an observation that has been ruminated on.

.... There exists a larger problem, when it comes to pride of workmanship or job well done, which is a completely lackadaisical attitude. It is a belief that things need only be done in a specified manner; rules need only be followed;- when the boss or inspector or auditor is expected. Therefore, the rest of the time many things are ignored. Some things completely, other things partially. It is in this that we are always left lacking the "magic" of "perfection".  The goods are lacking, or not complete, not salable. Nothing will ever get better as long as this poor attitude persists.

When did this begin? that I cannot answer, for it went on at the first job I ever had, many years ago, and it continues today. This attitude of "it's not my job" or "it's okay, no is watching". But it is on all of us to do better.

This behavior pattern needs to be un-learned, and never again taught to those who come after us.  This inherent laziness which makes everything increasingly difficult until it is all bogged down in a morass of filth and disorganization.

Introducing better methods, training managers, to do things more efficiently only works if the underlings, the workers, can be made to see the future benefit of following all of the rules all of the time.

Please don't drink and drive.

This is my story. 

This is about the day I said, "no more"... the day I vowed to never drink and drive, 

ever again in my life.

Am I an alcoholic? No.  A heavy drinker? never.  

Like alcohol, like the 'buzz', the 'high'? sure thing.

I also remember being, maybe 15 or 16 years old, looking at some family photos, of some relatives...  photos older than myself,.... there they are...members of my family... They partied. Hard. They are posed with 'ear to ear' grins, behind a table... that table, I am guessing, is about 4 feet long and 3 feet wide,..approximately... that table is completely covered with glasses and bottles -alcohol bottles: beer, whiskey, who knows what.  Those people behind the table...my family,... aunts, uncles, grandma... they are damn proud of themselves, standing behind that table full of booze.  

At 15 or 16 years of age that photo disgusted me. I was ashamed of those people in the photo, of their happy, proud faces.  I love those, long gone people, they are my family. That was, of course a different era... and I had had some experiences with a person who drank too much sometimes.... It was my own memories of another persons alcoholism that made me feel disgust at the smiling faces behind the booze table.....

Flash forward more than a score of years.... I am an adult. I do not drink much, I rarely drink and drive, because I don't want to hurt other people,.. I don't want to get into that kind of trouble.....

I am in a kitchen-dining room combination.  It is a beautiful day out, as I can see through the large windows at one end of the room.  My mother sits at the table, eating her breakfast, I open the newspaper.  And that is the thing, that newspaper....Sunday, August 22, 1999,... the headline story in our local newspaper... broke my heart.

Four people were dead, a fifth air-lifted to a distant hospital,... lives shattered. DUI.  A man so drunk that he was driving on the wrong side of a highway that had a 15 foot wide median.... he murdered a woman and her three children. And then he got out of his wrecked car and lit a cigarette while he waited for the police, ambulance, whatever.  He leaned against the wreckage and smoked a cigarette.....  

I knew people who worked at the hospital.... the place they first took this drunken man.... the drunk was belligerent, unruly, and insisted that he had done nothing wrong.  He continued, for several years, to protest his innocence. How very sad.

Anyway, my heart just broke for the family that was killed. A mother and her children, on their way home from a day at an amusement park,... unsuspecting, innocent....

That morning, reading that newspaper story,.... 

I said it out loud: "I will never drink and drive again."

I stand by that declaration. I live by that declaration.

I still do drink, but I never ever get behind the wheel drunk.

and I rarely ever have more than one drink at a time, or in a day.

If I drink alcohol at all.

PLEASE DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE. 

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sadly, today, while preparing to write this blog I learned that the man who killed that family has, again been arrested for DUI... thankfully this time no one was killed.

http://www.dailyherald.com/article/20140829/news/140828093/

warm homes and loving relatives

I see this on social media every so often: 

it is at once both hurtful and heartwarming.....  

...you see I never knew my grandmothers.... one died decades before I was even thought of.... the other just weeks before I was born.  That is why I say it is hurtful, I never knew the warming embrace of my own grandma.  

But I did have an Aunt named Elsie, and every single time we entered her home, always through the kitchen door, we were greeted by the delightful scent of cookies fresh from the oven.

And Elsie cheerfully saying, "I just found this recipe, won't you try them and tell me what you think?"

My Aunt Elsie was cheerful, and very kind and loving. Even when she scolded, there was great compassion in her soft voice. She was a very sweet lady, and I so very grateful to have had her in my life.

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And I had an Aunt named Marge, who was always happy to have visitors in her little bungalow by the river.  She had 7Up for me to drink, in a glass, with ice. She had grandchildren older than I, so her living room had some books in it,... enough to entertain a small child for a while: 101 Dalmations was one, I cannot remember the others.  There was a television, almost always turned on, positioned so that it could be viewed from the dining area, which was where they always spent their day.  There was a white, faux leather chair in the living room,...for a few years Marge's brother Frank could be found there, watching the baseball game.  

We visited Aunt Marge often, my favorite,... my father's favorite... her home was always warm and cozy.  Aunt Marge made a mean grilled cheese sandwich....Wonder Bread and butter, fried, with one slice of that individually wrapped cheese... I don't like that awful cheese, but when Aunt Marge made me a grilled cheese sandwich with it, ....that was golden! 

A sweet lady, interested in whatever a person had to say.... Aunt Marge always had a glass of wine, in the dining room with her "company",... but (wink wink) she ALWAYS had a second glass of wine in the kitchen! for a sip whilst tending the grilled cheese, or whatever she was making us for supper.  Ok, she was a little tipsy a lot of the time, but she functioned very well, as many a delicious meal shared with loved ones proves. ALWAYS good eating, whatever was served.  And the occasion special treat of hasenpfeffer, prepared by Uncle Joe, who had lost his sense of smell, without with one also lacks the sense of taste, yet Uncle Joe was the best chef I ever knew... he raised rabbits for the hasenpfeffer.

These are the best, warmest memories of my childhood.... grandparent-less, but loved by some wonderful Aunts,... and Uncles..... thankful that my parents came from large families.....

...read my other blog posts... some about growing up in northern Illinois, and others...about whatever comes to mind on a given day............