When you're young, there are many fun and special days to look forward to throughout the year, like birthdays (parties and gifts!), vacations (travel or just veg out), and holidays (so what if no one knows when Christ was born, why let one little detail spoil all the fun).

These are the days when memories that will last a lifetime are made. When you're older, like me, you still look forward to these days, but there is one day, at least for me, that stands head and shoulders above all. That glorious day is Hazardous Waste Day. When you get to middle age like me Hazardous Waste Day is it.

Think about it: No expensive gifts to buy, no stressful dinners to prepare or attend, no travel arrangements to fuss over. Just the wonderful thought of getting rid of some nasty chemicals in a (mostly) environmentally safe way (I mean, they still wind up in the environment, just not ours). Hazardous Waste Day is truly a great day.

For me, it starts off with a visit to the Guilderland Town Hall. I don't know what it is about the town hall, but for some reason the lovely ladies that work there always seem happy to see me. No matter if I'm there for a permit, a sticker, or, in this case, the Hazardous Waste Day form, I'm always greeted with a cheerful smile and competent and efficient service. Way to go, Guilderland Town Hall.

Then it's time for assembling the actual Hazardous Waste. I don't know about you but, if you work on cars, motorcycles, and do lots of household chores like I do, it’s so easy to wind up with all kinds of leftover nasty stuff.

Quite frankly I find it shocking to think that as a homeowner I have to deal with so much of it: leftover paint, driveway sealer, kerosene, solvents of all kinds, used antifreeze and brake fluid, and more. I try to use gloves and all when I use this stuff but still just being around it as much as I am can't be that good for me. What can you do when you need to get the job done?

On Hazardous Waste Day, I load up my truck with all this toxic junk and head over to the town highway department. This is where the town workers and the hazardous waste day crew are waiting to help you.

They must be doing something right, because this year the line of backed-up cars and pickups waiting to get in stretched all the way out to Route 146. It’s a good feeling to know that my neighbors are so environmentally conscious.

What always amazes me is there are so many young people helping out. They make sure everything gets unloaded correctly and put in the right bins or whatever. How great is that, giving up a Saturday morning to help the community like this. I think that's just super. I don’t know if they’re volunteers or what but it’s civic duty like this that makes a community a community. We need more of it. I can think of many other kinds of community days that could really make a difference — mow some senior’s lawn, clean up a park, etc. — and I’m sure you can too.

When I leave the landfill, I'm always really happy, as I've taken care of a big mess that would otherwise be cluttering up my garage or basement. Since I would never throw this stuff in the trash, Hazardous Waste Day is good in that it forces me to get rid of some really nasty junk. Gotta love that.

The only thing I worry about is where it all eventually winds up. I hope at least some of it gets recycled but you have to wonder.

There was a segment on “60 Minutes” showing a beach somewhere in Asia with mountains of used computer parts. Little kids would scrounge around picking off parts that had any value at all. Of course the runoff made the water toxic, which is why I never buy fresh fish from any Asian country.

So you really have to wonder what happens to all our toxic waste in general. It's good that we take care of it, but if other people are having their environment and themselves poisoned that's not good.

I'm a big fan of recycling in principle; I'm the guy in my house who always makes sure the bin goes out in time. In fact, I've been known to pore through our garbage pails, pulling out stuff (straws, drink lids, shampoo bottles, etc.) that really should go in the recycling.

I love buying things made from recycled parts as well. I'm still waiting for sandals made from recycled steel-belted radial tires. These seem like a no-brainier to me. Anything we can do to keep junk out of the landfill is good.

I read somewhere that by 2050 the weight of plastic in the world’s oceans will be more than the weight of fish, so this is a really serious topic that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

The other attraction of Hazardous Waste day is, let's face it, it just sounds cool. When you work at a desk in a cubicle all day like I do, the only hazardous thing you face is deciding what to eat for lunch (and some of the fast-food choices available are truly scary if not outright hazardous).

So for one or two days a year, to become Hazardous Waste Guy is quite fun. Just imagine me in a bright red spandex suit with a yellow cape and big white circle with a red skull and crossbones on the chest as I deliver my toxic load to the landfill. Very exciting, for a boring old guy like me.

Hazardous Waste Day is a great way to clean up some very dangerous household clutter and admire some very helpful town employees and assistants. I commend all the towns that do it. Thanks for doing something that is really helpful for all of us and for the environment (at least for our environment) as well.

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One of the earliest memories I have from watching TV as a child was a show called “Divorce Court.” I didn't know much about divorce at the time, but I remember thinking there was something really wrong with seeing this program.

The other shows I watched — cartoons and comedies mostly — were funny and made you laugh. “Divorce Court” on the other hand was sad and featured people who were either very angry or ready to cry. I don't know if “Divorce Court” is on anymore; certainly there are enough other tawdry so-called “reality” shows to take it's place.

No matter if it is or isn't, divorce is a very sad thing. I never liked it as a child and I still don't today.

For as along as I can remember, I've been told the divorce rate in this country is around 50 percent. That is a staggering number, when you consider how big the wedding industry is.

Think about it like this: Fully one-half of all weddings and receptions you go to will wind up with that couple splitting up at some point. So all that money for clothes, flowers, caterers, bands, and of course the bridal showers and honeymoons was really for nothing. That's just amazing.

Then again, maybe if the half that get divorced get married again they can spend more money on the same stuff and keep the economy going. I suppose that's the one good thing about divorce.

It's one thing when you divorce where it's only the two of you, but when there are kids involved it's really tough. Kids might think it's their fault you are getting divorced. How sad is that? No one wants a kid to feel that way.

Of course you could argue that staying in a bad marriage for the kids’ sake is not good either. That's where you have to balance out the pluses and minuses of staying together, I suppose. I don't know about other guys, but if a woman took the trouble to have my kids, then unless she becomes one of the “three Cs” — a cheater, a crook, or a crack addict — I'd stick with her, and that's that. “Man up,” as they say in the 'hood.

When a divorce happens right away — after a few months or a few years — you could argue that the couple were just a bad fit. Maybe they got married in some kind of an infatuation haze or something. You can mostly forgive them for that. Stuff happens and we don't always make the best decisions all the time.

