That season is almost upon us. And with it comes a newness we have come to expect. Of course I am talking about the Christmas employment season. Hundreds of teenagers and college students start applying for work they know is temporary but should put a little spending cash in their pockets.
As an employer I see applicants of all ages and with it I am seeing a disturbing trend. Who is teaching these students how to apply for a job? My guess would be nobody. So, if you will, please allow me to offer a few suggestions to the new applicants that might just improve your chances.
When applying for a job please don’t take the lazy approach and phone it in. If you call my store and ask if we are hiring I am going to tell you no – even if I am. Employers need to see you. They need to know that you will take the time to apply face-to-face. If you phone in your application we can only expect you to phone in your job as well. We don’t need employees like that.
When you do show up please wear appropriate clothing for the job you are seeking. Jeans that don’t even come close to hugging your hips and t-shirts that expose your navel ring will not get you a job you really want to keep. If you have done your research (and you should), then you should dress in a manner similar to what you hope will be your fellow employees. At the least you should be dressed in a business casual manner. Men should be in dress slacks and a button down shirt and the ladies should be attired in either a nice dress or a skirt or slacks and a blouse.
While I recognize this generation’s need to adorn themselves in piercings and label yourself with injected ink, it would be a good idea to cover the tattoos and leave the ornaments at home until you determine that such a thing is allowed at your prospective employer.
Most employers have an application form that you fill out when you get there. However, bringing a resume certainly enhances your chances. If you don’t have a resume or don’t want to bring one, at least bring a pen. I cannot tell you how many applicants come unprepared to fill out an application. At the very least you should have a list of a minimum of three references. These references should be asked before you use them and you should come with their addresses and their phone numbers. A certain way to assure you will not get a job is to ask me for a phone book so you can look up your reference’s address and number.
Hopefully these few ideas will help you in your search for your Christmas job this year. I wish you the best of luck in your job hunt.
Oh, and one other thing – I’m not hiring at this time.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I love movies
I love movies. I have a collection of DVDs that has outgrown my cabinet shelves and yet I continue to collect. While my collection of books is larger, there is something about movies that appeals to me. Although books begin and end my days, they require a little more effort to get involved in than movies. If you ever watch a movie based on a book the movie will usually pale in comparison. However, a movie allows you to see things that sometimes your imagination does not. Film showing the sun setting over the Pacific will never do the real thing justice. If you have never been privileged enough to witness that sunset in person, then a movie can at least give you a sense of what it would be like.
Whether you are a movie buff or just an occasional observer, movies have a way of marking our development as a people. Some movies give us a picture of the past while others show us what the future could look like. Watching historical movies is a great way to entertain kids while teaching them history. Yes, I know that not all historical movies are completely accurate in their depiction of past events or people but better way to learn a little about Mozart, Jesse James, William C. Wallace, or Marie Antoinette than through an entertaining film?
There was a time when I could tell you my top ten favorite movies. However, I have decided that trying to compose this list is impossible in this evolving media. It would be like saying my favorite food is strained peas because I liked them as an infant. What I can tell you is that we all have different reasons for enjoying different types of movies. One of my daughter’s favorite movies was Napoleon Dynamite. I don’t think she really liked the film. I think she just liked the reaction she got from her mother and me when she would make us watch it.
What often makes a movie for me are the lines that are worth quoting long after the movie is gone. Braveheart’s “they may take our lives but they’ll never take our freedom!” is a classic that is often quoted. A round of golf is seldom over without hearing, in a Bill Murray impression, “It’s in the hole!” For me, though, it is often the more obscure lines. My second favorite line in Ghostbusters is, “Listen… You smell something?” Then there are lines that are even more obscure that only have meaning when uttered amongst your closest friends. My friend and old college roommate Steve and I hardly let a conversation end without recalling a line such as “Let's go out dancing! You put on your black dress, and I'll go shave my tongue.”
When you feel the weight of the world pressing down on you try popping in a DVD and escape for 118 minutes or so. For those of you who think this is silly, “frankly my dear…”
Whether you are a movie buff or just an occasional observer, movies have a way of marking our development as a people. Some movies give us a picture of the past while others show us what the future could look like. Watching historical movies is a great way to entertain kids while teaching them history. Yes, I know that not all historical movies are completely accurate in their depiction of past events or people but better way to learn a little about Mozart, Jesse James, William C. Wallace, or Marie Antoinette than through an entertaining film?
There was a time when I could tell you my top ten favorite movies. However, I have decided that trying to compose this list is impossible in this evolving media. It would be like saying my favorite food is strained peas because I liked them as an infant. What I can tell you is that we all have different reasons for enjoying different types of movies. One of my daughter’s favorite movies was Napoleon Dynamite. I don’t think she really liked the film. I think she just liked the reaction she got from her mother and me when she would make us watch it.
What often makes a movie for me are the lines that are worth quoting long after the movie is gone. Braveheart’s “they may take our lives but they’ll never take our freedom!” is a classic that is often quoted. A round of golf is seldom over without hearing, in a Bill Murray impression, “It’s in the hole!” For me, though, it is often the more obscure lines. My second favorite line in Ghostbusters is, “Listen… You smell something?” Then there are lines that are even more obscure that only have meaning when uttered amongst your closest friends. My friend and old college roommate Steve and I hardly let a conversation end without recalling a line such as “Let's go out dancing! You put on your black dress, and I'll go shave my tongue.”
When you feel the weight of the world pressing down on you try popping in a DVD and escape for 118 minutes or so. For those of you who think this is silly, “frankly my dear…”
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Motorcycles and Life
I want to let you in on a little secret. I am a law breaker. I know, I know. You find that hard to believe. I take full responsibility for my actions. By the time you read this article I will hopefully have left my life of crime to become a somewhat respectable member of society again.
