Recently I have been busy cleaning out my garage. In an old faded box I found a CB radio I used to take on the road during sales trips in years past. The CB had an 800 number on it for customer service. Even though it had been 20 years, I thought I would dial the number. When the human answered the phone, "GE Service," I was stunned.
I have gotten used to all the recordings. You know the ones. When you call, even though you might call at the very instant they open, the friendly recording lets me know they are busy helping customers. If it is a medical provider, they are nice enough to say, "If you need help, call 911."
It seems that 911 is the total health care provider these days. In fact it seems that the attitude is that service is never included in the product. People are just too busy doing more important things than the business they are in.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
"The Last Latte"---FICTION or "She Never Settled."
He gathered up his courage and pushed open the door. It was not his favorite type of task. She had died suddenly in Europe on a business trip. A distant relative. Now he had to take care of the final details.
He pushed open the door and entered the large Italian tiled entrance room and spoke to the the very professional looking woman at the desk. " I have come for the urn of Gloria Fitzgerald, please. "Oh yes," she said, " I have been expecting you.".
Now as the woman left to retrieve the urn, all the memories swept over him. He thought of the last time he had visited with Gloria. It was at the Caribou Coffee at Hwy 101 and Hwy 12 in Minnetonka. She was a very high test woman. Very well traveled. Very particular as to all the details. Very much a perfectionist in every way. " Yes," he thought, "Her favorite phrase was " I just never could settle. "
Quietly chatting with her while the very busy staff at Caribou Coffee brewed her beverage, their chat was interrupted by the manager booming out------" Latte, low fat, extra froth, extra hot, half pump vanilla, sweet and low---and yes half caff--"
"That's ME, That's ME " she said, with her hand waving above her head. Just then it seemed as though a spotlight shone on her like some rock star as she rose to the stage to get her latte. It was just those overhead cone lamps at Caribou. It seemed like a stage to him.
As the lady returned with the urn, he quickly signed the paper. "Well," he thought, "that was her last latte." "She never did settle."
Posted by Evansville Observer at 10:01 AM
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He pushed open the door and entered the large Italian tiled entrance room and spoke to the the very professional looking woman at the desk. " I have come for the urn of Gloria Fitzgerald, please. "Oh yes," she said, " I have been expecting you.".
Now as the woman left to retrieve the urn, all the memories swept over him. He thought of the last time he had visited with Gloria. It was at the Caribou Coffee at Hwy 101 and Hwy 12 in Minnetonka. She was a very high test woman. Very well traveled. Very particular as to all the details. Very much a perfectionist in every way. " Yes," he thought, "Her favorite phrase was " I just never could settle. "
Quietly chatting with her while the very busy staff at Caribou Coffee brewed her beverage, their chat was interrupted by the manager booming out------" Latte, low fat, extra froth, extra hot, half pump vanilla, sweet and low---and yes half caff--"
"That's ME, That's ME " she said, with her hand waving above her head. Just then it seemed as though a spotlight shone on her like some rock star as she rose to the stage to get her latte. It was just those overhead cone lamps at Caribou. It seemed like a stage to him.
As the lady returned with the urn, he quickly signed the paper. "Well," he thought, "that was her last latte." "She never did settle."
Posted by Evansville Observer at 10:01 AM
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"Do You Believe In Pinocchio
One of the great journeys that we all seem to go through is not only deciding what we like and dislike, but also what we believe and do not believe. This journey is short for some, and long for others. Exciting for some, disturbing for others. The results are not always predictable.
Years ago, one of my kids, on the way home from church, said, "Well, Dad, I just don't believe that. It's just baloney. It's just a story."
I replied, "Well, I suppose you don't believe in Pinocchio either?" "Of course not," she replied," That's just a story too."
"Well," I said, " let's put the question another way. " Do you believe that when people lie they are changed and become a deformed person?" " And that the transformation is obvious to all around them?"
" I never thought of Pinocchio that way." she replied. " In that case, I guess I DO believe in the story of Pinocchio."
Then I said, " Ditto for the other stories that you say you don't believe in. Don't let the details of the story confuse you about the real meaning. You might be surprised in how much you really believe.
So how about you? Do you believe in Pinocchio? You make the call.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 12:09 PM
Years ago, one of my kids, on the way home from church, said, "Well, Dad, I just don't believe that. It's just baloney. It's just a story."
I replied, "Well, I suppose you don't believe in Pinocchio either?" "Of course not," she replied," That's just a story too."
"Well," I said, " let's put the question another way. " Do you believe that when people lie they are changed and become a deformed person?" " And that the transformation is obvious to all around them?"
" I never thought of Pinocchio that way." she replied. " In that case, I guess I DO believe in the story of Pinocchio."
Then I said, " Ditto for the other stories that you say you don't believe in. Don't let the details of the story confuse you about the real meaning. You might be surprised in how much you really believe.
So how about you? Do you believe in Pinocchio? You make the call.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 12:09 PM
"What Business Are YOU in?; Or, The Miracle Business
Sometimes one can be in the right place at the right time. When I began in the hospital business with Unity Hospital, they had just added 100 beds, were rapidly growing and having erratic census. That all adds up to problems. The usual problems of growth. It was just like a bad first half of football. With a few adjustments, the second half could be glorious. So it was for me.
I worked very hard in the first 90 days, and with the right staff, we saw an amazing change in results. I was excited. We all were. I then got the call that the big guy, the head administrator, Mr. Haines, wanted to see me. Face time with him was big. People fought for it. Remembered it. I was just a little nervous as I headed up to the office suite.
When I entered the offices, his secretary told me,"Go right in, Dick. He's waiting for you." That made me even more nervous.
Once in his office, I was startled by his appearance. He was dressed in a surgical outfit, with the mask propped up on his forehead. Sticking out from the bottom of the outfit was his wing tip shoes.
He shook my hand warmly and said, "Good to meet you, Dick. Sit down and relax."
"Excuse my appearance, Dick, but I have just had an unbelievable morning. One of our board members' daughters was rushed to the hospital this morning with a rare complication, and her life and the babies life were in question. I am close with the family, and came in with her. It was very tense. But at the critical moment, Dr. X made all the right decisions, and both her and her baby will be just fine. It was really an amazing thing. It was like a miracle. I'm still on a natural high from the experience."
Then he went on. " Dale has told me nice things about what you have done. I want you to keep up the good work. But above all, I want you never to forget what business we are in. We are in the miracle business. Yes, we are surrounded by numbers, numbers, numbers, and it seems after some long days, that numbers might be what this is all about. Really, if you ever get to the point where that is all it is about, your career is really over. We are in the miracle business!"
After shaking hands and thanking him for his time, I went back to my office. The meeting was nothing like what I had expected. His words, I have never forgotten.
Every guru, every consultant who ever came to any business I have ever worked for always started the session with the words " What business are you in?" Mr. Haines knew.
So I ask you. What business are you in?
I worked very hard in the first 90 days, and with the right staff, we saw an amazing change in results. I was excited. We all were. I then got the call that the big guy, the head administrator, Mr. Haines, wanted to see me. Face time with him was big. People fought for it. Remembered it. I was just a little nervous as I headed up to the office suite.
