Microwaves, potties and other pet peeves

  Pet peeves: We all have them and the pesky things won’t go away.

I hate it when people leave time on the microwave oven. I don’t know how many times I’ve been stuck trying to punch in the cook time only to be thwarted by that blinking second or two still on the clock from the previous user. If that is you, STOP IT! Be courteous and clear the timer. It’s not hard.

Another thing that bothers me and blows my mind is in public restrooms when some guy walks up to the urinal, flushes it, does his business, and then walks away without flushing. That’s backwards and it’s sick. Ugh! Did your parents not teach you how to go potty? What are you thinking? Flush after you’re done. I don’t know if this is a problem in the ladies’ room, but guys, if you do this, it’s gross and you need to change your ways.

Some of my other pet peeves happen behind the wheel of my car. I know I’m not alone in these. Blinkers are not optional! They’re there for a reason. I don’t know how many near-misses I’ve been in because some idiot suddenly changed lanes without signaling. And when I turn mine on, it means I’m turning or switching lanes. It does not mean speed up to keep me from moving over.

My lead-foot tendencies often have me passing a lot of cars on long trips. On four-lane highways and interstates, the left lane is for passing. I can’t even begin to count the number of times on any given trip that I have to pass multiple cars on the right. What’s worse — and this is one of my biggest pet peeves — is nine times out of ten the moron cruising the left lane is usually on their phone.

Speaking of passing, when it comes to alternating double lanes, like we have on highways 16 and 87, why do people speed up when there are passing lanes and then slow down below the speed limit when the road narrows to one lane? I don’t get it, but I experience it a lot on those and similar roads. The speed limit doesn’t change, so what gives?

And don’t even get me started on door dings. The side of my car looks like it’s been riddled with bullets it has so many dings in it.

Some other things that bother me happen with the swipe of a debit card. Most of time now when you go to a restaurant, the barber, or some other place where a service is performed, the machine will ask if you want to leave a tip. Usually, they have buttons for suggested tips. They are typically 18%, 20%, 25% or more. I’m from a time when tips were between 10-15%. I’m still cheap that way.

In general, the quality of service isn’t any better now (and often worse) than when we left 15% tips. If I don’t feel the service was worth more than that, I don’t want to have to go through the hassle of figuring out the amount and pushing all the extra buttons to make a change. Nor do I want to reward bad service. Just give us cheapskates a simple 15% option.

Another thing that really irks me is when you purchase tickets online and the venue nails you with a “convenience” fee. I don’t find them very convenient, especially when they don’t charge them if you buy your tickets on site. The other day, I bought a pair of tickets for $25 each for a Christmas concert in December. The tickets came to $50, plus I sprang $20 for parking. Yet my $70 bill cost me $105 after the fees were added.

If I had gone up to the venue window and had an actual person wait on me, it would have been $70 and the company would still have to pay the person to help me. Online, they don’t pay anyone and they collect exorbitant fees. (In this case it was as much as the cost of third ticket and another parking spot). The same thing happens with movie tickets. The last time I bought movie tickets online, I got four $5 matinee tickets for $20, but paid almost $30 for them. That’s highway robbery!

I think the only ones being convenienced with these fees are the venues who are raking in 30-50% more per ticket without anyone helping you and for not having to pay an employee to handle the transaction. I honestly think this is a practice the attorney general ought to be looking into.

So now, I can expect to pay 50% more to go to a show, pass someone on the right to get there, get cut off by someone not using their blinker, and have to put up with a filthy toilet when I use the restroom. And for all this there is a demand to make the minimum wage $15 an hour? Sheesh!

Monkee business

This weekend, I am going to see the remaining Monkees on their farewell tour at the Tobin Center for Performing Arts in San Antonio (not the aforementioned concert). They are playing tomorrow (Sept. 23) in Austin at Stubb’s Austin Waller Creek Amphitheater, and then Saturday in San Antonio.

I’ve been a fan of the band since 1986 when MTV starting airing episodes of their 1960s TV show. I’ve seen them (Mickey Dolenz, Peter Tork and Davy Jones) several times, and even had a backstage interview with Mickey once. But I’ve never seen Mike Nesmith. Now, he and Mickey are all that’s left and this is the last chance to see them as the Monkees. Look for my review in an upcoming edition of the paper.

