We Moved

   We moved last Monday to a new apartment.  We've lived at Westminster Village for ten years, so were eligible to have new paint and flooring in the old place.  Not looking forward to being displaced while all the redecorating was in process, we found that we could move into another unit.  There were several available, so we picked the next size smaller and set about deciding on the new decor.  Fortunately, the Marketing Director is an ace when it comes to decor, so we followed her advice.  The new wall color and flooring fit perfectly with our furniture.
   We scheduled a moving company, then began packing up what items we could move ourselves.  We took "ownership" of the new unit on Friday and began loading boxes on laundry carts.  Saturday began the transfer, which went on into Tuesday.  The movers hauled the big items - furniture and art work - and placed everything in place as we had planned it.  The one snag was that the 4-drawer file didn't fit in the computer room (I had measured everything two or three times!) so it went on the patio.  Wednesday, a Maintenance worker installed shelving in our storage closet off the patio, so we were able to put everything away that had been stuck out there.
   Art work is still not hung, but the floors have been "Swiffered" both wet and dry.  We know where almost everything has been shelved, and have been able to make breakfast without too much of a delay while we search for plates and coffee and such.  So tomorrow is the first anniversary of the first week in our new home and we are absolutely delighted to be here, facing east and greeting the sunrise.

May 1988 - Moscow State University - Excerpt

"Freedom is the right to question and change the established way of doing things.  It is the continuing revolution of the marketplace.  It is the understanding that allows us to recognize shortcomings and seek solutions.  It is the right to put forth an idea, scoffed at by the experts, and watch it catch fire among the people.  It is the right to dream - to follow your dream or stick to your conscience, even if you're the only one in a sea of doubters.  Freedom is the recognition that no single person, no single authority or government has a monopoly on the truth, but that every one of us put on this world has been put there for a reason and has something to offer." - President Ronald Reagan.

Unusual Smoothies

Shirley had some oral surgery two weeks ago and was put on a liquid diet.  The first thing we did was buy a Magic Bullet for making smoothies.  Since then, we've been trying all kinds of recipes.  There was the usual fruit and yogurt and milk.  Some with rice milk.  Then we branched out to cans of soup thinned with milk.  Another good one one was chicken pot pie and milk.  This morning it was a breakfast sandwich - half a biscuit, soft-fried egg, cheese and a slice of crisp bacon with a cup of milk.  She loved it!  Tomorrow may see a pizza smoothie.  No telling where we'll go from here until she sees the doctor next Wednesday.

Slimming Down

Not only have we been able to get our weight down - eating less sugary foods - but Shirley and I have been cleaning house.  We took a large load of too-big clothes to the Humane Society store last week.  We've been going through the apartment, looking for things we don't use or don't need anymore.  A lot of the items are donated to our Village Shoppe here at Westminster Village, which doesn't accept clothing, the proceeds of which go to the Westminster Village Foundation.  The Foundation provides grants to Westminster Village, primarily for resident assistance.  There are cases in which a resident may see their resources dwindle and need help with their monthly charges.  The charitable purpose of Westminster Village is that no resident will ever be asked to leave if, through no fault of their own, they run out of money.  So we support the Foundation as best we can.

Off Again

Well, I'm off Facebook, this time for good.  I'm just tired of the business of them selling my personal information to any company, then saying how they're protecting my privacy.  So much for that.  I'll use the time previously spent for worthwhile projects.  How do you feel about Facebook and the privacy issue?

Back Home

We're back home and after several days of rest and laundry we're ready to face the world.  I had written in 2013 that I was parting company with technology, but strangely, technology crept up on me.  I'm now the owner of a Fitbit.  If you don't have one, a word of warning: they can be habit-forming.  And while away, somehow I wound up with a smartphone - a Samsung Galaxy J7.  Now the problem is how to figure out all the ways to make it work for Shirley and me.  So far, I've taken 2 pictures, received 4 messages and loaded a few items on the calendar.  That's it for now.  The manual is over 160 pages, so I may be closeted for a while.  See ya.