You want details? Let me begin by telling you that I love riding my motorcycle. There is a sense of freedom you only get from traveling the back roads of Mississippi on a motorcycle. You get to smell the fresh cut grass, see the beauty of nature, and feast on a number of tasty insects (next month’s article: Motorcycle riding and a high protein diet, a winning combination). A huge challenge is watching for drivers who are not watching for you. The greatest challenge, however, is getting your motorcycle driver’s license in the first place. I don’t have mine.
We all have heard of or experienced the long line of people at the DMV awaiting their written test for their license. Renewing your license in person can be just as tedious. Those poor people helping you look your best for your DL photo have a lot to do in a short amount of time. By the end of the day they must be exhausted. As tough as these things are, getting a motorcycle endorsement is downright ludicrous. Follow this line of logic:
To get my motorcycle license I must take a written test. The study guide for this test is in the back of the regular manual. If you have one of these books you will notice an incredible number of distracting typos that I must wade through. My daughter failed her first exam for her learners permit because she spent more time correcting the book than she did studying it. After studying I am ready for the exam. After passing this exam I can immediately take the driving test. This is the difficult part. How do I get the bike to the DMV to be seen riding it? I cannot legally ride the bike there because I do not have my license yet. I can push it the whole way (not likely). I can get a licensed driver to bring it there for me (as long as he or she is willing to wait with me for two hours). Or I can bring it on a trailer. Then I must ride my motorcycle for the officer to observe. My question is; how do I learn to ride in the first place? If I get on the bike to learn before passing the written test, I am breaking the law. I could always choose to use my newly acquired permit and then come back in a few months and wait two hours again. The law or my neck, which one would you want to break? (Don’t answer that!)
Life on a bike – it’s worth the challenges. You should join me – legally of course.
You want details? Let me begin by telling you that I love riding my motorcycle. There is a sense of freedom you only get from traveling the back roads of Mississippi on a motorcycle. You get to smell the fresh cut grass, see the beauty of nature, and feast on a number of tasty insects (next month’s article: Motorcycle riding and a high protein diet, a winning combination). A huge challenge is watching for drivers who are not watching for you. The greatest challenge, however, is getting your motorcycle driver’s license in the first place. I don’t have mine.
We all have heard of or experienced the long line of people at the DMV awaiting their written test for their license. Renewing your license in person can be just as tedious. Those poor people helping you look your best for your DL photo have a lot to do in a short amount of time. By the end of the day they must be exhausted. As tough as these things are, getting a motorcycle endorsement is downright ludicrous. Follow this line of logic:
To get my motorcycle license I must take a written test. The study guide for this test is in the back of the regular manual. If you have one of these books you will notice an incredible number of distracting typos that I must wade through. My daughter failed her first exam for her learners permit because she spent more time correcting the book than she did studying it. After studying I am ready for the exam. After passing this exam I can immediately take the driving test. This is the difficult part. How do I get the bike to the DMV to be seen riding it? I cannot legally ride the bike there because I do not have my license yet. I can push it the whole way (not likely). I can get a licensed driver to bring it there for me (as long as he or she is willing to wait with me for two hours). Or I can bring it on a trailer. Then I must ride my motorcycle for the officer to observe. My question is; how do I learn to ride in the first place? If I get on the bike to learn before passing the written test, I am breaking the law. I could always choose to use my newly acquired permit and then come back in a few months and wait two hours again. The law or my neck, which one would you want to break? (Don’t answer that!)
Life on a bike – it’s worth the challenges. You should join me – legally of course.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
THE BEGINNING OF A HEALING
I have been asked to post some of my past articles from the Hattiesburg American. Rather than post them individually I am going to post them about three at a time. I hope they touch you in some way or another.
April 2007
WHO IS YOUR HERO?
As a kid I had a list of heroes a mile long. Dad, Spiderman, the president, Rocky Balboa… As I got older the heroes began to lose their luster. I was never going to grow up to be Spiderman, Rocky or the President. But I still had the shot at being a dad. I began to hope that one day my child would look at me as her hero as I did my dad. Little did I know that the roles would one day be reversed.
Last year, during a trip to the Big Apple, I had the driver take my wife, my daughter, my sister-in-law, and me past the vast empty spaces that once housed the bastions of our financial prowess. Here, thousands of heroes lost their lives. The emptiness within the financial district reflects the emptiness in the lives of the families of these heroes.
Closer to home we saw a number of heroes in south Mississippi respond to the devastation left behind by Katrina. During the Katrina remodel of my store my daughter took the time to tape THANK YOU to the window of the store and then we listed the heroes we were thanking. Our list included the relief workers, construction crews, our mayor and city council, emergency responders, our neighbors, and our customers who kept the economy afloat.
NBC's hit show, HEROES, struck a chord with my daughter. She had been working on her own illustrated novel that included her friends with extraordinary powers gifted them by a super cell storm. This simple TV show inspired her to continue her book. Post-It notes are all over the house with ideas she wanted to include in her story.
Each of us has a hero in our life. A person who leaves a mark in our lives. Some have an impact as great as Martin Luther King, Jr. Others have a smaller impact. The question I pose today is, do you have a hero in your life? More importantly, does your hero know how you feel? Have you told him or her? Maybe dropped a letter in the mail to them? Called them? Emailed them? Please don't wait. Do it today.
In February I told my daughter, "You are my hero, baby. I am so proud of you." These were the last words I spoke to her as we turned her body over to the doctors so that she could give the gift of life to others through the miracle of organ donation. She is my greatest hero and always will be. Somehow I don't think my dad minds.