What kills me is when you see a couple divorcing after being married for decades. I mean, you lasted that long, and now you want to just become another divorce statistic? I don't know but it seems to me if you had decades together there should be enough there to keep it going.

What happens when people change, you say? Well, if they change for the better, then that’s a good thing. I've been married for a long time and I'm always learning new things about my wife.

What a boring time it would be if we always stayed the same. Face it, the world is ever changing, and we are ever changing. In fact, the only constant is change. At least that's how I look at it.

The thing is: Marriage takes work. But when you say it that way it doesn't sound good I know. Work is something you do that is so unpleasant that someone pays you good money to do it (not really unpleasant maybe but unlikeable enough so that you wouldn't do it if you weren’t getting paid).

If work is something you need to get paid to do, then how can a marriage that you have to work at be any good? What it comes down to, I think, is that over time you wind up taking the other person for granted, and that's where the problems start. I consciously try to avoid doing this, I really do, and yet it still happens from time to time. What a bummer.

Let's take just two examples. You come home from work and sit down to eat the dinner that your wife prepared for you. You didn't even notice that the floor was spotlessly clean, did you? Well, how do you think it got that way? It sure didn't mop itself!

Now let's go the other direction. You get in your car to drive to your hairdresser. You just turn the key, it starts right up, and you're off. That car, with the fully-charged battery, the fresh oil and filter, and the tires that have been properly inflated and rotated, is ready for you to drive because your husband (at least that's how it is in my family) made sure it was ready and safe for you. Cars need constant attention (just like marriages, how ironic).

I work hard to support my family, I don't drink to excess, I don't gamble, I keep myself clean, and I try to learn something new every day. I thought I was an OK guy, and yet a very good male friend of mine once said: “I don't know how anybody could ever be married to you.”

He was kind of kidding when he said it, at least I think he was, but there is always some truth in humor so let's think about it for a minute.

I can be loud at times (the word obnoxious comes to mind); my brain sometimes works so fast I can cut you off when you're trying to talk (not easy to stop though I try hard to, believe it or not); I tend to control the TV at home and the radio in the car; I have a very sarcastic, biting sense of humor at times (hey, I'm from Brooklyn, hahaha); and I'm sure my lovely wife can tell you many more annoying things about me.

Like everyone else, I am not perfect, but I do try to do the right thing most of the time, I really do. Still, my apologizing skills get a lot of practice, unfortunately.

Consider this: When my wife and I go to a restaurant, even if it's one we've never been to before, I can look at the menu and in one minute know what I want. She, however, takes a long time to peruse it quite thoroughly in the hopes of making the best choice.

Then, when the food comes, I wolf it down so fast I'm basically done before she's even had a few bites. This is just one of my many traits where my apologizing skills get put to good use on an unfortunately all-too-regular basis. Oh well, I always tip really well so the waitresses tend to like me a whole lot. At least there's that.

Just so you know, I’m not the only one who does annoying things. My better half has this thing where she is constantly adjusting our home windows and shades based on time, temperature, and humidity to maximize comfort while minimizing utility expense. It’s a noble task for sure, but sometimes it’s like opening and closing windows all day becomes an aerobic exercise (if it became an Olympic event, she’d medal for sure). It drives me nuts but it’s for a good cause so what can you do?

I watch a lot of stand-up comedy routines, and I think just about every comedian has a bunch of marriage jokes in his act. Marriage is such an easy target to make fun of. Even the most ideally matched couples can drive each other crazy at times, so there's just so much material there. The good thing is when you can laugh at yourself and don’t take yourself too seriously (at least for the 50 percent of us who choose not to add to the divorce statistics).

Comedians sure make marriage out to be some kind of loopy proposition, but marriage can literally be a lifesaver. I was always aware that I snored, but, because my wife insisted I get checked out, I found out I have sleep apnea. This is where you stop breathing during sleep and then snort and wake up over and over all night long. This, of course, makes you tired the next day, but it's the lack of oxygen to your brain that can really mess you up in the long run (potentially causing high blood pressure and worse).

I wound up getting a CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine to sleep with, and, while I hate using it, there is no denying I'm better off because of it (and my wife can sleep better as well without having to listen to my snoring all night). This is just one example of how being married to someone who really cares about you can be a lifesaver.

My lovely wife, Charlotte, and I will soon be married 30 years. It hasn't always been easy — heck, as my friend joked, you have to wonder how she could stick with me for so long being the way I am and all — but it has always been amazing to be married to a really intelligent and caring person with such a dynamic personality (and I sure hope she says the same about me!).

I'm already looking forward to the next 30 years. Knowing that we have each other’s backs all the time is a real good feeling.

One time I went to a genealogy meeting. Genealogy is where you look up your ancestors and hope to find somebody rich, hahaha. At the meeting, I met a guy who had been married for something like 60 years. I asked him what was the secret to being married that long.

“Well,” he said, in a wistful voice, “after a while, I realized it was just as well to do whatever she says. She's right most of the time anyway, and it just makes it so much easier.”

So there you go, right from the horse’s mouth, as they say.

I didn't like the show “Divorce Court” as a kid, I don't like divorce as an adult, and I'm doing my best to make sure the “50 percent of all marriages wind up in divorce” statistic doesn't get any worse. It's not always easy but I try. Remember, guys — happy wife, happy life!

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Something I've been dreading for a long time finally happened: I'm now one of the legions of folks who need to wear eyeglasses at least some of the time. Welcome to middle age.

It started out with having more and more trouble reading the morning newspaper. I could still do it without eyeglasses, but it was getting difficult seeing the smaller print (like the clue in the Jumble puzzle picture).

This condition is called presbyopia. What happens is your lenses lose elasticity as you age, so you can't focus up close like you used to. When this happens, whether you like it or not, eyeglasses become a part of your life.

I know I shouldn't complain. I went over 56 years before having to deal with this hassle. I remember having a friend when I was a kid who had eyeglasses with lenses so thick they looked like the proverbial bottom of a coke bottle.

So I've been very fortunate all these years. Even now, when I renew my driver's license, I can pass the eye test with no problem. Still, I'm a voracious reader, so eyeglasses are now one more thing I have to deal with.

