Perception is in the eye of the beholder

Do any of these slogans fit your perception of a Marine?

Is perception actual, or based on cliché?

A conversation a few days ago sent my thoughts back to the concept of perception, centering more upon persona this time. I am going to take another run at it from that direction.

Ever see a motion picture or television show where the cliché good cop / bad cop comes into play? Unless you never go to movies or sit in front of a TV, undoubtedly you have. It not only is a ploy used to get a suspect to talk, but sometimes it is the real thing simply because of the individual police officer's perception of how officers should act in public, should treat civilians on the street and should act around their colleagues.

Most of us have observed "on duty" police officers at work, possibly in a situation after personally being stopped for a traffic violation. Some officers are friendly and smiling, some are all business and straight faced, some act cocky and jaunty, some come on like Mr. Tough Guy and scowl. Officers are trained how to behave in public, but some develop their own habits and standards based on their own personalities, education and levels of experience -- their own perception of themselves.

This is true in all lines of work, I think, but it just seems more obvious (to me, at least) when encountering people in uniform.

Think Marine Corps. Another sample of T-shirt slogans offers illustrations of attitudes adopted by individual Marines. "Improvise Adapt Overcome" is a useful motto for members of the military and civilians alike, in any occupational area. "Defending Our Nation" is appropriate for all branches of service. "I Fight What You Fear" is pure Marine bravado, a shirt for only a zealot to wear. "Any Where Any Time -- Marines" and "Death Smiles at Everyone –- Marines Smile Back" could be taken as bravado, as well, and might be, but more likely reflect an attitude of pride in willingness to be the first into any battle. Those two sort of demonstrate another cliché, which is fighting for the buddy next to you more than for any nationalistic ideal. The final one, "Marines –- Death Before Dishonor" falls into a warrior ethos that has existed here and there since time began. It was a code followed by the Spartans at Thermopylae and most men, if not all, who fought and died at the Alamo.

The long and the short of this is that I do not think you would encounter many Marines who would wear all six of those T-shirts. Perceptions of what a Marine is (or should be) vary widely, even among the members of this rigorously trained and indoctrinated organization. Concepts, overlap, most certainly, but not all of the "Devil Dogs" think of themselves like that or act like that or want others to view them like that.

Which leads me back to the starting point: how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us. The conversation which started me thinking about perceptions once again included discussion about shyness. I was told that I seemed to have considerable self-confidence and was very assertive in my behavior. My first thought was, no, I am more the quiet, withdrawn type.

Realization came an instant later that how I perceive myself in a given situation was the key. It all depended on what "role I was playing," which of my characters happened to be on stage at that moment in time.

As an "on duty" reporter, for instance, I can approach anyone (and often have) and ask any question, carrying with me a persona like I am the most important guy in the world and I am giving them a break simply by talking with them. If I were an "off duty” reporter, so to speak, and in a social situation and simply wanted to meet some of these same people, I doubt I would have the nerve to do it. I suppose the easy solution here (for me, at least) is to always think of myself as an "on duty" reporter.

This is my perception (beyond the chameleon characteristic) of what a "good reporter" should be –- assertive to the point of aggressiveness; confident to the point of arrogance; fearless to the point of recklessness. Sort of like a Marine, but with a pen and a notepad instead of a rifle. How others perceive me, I really never have thought about (or really cared about) in the past. I think I might now.

Music Note: Listening to Journey ....
Specifically, "Escape" ....
Some lines from "Stone in Love:"

Those summer nights are callin,
Stone in love
Can't help myself I'm fallin
Stone in love

Old dusty roads, led to the river
Runnin slow
She pulled me down, and in clover
We'd go round
In the heat with a blue jean girl
Burnin love comes once in a lifetime

Oooo the memories never fade away
Golden girl, I'll keep you forever

Ghost riders, end of newspapers & en guarde

I cannot resist bringing you another photograph of Fram the First and Fram Actual enjoying an evening on the town. Many people in this neck of the woods are aware of our talent on the dance floor. Hardly had we entered the Doll Hut the other night when we were approached by a bevy of beautiful young ladies and asked to dance. The two of us, I mean, and no wisecracks. Got it? Anyway, we decided to perform one of the numbers we had learned as mere boys. It is called "Ghost Riders in the Sky." Here is a photographic record of our performance. What? Oh. Yes. Right. There are three of us in the photo. No sooner had we begun the dance when we were joined on the floor by cousin Raisuli. He recently had shaved his beard at the demand of his girlfriend, Eden Pedecaris, and was out on the town looking for solace. You might also note this is a very rare photo of Raisuli because it does not show him with his sword in his hand.