When I entered the offices, his secretary told me,"Go right in, Dick. He's waiting for you." That made me even more nervous.
Once in his office, I was startled by his appearance. He was dressed in a surgical outfit, with the mask propped up on his forehead. Sticking out from the bottom of the outfit was his wing tip shoes.
He shook my hand warmly and said, "Good to meet you, Dick. Sit down and relax."
"Excuse my appearance, Dick, but I have just had an unbelievable morning. One of our board members' daughters was rushed to the hospital this morning with a rare complication, and her life and the babies life were in question. I am close with the family, and came in with her. It was very tense. But at the critical moment, Dr. X made all the right decisions, and both her and her baby will be just fine. It was really an amazing thing. It was like a miracle. I'm still on a natural high from the experience."
Then he went on. " Dale has told me nice things about what you have done. I want you to keep up the good work. But above all, I want you never to forget what business we are in. We are in the miracle business. Yes, we are surrounded by numbers, numbers, numbers, and it seems after some long days, that numbers might be what this is all about. Really, if you ever get to the point where that is all it is about, your career is really over. We are in the miracle business!"
After shaking hands and thanking him for his time, I went back to my office. The meeting was nothing like what I had expected. His words, I have never forgotten.
Every guru, every consultant who ever came to any business I have ever worked for always started the session with the words " What business are you in?" Mr. Haines knew.
So I ask you. What business are you in?
"My Honorable Opponent."
Some time ago, when I was in high school, I was a short, bookish guy with thick glasses. Yes, I know this is hard to imagine. I decided to try out for the debate team. The topic for debate that year was "Should the UN be significantly strengthened?" I was assigned to the first negative and after the first "warmup" debate within the team, our coach, Mr. Ryan, taught me a lesson I have never forgotten.
"Well," he said, " that was a good first debate. Great energy. With some improvement you will be a great team. However, here are some thoughts. First, this is not mudwrestling, and we need to understand the difference. Some of you were surprised by your opponent's argument. The reason? You had not argued both sides of the question. So that is the assignment for next week. We will have another debate and you will not be assigned your part till then. We will draw straws at 3:30pm to decide your part. The thought of knowing both sides of an issue had never occured to me. Now it was the very first rule.
Mr. Ryan went on," The second skill I am about to teach you is deadly. It is "My honorable opponent." Before you make a key point, first you say, "My honorable opponent has said," and then state EXACTLY and FAIRLY what your opponent has argued. The mistake most people make is that they never can do this. Once you have done this, the audience thinks," Wow, what a wonderful guy he is". Then you pause ever so slightly as if to smile. Show some confidence. Then you say the magic word "HOWEVER." Then you take your sword and slay your opponent. verbally of course.
Thus, it would go like this. "My honorable opponent has said that the sky is green." (pause) HOWEVER, pause) my opponent is mistaken, It is clearly blue." Remember, always elevate your opponent before you slay him, figuratively of course. This is why before every sporting event, when the TV announcer asks what the coach thinks of the opposition, you would think that the opponent is the greatest team that has ever played the game. He is preparing the prey for the harvest. You are to do likewise.
"Well," he said, " that was a good first debate. Great energy. With some improvement you will be a great team. However, here are some thoughts. First, this is not mudwrestling, and we need to understand the difference. Some of you were surprised by your opponent's argument. The reason? You had not argued both sides of the question. So that is the assignment for next week. We will have another debate and you will not be assigned your part till then. We will draw straws at 3:30pm to decide your part. The thought of knowing both sides of an issue had never occured to me. Now it was the very first rule.
Mr. Ryan went on," The second skill I am about to teach you is deadly. It is "My honorable opponent." Before you make a key point, first you say, "My honorable opponent has said," and then state EXACTLY and FAIRLY what your opponent has argued. The mistake most people make is that they never can do this. Once you have done this, the audience thinks," Wow, what a wonderful guy he is". Then you pause ever so slightly as if to smile. Show some confidence. Then you say the magic word "HOWEVER." Then you take your sword and slay your opponent. verbally of course.
Thus, it would go like this. "My honorable opponent has said that the sky is green." (pause) HOWEVER, pause) my opponent is mistaken, It is clearly blue." Remember, always elevate your opponent before you slay him, figuratively of course. This is why before every sporting event, when the TV announcer asks what the coach thinks of the opposition, you would think that the opponent is the greatest team that has ever played the game. He is preparing the prey for the harvest. You are to do likewise.
"Pro Bono"
Every young law student in America during his/her law school days participates in some "pro bono" legal work. It is part of the training of the legal profession. It is also a training as to the mission of serving that the legal profession has prided itself in over the centuries.
Sometimes this "Pro bono" work is introduced to law students BEFORE they even enter law school. Sometimes they are informed of this aspect of their law studies in the very FIRST orientation session conducted by the admission department.
Click on the post for a link to the American Bar Association that describes this mission.
After extensive search in the vast resources of the local libraries, the only reference to this "pro bono" concept in our fair city that can be gleaned from ancient historical records is that once upon a time a long time ago, a distinguished law practitioner was heard to say, " We never thought of "pro bono."
Sometimes this "Pro bono" work is introduced to law students BEFORE they even enter law school. Sometimes they are informed of this aspect of their law studies in the very FIRST orientation session conducted by the admission department.
Click on the post for a link to the American Bar Association that describes this mission.
After extensive search in the vast resources of the local libraries, the only reference to this "pro bono" concept in our fair city that can be gleaned from ancient historical records is that once upon a time a long time ago, a distinguished law practitioner was heard to say, " We never thought of "pro bono."
"On Sale;" "On Saving"
Officially the word "sale" has meant nothing for many years now. The word "sale" is all over stores nationwide. The other night when my eldest daughter came home for a birthday, she was excited about a "special sale" at a upscale womans store where she works part time. It was the year that she spent in Italy that gave her a thrist for fine clothes that has been hard to recover from. She is kind to me on my style choice. She says that I am "classic" not "trendy." That means that I wear sweatshirts and stuff that would be banned in Europe, but that she understands. Anyway----
She explained what the net cost after the 20% discount was---- and it startled me. It seems that one can get a wonderful deal and yet still be far out of my range of purchase price.
Another word that is far out of fashion is the word "saving." I recently got excited about a coupon that I got at the local grocery store for $1 off my favorite coffee. The bag of regular grind was about $2 and I treasured the coupon till the next trip to the store. Only to find out that presto---the price of the $2 bag had mysteriously gone to $3. In an earlier time of yesteryear when the Lone ranger and Tonto roamed the earth, this was called "fraud." It seems that it is just normal business now. I call it "The Coupon Con." The savings are always ZERO.
Alas "sale" and "saving" are not only lost words, but the whole idea of saving has been lost. Consider that currently Americans have dipped into a "negative savings rate" which has only happened in one other time---namely 1933.
It seems that Americans probably know deep down that they are in the red. It's just too painful to confront it.
Anyway----those are two words that I always enjoyed----"sale" and "save." I will really miss them. And yes, the Lone Ranger and Tonto too.