MAY 2007
MOTHER'S DAY
This past Sunday, while millions of Mom's were spending a happy Mother's Day with their children, countless others found little to reason to celebrate. Looking at the history of Mother's Day over the last several years I realized just how difficult that day can be.
Mother's Day, 1996 was the first Mother's Day after the Oklahoma City bombing of the Federal Building. The mothers of the children in day care there did not feel much like celebrating.
Mother's Day, 2002, victims of the 9/11 terrorist bombing felt little cause for rejoicing.
Closer to home, Mother's Day 2006 followed the devastation that was Katrina where many mother's lost their children and many children lost their mothers.
This year my wife and I joined the parents of the Virginia Tech students as we observed Mother's Day without our children. Since Beth was an only child, we had to face a childless Mother's Day for the first time in 15 years. Every day without Beth is tough, but this year was our first Mother's Day with the realization that we would commemorate but never really celebrate Mother's Day again.
I will treasure the support of my family and friends until the day I join my Beth. Yet the thing that brought me the most peace was the kids who came to offer their Momma Wanda a "Happy Mother's Day!"
These kids not only feel their own pain, but they want to be there for us and share ours. What an incredible gift that is to us. Shoulders that should never bear the weight of losing a good friend are asking if they can help carry some of our pain as well. These kids are incredible. I have always wanted to be a father figure for Beth's friends. But I had never imagined them as a "child figure" for me. Our best friends, Doug and Angie, had let their daughter, Emily, be Beth's "little sister" for years. Ron and Kim told us that their daughter, and Beth's best friend, Krista, was our daughter too. Jill, Rebecca, Ashton and so many others have also become surrogate daughters for us. They each helped us get through the day - as they do every day.
I have begun to think of the people who helped raise me. Mrs. Carole, whose house I spent as much time growing up in as I did my own. Mrs. Claudia, my mother's best friend. She and Papa Ray were the parents I called upon when my parents were unavailable. Life would not be the same without you. I hope I have made you all as proud of me as I am of my "adopted" children.
To all the mothers, from Seminary to Richton to Purvis and to Hattiesburg, who joined us in grieving this year rather than celebrating, remember, as long as you have a child in your heart and memory, you are still a mother. God bless you all.
June 2007
LEAVING A LEGACY
It has taken us some time but my wife and I are slowly making our way through my daughter's stuff. I have found everything from notes to Happy Meal toys in her organized but cluttered room. Sifting through the various trinkets that Beth managed to accumulate over her short 15 years has been bittersweet. As I read through tears the love notes she saved from her Mom and the entries in her journals I found one thing to be missing.
Beth was a wonderful young lady wading through the midst of her teenage years. She had developed many friendships through the years and, once you were a friend of hers, you were a friend for life. Her mom and I found notes that she wrote to these friends but never got to send. We found presents she wanted to give them when she next saw them. She had things she wanted to give to her new "niece" – my god-daughter – that she never got to meet. But, again, there was something noticeably absent that you would expect to find in a teenagers room.
We did not find it among her hundreds of stuffed animals we passed out to the many who came to the funeral. We did not find it in the pockets of the denim jacket she wore when riding on the motorcycle with me. We did not find it among the things she bought to "pimp her ride." We did not find it in the "secret club" space she shared with her friend Krista in the attic. It wasn't with her pet hamster, GusGus. It isn't in her piano bench nor was it in the case that housed the trumpet her Uncle Paul loaned her.
No matter where I have searched I have not found that one thing she left behind that would cause her, or us, embarrassment. We all know that teenagers have their little secrets. Beth had her share as well. However, there were no "I hate my parents" letters to a friend. No drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes. No secret plans to run away because she was unhappy at home. I am proud to be her father.
It got me to thinking. If I should die today and relatives began sifting through my stuff, would I be proud or humiliated? Could I stand to have some of my secrets shared with the public? Now, I can proudly say that you won't find a secret life when you dig through the detritus of my life. But am I truly proud of how I have littered the path of my life?
I do not plan to make my heavenly journey any time soon. Of course, I never imagined that my daughter would get there first. So if you see me this spring doing a little more cleaning than normal you will know that I am getting my stuff together.
You can't take it with you but can you truly afford to leave it behind?
April 2007
WHO IS YOUR HERO?
As a kid I had a list of heroes a mile long. Dad, Spiderman, the president, Rocky Balboa… As I got older the heroes began to lose their luster. I was never going to grow up to be Spiderman, Rocky or the President. But I still had the shot at being a dad. I began to hope that one day my child would look at me as her hero as I did my dad. Little did I know that the roles would one day be reversed.
Last year, during a trip to the Big Apple, I had the driver take my wife, my daughter, my sister-in-law, and me past the vast empty spaces that once housed the bastions of our financial prowess. Here, thousands of heroes lost their lives. The emptiness within the financial district reflects the emptiness in the lives of the families of these heroes.
Closer to home we saw a number of heroes in south Mississippi respond to the devastation left behind by Katrina. During the Katrina remodel of my store my daughter took the time to tape THANK YOU to the window of the store and then we listed the heroes we were thanking. Our list included the relief workers, construction crews, our mayor and city council, emergency responders, our neighbors, and our customers who kept the economy afloat.
NBC's hit show, HEROES, struck a chord with my daughter. She had been working on her own illustrated novel that included her friends with extraordinary powers gifted them by a super cell storm. This simple TV show inspired her to continue her book. Post-It notes are all over the house with ideas she wanted to include in her story.