 

joe@fredericksburgstandard.com

Changes in helper roles ahead at historic fort

On the surface, it doesn’t seem fair for the Fort Martin Scott Friends to be evicted from their office building on the grounds once the Texas Ranger Heritage Center assumes management of the historic fort on Nov. 1

After all, they all but own the building. The nonprofit organization raised the funds to relocate and refurbish the building and it has been officed there for many years. In that time its dedicated members provided countless hours of volunteer service running programs and other activities there. With the contract approved last week by the Fredericksburg City Council with the TRHC and the fort’s advisory committee, it’s almost as if the friends group were being told “Thank you very much for your tireless and dedicated service, but don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

OK, it may not be that harsh, but some of the friends volunteers may take it that way.

The simple fact is that the Texas Rangers Heritage Center will now be doing the job the Fort Martin Scott Friends were doing. Having both doing the same job could create conflict and confusion. And as was pointed out at the council meeting, most friends organizations are fundraising arms for entities, such as parks, libraries, etc. They are not involved in programming and management, which was fairly unique in the case of the fort’s friends.

Fortunately, the TRHC and the city are not heartless and are willing to work with the friends group during the transition. They are allowing the friends to keep their library and other artifacts there until they can determine what to do with them. The office computers and other office equipment, however, will need to be relocated.

More importantly, this will be a time of regrouping for the Fort Martin Scott Friends. They will have to rethink their purpose and role at the fort. It is doubtful that the Rangers or the city want to lose the knowledge base and dedicated service of the volunteers who have worked so diligently over the years to keep the fort a viable historic site and tourist destination. They deserve respect and recognition for all that they have done.

Hopefully, as the growing pains subside in this transition, a new a better purpose for the friends will emerge. Both sides, after all, want the same thing. The Rangers, being housed next door, are a larger organization and better suited to manage the fort than what the friends have been able to do. That is why this agreement makes so much sense.

Both groups need to strive for harmony and to find a way to work together for the betterment of the fort and the guest experiences there. They need to avoid getting into an “us versus them” mentality and find a unity that will help make the fort and the heritage center a dynamic and educational experience for all who come to visit. – J.S.

(This editorial appeared in the Sept. 15, 2021, edition of the Fredericksburg Standard-Radio Post.)

After two decades, we must not forget

Twenty years. Two decades. Nearly the entire length of my middle son’s life.

Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, is a day I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. I will not forget.

No one should ever forget.

I was in the shower getting ready for another day at work. Sandy was still in bed watching the small TV in our bedroom. I got out and was toweling off when she urgently called me over to see what she was watching. A plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers in New York. No one seemed to know what happened. Was it an accident? Was it a big plane or a small one? I stood mesmerized wrapped in a towel watching events unfold.

Then the second tower was hit.

This is no accident. It’s an attack.

I knew instantly that I had to get to the office right away. I was a reporter for the Longmont (Colorado) Daily Times-Call. I was the first reporter to arrive at the newsroom. Another feature writer was next. A couple of editors were already there. By the time I arrived, the Pentagon had been hit. A short time later, a plane went down in a Pennsylvania field.

The decision was made to put out an extra edition. I put in calls to the police chief and city leaders to get the local angle. They were all tied up in an emergency meeting, but began returning calls immediately afterward. My colleague started getting information about vigils and special church services that were being hastily put together. The little bit of local copy we generated and whatever we could pull off The Associated Press wire was meshed into a quick special edition and was on the press about the time everyone else reported to work.

It was a helpless feeling. We didn’t know the extent of the attack. Was it over? Were there troops on the ground or more inbound planes? Were we a potential target? Why was this happening? Who was behind it?

So many questions. So few answers. So much uncertainty.

Everyone in the newsroom was busy that day localizing coverage. Even the sports writers were cranking out copy about canceled games. I worked late into the evening covering prayer meetings and services. I don’t think there was a lot of coffee consumed that day. The adrenaline alone kept us hyped up and going.