She explained what the net cost after the 20% discount was---- and it startled me. It seems that one can get a wonderful deal and yet still be far out of my range of purchase price.
Another word that is far out of fashion is the word "saving." I recently got excited about a coupon that I got at the local grocery store for $1 off my favorite coffee. The bag of regular grind was about $2 and I treasured the coupon till the next trip to the store. Only to find out that presto---the price of the $2 bag had mysteriously gone to $3. In an earlier time of yesteryear when the Lone ranger and Tonto roamed the earth, this was called "fraud." It seems that it is just normal business now. I call it "The Coupon Con." The savings are always ZERO.
Alas "sale" and "saving" are not only lost words, but the whole idea of saving has been lost. Consider that currently Americans have dipped into a "negative savings rate" which has only happened in one other time---namely 1933.
It seems that Americans probably know deep down that they are in the red. It's just too painful to confront it.
Anyway----those are two words that I always enjoyed----"sale" and "save." I will really miss them. And yes, the Lone Ranger and Tonto too.
"Natural Accounting"; or Cutting Back on Pasta but loading up on Ice Cream
The other night as I was eating dinner, as I launched into a second helping of barbequed chicken breast, I mentioned to my daughter that I had just burned off 600 calories on the Nordic Trac, and thus felt very entitled to enjoying a second helping.
"Dad," she replied, " I don't think you get it. There is 1000 calories on your plate right now. No matter what you say, your body does the accounting. You are gaining weight!"
Being the parent, naturally, I was a little taken aback at the insubordination involved in a youngster speaking when not spoken to. Yet, as I reviewed the content of her little speech, I had to admit that the accounting certainly did not add up to the rhetoric. In fact that has been an ongoing theme lately. I have been encountering rhetoric that simply does NOT add up in a lot of areas of my reporting career.
"But....but... I have been cutting back on PASTA," I explained......"O.K., I guess I have been eating a little more ice cream......Maybe that is the problem. Ya think?"
"DA", she responded.
In dieting, the pea pod game just does not work. One cannot get away with saving a little in pasta and making it up in ice cream. The Lord does the accounting----the net result is obvious to all.
So. It's time to get the spreadsheets out. Time to get the pea pod specialists a little light to shine on the numbers. Time to get the real accounting.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 7:00 PM
"Dad," she replied, " I don't think you get it. There is 1000 calories on your plate right now. No matter what you say, your body does the accounting. You are gaining weight!"
Being the parent, naturally, I was a little taken aback at the insubordination involved in a youngster speaking when not spoken to. Yet, as I reviewed the content of her little speech, I had to admit that the accounting certainly did not add up to the rhetoric. In fact that has been an ongoing theme lately. I have been encountering rhetoric that simply does NOT add up in a lot of areas of my reporting career.
"But....but... I have been cutting back on PASTA," I explained......"O.K., I guess I have been eating a little more ice cream......Maybe that is the problem. Ya think?"
"DA", she responded.
In dieting, the pea pod game just does not work. One cannot get away with saving a little in pasta and making it up in ice cream. The Lord does the accounting----the net result is obvious to all.
So. It's time to get the spreadsheets out. Time to get the pea pod specialists a little light to shine on the numbers. Time to get the real accounting.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 7:00 PM
"Never Underestimate the Power of a Parakeet"
Last November when we received our natural gas bill, it was a real shock. When we all were assembled for dinner, I gave the formal notice of the necessity for a "budget summit."
Calmly and rationally, I went over the numbers. Something had to change. Everything was on the table. As far as the heat was concerned, the only solution was what I termed the "limbo rock" solution. How low can we go? Whatever it took.
Quickly, my daughter went to the thermostat. "It goes down to 45 degrees," she exclaimed. If it goes down that low, my parakeet will DIE! (shriek)
I had not made the precation of switching to decaff coffee. That may have been the fatal error. I did count to 10 however. Then, I simply said, "Well, I guess it is just the parakeet or me."
In a heartbeat, I realized that I had made an error. In quickly glancing around the table, I realized that I did not have the votes for victory. Alas.
So---I did what I had seen many politicos do in the past year when they were facing defeat--I asked for a brief recess. Recess granted.
In the next few minutes, I realized that I needed to consider the needs of everyone--even the parakeet. Then----- we fashioned a solution together. The parakeet would move to my daughter's room with the electric heat and the rest of the house would go to 45 degrees. Such an easy solution when I just was forced to consult.
So----what did I learn from it all?
Never underestimate the power of a parakeet
Calmly and rationally, I went over the numbers. Something had to change. Everything was on the table. As far as the heat was concerned, the only solution was what I termed the "limbo rock" solution. How low can we go? Whatever it took.
Quickly, my daughter went to the thermostat. "It goes down to 45 degrees," she exclaimed. If it goes down that low, my parakeet will DIE! (shriek)
I had not made the precation of switching to decaff coffee. That may have been the fatal error. I did count to 10 however. Then, I simply said, "Well, I guess it is just the parakeet or me."
In a heartbeat, I realized that I had made an error. In quickly glancing around the table, I realized that I did not have the votes for victory. Alas.
So---I did what I had seen many politicos do in the past year when they were facing defeat--I asked for a brief recess. Recess granted.
In the next few minutes, I realized that I needed to consider the needs of everyone--even the parakeet. Then----- we fashioned a solution together. The parakeet would move to my daughter's room with the electric heat and the rest of the house would go to 45 degrees. Such an easy solution when I just was forced to consult.
So----what did I learn from it all?
Never underestimate the power of a parakeet
"Rewrite"
What is the number one goal of the Evansville School District for the current academic year? Yes. Very good class. To Improve Student Writing.
You must know that one of the most difficult aspects of the writing of The Observer, is hearing from my editorial staff that there might be a flaw of some sort in an article that I have written. It is difficult indeed to hear this from an outsider, a blogger from the net, but to hear it from your own staff cuts to the bone. The term REWRITE” is very hard to hear. In fact there are other variations of the word that are hard to hear-------like REDO or……REFIGURE……or RECALCULATE…..or in kid slang---GO FIGURE
There is a real rush of excitement with the new technology now to publish as soon as one has written something. That is an impulse that can be deadly indeed.
To fight off the rush to publish, I have brought back to life an old Apple Ibook and write the first draft on it. That slows me down a little. Publishing to the net is a few more steps then. The perfect thing is if a good night sleep comes between the writing and the publishing. Such a problem. These are the types of problems that writers of old dreamed of.
So, when my editors come home at night, and review what I have done, and point out a fatal flaw here and there, I just cannot say, “That is a done deal. It CANNOT be changed. It just has to be that way. There is NO other choice about it. “
If I ever hint of such inflexibility, my editorial crew just chants-------NOT.
Or, they say, “ It’s just easy to correct…Here’s how…”
SO----I am just a little impatient when I am dealing with our school board or our city government or DOT or any level of government that tells me that that the numbers just have to be that way----or that it has been all decided in private and there is no time for other consideration because the decision must be made now……and besides the accountants are on vacation..
I keep hearing the voices of my kids------Dad---it’s easy to fix it…click,…click….click….
