Susan's Scribblings the Blog

I’m taking a day off.  See you next week in time for the end of July and the start of the Olympics.

I was walking through the mall with a friend the other day, and I was amazed at how little attention people paid to where they were walking.  We were cut off at the entrances to three stores by shoppers who couldn’t wait a second to blow their money inside until we passed by, several groups blocked the walkways, parents let their kids run amok, and some moron left a  full cup of soda by a store entrance, risking a kick-over and a slip-and-fall lawsuit.

The issue of when a food container becomes trash has been a bone I have picked for years.  My mother has told me that, back in the good old days before fast food, people were at a loss when disposable cups and plates were introduced.  Back then, everything was a permanent wash and reuse item.  Now, people can’t get rid of empty cups or plates fast enough.  In fact, it seems there is an unwritten rule that states any empty carrier of food or drink, upon becoming empty, must leave the hands at once.  This means that there are not enough trash containers in the world to meet the need for instant relief from that–wait for it–empty food wrapper.  Oh my!  One more second in your hand and you could lose your street cred for life!  Public shunning!  The ducking stool or the stocks, or flaming remarks on Facebook!  Board a spaceship and hope you can land on Mars and stay there until the shame goes away!

Of course, we’ve all seen footage of distracted tablet users walking into open manhole covers or mall fountains, but these people didn’t appear to be texting or using Bluetooth devices.  They were just ignorant zombies.  Worse, they weren’t getting paid to shamble onto the set of The Walking Dead.  What is with people?  I sure hope they don’t drive cars like that.

The national anthem of the United States doesn’t get any respect.  I don’t think it would be right to launch into a spleen-venting rant about the status of our patriotism (though a survey might reveal much disappointment).  But I think that, in light of the fact that it is summer, we just celebrated Independence Day (in which the anthem is sung most often), and folks are confused about it, it might be worthwhile to take a look at the song we love to botch.  Sure there is a high note passage that stumps singers (“rockets red glare”), but even the most appalling warbler on a baseball field in Podunk should at least know what they are singing about, and that is probably the main reason for singers of the anthem forgetting where they are in the song.

Think of it as a very long question.  That might help.  The poet/narrator is asking if, as the sun rises, the flag of our country was still flying over Fort McHenry.  Maybe a more “street” translation may help:

Hey, the sun is coming up.
Do you still see it?
At sunset last night, we were proud to see the flag.
Those stars and stripes really stood out over the fort wall, didn’t they?
With all the light from the guns and cannon fire, they lit up the flag all night,
But is it still there to prove we are a free country?

At a recent July 4th Minnesota Twins/Detroit Tigers game,the singer of “God Bless America” really cracked his voice when he tried to go for the upscale note on “my home sweet home.”    ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4l34dTL3Xik).  At least he was going for a straight run-through, and that song seems to get more respect than “Star Spangled Banner.”  I never did forgive then top celebrity Rosanne for a rendition that mixed Michael Jackson style crotch grabbing with a smart aleck style that just didn’t seem like she tried to sing at all.  Who thought up that idea?  The late Whitney Houston gave one of the most honorable performances I’ve witnessed in years.  Proof through night or day that our flag is still here.  I just wish more folks would try to understand it and sing it properly.

I saw a blurb recently, featuring one of the two most famous television doctors–Dr. Oz  was the speaker in this case (Dr. Phil is the other one whom we see quite a bit)–who mentioned that the liver takes sugar and just converts it into fat.  I stopped to think about the amount of sugar in the average daily diet, and I realized that I’m a big offender.  It also validated something I’ve suspected for a long time.

Maybe you are a reader old enough to remember a time before artificial sweeteners hit the market.  I seem to remember when a sample pink packet arrived in the mail inviting my family to try saccharin.  Eventually we moved on to Nutrasweet (R).  Now there is sucralose and stevia and enough other types of sweetener to stock a new store chain.  Sodas started using artificial sweeteners in sodas, cereals, and even our ketchup.  Didn’t the obesity epidemic start just about the time we began consuming these products?

Not only do we use one type of fake yummy stuff at home:  we likely use two or more versions in various foods daily.  HFCS (high fructose corn syrup) in ketchup, Splenda(R) (sucralose) in the fruit drinks, and aspartame (marketed under Equal(R) and other names) in the diet something else.  Boy are we confusing our livers.

This morning at breakfast, I tried putting just one Equal(R) into my tea.  I didn’t taste any sweetness at all.  That can’t be good.  If it takes two or three servings to taste it, the taster has to be kind of numb, don’t you think?

I managed to cut out my salt intake a long time ago by going cold turkey; it took a day or two before food started tasting salty without my breaking out the salt shaker.  I wonder how hard it might be to curtail sugar consumption?  We’ll see.  I’ll follow-up as I find out.

We’re a dirty bunch, aren’t we?

Every day at work, I sit at the same table, and every day it is covered with crumbs and unnamed spills from a previous user’s meal.  Fortunately I bring along some portable bleach wipes, and I’m not above cleaning a table before I eat there.  Besides, the office managers come to eat there, too, and they deserve a clean table.

We have cleaning staff, but their hands are full with policing horrid bathrooms that can resemble third world prison cesspools on occasion.  Cleaning staff in offices don’t get paid enough to do what they must to restore office bathrooms, pantries and cafeterias to normal.

The problem is that the cause is people with whom I share a genetic connection, but obviously not the same morals or standards.

It makes me feel strange to look at a dirty toilet seat or filthy table and think that somebody in my vicinity did it.  Maybe they feel that cleaning their own mess is somebody else’s responsibility, but I am sometimes that somebody else.  Everybody is that somebody else at one time or another.  I suspect that when some people are the somebody else, they just dirty up a different toilet or table.  Shirking responsibility has a domino effect that way, and the job always gets done not by the perpetrator, but by an innocent bystander.

Taking ownership of one’s own human messes starts when one stops drooling on their bibs and ditches the diaper.  No excuses.

And don’t get me started on what I call the “useful to trash effect,” in which a food or beverage container, upon emptying, becomes an abhorrent thing which must leave the hands in milliseconds, even if no trash receptacle is around.  You can see it anyplace that has more than ten feet between trash cans.  Finish the soda, drop the cup or bottle or can if a better alternative is just a trifle too far away for you to actually carry the thing there.  What is so uncool about having an empty cup or soda can?  Has anybody ever suffered public flogging because they had an empty plate in their hands?

Geez we’re a strange bunch of creatures.

Dear Writer Magazine:  Unfortunately I cannot take advantage of your kind offer of a special price on my subscription.  I wanted to renew online, as that is the cool thing to do (save a stamp, save a tree).  Since the deadline for the special price was approaching, I figured this would be the easiest way to send you my money.  Unfortunately, you don’t seem to know me.

I have more than one web address, but neither one worked.  Apparently I have also neglected to record the proper password to access your site.  This means that I can’t even have you send an email to reset my password, because neither email address is recognized by your website.

At least I know you will contact me again soon, before my subscription actually expires.  If the post office still exists, I’ll mail you a check.