Each of us has a hero in our life. A person who leaves a mark in our lives. Some have an impact as great as Martin Luther King, Jr. Others have a smaller impact. The question I pose today is, do you have a hero in your life? More importantly, does your hero know how you feel? Have you told him or her? Maybe dropped a letter in the mail to them? Called them? Emailed them? Please don't wait. Do it today.
In February I told my daughter, "You are my hero, baby. I am so proud of you." These were the last words I spoke to her as we turned her body over to the doctors so that she could give the gift of life to others through the miracle of organ donation. She is my greatest hero and always will be. Somehow I don't think my dad minds.
MAY 2007
MOTHER'S DAY
This past Sunday, while millions of Mom's were spending a happy Mother's Day with their children, countless others found little to reason to celebrate. Looking at the history of Mother's Day over the last several years I realized just how difficult that day can be.
Mother's Day, 1996 was the first Mother's Day after the Oklahoma City bombing of the Federal Building. The mothers of the children in day care there did not feel much like celebrating.
Mother's Day, 2002, victims of the 9/11 terrorist bombing felt little cause for rejoicing.
Closer to home, Mother's Day 2006 followed the devastation that was Katrina where many mother's lost their children and many children lost their mothers.
This year my wife and I joined the parents of the Virginia Tech students as we observed Mother's Day without our children. Since Beth was an only child, we had to face a childless Mother's Day for the first time in 15 years. Every day without Beth is tough, but this year was our first Mother's Day with the realization that we would commemorate but never really celebrate Mother's Day again.
I will treasure the support of my family and friends until the day I join my Beth. Yet the thing that brought me the most peace was the kids who came to offer their Momma Wanda a "Happy Mother's Day!"
These kids not only feel their own pain, but they want to be there for us and share ours. What an incredible gift that is to us. Shoulders that should never bear the weight of losing a good friend are asking if they can help carry some of our pain as well. These kids are incredible. I have always wanted to be a father figure for Beth's friends. But I had never imagined them as a "child figure" for me. Our best friends, Doug and Angie, had let their daughter, Emily, be Beth's "little sister" for years. Ron and Kim told us that their daughter, and Beth's best friend, Krista, was our daughter too. Jill, Rebecca, Ashton and so many others have also become surrogate daughters for us. They each helped us get through the day - as they do every day.
I have begun to think of the people who helped raise me. Mrs. Carole, whose house I spent as much time growing up in as I did my own. Mrs. Claudia, my mother's best friend. She and Papa Ray were the parents I called upon when my parents were unavailable. Life would not be the same without you. I hope I have made you all as proud of me as I am of my "adopted" children.
To all the mothers, from Seminary to Richton to Purvis and to Hattiesburg, who joined us in grieving this year rather than celebrating, remember, as long as you have a child in your heart and memory, you are still a mother. God bless you all.
June 2007
LEAVING A LEGACY
It has taken us some time but my wife and I are slowly making our way through my daughter's stuff. I have found everything from notes to Happy Meal toys in her organized but cluttered room. Sifting through the various trinkets that Beth managed to accumulate over her short 15 years has been bittersweet. As I read through tears the love notes she saved from her Mom and the entries in her journals I found one thing to be missing.
Beth was a wonderful young lady wading through the midst of her teenage years. She had developed many friendships through the years and, once you were a friend of hers, you were a friend for life. Her mom and I found notes that she wrote to these friends but never got to send. We found presents she wanted to give them when she next saw them. She had things she wanted to give to her new "niece" – my god-daughter – that she never got to meet. But, again, there was something noticeably absent that you would expect to find in a teenagers room.
We did not find it among her hundreds of stuffed animals we passed out to the many who came to the funeral. We did not find it in the pockets of the denim jacket she wore when riding on the motorcycle with me. We did not find it among the things she bought to "pimp her ride." We did not find it in the "secret club" space she shared with her friend Krista in the attic. It wasn't with her pet hamster, GusGus. It isn't in her piano bench nor was it in the case that housed the trumpet her Uncle Paul loaned her.
No matter where I have searched I have not found that one thing she left behind that would cause her, or us, embarrassment. We all know that teenagers have their little secrets. Beth had her share as well. However, there were no "I hate my parents" letters to a friend. No drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes. No secret plans to run away because she was unhappy at home. I am proud to be her father.
It got me to thinking. If I should die today and relatives began sifting through my stuff, would I be proud or humiliated? Could I stand to have some of my secrets shared with the public? Now, I can proudly say that you won't find a secret life when you dig through the detritus of my life. But am I truly proud of how I have littered the path of my life?
I do not plan to make my heavenly journey any time soon. Of course, I never imagined that my daughter would get there first. So if you see me this spring doing a little more cleaning than normal you will know that I am getting my stuff together.
You can't take it with you but can you truly afford to leave it behind?
Friday, August 15, 2008
NEVER MISS THE CHANCE
When you hear the phrase “family reunion” what comes to mind? For me it was this not so wonderful picture I had of attending such an event back in the 1970’s. It was a hot summer Virginia afternoon with strangers. My cheeks were pinched by a number of older women (gosh, they must have been in at least their 30’s) and I was regaled with stories of what I had done as a small child. Needless to say, it was not a favorable picture.
Fast forward to the mid 1990’s. My wife, my daughter, and I walked the historic streets of Charleston, South Carolina as we celebrated my Grandmother’s 75th birthday in the city of her choice. It was the closest we had to a family reunion. The next gathering was for her funeral a few years later. A decision was made then to get together more often and the idea for the first Garner family reunion was born. After all, we hated the thought of only getting together for funerals.