Getting eyeglasses is one thing. Getting the right eyeglasses is another thing entirely. I've actually had several pairs of eyeglasses over the years. I'm slightly near-sighted, so I'd use these when going to a movie, a football game, or any event where the action was far away. Not that I couldn't see without them; they just made everything a little bit sharper. They came in handy that way but I could easily do without them and often did.

So now, being that I need eyeglasses to read, why not try to get one pair to do everything? Even I know about bifocals, so that's what I had made.

The problem with them is now you have a compromise. They work OK for distance, as long as they don't slide down your nose too much. But for reading you have to look through the bottom part of the lens, which affects where you place your book, newspaper, or whatever.

Having to look down while keeping your head straight gets old fast. An even bigger problem is they were useless for using a computer — that middle distance was just blurry no matter what I did. So much for compromise.

I wound up having another pair made for reading and using a computer. If I combine this pair with my distance pair I'm pretty much covered (though having a magnifying glass available, especially when working on cars or whatever, still comes in handy quite often).

So now the problem becomes the one I've always had with eyeglasses: Where do you carry them? Where does a man find a spot on his person for two pair of eyeglasses that will be convenient anytime — in a suit at work or in a T-shirt and shorts on the weekend.

I haven't figured it out, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to start carrying a purse around. Sigh. It's always something.

I basically just leave the reading and computer glasses at work, and keep the distance glasses in whatever jacket pocket I'm wearing at the time. Then I have some older glasses for reading — the kind you can buy off the rack at the drugstore — strategically placed around the house.

So I hope with all that going on I can find a pair of eyeglasses when I need them. Not an ideal situation but I haven't yet figured out anything better.

I know a guy who keeps his eyeglasses on a cord that goes around his neck, so they are hanging on him at all times. Very convenient, but I just can't handle that "look," pardon the pun.

Believe me, I'm not a vain person — if you've seen my goofy ties and T-shirts you know I don't give a flip about dressing stylishly. But going to the hanging eyeglasses is just too close to having a cane or walker for me, so I'll pass on that for now at least.

Funny story when I tried to pick out a frame. I looked at the various display pictures at the vision center, and found one of a really handsome guy in a nice and relaxing summertime pose. It was a great picture. So I asked to try on those frames.

The people in the store basically laughed them off my face because the glasses looked so bad on me (they claimed). I have no sense of style to speak of, I know that, but if they looked so good on the guy in the picture, how could they possibly have looked all that bad on me? I can't figure it out.

Then again, my wife and daughter always point out that I often wear my jeans "crooked." I don't even know what this means, so I guess I should just let someone else pick out my frames.

I've heard it said that wearing eyeglasses makes one look more intelligent. Huh? To me someone wearing eyeglasses looks like someone that needs vision correction. How that look ever got matched up with intelligence is beyond me.

It's to the point that some folks actually get eyeglasses made with clear lenses just so they can have that so-called intelligent look. Man, I just don't get that at all. That is something I would never, ever do.   

Then there's the way eyeglasses seem to slowly creep down your nose; how they steam up when you drink coffee; how they force you to look in certain spots of the lens; how they distort if you look in the wrong spot; how they constantly need to be cleaned, no matter how careful you are with them; how you always have to watch out lest you drop, sit on, or lose them; how they leave red spots on the bridge of your nose when you wear them for a long time; and the worst part, that you have one or two more things to carry around and be responsible for.

I always thought getting older would be easier simply because you'd have less to do, but with health issues, the greater responsibilities, and the overall craziness of the world these days I can see why the liquor business is always so good.

When you see me, please tell me how nice my new eyeglasses look.

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I used to tell people I was only on Facebook to keep track of my kids. While that's still true to some extent — with so many other social media sites, I wouldn't even have time to try to keep up if I wanted to – there is still every now and then something on Facebook that makes you appreciate it despite its overall basically soulless and trivial nature.

What brings this up is a post someone made recently that said, roughly: “My husband may not be the handsomest or funniest or make the most money, but I always wake up with a clean sink and that's good enough for me.”

Let me tell you my lovely wife could have written that because it fits me to a T.

When I was small, my dear departed mom did most of the cooking, until my father discovered his inner “Molto Mario” and took over. Regardless of who was cooking, they both knew the same two things: one, if you clean while you cook you have a lot less to do later, and two, you never go to bed with a dirty sink.

They say kids rarely listen to what you say but always watch what you do and it must have rubbed off on me because I turned out the same way.

I only had a bachelor pad for a little while, and, while I had one, I did all the things bachelors like to do and then some; I learned pretty quickly that, while a hangover was bad, a hangover plus a dirty sink was exponentially worse. I get a headache just thinking about it.

Not that I was then or even now am that great of a cook, but I can follow a recipe, and it's just so much easier to clean as you go like my parents showed me. Combine that with cleaning the sink before bed and waking up to a fresh, clean kitchen and you’re good to go for sure.

I can't say a clean sink makes every day a good day, but I know waking up with a sink full of dirty dishes with stuck, crusted on food is never how I want to start my day.

Truly I never saw dirty sinks until I got out into the world — it was shocking in many ways. When you grow up in a clean house and then see what a dirty place looks like, it's a really rude awakening. I'm so glad I never had to live like that.

Whenever I'd stay over with friends, I'd always do the sink for them. Cleaning up others’ messes was not my idea of fun — I guess that's why I never stayed over with anyone all that often — but I just couldn't stand a dirty sink. What a bummer. How can you relax and have a good time with that kind of a mess around?

My wife and I played landlord for a number of years. While it's a great move financially, there are too many negative aspects for us to ever want to do it again.

Often I'd have to pay a visit to a tenant to fix one thing or another, and way more often than not I'd find myself in a kitchen with a full stack of crusted-on dirty dishes and an open, overflowing garbage pail. When I saw that, I couldn't wait to get out of there, because I'm not used to living like that and I never want to be.

The dirty sink was bad enough, but the overflowing garbage pail always killed me. How hard is it to go to a store and find a nice kitchen garbage pail with some kind of a lid? Why would you choose one without a lid, or choose not to use the lid?

I may be missing something but to be staring at empty Chinese food containers, chicken bones, watermelon rinds, and who knows what else all day — I just can't imagine it. Don't think I'm a germ-phobe or even a neat freak, because I'm surely not.