I dropped into bed late at night, fully exhausted. In the morning as I went to work, I noticed the mobile home next to ours had candles that were still burning on the front porch. I didn’t think anything of it. Candles, flags and ribbons were everywhere at that point.

Then I got the call from Sandy.

A breeze had kicked up and started the neighbor’s trailer on fire. She went over and woke them up and got them out. She then attacked the blaze with a garden hose until the fire department arrived. She called me to tell me she was being taken to the hospital for smoke inhalation. It turns out she was OK and later the city gave her an award for her life-saving heroics.

The next several weeks were busy ones with 9/11 related stories.

Life had changed. We drew together as a people. Petty differences were put aside. The American spirit had been revived and pride swelled to unimaginable levels. Even what few local Muslims and people of Middle Eastern descent we had in the area, although leery of the hard stares they received, were overwhelmed by the love and support shown to them.

Compared to now, I kind of miss those times. Twenty years ago, the Internet was still a new thing. You had to access it with a dial-up modem and most anyone with an email address used Juno or AOL. This was long before social media. It was so heartwarming to see how people could pull together, no matter how great the differences.

Today, there is so much hate, cyberbullying and false and misleading information proliferating on Facebook, Twitter and much of the rest of the Internet that you would think we have forgotten how to behave as civilized people.

We have forgotten. We have forgotten how to love and care for one another. We have forgotten how to respect people with opposing perspectives. We have learned to hate and distrust one another. We have learned to hide behind memes and anonymous snipes online.

When I say that I cannot and will not forget what happened on 9/11, I actually mean 9/12. Yes, I will always remember the attacks, but I will mostly remember the love, caring and togetherness we experienced on Sept. 12 and the short time that followed. We need more of that today.

That’s what I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. I will not forget. No one should ever forget. Otherwise, the enemy will have won. We can’t allow that.

 

joe@fredericksburgstandard.com

Get ready for big fun at the Gillespie Fair

It’s time to break out the boots and cowboy hats (OK, shorts and flip-flops will also work) and get ready for the return of the Gillespie County Fair!

After a smaller and more subdued event last year due to pandemic restrictions, the fair is back in full form for 2021. That assumes, of course, that the spike in COVID-19 under the delta variant doesn’t lead to another round of closures and cancelations.

As of now, the fair promises to be everything we remember it to be. Carnival rides, livestock and home skills shows, horse races, the parade, and nightly concerts among many other things will highlight a weekend of fun on Aug. 26-29 at the Gillespie County Fair Grounds. This year marks 133 years, which is still the oldest county fair in Texas.

The fair is a time of fun and festivities. As one of the oldest traditions in Gillespie County, it is a time to celebrate who we are as a people and the things we can accomplish. We recognize the hard work of our FFA and 4-H members who have put a lot of time and energy into preparing their livestock and other projects for show. It’s a time for artisans, cooks, and those prolific with thread and needle to shine.

This year the fair will crown a new queen and her court, ending the reign of Queen Brittley Bowers, First Duchess Ella Sanchez, Second Duchess Taylor DeLong, and Third Duchess Lauren Beyer, who are the longest-serving court in the fair’s history due to the pandemic last year. To be sure, they have represented us well the last two years.

For music lovers, this year’s concert lineup is stellar. Headlining this year is 1990s country superstar Pam Tillis, known for such hits as “Maybe it was Memphis” and “Don’t Tell Me What to Do.” She will take the stage Saturday night, Aug. 28. Preceding her on Saturday are former “The Voice” contestants and Texas natives Holly Tucker and Curtis Grimes. Kicking off the concerts on Thursday evening will be La Calma, followed on Friday by Jody Nix and the Texas Cowboys.

Another big attraction will be the fourth and final pari-mutuel horse races of the season at Gillespie Downs. Post time on Saturday and Sunday is 1 p.m. Doors open at 11 a.m., so come out early and enjoy the fun.

When you come out to the fair or line up for the parade, we ask that you bring one thing with you — respect. There will be those in masks and those without. Be mindful that each person has his or her own reason for what they are doing and it is not your place to criticize them for their choice.