Yes….it is time to confront it. REVISE----REWRITE----REDO---REFIGURE-----RECOMPUTE-----
Whether it is great writing or great budgeting----it is required. It is not optional.
You must know that one of the most difficult aspects of the writing of The Observer, is hearing from my editorial staff that there might be a flaw of some sort in an article that I have written. It is difficult indeed to hear this from an outsider, a blogger from the net, but to hear it from your own staff cuts to the bone. The term REWRITE” is very hard to hear. In fact there are other variations of the word that are hard to hear-------like REDO or……REFIGURE……or RECALCULATE…..or in kid slang---GO FIGURE
There is a real rush of excitement with the new technology now to publish as soon as one has written something. That is an impulse that can be deadly indeed.
To fight off the rush to publish, I have brought back to life an old Apple Ibook and write the first draft on it. That slows me down a little. Publishing to the net is a few more steps then. The perfect thing is if a good night sleep comes between the writing and the publishing. Such a problem. These are the types of problems that writers of old dreamed of.
So, when my editors come home at night, and review what I have done, and point out a fatal flaw here and there, I just cannot say, “That is a done deal. It CANNOT be changed. It just has to be that way. There is NO other choice about it. “
If I ever hint of such inflexibility, my editorial crew just chants-------NOT.
Or, they say, “ It’s just easy to correct…Here’s how…”
SO----I am just a little impatient when I am dealing with our school board or our city government or DOT or any level of government that tells me that that the numbers just have to be that way----or that it has been all decided in private and there is no time for other consideration because the decision must be made now……and besides the accountants are on vacation..
I keep hearing the voices of my kids------Dad---it’s easy to fix it…click,…click….click….
Yes….it is time to confront it. REVISE----REWRITE----REDO---REFIGURE-----RECOMPUTE-----
Whether it is great writing or great budgeting----it is required. It is not optional.
"The Heart of the Matter."
Some years ago. Four I believe. There was a celebration. It was a celebration of transition, achievement, exhaustion and exhileration. It was held in the gym of the old Evansville High School or the new Intermediate school. All the local politicians were there as well as the color guard. Former Supr. Albrecht had planned the celebration to aid the transition of young Evansville students to their new school. The end of the construction was in view. Time to take off the hard hats. Time to begin the celebration.
I got to the event a half hour early. Got the time wrong. The gym was empty. I wondered. I was told, "The kids will sit on the floor."
Soon the kids began to file in. Led by the teachers of their class and sat in military precision. They seemed to be making the transition just fine. No trauma that I could see. In fact, they seemed to be taking the new facilities as conquering heros. Yes. It was going to be a real party.
Soon the whole auditorium was filled. Every student in the whole district was there it seemed to me. The band played the national anthem. The Mayor welcomed the dignitaries. Supr Albrecht did the formal welcome and thanked all for their efforts. He tried to explain and then choked up in the effort to explain what the costs of the new building had been, and what the achievement meant for him and the community.
Then he simply said. "Now I would like to turn the program over to Mr. Steve."
The whole auditorium erupted in applause. Mr. Steve walked to the mike and strummed the old guitar to see if it was o.k. It was just fine.
Then he said, "Let's begin with the "The Grove Song." Do you all remember the words?"
"YES," they chanted. YES!
As the song began, I noticed that EVERY child in the auditorium knew EVERY word. As the second verse began, they even began to use hand movements. It was a little like the "hand jive." "Wow," I thought. This is just like an Elvis concert. It's a real happening.
"He must have taught every child," I thought.
Yes, that is the heart of the matter.
I got to the event a half hour early. Got the time wrong. The gym was empty. I wondered. I was told, "The kids will sit on the floor."
Soon the kids began to file in. Led by the teachers of their class and sat in military precision. They seemed to be making the transition just fine. No trauma that I could see. In fact, they seemed to be taking the new facilities as conquering heros. Yes. It was going to be a real party.
Soon the whole auditorium was filled. Every student in the whole district was there it seemed to me. The band played the national anthem. The Mayor welcomed the dignitaries. Supr Albrecht did the formal welcome and thanked all for their efforts. He tried to explain and then choked up in the effort to explain what the costs of the new building had been, and what the achievement meant for him and the community.
Then he simply said. "Now I would like to turn the program over to Mr. Steve."
The whole auditorium erupted in applause. Mr. Steve walked to the mike and strummed the old guitar to see if it was o.k. It was just fine.
Then he said, "Let's begin with the "The Grove Song." Do you all remember the words?"
"YES," they chanted. YES!
As the song began, I noticed that EVERY child in the auditorium knew EVERY word. As the second verse began, they even began to use hand movements. It was a little like the "hand jive." "Wow," I thought. This is just like an Elvis concert. It's a real happening.
"He must have taught every child," I thought.
Yes, that is the heart of the matter.
"The Budget "GAP"
Well, budget time is here again. No---I am not talking about the school or the city, but right here in our own home. We have been doing a lot of sharing of feelings about that "gap." There is even a rule that we switch to "decaf coffee" during the discussion.
Anyway, this budget "gap" discussion in our home has been going on for 27 years. A long time ago, I had been to a seminar somewhere about "group process technique" and decided to try out the new fangled ideas. I ventured to share those ideas with my fiance. I said, "Just write your dreams down on a sheet of paper. I will write my dreams down on a sheet of paper. Then we will merge the list and each separately number the dreams from 1-50. Then we will get the composite priorities.
"All my dreams?" she asked.
"No, just the ones that involve money." Since money was a big part of a lot of the dreams, a lot of dreams were on those lists.
I have promised not to go over the differences in those two lists. However, I do remember one funny difference. She had listed life insurance as number 5 and I had listed it as number 35. (Her dad was a life agent). Over the years though, we have agreed on where this stands on the list.
So-----we have different "gaps"----the gap between what we dream of and what we have to spend. Lots of companies and yes other organizations have "gaps" depending on what THEY dream of. Only when the discussion has been COMPLETED is the "gap" decided-----NOT before.
During "Open Government" or Sunshine Week---this week---we celebrate citizens joining in on the discussion. The Observer celebrates their input and their discussion.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 8:55 AM
Anyway, this budget "gap" discussion in our home has been going on for 27 years. A long time ago, I had been to a seminar somewhere about "group process technique" and decided to try out the new fangled ideas. I ventured to share those ideas with my fiance. I said, "Just write your dreams down on a sheet of paper. I will write my dreams down on a sheet of paper. Then we will merge the list and each separately number the dreams from 1-50. Then we will get the composite priorities.
"All my dreams?" she asked.
"No, just the ones that involve money." Since money was a big part of a lot of the dreams, a lot of dreams were on those lists.
I have promised not to go over the differences in those two lists. However, I do remember one funny difference. She had listed life insurance as number 5 and I had listed it as number 35. (Her dad was a life agent). Over the years though, we have agreed on where this stands on the list.
So-----we have different "gaps"----the gap between what we dream of and what we have to spend. Lots of companies and yes other organizations have "gaps" depending on what THEY dream of. Only when the discussion has been COMPLETED is the "gap" decided-----NOT before.