Newspapers are a good place to be from ....

As I prepare to depart from what almost certainly is my last job on a daily newspaper, I am thinking about a commentary written by Diva a few days ago. Read it, if you at all have been a newspaper fan during your lifetime.

Some of the words that follow I posted in response to Diva's column, and want to use them again here, as well as to add a few more. I used to think that only a few national dailies and some small, "home town-type" newspapers would survive the obvious decline in traditional journalism, but I am no longer sure even those will last. For some time, I've been adjusting to the idea of a world without an actual newspaper delivered to my door.

I began my journalism "career" as a high school sports writer. You might imagine my stories: "Led by the Fabulous Fram, our team clocked the bad boys last night." Nothing like being the reporter writing about yourself.

By the time I was a junior in high school, my morning regimen was coffee and toast while reading the Minneapolis Tribune. (Cigarettes came a few years later.)

In college, I did a bit of writing for the campus newspaper, not so much news as book and movie reviews. My first year out of college, I spent in a classroom teaching English and history. Did not like it. Mostly, what I disliked was being "locked" in a classroom all day long. I began looking for newspaper work, and found a weekly that would take me. A mere 10 months later, I jumped ship again and went to a daily. And, so it began.

Over a span of years, with some "sabbaticals" interrupting newspaper time, I worked on weeklies and dailies: small, medium and large. I promise you, working on a small-town weekly is by far the most difficult. You do every job there is to do, and you pretty much are doing it free of charge.

I have been a reporter, both general and investigative. I have been the editor of a medium-size daily. I have written straight news, sports, opinion pieces (editorials) and been a columnist. I have won a few awards from state and national journalism associations.

Being a reporter was fun. Running around, meeting people, interviewing people, being in the midst of some exiting events like a forest fire or a police stand-off, meeting some famous sports figures, political figures and literary figures, learning every aspect of local government and knowing just about everything going on in a community cannot be beat as enjoyable work.

In a newsroom, however, what money there is to be found comes from desk work -- editing, bossing, putting the paper together. I could not resist the money and moved up. When I think about it, I would rather I had not made the change. Money is money; being alive is more important. Just like teaching, newspaper desk work means being caged all day, meeting very few and learning very little. (Do I see stones flying through the air?) Works for many (obviously), not for me.

Now, traditional journalism is being replaced by a little real news and much junk news via the computer screen. This, I think, is an actual crime because there is absolutely no responsibility or accountability associated with who posts what on the internet. Political fanatics (people far beyond mere partisans) spread lies, hatred and propaganda onto the internet and call it facts and news.

You and your children and grandchildren, as they say, will have to live with it. In that sense, I feel sorry for you and your children and your grandchildren.

Back to me. For one reason or another, I have left journalism and newspaper work a few times along the way. I am doing it again, thinking (actually, knowing) it will be for the last time. There will be no more traditional newspapers to come back to in a few years.

As I told Diva, this does not bother me, because I have left newspapers a few times in the past and jumped into new places and new times and new work. I anticipate doing that again somewhere along the line between six months and a year from now.

When I was in junior high school, the brother of a friend of mine came home after being discharged from the U.S. Army 101st Airborne. From my friend, I had heard about his brother's adventures since his first day at jump school. I asked the elder brother if he had liked the Army, fully expecting him to say something to the effect that it had been great. His reply, made with a straight face and his eyes looking away from me, was, "It's a good place to be from." His words had a startling impact on me at the time. Those words sort of describe my feeling now, today, about newspapers.

But, like Diva, I will miss their presence and being able to sit down and read them over coffee and toast in the morning.

En guarde, you scoundrel ....

How many read my "Scaramouche" words, I have no idea, but one additional thought came to mind with hindsight. I have "played" with swordsmanship myself. I participated in the fencing club my final year in college. It came about accidentally through choosing a fencing class as one of the physical education requirements, liking it and being asked to join the club. Another element I have in common with Andre-Louis. I just hope the ending to my story is as satisfactory as was his.