Sometime later a family reunion was hosted by my aunt and uncle in North Carolina. We golfed and ate and swam during a fun filled weekend. The highlights for me were paddling a canoe in the local lake with my daughter and playing golf with my uncles. After the reunion one of my uncles followed us to Hattiesburg and I had the opportunity to play a round of golf with him at my home course, Timberton. Little did I know it would be our last round as he passed away a few months later. Once again we gathered for a funeral instead of a reunion. During this time my wife and I offered to host the next family reunion.
The family got together again, not for the planned reunion but for my daughter’s funeral. I love them all very much and having them there helped more than they could know. We just wished that it could have been for a better reason.
Finally, this summer, we got to have that long awaited second family reunion. Although Grandmother, Uncle Bill, and my Beth have already been reunited, they were all truly missed at our reunion. Their pictures were there along with a wonderful poem my mother wrote for those who left before us.
All too often we take for granted those who are with us. We opt not to attend a family reunion because it is inconvenient. It’s usually hot and takes an effort to arrive at the destination. When we do get there we spend more time with our own immediate family members than we do those we may only see once or twice a decade.
I want to challenge you to make an effort to cherish those times you have with loved ones you have not seen or spoken to in some time. Attend as many family reunions as you can. Say those things to your family that you always wanted to say. Don’t wait until the final reunion.
Fast forward to the mid 1990’s. My wife, my daughter, and I walked the historic streets of Charleston, South Carolina as we celebrated my Grandmother’s 75th birthday in the city of her choice. It was the closest we had to a family reunion. The next gathering was for her funeral a few years later. A decision was made then to get together more often and the idea for the first Garner family reunion was born. After all, we hated the thought of only getting together for funerals.
Sometime later a family reunion was hosted by my aunt and uncle in North Carolina. We golfed and ate and swam during a fun filled weekend. The highlights for me were paddling a canoe in the local lake with my daughter and playing golf with my uncles. After the reunion one of my uncles followed us to Hattiesburg and I had the opportunity to play a round of golf with him at my home course, Timberton. Little did I know it would be our last round as he passed away a few months later. Once again we gathered for a funeral instead of a reunion. During this time my wife and I offered to host the next family reunion.
The family got together again, not for the planned reunion but for my daughter’s funeral. I love them all very much and having them there helped more than they could know. We just wished that it could have been for a better reason.
Finally, this summer, we got to have that long awaited second family reunion. Although Grandmother, Uncle Bill, and my Beth have already been reunited, they were all truly missed at our reunion. Their pictures were there along with a wonderful poem my mother wrote for those who left before us.
All too often we take for granted those who are with us. We opt not to attend a family reunion because it is inconvenient. It’s usually hot and takes an effort to arrive at the destination. When we do get there we spend more time with our own immediate family members than we do those we may only see once or twice a decade.
I want to challenge you to make an effort to cherish those times you have with loved ones you have not seen or spoken to in some time. Attend as many family reunions as you can. Say those things to your family that you always wanted to say. Don’t wait until the final reunion.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Entitlement Mentality
There is an epidemic that has slowly overtaken this great country of ours. It began as a philanthropic idea but has grown into a fire we can no longer contain. The sad thing is that the "firefighters" are being looked upon as the bad guys.
The epidemic I am referring to is the entitlement mentality.
The word entitlement itself gives us the mindset that one is entitled to something simply for existing.
Better yet, existing outside of the mother's womb. When the government stepped in to help this nation recover from the Great Depression, we were introduced to Roosevelt's New Deal. It was believed that the government needed to intervene to stimulate the economy and get us out of the depression.
Why did the government step in? Because we, as individuals, failed to recognize our responsibilities to our families and our communities.
So where did this entitlement mentality come from? Now that we are generations removed from the original New Deal, Americans decided that taking care of those less fortunate became the responsibility of the government.
As we moved farther from the original, "temporary" fix, more people began to feel that it was the responsibility of the government to take care of them too.
This mentality now stretches across the entire socio-economic spectrum. Those without complain that they don't have enough while those with more than enough complain that the government is not giving them enough breaks.
There are exceptions to every rule. There are many people who, deemed rich by society, truly want to help others. The charity work done by these individuals should be applauded.
There are many at the other end of the scale who, with government assistance, could better themselves but refuse to accept that assistance, not out of pride, but out of the determination to earn what they get.
Entitlement mentality does not limit itself to age, race or gender. I see people drive up to a doctor's office in a vehicle nicer than I could ever hope to have and whip out the Medicaid card. At these same doctor's offices needy patients are being denied access to good medical care because the system is running out of money.
Entitlement mentality does not limit itself to governmental involvement. Your child is entitled to good grades because others in his class are getting good grades.
You are entitled to be fiscally irresponsible and file bankruptcy. You are entitled to more tax breaks because you make more money.
How do we stop this entitlement mentality? If we stop or reduce funding we look like ogres.
The fix lies in future generations. Those youth still attending school need to be taught the value of a dollar. They need to be taught financial responsibility.
They need to be taught that you get things by earning them. Most importantly they need to be taught to give to others who are truly in need. Maybe if we can begin to look to others needs first we can break this entitlement addiction.
The epidemic I am referring to is the entitlement mentality.
The word entitlement itself gives us the mindset that one is entitled to something simply for existing.
Better yet, existing outside of the mother's womb. When the government stepped in to help this nation recover from the Great Depression, we were introduced to Roosevelt's New Deal. It was believed that the government needed to intervene to stimulate the economy and get us out of the depression.
Why did the government step in? Because we, as individuals, failed to recognize our responsibilities to our families and our communities.
So where did this entitlement mentality come from? Now that we are generations removed from the original New Deal, Americans decided that taking care of those less fortunate became the responsibility of the government.