I have my stacks of unread reading material, all kinds of junk in my garage and basement, and my over-stuffed drawers and whatnot need to be seriously gone through, to put it mildly. I simply draw the line at dirty sinks, open garbage pails, and real filth like that. There's messy and then there's gross and that's just the way it is.

When I cook a nice meal, I like to get it such that, when we finally sit down to eat, all that's left to clean are the dishes, glasses, and utensils we are using to eat with. That's not always easy to do.

Roasting pans stay hot for a while and, depending on the number of dishes you serve, there may be a lot of things to clean. Still, I'm often able to accomplish this if I'm left alone and “get in the zone” when I cook. This means ignoring phone calls and other distractions and just keeping to the task at hand.

I even refuse help in the kitchen when I'm really going to town, because another body just gets in the way. So I'll let my wife do the entertaining while I finish up the meal, for example. Works for me.

On special occasions, like anniversaries and birthdays, I might take my wife to a fancy restaurant. What should be a very nice experience dampens quickly when you spend lots of money getting wined and dined and then come home to a sink full of dirty dishes that the kids left.

So, while the stripe on the credit card is still warm, I'm at the sink cleaning up a mess I had nothing to do with (well I did have the kids, haha). That's always a bummer. Wait until they have their own sinks to clean.

I say I'm not germ-phobic yet I must admit I rate restaurants on the cleanliness of their bathrooms. The thing is, you have to give them some leeway, because all it takes is one gross inconsiderate slob to ruin a bathroom; we all know that. Still, if a bathroom is nice and tidy, you figure the kitchen is too and that's a good thing.

I know one thing — when I go to a restaurant where there's a tropical fish tank in the waiting area, if the water is so dark you can barely see the fish, I turn right around and walk out. I mean, if you let your fish tank go what else do you let go, jeez.

I may not be the perfect husband — I'm far from it, in fact —but at least my sink is always clean, and that's something.

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I see they are having child car-seat inspection and instruction events at the local malls. Along the same vein, in my new vehicle's owner’s manual (which I've read three times and still don't understand it all), there are 18 pages devoted to child-seat installation and use. Clearly child car seats are a big deal.

This is not at all how it was when I was a kid. We didn't even have car seats back then.

I can remember sitting in the back seat of our tan Ford Fairlane, constantly adjusting my position — keeping my territory separate from my brother’s while watching out for any whacks from the front seat when we started acting up.

I even remember my mother carrying my new baby brother, wrapped in a blanket, on her lap in the passenger seat. They'd call Child Protective Services if you did that today.

You have to remember it was a different time back then. Cars didn't even have seat belts, to say nothing of airbags or anti-lock brakes. Yet somehow we made it to Grandma's, the beach, Great Adventure, etc. How so many baby boomers like me survived to adulthood is surely a miracle.

By the time my kids came, it was a different story. If you've had kids you know what I mean. Trying to deal with installing and removing car seats can be a back-breaking experience where you really need to be a contortionist or a gymnast or something.

Wrangling those thick webbed belts in and out of the many tight-fitting slots in the seat and all that, at such a low angle, is just really, really hard on your back. Truly, there is a need for a "next generation" car seat that simply snaps in and out. When the crowd-funding request comes in for that be sure to jump on it, because it will sell like hot cakes no doubt.

My all-time most amazing car-seat experience happened as I was bringing my kid to church. We had a mini-van at the time. I was attempting to remove said kid, still in her car seat, from the middle seat of the van in the parking lot of the church.

When I bent down to start the process my head hit the edge of the roof of the mini-van square on, hard. It was like someone hit me with a baseball bat. I was momentarily stunned; many would say I'm always in somewhat of a daze, but this was a daze on steroids.

Somehow I got my act together and got the kid and car seat out of the vehicle. I then dropped her off in the child-care room (church child-care attendants are saints and should each be given a free trip to Cancun once a year as far as I'm concerned). Then I headed back upstairs for the service. It was to be the most memorable church service I'd ever attended.

Sitting in the pew while gently massaging my crushed skull, I listened attentively to the pastor's sermon. Suddenly, in my coma-like fog, it all started to make sense: We should all just treat each other as we would like to be treated. Simple.Why hadn't this occurred to me before, I wondered, while slowly nodding in and out of consciousness.

I continued to listen attentively while feeling the slowly forming bump on my noggin getting larger and larger. If we really could just learn to treat each other as we would like to be treated, what a great world it would be.

It wouldn't matter what gender or color or sexuality or nationality we were, because we would all just automatically do the right thing. It wouldn't matter what agenda we had, because whatever agenda it was, we'd be treated exactly how the person or group considering our agenda would like to be treated.

What a miracle. Say goodbye to the United Nations because you would no longer need it. Turn that huge building into affordable housing in Manhattan, why don't you. Now that would really be a miracle.

What was most likely a small concussion had given me a clarity of religious thought I'd never experienced before. Just treat others as you would like to be treated. It's so simple and so powerful.

Somebody wants to make a left turn out of the drug store? Let them in because, if you were making the left turn, you'd want to be let it. Thinking about throwing a cigarette butt out of a car window? Don't do it, because the person living in the house by the street where the butt lands doesn't want their house to become your ashtray, same as you wouldn't want someone throwing garbage in front of your house. See how simple it is?

You can take all the great religions of the world, with all their associated dogma and theology, and, when you boil it all down, if we all just treated each other the way we'd like to be treated, pretty much you'd have the core message right there, wouldn't you? There shouldn't be much more to it than that. So simple yet so powerful.

You realize it took me a pretty awful head trauma to achieve this level of religious clarity; I'm not kidding, I was dizzy for three days after that church service.

Still, I know I shouldn't be the only one to finally get it when it comes to religion, so here's my proposal: The other day I bought a bunch of warped 2-by-4s cheap in the clearance aisle at the home center. So that you can achieve the same level of religious clarity I did — the realization that all we have to do is treat each other as we would like to be treated — I will gladly take one of the warped 2-by-4s and bash you in the head with it, just like when I bashed my head into the roof of the mini-van. That's what it took for me to see the light, so maybe it will work for you as well.

Treat others as you would like to be treated (and watch your head when removing a car seat). Easy-peasy. It really is that simple.