Out-of-Touch Travellers

We haven't flown since 2011, so we're a little apprehensive.  We're travelling to Rochester, NY to visit family, especially a cousin who is flying in from Germany.  But at least, we now have our boarding passes, calendar pretty well filled out, and suitcases almost filled.  What next?  Will the limousine service pick us up on time?  Will the plane be late?  With there be a car waiting for us at Avis?  Did we pack the correct clothes?  Time will tell.

My Dad - Frank Arthur Miller (1896-1974)

 

          Dad’s lineage on his mother’s side, goes back to Miles Standish, while on his father’s side it traces to German farmers in Alsace, France.  He was a twin, the fifth of ten children born in Batavia, NY, to Lennie Mann and William Francis Miller, eight of whom survived infancy.  His mother died when he was eight, after which his oldest sister kept order in the household.  Schooling ended at the age of thirteen when he had to earn money to help support the family.  Following his father’s footsteps, he worked in construction, eventually having his own business as a bricklayer and mason contractor.  He spent part of The Great War as a Naval Seaman in England, building barracks for the troops.  Marriage to Wilhelmina Henrietta Goebel in 1922 brought two sons, Frederick and Robert, raised during the Great Depression.  He was a hunter and fisherman, providing the family with pike, bass, pheasant and rabbit to feast on.  During his short life (77 years) he built houses for his sons, entertained 13 grandchildren, was active in the local Spiritualist Church, shoveled snow off miles of sidewalk and almost survived prostate cancer.  There are many structures in Batavia and Rochester, NY, that bear the fruits of his labor, and his family sorely misses him.

My Mom - Wilhelmina Henrietta Goebel (1897-1979)

Mom was the eldest daughter of immigrants from Germany.  Her father, Heinrich Göbel, arrived in his teens and worked his way to become a noted chef in Rochester, NY.  Her mother, Clara Marie Steinmetz, arrived with her mother and sisters at the age of eight; she worked as a domestic until her marriage to Heinrich, who had since become Henry Gabel, ultimately settling on Goebel.  As she grew up, Mom saw her 18-year old brother, Fred, dead from an accidental electrocution, and her two-year old sister, Marguerite, dead from scarlet fever; her youngest brother, Henry, lived to the ripe old age of 97. 

Always surrounded by cousins and friends, she enjoyed family outings, especially visits to her Uncle Fred Gabel’s farm in Mendon, NY.  After graduating from high school, she attended business school, eventually working at Remington Typewriter Co. as a bookkeeper.  The summer of 1922, she worked at Camp Mohawk, a resort inn on Fourth Lake in the Adirondack Mountains.

After marriage to Frank Arthur Miller in 1924, she lived in Batavia, where her two sons, Frederick Arthur, and Robert Harold, were born.  She was an active member of the Methodist Church, and with her husband, joined a local Bridge Club.   Mom and Dad continued to meet monthly with Mom’s girlfriends and their husbands to play Pinochle, rotating from house-to-house, even though it meant traveling the 30 miles to Rochester.

          After the family moved to Rochester, in 1941, she took a job as Receptionist, Cashier and Switchboard Operator at Kroll's, a women's clothing and millinery shop on North Clinton Avenue.  After her husband's death, Wilhelmina suffered a series of strokes.  She moved into a nursing home on East Henrietta Road, where she lived for her last 4 years.  She died in Genesee Hospital of pneumococcal pneumonia at the age of 82.  She was a grand lady and the proud mother of two, grandmother of 13 and great-grandmother of three.

What's the Problem?

Last November, the voters in Arizona approved a measure to raise the minimum wage to $10.00 per hour, with additional increases over the next few years.  This was one of those “feel good” measures that passed without anyone assessing the true impact on families, businesses and our local economy.  So what was supposed to happen and what did the measure achieve?