As we moved farther from the original, "temporary" fix, more people began to feel that it was the responsibility of the government to take care of them too.
This mentality now stretches across the entire socio-economic spectrum. Those without complain that they don't have enough while those with more than enough complain that the government is not giving them enough breaks.
There are exceptions to every rule. There are many people who, deemed rich by society, truly want to help others. The charity work done by these individuals should be applauded.
There are many at the other end of the scale who, with government assistance, could better themselves but refuse to accept that assistance, not out of pride, but out of the determination to earn what they get.
Entitlement mentality does not limit itself to age, race or gender. I see people drive up to a doctor's office in a vehicle nicer than I could ever hope to have and whip out the Medicaid card. At these same doctor's offices needy patients are being denied access to good medical care because the system is running out of money.
Entitlement mentality does not limit itself to governmental involvement. Your child is entitled to good grades because others in his class are getting good grades.
You are entitled to be fiscally irresponsible and file bankruptcy. You are entitled to more tax breaks because you make more money.
How do we stop this entitlement mentality? If we stop or reduce funding we look like ogres.
The fix lies in future generations. Those youth still attending school need to be taught the value of a dollar. They need to be taught financial responsibility.
They need to be taught that you get things by earning them. Most importantly they need to be taught to give to others who are truly in need. Maybe if we can begin to look to others needs first we can break this entitlement addiction.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Inconsideration knows no zip code
Hattiesburg American, June 16, 2008
Have you seen the video of Mr. Angel Torres? He was the victim of a hit-and-run on a busy Hartford, Conn., street.
Onlookers never got closer than five feet. Some cars even drove around Mr. Torres lying there, helpless, in the street.
Initially I thought, "How could these bystanders simply stand and gawk?" My second thought was, "That would never happen here."
Only liberal Yankees could be so cold-hearted as to ignore someone in their time of need.
Then it did happen here. No, not exactly as it did in Connecticut, but similar enough.
On Saturday, June 7, my wife and I were in the turn lane on U.S. 98 waiting to cross the highway to get to the drive-through of a local fast food eatery. Five cars in front of us sat an SUV that was not taking advantage of the gaps in oncoming traffic.
Drivers behind this car began to honk their displeasure and, after several of these gaps came and went, they drove angrily around the stationary automobile and on to their destinations. Not one of these drivers, myself included, stopped to see if we could help. And why should we? We were all in a hurry to get to our destinations and this SUV was in our way. There were two young ladies in the car and the driver was talking on a cell phone. No flashers were on and there were no signs of distress.
After going through the drive-through, we noticed the SUV had still not moved. I pulled to the highway and looked at my wife. We agreed that we should stop and check on them.
Crossing to the vehicle we asked if we could help by maybe pushing them to a safer area. The younger girl, we'll call her "Linda," on the passenger side assured us they would be OK.
She told us the driver, her sister, "Kay," was a diabetic and was having some problems but parents had been called and an ambulance was on the way.
My wife got out of our truck to medically assist and asked me to get a fruit punch from our cooler for Kay. Before the ambulance could get there this young lady had gone from bad to worse and was having trouble swallowing the drink.
Shortly after the paramedics arrived they had Kay loaded in the ambulance and on her way to the hospital. I drove the SUV to the hospital where her family could pick it up when they arrived.
By the time my wife delivered the keys to Linda in the ER waiting room, Kay was doing much better. Having lost our daughter just 16 months prior, this event, needless to say, was horrifically reminiscent.
Callousness is not territorial. Those of us who simply went past this "annoyance" should be ashamed of ourselves. I know I was. Passing them in the first place was wrong of me. It won't happen again.
Kay, wherever you are, thanks for teaching me a lesson.
Have you seen the video of Mr. Angel Torres? He was the victim of a hit-and-run on a busy Hartford, Conn., street.
Onlookers never got closer than five feet. Some cars even drove around Mr. Torres lying there, helpless, in the street.
Initially I thought, "How could these bystanders simply stand and gawk?" My second thought was, "That would never happen here."
Only liberal Yankees could be so cold-hearted as to ignore someone in their time of need.
Then it did happen here. No, not exactly as it did in Connecticut, but similar enough.
On Saturday, June 7, my wife and I were in the turn lane on U.S. 98 waiting to cross the highway to get to the drive-through of a local fast food eatery. Five cars in front of us sat an SUV that was not taking advantage of the gaps in oncoming traffic.
Drivers behind this car began to honk their displeasure and, after several of these gaps came and went, they drove angrily around the stationary automobile and on to their destinations. Not one of these drivers, myself included, stopped to see if we could help. And why should we? We were all in a hurry to get to our destinations and this SUV was in our way. There were two young ladies in the car and the driver was talking on a cell phone. No flashers were on and there were no signs of distress.
After going through the drive-through, we noticed the SUV had still not moved. I pulled to the highway and looked at my wife. We agreed that we should stop and check on them.
Crossing to the vehicle we asked if we could help by maybe pushing them to a safer area. The younger girl, we'll call her "Linda," on the passenger side assured us they would be OK.
She told us the driver, her sister, "Kay," was a diabetic and was having some problems but parents had been called and an ambulance was on the way.
My wife got out of our truck to medically assist and asked me to get a fruit punch from our cooler for Kay. Before the ambulance could get there this young lady had gone from bad to worse and was having trouble swallowing the drink.
Shortly after the paramedics arrived they had Kay loaded in the ambulance and on her way to the hospital. I drove the SUV to the hospital where her family could pick it up when they arrived.
By the time my wife delivered the keys to Linda in the ER waiting room, Kay was doing much better. Having lost our daughter just 16 months prior, this event, needless to say, was horrifically reminiscent.