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There's nothing quite so quintessentially American as a Western movie. I'm a baby boomer and I can remember Westerns for as long as I can remember. Little boys back in the day (and many today still I'm sure) spent hours pretending to be cowboys as they imitated their Western movie idols.

The thought of a strong, handsome cowboy packing a six-shooter while straddling his gallant steed is a virile image we all know and admire. I guess that's one reason Western movies, books, clothing, and music are still so popular today.

So I've enjoyed plenty of Western movies, no doubt about it, but I've always wondered about some things when I've watched them over the years. For example, in every Western movie I've ever seen, when the bad guys ride into town, the first thing they do is find the local saloon and order shots of whiskey.

Now whiskey is a wonderful thing — in moderation of course — but if I'd come into a place all dusty, dirty, and dry like those banditos, the first thing I'd do is order three big glasses of water to rehydrate myself. I know Sports Nutrition wasn't a big thing in the time period of the Western movies, but humans are humans. Who wouldn't want a big glass of water after being out in the boonies with the rolling tumbleweeds all day before having that first glass of hooch? Never could figure that one out.

Then, of course, as they start drinking more and more, the guys in all the Westerns get all loosey goosey and want to have a good old time. That's when the music and the women come into the picture.

There always seems to be a guy just waiting at a piano to play some honky-tonk at a moment’s notice. I guess being there were no stereos back then they'd like you to think the piano player was a fixture in the saloons and bars, always available to get the cowboys drinking and spending their money.

I wonder if it really was like that. You'd think if you could play that well you'd open a piano studio where you could give lessons in peace and not have to worry about getting shot or punched out. Seems obvious to me, though I suppose the tips in the saloon would be pretty good — if you could live long enough to spend them.

Then you had the women. Without fail, every saloon in these movies featured the most beautiful women all dolled-up in the fanciest dresses you could imagine, with big hair, makeup, the whole bit.

What always killed me about that is you'd look at the towns these saloons or bars were in, and they were the most rundown, depressing, dirt-filled Podunks you could ever imagine. So how then did these ladies get all dolled-up all the time?

Was there a Macy's or a Kohl's or a Filene's around the corner behind the blacksmith's shop? Was there a hair stylist or beautician shop there as well? I know there was always a Sears catalog where you could order anything, so the fine duds could have come from there.

And maybe there was a gal or guy in town who could really do up the hair and makeup. But it always struck me that in these miserable, depressing places, women could achieve such levels of beauty and style that would still be admired today.

I know, I know, it's a movie and it's really just a story, but I like things that are somewhat based on truth or history. The more believable the better. That's why I never liked time-travel stories. If time travel were possible, wouldn't it have happened already? Yes, it's not easy being a fact-based party-pooper all the time but that’s my lot in life so be it.

A Western movie wouldn't be complete without plenty of horses. Now I bet on horses for many years, and that's really the extent of my knowledge about them, but it sure seems to me horses had it pretty rough in these movies.

When they weren't getting shot at, they were expected to run at top speed for hours and hours in the dusty desert heat. I know horses are big and tough, but I can't imagine that's a good way to treat them.

Every now and then, you'd see a horse drinking out of a wooden trough in a Western movie, usually in front of the saloon, but I don't think I ever saw a horse eat in one of these movies. You'd think horses, being that they were serving as primary transportation back then, would have been treated better (and I'm sure in real life they were).

Another staple of Westerns is the macho cowboy, say Clint Eastwood, riding around with a little unlit cigar in his mouth. Now Clint can do whatever he wants, whether in the movies or real life, but I know when I'm lucky enough to obtain a fine cigar it's either in my humidor or it's giving me a relaxing smoke. No way I'm just walking around with it unlit, just poking out of my mouth. That would be like having an icy cold drink on a hot day and not being able to enjoy it. What’s the point?

Of course, you can't talk about Westerns without talking about guns, a timely topic even today. I've never owned a gun but I've shot them, and I know they have recoil, yet, in all the gun battles in these movies, they are fired willy-nilly like they're water pistols. A gun, of course, is a precision-machined instrument, yet you rarely if ever see guns misfire or get cleaned in these movies, despite the dusty and dirty conditions.

Finally everyone in these movies shoots like there's no tomorrow, yet isn't it common sense that you'd only have a finite supply of ammunition? There's only so much ammo you could carry. If I were ever in a gun battle, I'd make sure, as best I could, that every shot counted instead of just firing wildly. But then that wouldn't make as good of a movie, I guess.

If I'd have been a cowboy, there are several things I would have done differently. First, I'd have kept my hair in a permanent buzz cut, to keep the dirt out of it and make it easier to keep clean. There was probably no sunscreen back then, so I would have asked the lovely ladies in the saloon for some of their facial cream, to keep my face from getting all dried up and leathery in the sun.

Then I would have tried to figure out a way to make my own toothbrush and dental floss — maybe from hemp fiber — to keep my teeth looking good. I'd probably always be carrying around a gallon of water and a change of clothes too, especially underwear and socks. I mean, yuck, after being out for day after day in the sun, you must get pretty rank

And I'd tell my fellow cowboys to at least treat the Indians with respect since they were here first. Now that I think about it, I'm sure I would have made kind of a wussy cowboy, but that's just how I am.

Western movies are a time-honored American tradition. If you don't examine them too closely like I unfortunately do you can still enjoy them very much to this day.

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Here's how it starts: You finish a 5K run and they hand you a commemorative event T-shirt. Then you go to the motorcycle store and see a great new T-shirt design that you just have to have.

Soon after, there's an open house at the local hardware store where you get yet another T-shirt. Of course a popular reward for volunteering for anything is a T-shirt. The next thing you know, your drawers and cabinets are so full the back or bottom is ready to burst. T-shirt overload has set in.

This happened to me recently, and it was so bad I had to finally take action to cull the herd. My lovely wife let me know of a family in need due to a devastating fire.

So I sorted out all my tees and selected 50 I no longer wanted. These would go to some folks who could really use them, so that was good. Even with this many removed, I still have all my drawers, cabinets, and closet shelves full, believe it or not.

Yes, I really did have a lot of T-shirts. They seem to be attracted to me just like mosquitoes.