First, step back and ask: What was the problem that the measure was trying to solve?  That was never made clear during the campaign.  For the Legislature, it apparently was to provide more tax revenue.  For the employees, it apparently was to give them more spending money in their pockets.  For the employers, we don’t know.  What really happened?  Well, the Legislature will be getting more tax monies to spend; employees will be getting a percentage of the increase to spend, not the full amount, because of their increased tax burden.  And what are the unintended consequences of the measure?

Employees who were earning the minimum wage received an increase, regardless of their performance, taking away their employers right, and ability, to reward performance.  Employees who were earning a dollar or two above the minimum wage because of their performance, now see themselves earning the same wage as lower performing workers.  To adjust for this forced discrepancy, employers must now raise everyone else’s wages, ultimately causing prices to rise.  This is forcing a rising economy, which eats into everyone’s disposable income, negatively affecting their ability to buy the necessities.

A simpler solution?  Keep wages at a level determined by the labor market, and lower the tax burden.  So, let’s repeal the wage increase, define the real problem, and start putting the economy back on solid footing.

24, 48 or 72?

Take a look at your deodorant.  Mine says it's good for 48 hours.  48 hours?  I take a shower at least once a day, so why would I need a deodorant that lasts longer than that?  And now I find that stores offer some that last 72 hours.  Does that mean I could forego washing under my arms for three days?  Well, it ain't gonna happen - I'm buying the 24-hour stuff next time we shop.  Sure makes one wonder, though.

The Old Hometown Looks The Same - Sure!

 

This is a street view from Google Earth of the old homestead in Batavia, New York.  It looks the same as when we lived there in the 1930’s, except there was a Spirea bush next to the porch, instead of what looks like a Lilac bush.  The fourth house down the street to the right belonged to my Grandfather, but his barn is gone now.  And down Miller Avenue, to the left, there is a four-car garage; my father converted it from the original five-car structure sometime in the 1950’s, when I was in college.  When we visited about ten years ago, everything looked smaller than I remembered.





 

The Old Hometown Looks the Same - NOT!

It’s been years since I walked the streets of downtown Rochester, New York, but I have checked out parts of it on Google Earth.  At the corner of Main and Clinton many changes have taken place, including Midtown Plaza having been replaced; I wonder what happened to the “magical” Clock of the Nations.  Across the street, the Sibley Building has been enclosed by construction fencing, presuming some major changes there.  The building held the Sibley, Lindsay and Curr Company, a major department store back in the day.  The big treat was to visit the toy department on the fourth floor just before Christmas to see the tremendous display of marvelous toys, dolls, electric trains, games, bicycles – all the goodies we wrote Santa about.  The elevator took us up, or rather, the elevator operator took us up.  He was responsible to make sure we were clear of the doors he manually opened and closed, then worked the lever to take us up, all the while singing out the floors we approached and the merchandise contained therein; second floor, ladies dresses coats and hats; third floor, men’s and boy’s clothes; fourth floor, housewares and toys.  That was the one we waited anxiously to hear.  And then the rush out the door to the Christmas Wonderland!  Great memory!

Lectric Shave, Customer Response and Me

Lately, I’ve been reading the ingredients on stuff I use, and was interested to note that Lectric Shave contains Fragrance, plus Green 5, Yellow 10 and Orange 4 dyes.  I use the product just before I go into the shower, so thought it didn’t make since to have those things in a product I washed off within minutes.  I looked up Lectric Shave and found it’s a product of Combe Incorporated and sent off a letter to Mr. Christopher B. Combe, President, suggesting those items be removed.  I told him about allergic reactions to dyes and fragrances and mentioned a reduction in production costs could be realized.  Their current brands are “category leaders in feminine health and intimate skin care, men’s hair color and grooming, and oral device care.” It took several weeks, but I did receive a response.  Not from Mr. Combe, but from someone in his customer response organization.  In a few short sentences, she wrote that, if I didn’t like their product, I shouldn’t buy it.

