I really believe that most humans are that way at the very center of their soul. It just doesn't make any sense to be selfish. We are all likely to have a jelly side down day, month or year sometime, so it just makes sense to be thoughtful to those around us when it’s their turn.

One of the other really nice aspects of humans is their willingness to share by teaching others how to do things and it happens at all levels. Hang around a kitchen during the holidays and there will be ample instruction on how to fix: the turkey, the potatoes – sweet and white, rolls, cranberry sauce, even the green bean casserole. Go to a PTA meeting and there will be many who will offer suggestions about book selection, curriculum, teachers, class size and who should be the administrators and what they should do and even on occasion where they should go. Go play a round of golf and you can readily get instructions from almost everyone there at no charge and from people who actually cannot demonstrate by their own practice any of the suggestions they offer. It’s amazing.

People also are generous with their wealth. It seems sometimes like the people with the least wealth are the most willing to share but, the wealthy are very generous too. Now when it comes to time, the conditions change a bit. But, that’s another topic, isn't it?

People are very generous with advice too. I cannot tell you how freely my friends and relatives have been with advice for me. It is sometimes just overwhelming. Actually, I’m rather fond of something my mother told me when I was a young lad full of wisdom. She said, “Be careful about the advice you give, someday someone may take it.”

All of this is leading up to something I was thinking about last night. You knew that was coming, right? Anyway, here is what I was considering: If you were given an opportunity to tell someone about the world we live in what things they absolutely must do while here for a day. What would you say? Here are the parameters: You only have one 8 1/2 x 11 inch sheet of paper to write it on and they have no prior knowledge of this earth or anything in it. Fortunately, they speak and understand English.

I’d love to hear from you.