The funny thing is, even though I'm very selective about bringing a new tee home — I have to really like the design or organization behind it — I'm the exact opposite when deciding which ones to wear at any given time. Most often, I just reach into the drawer and grab the first one I get my hands on.

This of course leads to some awkward situations — like wearing the BMW shirt to the Harley Davidson dealer and vice-versa. But it is what it is. Heck, it's only a T-shirt.

Sometimes the sheer happenstance in my T-shirt wearing selection process is a good thing. One time I had one of my many Norton (a long-gone but sorely missed British motorcycle marque) tees on in a museum, and a guy stopped me. We had a very long and enjoyable conversation that happened only because I was wearing that shirt. So that was good.

But, after wearing my bright red “I don't need Viagra, I'm Italian” T-shirt to my kid's school open house one time, I now at least try to make sure I'm not wearing anything odd or embarrassing to certain events. I must be getting older.

T-shirts are like bumper stickers for people. For every wild and outrageous bumper sticker, there is a T-shirt to match. I like funny ones for sure, but I have no desire to say anything political or controversial on my T-shirt.

Having said that, if they can sell you a T-shirt, then they should let you wear it, not turn around and have your arrested like what happened at Crossgates Mall a few years ago. That's just ridiculous.  

My two favorite T-shirts were purchased in Manhattan many, many years ago. The first one was short-sleeved and blue, with the saying, “Frankly Scallop, I don't give a Clam” on the front. At the time, I just found that so funny and clever, I had to have it. I wore that thing for a long time but I don't know whatever happened to it.

The other one was a long-sleeved ZZ Top concert tee that I bought on the street outside of Madison Square Garden after one of ZZ Top’s concerts. I wore that thing until it was literally a rag, and I still use parts of it to polish my bikes and cars. I really loved that one.

I've gone to a lot of quilt shops with my wife. She does some quilting when she has time, and it's fun to look at the often exquisite designs skilled quilters can produce. We've been in stores and shops where you have to put on white gloves before they'll even let you look at them.

What I'd like to do is have my wife take some of my favorite old T-shirts and make some really nice quilts out of them. She could do one on motorcycles, one on music, etc. I doubt she'll have time any time soon to even start one but it's nice to dream about.

As I get older, I don't wear T-shirts as much as I used to (which was all the time). These days, I prefer flannel shirts with pockets in the front. Those pockets are so handy for eyeglasses, Lotto tickets, etc., and I like having sleeves much of the time as well.

Still, if I go to an event or shop and see a new T-shirt I like I'll often buy it out of force of habit. Some of them are really nice, like ones with exploded views of engines and things like that. I can't resist those.

I've seen places on the Internet where you can get T-shirts made up in bulk for as little as $2 to $3 per shirt. That is so cheap that, if I were a small-business owner, I'd get a ton of them made up and just give them away. What better way to spend your advertising dollars?

People love anything free and that T-shirt you just gave away can give you free advertising all over the country and even the world. I know for a fact I've learned about new shops, products, and places to go from reading other peoples T-shirts. What a great way to advertise.

The only thing I don't love about T-shirts is how fast they tend to accumulate. Maybe I should practice my woodworking skills and build another cabinet or put up more shelves to hold the new ones. That's always fun, and I can even wear a T-shirt while doing the building. Of course, I could just stop buying T-shirts, entering races, and volunteering, but what fun would that be?

 

Location:

You might want to mark down this day somewhere, because I'm going to give you a tip that might make your life much more enjoyable. Sadly, it's nothing life changing like how to pick Lotto or how to lose weight while eating everything (I wish). But this little tip has certainly made my life immensely more enjoyable, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy it as well.

It all started when I decided that one of my life's goals is to visit every major city that starts with the letter T. Why T you ask?

Well T is a very cool letter — just a simple horizontal and vertical line. That's good enough for me.

So I started my quest by going to Toronto and thoroughly enjoying it. Toronto is a world-class city that is vibrant, clean, and full of fun things to do. Can't wait to go back.

The next big T city I want to visit is Tokyo, which is going to be tough since I don't like to fly but I'll figure something out. From what I've read, Tokyo is another beautiful city rich in culture. Looking forward to that trip immensely.

Thinking about Tokyo got me noticing things related to Japan, including  ads in magazines for author Haruki Murakami. I read a lot and I have a reading list a mile long, but something clicked and I decided to give him a try. Good move, because he is really, really good. This is where my tip comes in.

If you've ever:

— Been in a big, crowded city yet felt totally alone;

— Had your heart broken, leading to intense, almost physical pain;

— Wondered what 16-year-old girls think about;

— Experienced a devastating loss;

— Awakened from a dream and had a hard time telling if the dream was real or not;

— Felt that women look best in a simple dress with little or no makeup;

— Had trouble finding meaning in your work;

— Felt like sitting in a deep dry well or a silo all by yourself, just to think; or

— Wondered why calculus is easier to comprehend than relationships —

then you will like reading Haruki Murakami very, very much.

Listen, this guy is the real deal. His latest book sold one million copies in its first month in Japan alone and has been translated to over 50 different languages. When it comes to good old-fashioned books in this day and age, that is just off the charts.

The thing about reading a Japanese author like Murakami is by necessity you have to read a translation. There are always tough choices translators must make — ask any Biblical scholar.

Often you're not sure if you're getting the right nuances as the author intended. In addition, one of Murakami's books was too long when it was translated, so entire chapters were omitted and others were rearranged. That's too bad for us but it is what it is and these books are still awesome.

Here are the Hiroshi Murakami books I've read so far:   

— "Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage": This is his latest blockbuster, about a guy who in high school had four close friends, two guys and two girls. These five did everything together and were inseparable.

Then one day the four won't take his phone calls and start to avoid him totally, with no explanation or apparent reason. From this simple premise comes a book that deeply and exquisitely explores the vagaries of the human condition.

I found it absolutely marvelous. Now I'm not an English major or a literary critic, so I know this is kind of crude, but to me he's like a combination of Kurt Vonnegut's sharp satire and knack of pointing out the silliness of so many things, with Andy Rooney's uncanny powers for observation, along with the sheer narrative power of Ernest Hemmingway. That's pretty good for a guy you are reading through a translator, I think.