During "Open Government" or Sunshine Week---this week---we celebrate citizens joining in on the discussion. The Observer celebrates their input and their discussion.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 8:55 AM
"The Lincoln Towncar--a true story"
Last week, after returning from getting our 1996 Mazda 626 repaired at Utzig Carstar Center in Janesville, I was pretty enthusiastic about the quality of the workmanship of their shop. So enthusiastic in fact, that I began dreaming of restoring my 1989 Lincoln Towncar.
You may remember the story. I had lent it to my oldest daughter who lives in Madison while the title for her Mazda was sorted out. That took almost a year, and in the meantime, that old Blue Lincoln was fit into the parking place the size of a small Honda. The resulting picture was not pretty.
My daughter had a very strict car repair budget. In fact, it was zero. Like many new college grads, it was not a real high priority. The drivers side door did not open properly, and I noted this as she returned the car to me. "Well," she said, "I don't really consider it a problem till one has to crawl in from the back." That is one tough minded budgeter.
So, I went over to the now famous Carstar branch office in the Brown Seed Building on Water Street,(882-0807) and spoke with Jim. I told him of the larger restoration dream and of the immediate problem--the drivers door.
When he asked me how many miles it had on it, I replied, "209,000." He smiled.
"Let me be direct with you, Mr. Woulfe," he said, "Do you think you are emotionally attached to this car?"
The question was a bodyblow. I replied, "Of course I am." I then reeled off a whole litany of why restoration was in order. First, it was a minister's car. It even had the religious symbol on the left rear window. And it had the true test of a minister's car---the premium stereo system that is so necessary for soothing the nerves of one called to the higher estate. Furthermore, I elaborated, I was really trying to be a proper role model for conservatism and was trying to give back to the community. O.K. maybe that argument was going too far.
"Well," he said, "Let's begin with the drivers door."
I got the estimate. Left a satisfied camper. I know I will have to let the car go. The slipping transmission is a sign that the end may be near. It just is so hard to let go sometimes. Hard to let junk be junk. The decision is so clear when you have to pay cash for the repairs.
My neighbors have suggested that I should apply for the Lincoln to be restored under TIF #5. I just can't get the nerve to fill out the application. It seems such a big stretch of interpretation of "real property" to include my Lincoln. Just think of the precedent. There would be just as much tax increment as some of the proposed improvements, but still...O.K. it would be serious negative increment short term, but long term...in 20 years...the numbers just might work out...maybe.
O.K. I need to be realistic.
I need to let junk be junk. I will deal with the prestige...
Prestige Salvage that is.
You may remember the story. I had lent it to my oldest daughter who lives in Madison while the title for her Mazda was sorted out. That took almost a year, and in the meantime, that old Blue Lincoln was fit into the parking place the size of a small Honda. The resulting picture was not pretty.
My daughter had a very strict car repair budget. In fact, it was zero. Like many new college grads, it was not a real high priority. The drivers side door did not open properly, and I noted this as she returned the car to me. "Well," she said, "I don't really consider it a problem till one has to crawl in from the back." That is one tough minded budgeter.
So, I went over to the now famous Carstar branch office in the Brown Seed Building on Water Street,(882-0807) and spoke with Jim. I told him of the larger restoration dream and of the immediate problem--the drivers door.
When he asked me how many miles it had on it, I replied, "209,000." He smiled.
"Let me be direct with you, Mr. Woulfe," he said, "Do you think you are emotionally attached to this car?"
The question was a bodyblow. I replied, "Of course I am." I then reeled off a whole litany of why restoration was in order. First, it was a minister's car. It even had the religious symbol on the left rear window. And it had the true test of a minister's car---the premium stereo system that is so necessary for soothing the nerves of one called to the higher estate. Furthermore, I elaborated, I was really trying to be a proper role model for conservatism and was trying to give back to the community. O.K. maybe that argument was going too far.
"Well," he said, "Let's begin with the drivers door."
I got the estimate. Left a satisfied camper. I know I will have to let the car go. The slipping transmission is a sign that the end may be near. It just is so hard to let go sometimes. Hard to let junk be junk. The decision is so clear when you have to pay cash for the repairs.
My neighbors have suggested that I should apply for the Lincoln to be restored under TIF #5. I just can't get the nerve to fill out the application. It seems such a big stretch of interpretation of "real property" to include my Lincoln. Just think of the precedent. There would be just as much tax increment as some of the proposed improvements, but still...O.K. it would be serious negative increment short term, but long term...in 20 years...the numbers just might work out...maybe.
O.K. I need to be realistic.
I need to let junk be junk. I will deal with the prestige...
Prestige Salvage that is.
"The Junk Yard Con"
Over the past five years, in Minnesota and Wisconsin, there has been a change in the way car titles have been handled that has virtually eliminated the business of "rebuilding" autos. You may wonder why. The following is my understanding of the change and why this has happened.
Years ago, there were three "status" classifications of auto titles, "clear", "junk" and "salvage." The "clear" title has never been in a accident. The "junk" title was reserved for a car that was in an accident and after inspection by an auto adjuster, was totaled, and MUST go to the junkyard and could only be used for parts. The third classification, or "salvage" title is what this post is about.
The "salvage" title is a car that is in an accident but the car is deemed to be able to be repaired and put on the road. Usually, it is necessary for the state in question to "inspect" these cars prior to service. The rules about this "inspection" varied from state to state. Once the car previosly deemed "salvage" was inspected, the title was deemed "cured" and the word "salvage" was removed from the title.
I think you can see where this might cause problems. Let's say the car was a new 1990 car that was in an accident and not the "salvage" word was removed. Now the owner wants to sell that car to an innocent third party buyer. It is represented as a 1990 car and the value of the "Kelley Blue Book" is quoted. However, Kelly Blue Book pricing is NOT applicable to salvage repaired cars. Once a car has been through salvage, the value NEVER can be returned to the Kelley Blue Book numbers.
So---states like Wisconsin have ruled that once a car has been rebuilt, if they were deemed salvage, they will always have the word SALVAGE on the title.
SO--the Days of the Junk Yard Con are over.
O.K. now some of you are wondering--------- wondering whether this applies to real estate as well as cars. I will let YOU make up your mind on that question. However, if a property is worth 1.2 million and party A agrees with party C, a city, that it will be worth 2.0 million, and taxed accordingly forever, is it ever possible for that property to be transferred to an innocent third party purchaser?
Put another way, if three of you agree that the sky is red, if a fourth person says it is blue, does that make the sky red? In the matter of junk titles, the State of Wisconsin thinks not. How about in the case of real estate? I will leave that up to you.
You make the call.
Years ago, there were three "status" classifications of auto titles, "clear", "junk" and "salvage." The "clear" title has never been in a accident. The "junk" title was reserved for a car that was in an accident and after inspection by an auto adjuster, was totaled, and MUST go to the junkyard and could only be used for parts. The third classification, or "salvage" title is what this post is about.
The "salvage" title is a car that is in an accident but the car is deemed to be able to be repaired and put on the road. Usually, it is necessary for the state in question to "inspect" these cars prior to service. The rules about this "inspection" varied from state to state. Once the car previosly deemed "salvage" was inspected, the title was deemed "cured" and the word "salvage" was removed from the title.
