Joe wants to DRIVE

Greetings friends and relatives. It’s difficult to focus when everything is such a blur. Nevertheless, here’s Friday Letter #56.

Joe wants to drive NOW

Our great-grandson Joe, age 3, was sitting in the driver’s seat of his grandmother’s car.

He seemed to be quite active, so I ambled over, opened the door, and observed for a few seconds.

Joe was waggling the steering wheel back and forth like little kids do. I suspect he had been making “car noises” before I showed up.

So I asked, “What are you doing, Joe?”

He answered, “I am interested in driving this.”

My advice? Don’t leave the keys where Joe can get a hold of them. Not just yet.

Legislative damage

Cold shivers run down my spine whenever I read the phrase, “The Colorado Legislature is back in session.”

The fact is, no additional legislation is necessary, except perhaps to negate previous legislation. We’ve got enough laws. Stealing is illegal: another law making it illegal is superfluous.

Every time the legislature meets, there is a great likelihood of something ugly and counter-productive being done.

For example, every time the legislature meets, one or another of our elected representatives will introduce a law which would make it mandatory for motorcyclists to wear “helmets.”

The voters of Colorado, the citizens, have shown repeatedly since at least 1970 that they do not want a helmet law. Will the legislature leave it alone? Hardly – it’s a “feel good” law, easy to foist off on a small group of biker folks, the kind of warm fuzzy edict that gives little old ladies and girly-men some comfort.

The helmet battle is just one of many, and since it affects me, I know about it. You probably know of similar dumb things the lawmakers have done or are trying to do.

Here’s one:

Since the end of prohibition, Colorado was perfectly functional with a law which forbad sales of bulk alcoholic beverages on Sunday.

The no-sale-on-Sunday law worked quite well for almost a century.

This last session, using some vague rationalizations borrowed from the Liberal’s Book of Change for the Sake of Change, the legislature voted to allow Sunday sales. The governor agreed.

The State of Colorado spends untold millions of dollars on advertising – public intimidation announcements – designed to keep us from drinking and driving.

The State of Colorado now encourages and enables one-seventh more drinking and driving than before. So we have this conflict, this mixed message from our state government. Are we supposed to drink more, or less?

Our business here in Greeley is conveniently located between a cigarette store and a liquor store. Whoop tee do.

The operators of our neighbor businesses are nice people. They’re helpful to us, neighborly, you might say, and friendly. We have no argument with the nature of our neighbors’ businesses.

Sunday liquor sales sure changes the dynamic around here, though. With the experience of 20 years, we are inured, for the most part, to the spitting, cursing, shouting, screaming and littering nature of our neighbors’ customers.

The State of Colorado has upped the ante. We now have one-seventh more rude behavior than before. One-seventh more spitting on our sidewalk, one-seventh more incidences of urinating behind our building, one-seventh greater chance of being run over by a drunken college student in our own front yard.

The daily hoo-rah of having a liquor store next door is multiplied by one-seventh.

It’s just dumb. And it’s the fault of the state legislature. Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Elected Official. You’ve done it again. Can’t wait until next year!

Was it a dream?

Once upon a time in the dusty and dim past, probably the fall of 1984, Laura and I stopped in Groveland, outside Blackfoot, Idaho, to look at the little farm house where my family and I once lived.

I saw that the back door was open, unlocked, banging back and forth in the breeze. I had a compulsion to go in and look, perhaps for the last time, at the home-that-once-was.

The house was empty, cold, eerie. The memories were still in my head – the good times with the kids growing up, bouncing on a trampoline and playing among ducks, chickens, pigs: and the tough times, the fights, the overwhelming sadness of something-gone-horribly-wrong.

I walked throughout the house. Not much was left except some refuse belonging to whoever had moved out most recently.

In the girls’ bedroom, I did find something of value. My daughter Monica had abandoned her entire collection of AC/DC albums.

I picked them up and took them with me, back to the car, back to Colorado.

Was it a dream? If it was, something really spooky happened. Because I have just this past week re-discovered the AC/DC albums, safe in my collection.

They’re even playable ! A little crackly and poppy, but playable. Dream or reality? Your call.

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Word of the week: Nomenclature. It comes from “nomenclator,” from the Latin “nomen” or name, and “calator,” or “caller.” “Nomenclature” is, hence, the system of names used in a branch of learning or activity, for the parts of a mechanism or device, or by some person or group. Doctors, priests and even leatherworkers or printing press operators have their own “nomenclature.” It is somewhat akin to jargon.

Next week’s word: Pyromaniac.

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Gripes? Complaints? Whines? or Comments? Adoration? Puppy love? Reciprocal rant? Feel free to express yourself in the comments!