Music Note: Listening to .38 Special ....
Specifically, "Special Forces" ....
Some lines from: "Caught Up In You:"

I'm so caught up in you
Little girl
Fill your days and your nights
No need to ever ask me twice
oh no
Whenever you want me
And if ever, comes a day
When you should turn and walk away
Oh no
I can't live without you
I’m so caught up in you

Good reporters, lovers & earning your way

Do you know what a good reporter is?

I have said this before. I occasionally (often?) have been accused of being overly serious. And, I have said this before. So what? So, here we go with sort of a continuation of last night's conversation.

Do you know what a good reporter is?

A good reporter is a chameleon.

One day, he is able to walk into the office of a bank president, sit down, and within a matter of minutes make himself appear to be like he is the next-door-neighbor to the bank president, that he is the bank president's best friend and his personal confidant. The reporter wants information, details, so he must instill trust.

The next day, he is able to walk into the home of a drug dealer, sit down, and within a matter of minutes make himself appear to be like he is the next-door-neighbor to the drug dealer, that he is the drug dealer's best friend and his personal confidant. The reporter wants information, details, so he must instill trust.

You get the drift? It is not as easy as I tried to make it sound, but that sort of covers the basics.

I am a good reporter. My object with this piece of prose is not to have you distrust me. It is to stir you to think, to study and to learn about the world and people around you.

The important thing here is not what makes a good reporter, but is for you to learn how to tell the difference between someone who is potentially a good reporter and someone who has genuine affection for you and who wants to learn more about you and who wants to try to learn if there might be an "us" in the future.

I know some of you understand this and could have skipped reading what I have written here; I also know some of you do not understand, but I hope you will come to.

Are you still reading, or did you doze off?

Personally, I have been fooled once. Professionally, once, also, and I am speaking in terms of not recognizing when I was being lied to, but I crucified the liar when the lie was discovered because it was my job at the time and I always attempt to be fully professional at my work.

It is evident most of us hanging around here have been dumped, dropped or at least lied to along the way. It is the same for all of us, I think. A great line, a great face, a great bank account, any or all of those things and more might enter the picture, plus our own vulnerabilities at the time. Maybe, the old "rebound" complex.

Then, too, feelings change, do they not? Love can diminish as surely as it can grow when new truths are discovered or when old lies are uncovered or when betrayals occur.

Call it whatever you want, but I would prefer some people dislike me for what I do say rather than for what I do not say. Another one of Ernest Hemingway's thoughts was this: "Men and women cannot be friends without also becoming lovers." I know that to be incorrect because I have experienced it. I would imagine some of you have, as well. (If not, pick your friends better.)

Wherever this page leads, my foremost hope is that it will leave those of us who are "talking" a bit wiser (I know reading you has taught me) and with feelings of affection toward and concern about each other.

Anything beyond that will be a bonus.

Sometimes coincidence is beyond belief ....

One day I make these statements: "Most were high school teachers looking for credits to use to jump up their salaries. One or two were grad teaching assistants (probably career grad assistants). One among the group was the village idiot, me, who thought the class might be more beneficial to me than an evening bowling or sitting in a bar. It is entirely possible I was the only person there because I actually wanted to be there."

Barely a day later, this falls out of the sky: "As a former teacher who was required to take inane classes for earning a raise, I am sorry I missed your literature class. I surely would have disputed you boat interpretation favoring the notion of a allegorical stock market interpretation."

Required to take "inane classes for earning a raise"?

Never in my life have I encountered anyone, most particularly a retired, career school teacher such as "troutbirder," who would label a class in which the subject matter consists of novels, written by acknowledged masters of the form, to be an "inane" class. The particular novelist I referenced in my commentary, Lawrence Durrell, came within a whisker-width of winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.

There are good teachers and poor ones, with most probably somewhere between. I can understand providing teachers with monetary incentives to increase their knowledge base. What I have never been able to understand is why so many teachers seem to believe their own personal education ends the day the degree is slapped into their hands; why so many whine about being forced to take "inane classes for earning a raise."

The concept of teaching begins with the teacher learning through personal education and experience, not with an evening of bowling or sitting in a bar waiting for the school year to begin.