I think you can see where this might cause problems. Let's say the car was a new 1990 car that was in an accident and not the "salvage" word was removed. Now the owner wants to sell that car to an innocent third party buyer. It is represented as a 1990 car and the value of the "Kelley Blue Book" is quoted. However, Kelly Blue Book pricing is NOT applicable to salvage repaired cars. Once a car has been through salvage, the value NEVER can be returned to the Kelley Blue Book numbers.
So---states like Wisconsin have ruled that once a car has been rebuilt, if they were deemed salvage, they will always have the word SALVAGE on the title.
SO--the Days of the Junk Yard Con are over.
O.K. now some of you are wondering--------- wondering whether this applies to real estate as well as cars. I will let YOU make up your mind on that question. However, if a property is worth 1.2 million and party A agrees with party C, a city, that it will be worth 2.0 million, and taxed accordingly forever, is it ever possible for that property to be transferred to an innocent third party purchaser?
Put another way, if three of you agree that the sky is red, if a fourth person says it is blue, does that make the sky red? In the matter of junk titles, the State of Wisconsin thinks not. How about in the case of real estate? I will leave that up to you.
You make the call.
"The Amazing Finish"
Each year in St. Paul there is a ritual called the St. Paul Winter Carnival. It goes back to ancient times when a reporter from New York who was visiting St. Paul in January complained that there was nothing to do. Deeply hurt, the folks of St. Paul have developed a long laundry list of things to do at precisely the coldest time of the year.
The symbolism of the event is that the forces of evil, the vulcans, are pitted against the forces of the spring, or warm weather, and at the climax of the festival that occurs on Saturday--last Saturday--- the Vulcans are defeated. For decades these vulcans used to be dressed up as little devils and rode on old fire trucks, with their lips greased up with a dark colored grease, and then leapt off the fire trucks and kissed the ladies that were shopping in Downtown St. Paul. This was a source of excitement for almost a hundred years till some ladies dressed in Ann Taylor attire and sipping latte in their Hondas were deeply offended by the greasy kisses and sued the city. But---I digress.
On Saturday, with the winds putting the temp below zero, I ran the "Securian Frozen 5k Race" which begins the climactic final Saturday of the St. Paul Winter Carnival. Click on the post for all the details. I was proudly wearing my Blue Devil cap that sells at Prairie Threads for a mere $10, and set off from the start finish line by a starter guy dressed as a polar bear. Anyway, the race is an out and back course along the river along Shephard Road. While the times are not available, let me say that I was running just behind a middle aged runner who was running with a very large dog, The final 1/4 mile of the race is coming back up hill to the finish at 6th and Robert where the race officials are warm above in the cozy skyway and announce the finishers over loud speakers.
As I approached the last 1/4 mile I made a valiant effort to pull even with the man-dog running team, but because it was uphill I began very labored breathing. I noticed that the dog was using a similar breathing technique. In fact, it was hard to tell my breathing sound from the dog's. Just as we hit the final tape, I pulled up to inch the victory.
My brother, who was manning the digital camera for historical preservation purposes, took the instant replay shot. Just then overhead, the loudspeakers blared, " Now representing The Evansville Observer of Evansville, Wisconsin, is Richard Woulfe." Then there was loud applause. Then a quick silence. The fans appeared confused as to exactly who was the Observer, whether it was in fact me, or the large heavy breathing dog.
I promise next year to wear a very distinctive t-shirt that proclaims The Evansville Observer. After all, I'm just not any old dog, I am The Evansville Observer.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 8:46 AM
The symbolism of the event is that the forces of evil, the vulcans, are pitted against the forces of the spring, or warm weather, and at the climax of the festival that occurs on Saturday--last Saturday--- the Vulcans are defeated. For decades these vulcans used to be dressed up as little devils and rode on old fire trucks, with their lips greased up with a dark colored grease, and then leapt off the fire trucks and kissed the ladies that were shopping in Downtown St. Paul. This was a source of excitement for almost a hundred years till some ladies dressed in Ann Taylor attire and sipping latte in their Hondas were deeply offended by the greasy kisses and sued the city. But---I digress.
On Saturday, with the winds putting the temp below zero, I ran the "Securian Frozen 5k Race" which begins the climactic final Saturday of the St. Paul Winter Carnival. Click on the post for all the details. I was proudly wearing my Blue Devil cap that sells at Prairie Threads for a mere $10, and set off from the start finish line by a starter guy dressed as a polar bear. Anyway, the race is an out and back course along the river along Shephard Road. While the times are not available, let me say that I was running just behind a middle aged runner who was running with a very large dog, The final 1/4 mile of the race is coming back up hill to the finish at 6th and Robert where the race officials are warm above in the cozy skyway and announce the finishers over loud speakers.
As I approached the last 1/4 mile I made a valiant effort to pull even with the man-dog running team, but because it was uphill I began very labored breathing. I noticed that the dog was using a similar breathing technique. In fact, it was hard to tell my breathing sound from the dog's. Just as we hit the final tape, I pulled up to inch the victory.
My brother, who was manning the digital camera for historical preservation purposes, took the instant replay shot. Just then overhead, the loudspeakers blared, " Now representing The Evansville Observer of Evansville, Wisconsin, is Richard Woulfe." Then there was loud applause. Then a quick silence. The fans appeared confused as to exactly who was the Observer, whether it was in fact me, or the large heavy breathing dog.
I promise next year to wear a very distinctive t-shirt that proclaims The Evansville Observer. After all, I'm just not any old dog, I am The Evansville Observer.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 8:46 AM
"The Cast of the Roundabout"
Last night, right in the midst of the public hearing about the coming road construction on Main Street in Evansville something pretty remarkable happened. Well, it is really about what was averted. Namely disaster. Precisely a gender war that could have been very damaging indeed for all of Evansville.
The street designer was in the midst of explaining how a "roundabout" worked, when Ald. Sornson rose to object because of the possible danger of roundabouts. He said, "Do you know how many old women drivers we have in this town? These roundabouts are going to be far too complicated for them to understand. Why, I can see them taking a left turn and hitting somebody head on. Causing lots of accidents. This is going to be real expensive."
The old pro, Bill Hammann, tried to intervene, saying, "Now John...." John was not to be stopped however. He started to go on.
There were maybe 4 women out of 50 people in the room. Two were mayoral candidates and they were reviewing their position papers on the issue...
Another woman was the new reporter for the Janesville Gazette, the famed, Gina Duwe. She was just reaching for her pen and raising it to write.....
I had just seen the movie," The China Syndrome", the previous night, staring Jane Fonda, which tells a story of a possible nuclear meltdown. Right in the middle of the meeting, I began to hear the intermittent horns of meltown about to happen.....
Just then a burly guy in the front row spoke up, "John, we have seen how you drive, and we are concerned about YOU too."
Everyone in the room laughed. Then they began breathing again. Gina Duwe put down her pen. Disaster was avoided.
So there it was. Right before the debate began on who were the worse drivers, old women or old men. Evansville saved by just one burly guy who spoke up.
Even today, in the coffee shops, people are wondering, "Who was that burly guy?"
