Expect the Unexpected

 

4/8/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Expect the Unexpected

        It’s nice when someone holds the door, or wishes us a good day, partly because it’s unexpected. A guy at the gas station not only wishes me a good day, but asks how I’m doing. I wait in a particular line at the grocery store because Larry always checks the egg carton by opening it and turning the eggs upside down to look for cracks. When I expressed appreciation, he said proudly, “Thanks, I’m the only one I know who does that.” It made me wonder how many of his customers thank him for going the extra mile.

        Most of us expect certain things to happen, and are surprised or angry when our expectations aren’t met. It’d be nice to sail along assuming everyone is doing his or her job, but we all need to be held accountable. If we fail to ask questions, confront discrepancies, or go out on a limb for our priorities, we can expect messy consequences.

       For a number of years, a rancher rented out an extra house on his place. His operation has changed and it’s needed for full time help, but tenants have trashed the place, making a complete remodel necessary. I’m sure the owner assumed that his several renters were being responsible caretakers. The assumption cost him dearly, as well as causing inconvenience and a lot of elbow grease for the people who hope to take up residence in a timely manner.

        We’ve all seen television interviews where college students were unable to answer questions about current events. I’ve always thought the interviewer purposely edited the programming so as to make us believe that public education is in the tank. Ratings, you know…

That’s until I heard of someone who asked local Honor Society students which nations the United States fought in the Revolutionary, Civil, Vietnam, and Korean wars. They didn’t know. When confronted about this, the local history teacher said, “We don’t teach that____ anymore.” Graduate students at a large university didn’t know the answers either.

        So, when did we stop requiring students to know the price someone paid for their right to remain ignorant? Why do we hire instructors who call our country’s history a word I can’t use in this family newspaper? These youngsters are voting, or soon will be eligible to, but probably won’t bother. That is, unless they decide to run for office, which is even scarier.

The students aren’t to blame. I hated history too, in school; all those dates and battles to memorize, not to mention the Preamble, and Gettysburg Address. My teachers didn’t care if I hated it. They cared that I learned it.

            My parents didn’t care if I wanted to pick up my messes, put things back where they belonged, and help with chores. Whining didn’t faze them, but consequences for failing to carry out orders made an impression on me, and affect how I live to this day.

            Responsibility for the trashed house falls directly on the owner, who ought to have been checking up on his tenants, rather than believing they knew better than to desecrate someone else’s property. Perhaps they did, but didn’t care. Or maybe no one taught them that_____ either.

 Do you ask your kids what they learned in school today? Do you mention Grandpa’s military service, emphasize that war means putting one’s life on the line, talk about the ideologies that our country fought against, and that we have the freedoms we enjoy as a result of someone’s sacrifice? Do they know the California drought and cold winter in the South will affect the price of their food, and perhaps mean adjusting the family budget? Do they see you offer a hand and thank a policeman, or serviceman or woman? Do you communicate with school personnel and elected representatives?

            A sixteen year old totaled his car one week after getting his license. Unhurt, and unrepentant, he inquired when he would get another vehicle. His parent said not soon; made mention of insurance rates, and mortgage payments.

“Mortgage, what’s that mean?” Explanations weren’t cutting it. “Well,” he said, “You just go out and buy a house. That’s the way it works.” The mom said when she was in school they learned to figure budgets, interest rates, and such, but guesses nowadays, not so much.

A mother corrected her son’s grammar. “But everyone at school says it that way,” the youngster argued. Mom acknowledged this, but explained that if the child got used to speaking improperly, his job opportunities as an adult would be limited. I’m pretty sure the eleven year old brushed off that reasoning, and is likely to use the slang speech again. I also expect the infraction will be gently corrected every time it occurs in the parent’s presence, and that the young man’s future will be brighter because of a parent who pays attention.

We shouldn’t assume that people are doing the things we expect of them. Nobody likes to be checked up on, but we’d be wise to make our expectations clear and keep a finger in the pie.