Callousness is not territorial. Those of us who simply went past this "annoyance" should be ashamed of ourselves. I know I was. Passing them in the first place was wrong of me. It won't happen again.
Kay, wherever you are, thanks for teaching me a lesson.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
National Kid's Day
WHAT DOES IT TAKE to establish one particular day as a holiday? Originally a holiday was a "holy day." It was a day established by a particular religion for the recognition of a particular event. There are Christian holidays, Jewish holidays, Muslim holidays, Hindu holidays and more.
Then there are holidays that are secular holidays that are not really holy but are recognized by a government or its people. Internationally we have Valentine's Day, Labor Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day. And we mustn't forget the special holidays like April Fools Day, Friendship Day, and Mole Day. (I'm not making that up!)
With the timing of this article I know you think I am going to focus on Valentine's Day. Actually, I wanted to talk about a holiday that is not on the books now, but it should be.
In May we celebrate Mother's Day. In June we celebrate Father's Day. Any parent who has enjoyed one of these special days has had a similar conversation with their children. That conversation goes like this:
"Mom, why do we have to go eat at Buffalo Wild Wings?"
"Because it is Father's Day sweetie."
"But he doesn't ever like to go to Chic-Fil-A on Father's Day. That Buffalo place doesn't have a play place."
"But sweetie, it is Father's Day and on Father's Day we go where Daddy wants to go for lunch. Besides, Chic-Fil-A is closed on Sundays."
And the response is always... "When do we get to have a kid's day?"
And the response is always... "Why sweetie, everyday is a kid's day."
If you are a parent you know you have said it - or at least thought it. But I propose we actually do something about it. I propose a national Kids Day. However, the Kids Day has a unique set of rules:
1. National Kids Day requires no gifts be given. None. You cannot celebrate the day with a present and then think your obligations are over.
2. National Kids Day is dedicated to spending time with your children doing the things they want to do.
3. National Kids Day requires programming on television be tuned to kid's shows. (And the kids get to yell at you if your head is blocking the screen!)
Quite simply that is it. Take the day and spend it coloring, making crafts, enjoying a nature walk, or going to the park. Your kids should look forward to this day every year as a day they can spend some quality time with you, the parent. Days with our children are precious and few. You both will remember those special days for the rest of your life.
National Kids Day will be a reoccurring holiday that will take place the third Sunday in February each year. This way it will not conflict with Valentine's Day and Super Sunday. (Or hunting season in Mississippi)
I had originally thought of celebrating Kids Day in October but I wouldn't dare think of interfering with Mole Day!
Then there are holidays that are secular holidays that are not really holy but are recognized by a government or its people. Internationally we have Valentine's Day, Labor Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day. And we mustn't forget the special holidays like April Fools Day, Friendship Day, and Mole Day. (I'm not making that up!)
With the timing of this article I know you think I am going to focus on Valentine's Day. Actually, I wanted to talk about a holiday that is not on the books now, but it should be.
In May we celebrate Mother's Day. In June we celebrate Father's Day. Any parent who has enjoyed one of these special days has had a similar conversation with their children. That conversation goes like this:
"Mom, why do we have to go eat at Buffalo Wild Wings?"
"Because it is Father's Day sweetie."
"But he doesn't ever like to go to Chic-Fil-A on Father's Day. That Buffalo place doesn't have a play place."
"But sweetie, it is Father's Day and on Father's Day we go where Daddy wants to go for lunch. Besides, Chic-Fil-A is closed on Sundays."
And the response is always... "When do we get to have a kid's day?"
And the response is always... "Why sweetie, everyday is a kid's day."
If you are a parent you know you have said it - or at least thought it. But I propose we actually do something about it. I propose a national Kids Day. However, the Kids Day has a unique set of rules:
1. National Kids Day requires no gifts be given. None. You cannot celebrate the day with a present and then think your obligations are over.
2. National Kids Day is dedicated to spending time with your children doing the things they want to do.
3. National Kids Day requires programming on television be tuned to kid's shows. (And the kids get to yell at you if your head is blocking the screen!)
Quite simply that is it. Take the day and spend it coloring, making crafts, enjoying a nature walk, or going to the park. Your kids should look forward to this day every year as a day they can spend some quality time with you, the parent. Days with our children are precious and few. You both will remember those special days for the rest of your life.
National Kids Day will be a reoccurring holiday that will take place the third Sunday in February each year. This way it will not conflict with Valentine's Day and Super Sunday. (Or hunting season in Mississippi)
I had originally thought of celebrating Kids Day in October but I wouldn't dare think of interfering with Mole Day!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Appreciation
Is it really that difficult to show appreciation? A little thank you goes a long way. Instead of giving thanks we, too often, tend to look for more. Real appreciation is difficult to find and, when it is found, it should be praised. Weekly, on this very page, we read letters from readers who want to thank others for a kindness shown. When is the last time you actually wrote a thank you note to someone? Or had one of your kids write one?
Let me tell you what brought this to mind.
I recently saw a video of a small child who received one of these new game systems from his parents for his birthday. He was totally shocked. He knew that these systems go for $300 or more. Most kids would tear through the box to get at the games and not consider what the parents had to go through to provide them. Not this kid though. He asked his parents if it was his or if he was going to have to take it back – like a rental system. When the boy was told that it was his he cried and went immediately to his parents arms to say thank you. That in itself was cause enough for me to swallow a newly formed knot in my throat. What he did next caused me, a man who recently celebrated the 4th anniversary of his 39th birthday, to actually sob out loud. The boy went to his room, got money from his savings, and tried to give it to his parents to offset the cost of his presents. What an incredible child. And what incredible parents to bring a young man up like that.