I repeat: "It is entirely possible I was the only person there because I actually wanted to be there." Very sad, but true. A few days ago, I wrote that ignorance is not bliss. Evidently, for some, it is.

More fun and games ....

The blogger named "troutbirder" seemed to think I am among the "pretentious, arrogant, pseudo-intellectual political Luddites."

Pretentious? No, I do not think so. How could "the" direct descendant of Fram the First, conqueror of the Mediterranean, ever be pretentious?

Arrogant? Oh, yes, guilty as charged. That began with high school sports and was greatly encouraged by the Marine Corps. (I think their motto should have been, "Second to None," since that is the cornerstone of their training.) I often have a hard time distinguishing the line between self-confidence and arrogance. At least, I recognize arrogance as a flaw within me, and generally try to keep a lid on it.

Pseudo-intellectual political Luddites? I am not certain how that might be associated with literature, teaching, liberals or conservatives in this context, and really do not care. I suppose that is because I am only a "pseudo." Whoops, here comes old arrogance creeping up on me again, so I will finish with it.

I do have a bachelor of arts degree with a double major in English and history, which I completed in three years instead of the usual four. Had I wanted to attend another summer session, my credits were so abundant that I could have had a bachelor of science degree thrown in, as well. I also do have a master of arts in literature, which I completed by taking classes here and there over a few years, and being a full-time student for the final semester.

I do not consider these degrees to be as important as the fact that I did it all on my own time with my own money, and with neither expectation nor promise of a salary raise. I did it for me as an attempt to become a better, more well-rounded person. Whether or not I am, so what? So, learning is fun.

Music Note: Still listening to classic rock on the radio ....
Getting my money's worth from this machine ....
Playing this instant: "Photograph" by Def Leppard ....

The patience of readers; winners$ & losers$

A homemade illustration just for the fun of it: I turned around, and what did I see, but these things on a bookshelf waiting to remind me that summer approaches, nothing can stop it, and only I can prevent me from making this summer forever a part of my life. Keep the sights on the target and squeeze the trigger.

Thank you, for your patience, those who read ....

A few people are being very patient with me. Sometimes what I write is overly serious, more-or-less brooding. Sometime what I write is more-or-less goofy. Long live Fram the First. Right now, I am eating crackers, salsa dip, Swiss cheese and dill pickles, drinking apple juice and trying to type. Pretty interesting material to read. Right?

What I am saying is that a few people actually are being nice and putting up with me. Fewer still, but some, actually are taking time to write comments about my stuff. It amazes me. Thank you.

When working for a newspaper, a reporter knows the circulation numbers but, most of the time, never knows how many people actually read the articles he writes. I remember an occasion when a man came up to me, said he knew the editor was out ill, and asked me who was writing the editorials. Immediately going into defensive mode, I braced myself and said, "I am." He looked at me with genuine amazement and said. "My god, I've met a philosopher. You're a philosopher. You know that, don't you?" He made my day. On another occasion, a man simply told me he enjoyed reading my book reviews; on another, a county bought some land to turn into a public park, initiated because of articles I had written about canoeing and camping there. Another time, a state agency that cost the taxpayers about a million a year was shut down due to articles I had written about waste and corruption. Sometimes you know you had an effect.

Having completed this circle, I want to return to Day 1. What I really am hoping for here is that the right person is reading what I write, or that I will drift onto a site where I encounter the right person producing her own page.

Ernest Hemingway once was my favorite writer. He probably remains among the top five on my list. Hemingway said, "Things either happen or they don't." Whatever impressions of Hemingway remain in me, those words have become an absolute part of me. It is sort of like U2, and "with or without you," and most of us learn to accept that.

I think I am growing. In the least, I know I am changing. I think I am becoming more a citizen of the world and less of a nationalist -- although I curse anyone who tries to take my guns or my books away. I believe there are principles that override daily life and comforts. I think, with the exception of some medieval cathedrals, nothing man-made surpasses the beauty of nature. The call of a wolf is majestic; the sound of a motorcycle is junk noise. I envy people who have religion, and abhor those who would try to do away with it, which is one reason I am disgusted with the current state of affairs in the U.S.

There I go, drifting again. What this amounts to is to say that I think life is an experiment, whether created by a universal god or by accident, I have never known and probably never will. I have reached a point in my life where it is more important to know rivers and ruins than it is to know mayors and their cronies. Thieves have more to fear from me than I have from them; all they have to do is to stay on their own side of the street and they will be safe from me.