You Could Have Fooled Me

4/1/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

You Could Have Fooled Me

            And you can, pretty often. I tend to think people mean what they say; often only realizing the comment was a subtle joke when my response draws a look that conveys the person is thinking he should have known I wouldn’t get it. Most people are polite enough not to sigh disgustedly in conjunction with “the look,” or ask if I used to be blonde.

            There are worse character defects than being too literal, and I have my share of those too, but I really do appreciate humor that sneaks in the back way because it implies common ground, and that solutions to human dilemmas are often found in unusual places. Laughing at ourselves helps to diffuse the sheepish feeling that we’ve been had. Again.

            All my life, people have told me stuff that turned out not to be so. Examples:

            “You’ll understand that when you’re older.”

            “I’m telling you this for your own good.”

            “You’ll never regret buying this product.”

            “You can keep your doctor…”

            “This won’t affect your tax status.”

            “Our website is secure.”

            “Those emails can’t be retrieved.”

            “Daylight Savings Time allows more time for recreation.” (Not if I’m too tired from getting up in the dark to stay up for the fun.)

            On the other hand, a degree of discernment does arrive with the wrinkles. Some might label it cynicism, but whatever you call it, I’m grateful to now know these things are true.

            “We’ll have to pass it to know what’s in it.”

            “If elected, I promise to fundamentally change America.”

            A candidate who claims to represent constituents with a background of burgers, once elected, tends to line up with whichever faction will buy them the biggest steak. 

            Not everyone says what they really mean.

People who do say what they really mean aren’t very popular.

I’m more willing every year to be unpopular.

Planting garden in the Sandhills before Memorial Day is a chancy deal.

The Sandhills are full of folks who have learned to laugh at themselves.

The other kind never stays long. Thanks for staying.

Who’s Coming to Dinner?

3/25/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Who’s Coming to Dinner?

            Speaking of food, as we were last week, has me thinking about the rebellion among students when hot lunch programs were adapted to Mrs. Obama’s standards. Although I have reservations about the content of those menus, and how they were implemented, it should come as no surprise to the general public that kids turned up their noses. What does surprise me is how schools have caved in and pretty much gone back to the prior offerings. “Eat that, it’s good for you,” carries little weight when people have access to other choices as today’s kids do.

My youngest grandkids attend a small town school with a hot lunch program. They get notice of the daily menus and if the choices aren’t to their liking they pack their own sandwich, fruit, and juice. On any given day, one, or all, of the three may carry a lunch box; no big deal.

Hot lunch is served at the elementary building, so high school and junior high walk a couple of blocks to eat. A couple of eateries downtown are far enough from school to be inconvenient options but there’s a deli at the grocery. Wise housewives time grocery shopping to avoid lunch period, because checkout lines are backed up with students buying substitute noon meals. The offerings at school seem pretty normal, from what I’ve seen; government overreach takes a while to reach the boonies. I don’t know if what kids are buying is healthy or not, but it’s interesting that they have the disposable income to make those choices on a regular basis, and that parents are ok with it.

 This is a generation used to having many options. Not a bad thing, in itself, but expecting young folks to make wise decisions without a lot of parental input is unrealistic.

One difference now, from my early years, is that family mealtime has become almost obsolete. My mother, and her peers, cooked three meals a day. We all sat down to eat together, including hired men and any salesman, cattle buyer, well driller, or neighbor who happened by. We ate what was set before us (or, in the case of some youngsters who shall remain nameless, slipped it under our plate.) Either way, we knew that no other options would be provided until the next meal, unless Mom was baking cookies and we arranged to be nearby when they came out of the oven.

We also knew to thank the cook, and help clear up; these were not so much preached, as modeled by hired men and guests. Spare nickels were rare, for all ages, and eating out was a treat that happened only when traveling. Most students ate the noon meal at home; after all, we had an hour to get there and back. Oh, and if you got caught bringing food to school, other than in your lunch bucket, detention was the penalty.