One of the things I told my daughter as she was growing up was to be appreciative of all she got and all she had. I cannot tell you the number of times she made me beam with pride as she made sure all of her friends got gifts at her birthday parties. During Christmas she would wait until last to open her presents so she could watch her cousins open theirs and see the joy on their faces. When it came time to open hers she would look to see who it was from and thank them individually, without prompting, before opening her next gift.
The most amazing thing I ever saw her do in regards to thankfulness was to ask about her tithe on the way to church. She had earned $3.00 that week, at the age of 5, and wanted to know how much she was supposed to give. We told her that tithing meant she had to give 10%, or 30 cents. We told her she could give more but she had to give at least three dimes. She looked at the nearly $4 she had in her purse and said, “Since Jesus died for me I think I will give it all to Him.”
That is appreciation.
Let me tell you what brought this to mind.
I recently saw a video of a small child who received one of these new game systems from his parents for his birthday. He was totally shocked. He knew that these systems go for $300 or more. Most kids would tear through the box to get at the games and not consider what the parents had to go through to provide them. Not this kid though. He asked his parents if it was his or if he was going to have to take it back – like a rental system. When the boy was told that it was his he cried and went immediately to his parents arms to say thank you. That in itself was cause enough for me to swallow a newly formed knot in my throat. What he did next caused me, a man who recently celebrated the 4th anniversary of his 39th birthday, to actually sob out loud. The boy went to his room, got money from his savings, and tried to give it to his parents to offset the cost of his presents. What an incredible child. And what incredible parents to bring a young man up like that.
One of the things I told my daughter as she was growing up was to be appreciative of all she got and all she had. I cannot tell you the number of times she made me beam with pride as she made sure all of her friends got gifts at her birthday parties. During Christmas she would wait until last to open her presents so she could watch her cousins open theirs and see the joy on their faces. When it came time to open hers she would look to see who it was from and thank them individually, without prompting, before opening her next gift.
The most amazing thing I ever saw her do in regards to thankfulness was to ask about her tithe on the way to church. She had earned $3.00 that week, at the age of 5, and wanted to know how much she was supposed to give. We told her that tithing meant she had to give 10%, or 30 cents. We told her she could give more but she had to give at least three dimes. She looked at the nearly $4 she had in her purse and said, “Since Jesus died for me I think I will give it all to Him.”
That is appreciation.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
English, the Official Language?
Why is there a debate over making English the official language of this great country of ours? Regardless of your stance on illegal immigration I cannot see how one would oppose this resolution. However, before we pass such a resolution I think that we should all agree on one thing; which English language will we make official?
Couldst thou make an argument for the English language of our ancestors? I believeth that it would help us in the reading of the King James Version of The Holy Bible and the works of Shakespeare. Asideth from that, I don’t find much use for it.
What about txt language? I no U might take a min or 2 to d-cipher it, but it wud save some printer ink. And speling don’t madder.
Then there is gangsta, Southern, Yankee, valley, surfer, and Spanglish we must consider.
With all of the choices we have before us is it any wonder that English, as I was raised to speak it, is fast becoming obsolete? We have become too reliant on spell- check on our computers to worry about spelling.
Proofreading, which should be more efficient, has actually become less so. People who are paid serious money for advertising campaigns are even showing their ignorance. One such instance was a commercial for the electronics superstore, Rex. Their slogan, "Should’ve gone to Rex" was broadcast, "Should OF gone to Rex."
A local carpet store has misspelled the word "value" in one of its commercials - and they continue to run it this way. I understand how some of these things can occur. My fingers get a little dyslexic over the keyboard as well. But shouldn’t companies we pay to promote our wares in the business world be more efficient?
These inadequacies are not limited to the advertising world. The father of a friend of mine recently had a book published. The publishers should be shot for butchering his book the way they did. You would think that you would blame the author for the mistakes but it is obvious that the publisher did a text search on the computer and replaced the word "conversation" with the word "conservation."
This simple juxtaposition of letters, needless to say, completely changes the context of the story line. It was very annoying and made it difficult to maintain any continuity while reading.
Where do we find the worst culprit of all? Why, on the Internet, of course.
I do realize that many things I see posted on the Web are posted by people who are doing their best to write in a language that is foreign to their country. I appreciate their desire to write in a language I can understand and can forgive the occasional flaw. Lord knows I can’t begin to write in another language.
Maybe our focus need not be on making English our official language. Maybe it should be on learning to use our English properly. Methinks that would prolly be best 4 us all, Bro.Monday, April 14, 2008
We need governmental assistance
Why has
Without a doubt we have become a very lazy people. I will admit that I fall in that category. I bought a treadmill and an exercise bike in an effort to regain the energy and shape I had 15 years ago. Like an idiot, I put them upstairs. I would use them more but I am panting after climbing the stairs. I joined a gym once. I stopped going because I got caught in that ever increasing line of cars that circled the parking lot looking for a spot to park close to the door so I wouldn’t have to walk so far. Besides, if I start getting in shape now my wife may think I found someone else. So I remain lethargic for marital harmony.
I think that I am increasing in girth because I am addicted to food. Sometimes I think that if I don’t have food I will just die. The addiction is so bad that sometimes I smear newspaper ink on my nose just trying to smell Robert St. John’s latest recipe in the American.
I know I can’t be alone in this. We need to unite and fight the weight fight. All who agree raise your Twinkies in the air and repeat after me, “I don’t want to lose the fight to lose.”
So, where do we go from here? I have to believe that there are steps that
I am sure that you can come up with some ideas of your own. We should all meet and discuss this over a nice Baked
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