So, sometimes you wonder why the Observer is at all these meetings. Yes, even I sometimes wonder. It is because sometimes there is a little something that the mainstream news omits that you really need to know. Like how a disaster was avoided.
The Observer is on the job.
The street designer was in the midst of explaining how a "roundabout" worked, when Ald. Sornson rose to object because of the possible danger of roundabouts. He said, "Do you know how many old women drivers we have in this town? These roundabouts are going to be far too complicated for them to understand. Why, I can see them taking a left turn and hitting somebody head on. Causing lots of accidents. This is going to be real expensive."
The old pro, Bill Hammann, tried to intervene, saying, "Now John...." John was not to be stopped however. He started to go on.
There were maybe 4 women out of 50 people in the room. Two were mayoral candidates and they were reviewing their position papers on the issue...
Another woman was the new reporter for the Janesville Gazette, the famed, Gina Duwe. She was just reaching for her pen and raising it to write.....
I had just seen the movie," The China Syndrome", the previous night, staring Jane Fonda, which tells a story of a possible nuclear meltdown. Right in the middle of the meeting, I began to hear the intermittent horns of meltown about to happen.....
Just then a burly guy in the front row spoke up, "John, we have seen how you drive, and we are concerned about YOU too."
Everyone in the room laughed. Then they began breathing again. Gina Duwe put down her pen. Disaster was avoided.
So there it was. Right before the debate began on who were the worse drivers, old women or old men. Evansville saved by just one burly guy who spoke up.
Even today, in the coffee shops, people are wondering, "Who was that burly guy?"
So, sometimes you wonder why the Observer is at all these meetings. Yes, even I sometimes wonder. It is because sometimes there is a little something that the mainstream news omits that you really need to know. Like how a disaster was avoided.
The Observer is on the job.
"Billy Bob's Auto Parts," a partially true story
Billy Bob’s Auto parts
After I bought my first car, I began to learn the ins and outs of auto expenses. On the vast salary of a fry cook at the Pioneer Drive Inn, yes it was just like Mel’s Diner in American Grafitti , I quickly learned about the benefits of buying salvage auto parts. Thank goodness we had a fine auto salvage yard. … “Billy Bob's Salvage.”
One day I had a key part on my Blue 1965 Mustang fail. I told my dad, “Well, no problem, I’ll just go to Billy Bob’s. They have everything.” My dad smiled and said, “Well, I suppose you're a friend of Billy Bob?" “Of course not, Dad". I replied. He pointed out to me that he had noticed that in the matter of quality, there were two grades. The finest went to the FRIENDS of BILLY BOB, and the lowest quality went to everyone else. I was shocked to hear of such a thing.
Over the years, I have noticed that my dad’s observation was indeed correct, in auto parts, and well… in almost everything. In fact, there is a saying in our family… WE DON’T DO BILLY BOB.
Posted by Evansville Obse
After I bought my first car, I began to learn the ins and outs of auto expenses. On the vast salary of a fry cook at the Pioneer Drive Inn, yes it was just like Mel’s Diner in American Grafitti , I quickly learned about the benefits of buying salvage auto parts. Thank goodness we had a fine auto salvage yard. … “Billy Bob's Salvage.”
One day I had a key part on my Blue 1965 Mustang fail. I told my dad, “Well, no problem, I’ll just go to Billy Bob’s. They have everything.” My dad smiled and said, “Well, I suppose you're a friend of Billy Bob?" “Of course not, Dad". I replied. He pointed out to me that he had noticed that in the matter of quality, there were two grades. The finest went to the FRIENDS of BILLY BOB, and the lowest quality went to everyone else. I was shocked to hear of such a thing.
Over the years, I have noticed that my dad’s observation was indeed correct, in auto parts, and well… in almost everything. In fact, there is a saying in our family… WE DON’T DO BILLY BOB.
Posted by Evansville Obse
"A modest Proposal for the Improvement of Justice in Evansville
Beloit is about to begin it's own version of Court TV. It will begin broadcasting the municipal court on TV. It's going to be "Judge Joe." It will appeal to those viewers who need to know about their neighbors and what they have been up to, as in disorderly conduct and such. (Click on the post for the full story.)
We in Evansville know a bit about marketing and we can certainly do better. We have seen Judge Judy. O.k. Let's see. We have Judge Tom Alisankus. Now "Judge Tom" would not seem to rhyme much. We need something like "Judge Rocky" to really get attention. But------ if we just shortened the last name a bit-----yes-----Judge Ali---
It's now "Court TV with Judge Ali"-----that's catchy.
All the revenue from ads would go to support the municipal court. That would be instead of going on high speed chases. Think of the benefits.
We would create jobs for camera folks and make up and lighting. What a fantasy! Revenue way over budget!
Let's not rush too fast on the idea though----We should talk to the Judge first. After all, we should let him have a say in his own name change. Then, there is the question of whether "Judge Ali" is dignified enough." I will let the bloggers weigh in on that. However, it sure is powerful enough. It would strike fear. It sure would deter crime. Just think of the headlines, "Judge Ali levys huge fine...." So it all comes down to the "fear" and "respect" aspects of the name change.
I will leave it up to you.
You make the call.
We in Evansville know a bit about marketing and we can certainly do better. We have seen Judge Judy. O.k. Let's see. We have Judge Tom Alisankus. Now "Judge Tom" would not seem to rhyme much. We need something like "Judge Rocky" to really get attention. But------ if we just shortened the last name a bit-----yes-----Judge Ali---
It's now "Court TV with Judge Ali"-----that's catchy.
All the revenue from ads would go to support the municipal court. That would be instead of going on high speed chases. Think of the benefits.
We would create jobs for camera folks and make up and lighting. What a fantasy! Revenue way over budget!
Let's not rush too fast on the idea though----We should talk to the Judge first. After all, we should let him have a say in his own name change. Then, there is the question of whether "Judge Ali" is dignified enough." I will let the bloggers weigh in on that. However, it sure is powerful enough. It would strike fear. It sure would deter crime. Just think of the headlines, "Judge Ali levys huge fine...." So it all comes down to the "fear" and "respect" aspects of the name change.
I will leave it up to you.
You make the call.
"The Ambulance Ride---" a true story
In the late 1970's, my father was in failing health, and the physicians were searching for the right combination of medications to help him.
The family home was in Mahtomedi, Mn., a small town exactly the size of Evansville, about 30 minutes outside of St. Paul. My folks were living in a small cottage near White Bear Lake. It was the middle of winter that year. Now Mahtomedi was staffed with 1 full time police officer, and 1 gentleman who we shall call TC ( the grandkids still remember the story.) who worked half time driving the winter snow plow and also was the on call person as ambulance driver. Now TC was a former neighbor of ours, and we knew him well. Wonderful guy. The only slight draw back was the fact that he had lost one eye in an injury, his right eye, and this had certain drawbacks. He did wear a black patch over the eye----it did give him a certain Captain Hook effect.
About 3am one cold snowy winter night, I received a breathless call from my brother alerting me to head to St. Paul Ramsey Hospital. It seems that Dad had awoke in the middle of the night with severe breathing problems and mom had called the ambulance.