Those interested, please continue reading in days to come. As I said long ago (well, a few weeks ago, anyway), I am here to learn, which requires you to be writing, whether in reaction to me or to express your own thoughts. If anything further comes of it, so much the better. If not, the essence of old Ernie and I will drift along to another time and place, maybe on to Harry's Bar, while on the road to Greece.

Some make it, some lose it ....

It is fascinating how economic times hurt some and benefit others. I might be a beneficiary. My house is a 40-year old ranch style rambler (? I was informed ?). After talking with a pair of realtors, the suggestion is to ask a somewhat premium price for it based on its location, and to put it on a 60-day, first-of-the-month-notice, rental basis until there is a sale.

The house is a block away from an elementary school, around three or four blocks from a high school, a mile away from a major mall, two miles away from a hospital and on a quiet street. Someone with a bit of money is bound to come along. And, if not, this is a house that certainly would rent to a young family. The rental income would pay the taxes, pay the insurance and provide me with a few dollars. I could play it by ear whether or not to actually sell, should the opportunity arise.

When I had to depart Sanctuary/Refuge, the housing market was booming and I was able to make money. This was a couple of years ago, before the advent of socialism in America. Even with a more-or-less split of the money from the sale of Sanctuary/Refuge, I gained enough to pay cash for this house and to have money left over for play-time or save-time or whatever. I could say more, but not right now.

This is turning into Part 1 of Plan A.

Music Note: Listening to and sort of watching the Rolling Stones ....
Specifically, "Bridges to Babylon Tour '97-98" ....
The relevant lines from: "Gimme Shelter:"

I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away

More truth in poetry than in news stories ....

Politicians & reporters. Do not trust either.

How many times have you voted for a candidate for political government office because you had "trust" in the person? I never have.

Perhaps that goes back to cynicism. Most certainly, it goes to the role and responsibility of journalists. Journalists are (at least, once were) trained to be skeptics, doubters, investigators, fact seekers and objective to the best of their abilities. It is very obvious some journalists are better at these things than others.

Television reporting, by-in-large, is pretty pathetic. Many newspaper reporters are more suited for producing fiction than for pursuing the facts. This has never been truer than it is today. Over here, for example, stands a Republican candidate. Over there, stands a Democrat candidate. Each is presenting his political point of view. Inside that view are personal beliefs, personal ambitions, dollars and cents, pressures from constituents, arguments from lobbyists and friends, and a host of other elements. Between them stands the reporter. How can the average citizen learn which candidate is telling the "truth" and is being "honest" when the reporter has abandoned traditional journalistic precepts and is allowing his personal feelings to enter the story?

Journalists and politicians must maintain an adversarial role, I believe. That does not mean the relationship cannot be friendly, cordial and polite, and even have a sort of friendship exist between individuals in the two camps. It does mean that the journalist and the politician both need to understand it is a reporter's obligation to check the facts behind every word that comes out of a politician's mouth. Increasingly, this no longer is the case. Increasingly, fewer facts are emerging from the spin. Increasingly, there is no one left to trust. Increasingly, people have no choice but to follow candidates blindly.

Returning to the beginning of this commentary: I never have voted for a candidate because I "trust" the person. I vote for the individual who I think is best suited for the task at hand in terms of the conditions that exist at that particular point in time, and this is becoming a more difficult task with every election due to the disintegration of American journalism.

Discovering Emily & rescuing Percy's heart ….

I have no idea how many people browse the "world of blogs," either idly or in a pattern searching for common interests, but it really is a fascinating pastime. My brief periods of exploration the past few days have centered on poetry.

A few sites I have visited are primarily dedicated to one or more well-known poets. The other day, for example, I found one where Emily Dickinson was featured. There was a photo of Ms. Dickinson. Although one of my majors was English, I do not recall off hand ever seeing a photo of her before.

The lead poem on the page was this:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

Where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

The simplicity, yet the depth of those few words, is breathtaking. I think I have gained a new and greater appreciation for Ms. Dickinson through my exploration of the blogs.

My own studies of verse have revolved mostly around the British poets of the 19th Century. Byron, Shelley, Keats, Tennyson, Coleridge and their brethren, to name a few. English major snobbery, I suppose.