Fast forward to when Uncle Sam began feeding our kids, from milk in kindergarten to hot lunches, and breakfasts. Extracurricular activities increased, there wasn’t time to go home at noon, and consolidation kept students away from home for up to twelve hours a day. Fast food isn’t just something kids grab on the way to practice, now it’s available in vending machines on site, and Moms may get takeout on the way home from work. Everyone gets home at different times and eats alone when they arrive, if they haven’t gotten something on the way there. Government intervention and nutrition guidelines won’t change anything as long as we opt for that lifestyle.

There’s a reason why we serve refreshments after the meeting, have coffee hour after church, put on a potluck for co-workers, and welcome new neighbors with a casserole. Sharing food in a relaxed setting opens the door to communication, engenders feelings of acceptance, and builds trust. It’s interesting that these customs have survived, while we let dinner time disappear. Does it mean we value business and social connections over our kids?

When are we going to take back dinner time? It’s still supper in my neighborhood, but whatever you call it, that is the most effective weapon against the generation gap, and the means of instilling not only healthy eating habits, but conversational skills and an interest in community and world affairs. This gets harder to do as kids approach teens; even earlier than that there’s pressure for them to join in peewee sports programs and activities that encroach on family life.

My grandkids are fortunate in that there’s still an evening meal at their house. One or the other parent cooks; sometimes assisted by a youngster if it’s a weekend or vacation time. Grace includes “thankfuls;” each person is offered an opportunity to express gratitude for whatever has been good that day. Manners are required, and everyone clears his or her place setting. It’s not uncommon for one of the kids to compliment the cook while holding up a plate for seconds of a simple casserole, exotic salad, home raised steak and vegetables, or cheesecake from scratch.

It’s sort of sad that a practice which used to be the norm is now out of the ordinary. My son and daughter in law are to be commended for maintaining it, but the kids are getting older, and it’s going to be uphill from now on. Sure would be nice if society supported and rewarded standards like that, but that’s going to be an uphill battle too. Is anyone out there willing to try?

Eat That, It’s Good For You

3/18/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Eat That, It’s Good For You

            Do modern moms still say that? I grew up hearing it all the time, and likely a lot of readers did too. Some of us were fed that line about the starving Armenians, which held little persuasiveness. I think kids are born with an unwritten rule imprinted into their brains. “If it’s good for you, you aren’t going to like it,” and I was perfectly willing to ship my oatmeal and liver to Armenia, wherever that was.

            Some adults took a lighter approach: “It’s good for what ails you.” But nothing ailed me, or at least nothing I’d admit to, if it meant eating the offering of the moment. It’s my considered opinion that a lot of dogs got fat on what kids slipped under the table while mom wasn’t looking.

            On reflection, it’s amazing that someone as rebellious as I was never challenged an adult as to how they came by the knowledge of what food was good for us. Anyone who claimed that eating bread crusts would make your hair curly didn’t have much credibility in my book. I wanted curls, but there was a limit to what I’d endure for the privilege, and the alternate claim that bread crusts would put hair on your chest was even less appealing.

            “What’s good for you” has undergone numerous changes over the years and I’ve come to suspect that the folks who make those decisions are influenced by political agendas. We all studied the food pyramid in health class, and took the recommendations as gospel. It wasn’t a big deal for the middle class, who had always eaten pretty much along those lines. The underprivileged were glad to get whatever they had, and the prosperous, well, they could, and would, do as they chose.

            For a while the emphasis was on protein, but then grains came into fashion; now we are encouraged to eat mostly fruit and veggies, with lots of nuts and legumes supplying protein. Very little meat is recommended. Fats, carbs, sodium and sugar have variously been in and out of fashion, and dairy is alternately considered beneficial or harmful. Last week in the grocery checkout I overheard this.