Upon arriving at the hospital in about an hour---it was snowing and slippery and the plows had not gone out yet----I headed to the emergency waiting area to look for my mom. Upon inquiring at the desk, I was told that my mom was in the emergency ward as well. Stunned, I went over to the chairs nearby to sit and wait.
Some of the fellow patient's relatives in the waiting room heard the name "Woulfe" and came over to talk to me.
It seems that TC was under some considerable pressure under the circumstances to get to the ER fast, being that yes my dad's condition was not good, and also because the plows were to be on the job at 4AM---and that was going to cut it close. You must understand that everybody in Mahtomedi was counting on him. No snowplowing and nobody went to work.
So, speeding down the left passing lane on 35E, TC was making good time in difficult conditions. Then, at the last minute, TC realized that dad was not going to St. John's Hospital on the East side, but going to St. Paul Ramsey which was a sharp right exit at downtown. That is where the right eye would have been helpful.
Making a bold, sharp, right lane change, the ambulance, one of those older Ford van types, lost precious traction and proceeded to do a complete 360 before TC regained control and while not making the exit, did manage to exit downtown--yes, well sliding sideways anyway, and circle back to the hospital. However, as the relatives in the ER recounted, many vehicles hit the ditch in panic in order to avoid that ambulance. Many folks were subsequently treated at Ramsey for high anxiety from the experience.
It appears from their explanation that my mom was admitted for heart irregularity and shortness of breath as well as my dad, who blissfully was dimly aware of the drama around him.
Over the years here in Evansville thus, I have had a great respect for the dedication of our ambulance crew, because I vividly realize how far ambulance training has come. However, if I see any eye patches, especially on the right eye, it would bring back some deja vu all over again.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 6:03 AM
The family home was in Mahtomedi, Mn., a small town exactly the size of Evansville, about 30 minutes outside of St. Paul. My folks were living in a small cottage near White Bear Lake. It was the middle of winter that year. Now Mahtomedi was staffed with 1 full time police officer, and 1 gentleman who we shall call TC ( the grandkids still remember the story.) who worked half time driving the winter snow plow and also was the on call person as ambulance driver. Now TC was a former neighbor of ours, and we knew him well. Wonderful guy. The only slight draw back was the fact that he had lost one eye in an injury, his right eye, and this had certain drawbacks. He did wear a black patch over the eye----it did give him a certain Captain Hook effect.
About 3am one cold snowy winter night, I received a breathless call from my brother alerting me to head to St. Paul Ramsey Hospital. It seems that Dad had awoke in the middle of the night with severe breathing problems and mom had called the ambulance.
Upon arriving at the hospital in about an hour---it was snowing and slippery and the plows had not gone out yet----I headed to the emergency waiting area to look for my mom. Upon inquiring at the desk, I was told that my mom was in the emergency ward as well. Stunned, I went over to the chairs nearby to sit and wait.
Some of the fellow patient's relatives in the waiting room heard the name "Woulfe" and came over to talk to me.
It seems that TC was under some considerable pressure under the circumstances to get to the ER fast, being that yes my dad's condition was not good, and also because the plows were to be on the job at 4AM---and that was going to cut it close. You must understand that everybody in Mahtomedi was counting on him. No snowplowing and nobody went to work.
So, speeding down the left passing lane on 35E, TC was making good time in difficult conditions. Then, at the last minute, TC realized that dad was not going to St. John's Hospital on the East side, but going to St. Paul Ramsey which was a sharp right exit at downtown. That is where the right eye would have been helpful.
Making a bold, sharp, right lane change, the ambulance, one of those older Ford van types, lost precious traction and proceeded to do a complete 360 before TC regained control and while not making the exit, did manage to exit downtown--yes, well sliding sideways anyway, and circle back to the hospital. However, as the relatives in the ER recounted, many vehicles hit the ditch in panic in order to avoid that ambulance. Many folks were subsequently treated at Ramsey for high anxiety from the experience.
It appears from their explanation that my mom was admitted for heart irregularity and shortness of breath as well as my dad, who blissfully was dimly aware of the drama around him.
Over the years here in Evansville thus, I have had a great respect for the dedication of our ambulance crew, because I vividly realize how far ambulance training has come. However, if I see any eye patches, especially on the right eye, it would bring back some deja vu all over again.
Posted by Evansville Observer at 6:03 AM
"The Secret"
There is a secret in Evansville. It is a secret that many of the bloggers know. It is a secret that every weightlifter and athlete knows. It is a secret that every musician or guitar player knows. What is this secret?
What is the number 1 Academic Goal of the Evansville School District for the 2005-2006 school year?
The answer is: (drum roll) To Improve Student Writing.
At the recent Evansville School Board meeting it was explained that the district is implementing the 6+1 traits writing methodology. The rationale: "The State and ACT Test scores indicate need for improvement in writing. Improvement in writing has been shown to improve performance in other academic areas."
It is clear that in reviewing the traffic statistics for the Evansville Observer that our local bloggers are doing their best to improve the average time spent writing per day for Evansville. Some bloggers have barely taken time to sleep in their effort to increase that average. I commend them. Others need to begin writing however. The bloggers can't do it all. It is time for students to start their engines.
Over at the weight room, that's door #26, the lifters learn that you have to train every day to be a champion. In music, you learn to sing and train your voice--every day-- to be a champion singer. In guitar playing, you aint going to be a champion if you don't play every day. Ok... it's a passion so it aint no problem. The drummers...well...they saw "Blue Man Group.".. they know... The point is. It's the same rule. " Every day. "
I have challenged some of the local bloggers to watch to see when after writing every day to note and then email me when they begin writing the stories in their sleep..... When, after listing the topics on a note card, the stories just come and are ready in the morning. The bloggers have been a little defiant. They have said "If you train like that every day on ANYTHING you would be changed. "
Yes
That is the secret
What is the number 1 Academic Goal of the Evansville School District for the 2005-2006 school year?
The answer is: (drum roll) To Improve Student Writing.
At the recent Evansville School Board meeting it was explained that the district is implementing the 6+1 traits writing methodology. The rationale: "The State and ACT Test scores indicate need for improvement in writing. Improvement in writing has been shown to improve performance in other academic areas."
It is clear that in reviewing the traffic statistics for the Evansville Observer that our local bloggers are doing their best to improve the average time spent writing per day for Evansville. Some bloggers have barely taken time to sleep in their effort to increase that average. I commend them. Others need to begin writing however. The bloggers can't do it all. It is time for students to start their engines.
Over at the weight room, that's door #26, the lifters learn that you have to train every day to be a champion. In music, you learn to sing and train your voice--every day-- to be a champion singer. In guitar playing, you aint going to be a champion if you don't play every day. Ok... it's a passion so it aint no problem. The drummers...well...they saw "Blue Man Group.".. they know... The point is. It's the same rule. " Every day. "
I have challenged some of the local bloggers to watch to see when after writing every day to note and then email me when they begin writing the stories in their sleep..... When, after listing the topics on a note card, the stories just come and are ready in the morning. The bloggers have been a little defiant. They have said "If you train like that every day on ANYTHING you would be changed. "
Yes
That is the secret
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