Lastly, but certainly not least, we express our gratitude to the Gillespie County Fair and Festivals Association board of directors and the auxiliary, whose members work year-round to ensure a top-notch fair continues with as few issues as possible. They deserve our thanks for all the activities at this cherished event for Gillespie Countians and those who come from miles around to enjoy the oldest continuous county fair in Texas. – J.S.

ONLINE

Go to https://gillespiefair.com, click on “Gillespie County Fair,” and find information on the fair, livestock registration, purchase tickets to concerts and horse races, a schedule of events, and registration forms for the fair parade, vendor packets and volunteering.

(This editorial ran in the Aug. 18, 2021, edition f the Fredericksburg Standard-Radio Post)

The last time, the last word

 Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about last times. Not the last times in the biblical sense, but as in the last time you say, see or do something. Do you ever reflect on the last time you spoke to someone who has died? What did you or they say?

Do you recall the last time you left a place important to you, like a childhood home, favorite vacation spot, a school, a church, or even a former place of employment? A lot of times you will do something or see someone for the last time and never know it. I have four adult children, but I cannot recall the last time I changed a diaper, which I would have considered a monumental occasion.

Since Feb. 1, I have lived and worked 250 miles away from my family back in the Houston area, eagerly awaiting the time my wife, Sandy, lands a job here and they can follow me to God’s country. I see them on average about three weekends a month. Every time we part, I am very careful to make my last words to them “I love you.” It’s important to me.

In 2014, my mother rested in the hospital bed where she would spend the final days of her life. The last words she audibly spoke to me — choked out past the breathing and feeding tubes in her throat — was a hoarsely whispered, “I love you.” I treasure the words and the memory deeply.

I was solemnly reminded of the importance of final words on July 24 when Sandy and I came upon the double-fatal crash on Highway 16 South. We were just seconds behind the van that was hit head-on by a pickup truck. When we arrived on the scene, we were unaware that it had just happened. Instinctively, I looked for a route around the wreck and was wondering why law enforcement wasn’t directing traffic. Then it struck us that law enforcement and emergency crews had not arrived yet.

We got out of our car and asked the other bystanders if we could help. The few that were there had stunned looks and a couple of them said they had just called 911. Just then we realized there were babies crying in the back of the van. I went over to the driver’s side door, which was slightly ajar, and pulled it open as far as I could, which was just a few inches. I looked in and saw a man sitting there and I asked if he was OK.

The man didn’t answer. He slowly turned his bloodied face toward me, his eyes in a fixed stare in the distance. That’s when I noticed his broken and mangled arms and hands. There were curtains of deflated air bags everywhere and it was hard to see much else. My wife and another person took over while I checked the other doors and windows. They were all locked, except for a single window in back that was blown out. I looked inside and could see the backs of two child car seats and the tops of heads.

I next checked the truck. It was crunched really bad and all I could see of the driver was the top of his head in the lower front corner of the driver’s side window. I didn’t have to look any closer to know he was dead. I looked for a passenger and couldn’t see one. By then, emergency crews arrived and the professionals took over.

Sandy and I watched and waited for the better part of an hour while the two toddlers were extricated through the back window of the van. The jaws of life had to be used to get the driver out. We knew there was a front passenger and presumed she was dead since no one was trying to help her.

That scene has haunted us for a while now. I know it has to haunt the police, fire and EMS crews who responded. I developed very deep appreciation for those men and women on the spot as we watched them work.

I couldn’t help but think about how so many lives changed in an instant that evening. The father was no longer a husband. Two young children are now motherless. The father’s body was badly broken and he is sure to spend months in the hospital and in therapy. He is undoubtedly in more physical, mental, and emotional pain than I can fathom. His children will have their own injuries to cope with, but are young enough that they will probably grow up with no memories of the crash or, unfortunately, of their mother. The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached.

Everything happened so instantaneously that there were probably no goodbyes or final words. For the families affected by the crash there will now be new beginnings, fresh starts without a loved one. Each painful day from now on will be a gift and a reminder of how short and precious life is.

In this world where there is so much hatred and social media vitriol, I want this to serve as a reminder to be kind, be loving, and to let your words be uplifting or beneficial. Perhaps if we took that mindset into all of our relationships and personal interactions, this world would be a much better place. At least that’s a hope to hold onto.