The only recent American poet I ever took a close look at was James Dickey, and only then because I consider his novel, "Deliverance," to be a classic -- a heroic tale told in contemporary style and language. Besides that, it is about canoeing and the "Zen of archery."

Speaking of novels and British poets, may I recommend another of my favorites? It is, "The Missolonghi Manuscript," by Frederic Prokosch. Lord Byron spent the last few months of his life in Missolonghi in Greece, where he died at the age of 36 in 1824. This novel is presented as if it were the memoirs of the dying man, written as he reviews his entire life. Byron, in addition to being an author of the first order, literally was the Sean Connery/Jim Morrison/Brad Pitt of his time. Among the ingredients of the novel is an account of the death by drowning of Percy Shelley, his funeral pyre and the snatching of his heart from the flames as a macabre memento. Something for everyone.

Music Note: Listening to The Doors ....
Specifically, “Absolutely Live” ....
(Another California connection, featuring the Byron of his time)

Beatles, Boy Scouts & mock sabbaticals ....

Quote the Beatles:
"You say you got a real solution"

One thing seems explicitly clear to me. Other than corruption, the economic problems facing the U.S. today stem from a "shop until you drop habit" by individuals and, most particularly, by government (local, state and federal). To compound the problem, the shopping has been done largely with credit rather than real money.

Now, the President and most members of Congress actually think that having government extend and expand the shopping spree with still more credit buying will solve the economic problems. Well, maybe, maybe not.

The fascinating (one of my favorite words) element here is that neither the leaders nor the followers can accurately predict what the end result will be. The design of the scheme reveals an obvious step toward the massive redistribution of wealth, and there is nothing new about that. The Greeks did it successfully; the Romans did not fare so well and suffered 100 years of civil war. (Had redistribution gone well for the Romans, Julius Caesar might not have been assassinated, therefore, Shakespeare would not have written his play and, therefore, we would not have his most excellent piece of theater to enjoy.) The U.S. did redistribute wealth to a moderate extent in the 1930s, the 1960s and, some would say, resumed doing it again in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Personally, I think a revolution has begun. I hope I am around to witness it fully to the finish, to learn what shape of government evolves from it. (This might take a few decades.) As historian and philosopher Will Durant put it: "Civilization is not inherited; it has to be learned and earned by each generation anew; if the transmission should be interrupted for one century, civilization would die, and we should be savages again."

Truly risky business and, for sure, the next few years could be absolutely, positively fascinating. In the meantime, my "real solution:" Buy gold and diamonds, and vote historians to Congress rather than attorneys.

Like a good Boy Scout, "Be Prepared"

A few days ago, someone commented that my words had a cynical tone to them. My response was to say that I was born cynical.

I don't suppose I actually was born that way, but close, and my opinion is that working as a newspaper reporter has fostered a deepening cynicism. Think about it. I've covered a couple of murder trials, been to numerous crime and accident scenes, and become of aware of many instances of corruption, malfeasance, incompetence and conflict of interest in government and business. Sometimes, as a general news reporter, you are a witness to the best in people but, more often, you are exposed to the worst.

Some people lead very sheltered lives and try to avoid hearing or reading negative news. They might go so far as to block out the words of someone who disagrees with them on political, religious or any number of issues. Fine for them, but between natural curiosity and a measure of cynicism born from exposure to the world as it is, I want to be aware of everything and anything which might affect my life. I know, from experience, that lightning does occasionally strike, harshly, mercilessly, sometimes in the form of nature, sometimes in the form of another human being. I want to be prepared physically and mentally as best I am able should such a thing happen near me.

I guess that means while some might consider me a cynic, I would say I utilize my cynicism as a tool to be a realist. Remember the Boy Scout motto.

It might be time for a "mock sabbatical"

Just to find out what is going on in the newspaper employment market, I checked out "JournalismJobs.com" today. Six openings in Florida, six openings in California, no openings in Minnesota. This website has been filled to the brim with newspaper openings in the past. What does that tell you? It tells me that any changes for me might involve another "mock sabbatical," which, actually, would be welcome.

Music Note: Listening to Scorpions ....
Specifically, "The Best of Scorpions" ....
(One of my favorites, "Still Loving You")
(Deutsche kennen gute Musik)