            That sent me off to wonder about other of their products I shouldn’t buy, so I did some research and here’s what I found I shouldn’t buy, besides Lectric Shave: Vagisil, Just For Men, Aqua Velva, Brylcreem, Johnson’s Foot Powder and Sea.Bond.  So they are now on my “No Shopping” list, not that I’d ever need Vagisil.

Sizing Things Up

I bought a bathrobe, white, made by Izod.  It’s more like a kimono.  The tag says “One size fits most”.  That’s true if most are 5’4” Sumo wrestlers with short, stubby arms.  I’m not, but I make do.  My socks fit shoe sizes from 7 to 10½; my size is 9½, so I’m reasonably sure that my heel and the sock heel come together.  Imagine a fellow with a size 7 – the heel must come up to their ankle; and the person with a 10½ shoe must find himself walking on the sock heel.  Another thing is shirt sizes.  I’m half way between S and M.  I wish they made a Small-and-a-half.  The sleeves might turn out to be just the right length.  Are you a size 35 waist, drowning in size 36 slacks or holding your breath in a 34?  Welcome to the club.  So if you meet me anywhere and I look like I slept in my clothes, blame it on the manufacturers, not my bedtime habits.  After all, my hair is combed.

Odds ''n Ends

Over a week ago, a rain cell stalled over our building and dropped over 2 1/2 inches of rain on us.  Our patio doesn't drain - it's a long story - and we wound up with a small pond, because the wind was just right.  Our Housekeeping Manager came with a power extractor and sucked up over 50 gallons of water.  Our thanks to him, we have a very dry and clean carpet.
This morning, our newspaper was short sections A, B and C.  I called in the problem to the AZ Republic office and was promised a new paper and a credit to our account.  Now, that's customer service!
If you're interested in pet portraits, look at this blog: http://pamelamangelsdorf.com and read her August 2016 post.
It's official - I'm old.  One son has just retired and a daughter is just about to.  But weren't they born just a few days ago?  Seems like it.
Here's the dust storm that rolled in last week just as we were getting out of our car.

Deception

Deception is something that magicians rely on quite heavily.  Here's another example:
One Friday night, a worker approached the guard shack with a wheelbarrow full of hay.  He stopped while the guard searched the hay.  Finding nothing, he let the worker go home.  That went on for several Fridays, the guard knowing the worker was stealing something, never finding anything in the hay, but just couldn't figure it out.  Finally, the guard stopped the worker and told him he knew he was stealing something, that it was driving him crazy and that he was being transferred to another city.  He begged the worker to tell him, promising not to tell anyone else, just what it was he was stealing.  The worker said "wheelbarrows".

Quiet - War Worker Sleeping

That's the sign we proudly displayed on the front of our house during World War II.  Our father was working the night shift in a factory producing material needed to help end the war, and needed to sleep during the day.  We made sure the neighborhood kids were aware and steered clear.  All street games were played up the street, as quietly as we could manage.  Can you picture us playing tag, whispering?

The Last Time

Our son’s step-son died suddenly at age 35.  Of course, everyone is grieving and  in shock that he could be taken at such a young age.  But, such is life – and death.  None of us know the time of our coming demise.  That is the uncertainty of life: we never know when the last time we see someone will turn out to be the Last Time.  So what does that mean to us?  Should we grieve after they’re gone because of all the things we left unsaid?  Or should we celebrate that we took the time to truly be with them each and every time we had the opportunity?  Regret or rejoice?  I can only hope, for my Last Time, that it will be rejoice.

Post Brexit

Now that the vote has been taken and the majority have said to leave the EU, many are saying they want a second vote.  Why, oh why, are some now saying that they wouldn't have voted to leave, if they knew that would win?  They're saying they voted against the side they wanted to win.  What?  Is that attitude prevalent among voters worldwide?  Good grief!