— "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle": This one is about an ordinary guy whose wife leaves for work one morning and never comes back. Along with that, we have a missing cat, clairvoyance, World War II flashbacks, and a lot of solitary dreaming and thinking.

After reading this one, I seriously thought about digging a well in my backyard to go sit in and contemplate, but our water table is too high and I'm not a very good swimmer. This is a spellbinding book with a lot of dream sequences (or are they dreams?). A great read.

— "1Q84":  This is a sprawling, very ambitious, tome over 900 pages long set in a world close to our own but with two moons. The year is 1984 (and Orwell is indeed referenced), but it's a Questionable 1984, hence "1Q84." This one has dreams and cults and religion and much more.

While it's terrific I wouldn't recommend this as your first Murakami book since it's so long and there's just so much going on. Still, the two main characters, Tengo and Aomame, are so intricately envisioned that they stayed with me for weeks after I finished the book. That's how powerful Murakami's writing is.

— "Norwegian Wood": A 17-year-old commits suicide, leaving his girlfriend and best friend to pick up the pieces. This is the most personal Murakami book I've read so far, in the sense of how deeply he explores the most intimate feelings of each character. A very emotional and beautiful work.

— "Wind/Pinball: Two Novels": An interesting way to get into Murakami very easily is this new translation of his first two novels that was just released this year. Even in these early works, you can sense the seeds of greatness.

In the introduction, he tells about being at a baseball game and realizing, literally at the crack of the bat, that he could be a writer. He also tells about starting out by writing in his very limited English, and then translating that back to Japanese. He thinks this process allowed him to find his unique writer's voice. However he found it, it's very lucky for us that he did.

I've read some reviews of Murakami's work and there's the constant comparison to Kafka because of the recurring theme of alienation in modern society. I can see that, but until he has a character wake up as a giant insect, I prefer to think of his work as uniquely his own.

What other Japanese writer has had this kind of success in the West? No matter who you compare him to, he's still a great read, and that's all that really matters to me.

There has been a book about de-cluttering by a Japanese writer on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks and weeks ("The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up" by Marie Kondo), so, in that spirit I've been taking out the Murakami books from the library instead of buying them.

There is often a long wait for his books since they are popular, so when the library finally calls I get real excited, drop whatever I'm doing, and run down there. Then it's no TV or even music until I read the whole book cover to cover.

There are around a dozen Murakami books and I can't wait to get to them all. You gotta love your local library.

I wanted to pick out just one Murakami sentence from the thousands I've read at this point to give you an example of the sheer beauty of his writing, so I chose this one, from his short story "Kino": "Like dry ground welcoming the rain, he let the solitude, silence, and loneliness sink in."

That sentence just takes my breath away; simple, exquisite, and beautiful. If I could write like that, I wouldn't have to spend all day playing around with computer databases, that's for sure.

Of course, nothing is perfect in life, and I do have a couple of nits to pick with Mr. Murakami. You know how Woody Allen basically plays the same character in each of his movies?

In the several Murakami books I've read so far it seems like the narrator is just about the same guy: a simple, quite, contemplative young man thrust into some ordinary and some quite extraordinary situations.

Also, in each book the word "concrete" is used way too much, as in "Can you give me a concrete example?" or "Can you say it in a concrete manner?" I'm wondering if this is due to the translating. Despite these couple of things, Murakami's books are terrific.

Oh, one more thing — Haruki Murakami writes about people, and people like to have sex, so there are quite a few graphic and steamy scenes in these books. That doesn't bother me but if you have a thing about that don't say I didn't warn you!

It's only in there because that's what that characters call for and it adds to the stories in a good way. In fact, his female characters are so alluring that, if I ever got to meet the somewhat reclusive author, one of the first things I'd ask him is which one of them he'd date if he could.

So there's your tip. If you're looking for a good read (and why wouldn't you be?) try Haruki Murakami. You won't be disappointed.

— Photo by Frank L. Palmeri

BJ: Frank L. Palmeri named his truck both for the official Ford color, "Blue Jeans," and also for "Borrow me, you must be Joking.”

Well, I went and did what I said I never would. In doing my part to keep the economic recovery going, I bought a brand new pickup truck to replace my unfortunate mini-van that got hit by lightning.

The thing is, no one ever wants to borrow your mini-van, but, now that I'm once again a guy with a truck, we'll have to see how good my diplomatic skills are (because I'm not letting anyone borrow my truck; you heard it here first).

So why did I purchase a truck when there are so many other types of vehicles out there? Well, as you know if you are a truck owner and as you can imagine if you're not, having a big open box to haul stuff around in can be incredibly handy at times. I like to work with wood and buy quite a bit of sheet goods and dimensional lumber

Having that big bed to slide these unwieldy pieces into is just so convenient; no need to even hook up the trailer. Gotta love that.

When I was a kid, I always looked forward to the annual Lionel Toy Trains catalogue. This glossy book was manna from heaven for little boys, and I'd drool over the many different trains, sets, and accessories, even though I could barely afford any of it.

It's kind of like that with trucks. Before settling on a 2015 Ford F150, I visited many dealers and picked up all the fancy brochures and catalogues. The people writing this stuff must have grown up with Lionel like me because they really know how to keep you drooling and entice you to spend a lot more money than you really want to.

Let's take Ford, for example, since that's what I wound up buying. The F150, which happens to be the number-one selling vehicle in this country for 37 years in a row, comes in five trim levels — XL, XLT, Lariat, King Ranch, and Platinum.

Each trim level is about $5,000 more than the next, with a top-of-the-line Platinum costing around $70,000. That's a lot of Benjamins, my friends, especially for something that will only depreciate over time.

The insidious thing they do is put one or two things in the next-up trim level that you really want but don't want to spring that huge $5,000 premium for. It's like they're dangling candy in front of a little kid.

I went with the XLT, which is the most I've ever spent on anything in my life except for my house. The next trim level up, the Lariat, has many things I would have liked, but not enough to open up the checkbook even further.

A few of those things I can add myself, which is a savings, but some of them — an automatic full-time 4x4 mode, most notably — can't be easily added. Oh well, it's nice to have something to look forward to "someday."