            “Hey Joe, did you listen to the news this morning? You can have all the bacon and eggs you want; cholesterol isn’t a big deal anymore.” I’d listened to the same newscast, and chuckled, because years of diet watching and statin drugs didn’t lower my cholesterol, and going off meds and eating bacon and eggs regularly, didn’t raise it. I’ve come to agree with my dad, who maintained that eating a little of every food group was the way to stay trim and healthy. Emphasis on little. The tendency to super-size has likely had more to do with declining health of Americans than anything.

            One eastern city proposes a tax on sugary drinks and snacks to help reduce obesity and diseases like diabetes. Let’s think about this. There are taxes on booze, tobacco, telephone use, and gasoline. Do you know anyone who has stopped smoking or drinking alcohol because of a tax? Are you still driving? Talking on the phone?

            Come on, Uncle Sam, get real. Be honest. If you want more money, (and he always will) just say you’re raising taxes. Don’t insult our intelligence with the fairy tale that a tax has ever deterred someone from doing what they wanted. And if you really have no clue what foods are good for me, just say so. Those of us who care about our health will continue to eat what we decide is good for us. Plenty of lean beef. Maybe not Brussel sprouts.

           

Cutting Loose

3/11/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Cutting Loose

            Back in the day, we never knew about spring break. I’m not sure if we were kept in the dark intentionally, or if our parents and teachers were simply ignorant of the need for young people to let off steam. It seemed that letting off steam was viewed with a degree of disapproval, at any age. But I’m not getting any younger, and one must keep up with the times, so I’ve been planning what to do on my spring break.

            Apparently, the idea is to go to new places (preferably somewhere warm) and do things on spring break that you never did before, or else do a familiar activity to extremes. Well, there are so many things I haven’t done, and places I’ve not been, it’s almost overwhelming to consider the options. This may take a while; best get going on a list…

            New places to go:

            Vegas, Phoenix, Miami, Tucson, (no, been there) Seattle, (too wet) Bahamas, (too spendy)… this is too hard. I’ll come back to it.

            New things to do:

            Skiing. Well, probably not in any of those places. Drag racing—I missed out on that in my youth; how about sky diving? That would require some heavy duty drugs, since I won’t even climb a windmill, but apparently the drug thing sort of goes with the deal, for a lot of folks.

I know! A nude beach! It would save some bucks, since I don’t own a bathing suit and wouldn’t have to buy one. No embarrassment either; every last soul would clear out in a hurry when I disrobed.

It’s my impression that the person having fun on spring break does it on someone else’s dime. That could be a problem, without parents to foot the bill, and it’s more than doubtful they’d have ever entertained such a proposal anyhow. Maybe my kids would chip in? In-laws might pay to be rid of me, at least temporarily.

             But don’t people usually do these things with groups of friends? And here’s a huge glitch, I don’t have a single friend who’d go for any of that. Those who confess to having indulged in the past have moved on, which is one of the reasons we are friends now.

            Well, there’s nothing for it but to adapt the formula. New list of possibilities:

            Go to Rapid City, or Cheyenne; more likely Valentine. Been there, done that, and liked it. I’m inclined to bet on a sure thing.

            Watch the stock dog trials; hit the health food store, the bookstore, a couple of good steakhouses, maybe take in a rodeo or Cowboy Poetry event. Been there, done that, and liked it. Chances of financial aid being slim, those choices wouldn’t break the bank.

I can think of at least a dozen folks that would go along at the drop of my John B. They’re fun to travel with, pick up the check when it’s their turn, and don’t need chemicals to enhance the experience; always helpful if one cares to stay out of jail, although going to jail seems to be part of spring break for a lot of the younger set. Nah, we can skip that part.

            I’m starting to like the sound of cutting loose more and more, but in reality, not much of the above is likely to happen. Best case scenario: I’ll visit my buddy in South Dakota, drive through the new calf crop at the ranch, sit on a hillside and listen for the silver sound of Sandhill Cranes, squint into the sunset looking to spot them, eat a steak grilled by one of my kids, get drunk on moonlight, and help the grandkids color Easter eggs. Maybe even snuggle up with my spouse for a Sunday afternoon nap. Talk about living large!