This 2015 Ford F150 is really an amazing piece of technology in three big ways, which is why I went with it. First, the body is made of aluminum, a first for this kind of vehicle, resulting in a weight savings depending on options of as much as 700 pounds. Talk about going on a diet.

Second, the 2.7 Liter EcoBoost V6 (only 164 cubic inches) puts out 325 Brake Horse Power with 375 feet per pound of torque. If you don't know what torque is, let's put it this way — the next time I cut down a tree, I won't have to rent a stump puller.

Third, in certain conditions the engine shuts off completely at a full stop, restarting instantly when you take your foot off the brake. This can be a little strange at first, but soon you're thinking why can't all vehicles be like this; what a great way to save on gas and cut down on pollution.

The small but very powerful engine in this truck can even tow 7,600 pounds, yet still gets a combined 20 miles per gallon. Blending power and great gas mileage in such a large vehicle was unheard of only a few years ago, and I give Ford credit for achieving this level of performance. It's terrific to see an American company leading the way for a change, isn't it?

I can't speak as highly of the actual buying process, however. I have a friend who is a car salesman and I purchased from him, but even with his help the entire process took many hours over several visits and was quite complicated

For example, the truck I wanted was not on my friend's lot, so we had to do a "dealer trade" to get it. The good thing about dealer trades is it allows you to get the vehicle you want at the price you want; the bad thing is your new vehicle will have some miles on it when you get it and will by necessity have been driven by someone else.

I think if and when I ever buy another new vehicle, I'll try to avoid a dealer trade just to keep the transaction as simple as possible. The good news is I may have found a good part-time post-retirement job. Getting paid to drive around in brand new vehicles all day sounds like a lot of fun to me.

With the F150, you have a choice of three cab styles: Regular, Super with passenger doors that open forward, and Crew with normal passenger doors. What I wanted was a Super with the full-size eight-foot box, but my salesman advised me that this makes for a very long truck, so I went with the Super and 6.5 foot box.

With this one I can still carry motorcycles in it I choose, and full sheets of plywood and Sheetrock fit flat with the tailgate down. Even though this is not as long a vehicle as I wanted, it's still plenty long; you stick out when you park in one of those underground garages, and I won't be taking it downtown very often. I'm good at parallel parking but why bother.

The truck sits so high that you really have to grab the handle and pull yourself up to get in; however, once driving, you have a clear, unobstructed view of the road, which is nice.

Also, the days of trucks riding like trucks are over; this thing rides so smooth it's like being on air most of the time. Now I see why F150 has been number one for so long. If I were a plumber or carpenter or whatever, I'd buy one of these, ride around in style, and then write if off on my taxes. Such a deal.

Speaking of taxes, the amount of tax I paid on this new vehicle purchase is more than I've paid for most of the cars I've ever owned. Then whoever buys it from me pays tax again on it, and so on down the line until it winds up on the scrap heap.

I guess it's good that car sales do so much to fund our government, but I'm thinking that some kind of tax relief would spur sales even further. After paying this much tax, I'll never look at new high-end cars and trucks the same way again.

When I said I was doing my part to keep the economic recovery going, I wasn't kidding. Since buying "BJ" (the name comes from the official Ford color, "Blue Jeans," and also stands for "Borrow me, you must me Joking"), I've added a spray-on bed liner, a folding bed step, mud flaps, a bug deflector, floor liners, bed stake pocket hooks, and a truck-bed cover with an integrated tool box.

It's like picking out stuff from the Lionel catalog. Trucks are just big toys for big boys after all.

Unlike the mini-vans I'd been driving forever, the F150 is rear-wheel drive. This brings back memories of when I first learned to drive, when most cars were like this (yes, I'm old).

Rear-wheel drive just feels right to me. Plus, because the engine is not transverse mounted as with front-wheel drive, everything in the engine compartment is easy to get to. Changing spark plugs will be a cinch. I like that very much.

Whenever I own a pickup, there are three things I always do. The first is to get a pack of Camel cigarettes and stick it on the dash somewhere. I don't smoke cigarettes, but it just seems right to have a pack of Camels with that iconic logo in there.

The second thing I do is put on a ball cap, go to a lumberyard or home center, and drive around the parking lot in reverse. Yes, I really do this.

When I was small, I'd go to lumber yards and there'd always be guys with ball caps on driving around the lot in pickup trucks in reverse, so that's why I do it. Just like old times. Isn't it nice it takes so little to make me happy?

The third thing I do is put on the country station. Country music is about the only music I don't love, but since at least half the songs actually mention a pickup truck, it's only natural to play it, for the truck's sake if nothing else.

Speaking of country music and pickup trucks — the other day I was driving in the truck with my son-in-law, Ricky, who grew up in Houston. Ford was nice enough to throw in six months of free satellite radio, which is fantastic.

So we're driving down the road singing along with channel 60 "Outlaw Country" blasting from the seven speakers (Ford really does things right). Then Ricky turns to me and says, "It's just like we're in Texas!" Yee-ha, yippee ki-yay, howdy pardner, we're havin' big ol' fun for sure.

Now all I need are some overalls, a new fishing pole, a BB gun, and some empty beer cans to shoot. And some juicy barbecue while we're at it, why not.

If you happen to see me and BJ on the road, please give us a wave, just like I wave to the mailman as he takes my loan payment out of the mailbox each month

Location:

My little brother has been a teacher for a very long time. Over the years, I know he's been very popular with his many students (he won Teacher of the Year twice, and his current students sent not one but two beautiful floral arrangements for my mother's wake).

He enjoys teaching and wants very much for his students to do well. That's a win-win situation. Or so I thought.

I recently found out that there is now a plethora of rate-your-teacher websites. This is where students, often anonymously, get to tell the world what they think of their teachers. You can probably imagine where this is going.

Yes, my little brother got rated, or should I say ripped, by some students. I think this stinks for a number of reasons.

It's obvious that any student will like some teachers more than others. That's just human nature. Each of us has specific personality types we feel more comfortable with than others.

The thing is, school is not a popularity contest; you're there to learn. Anything that helps with learning is a good thing.

I've had good and not-so-good teachers, and only rarely a truly bad teacher. No matter the teacher, if I put in the work, I got a good grade. It's as simple as that.

Now take this same formula and add publicly ripping some teacher you don't like. That's a bad recipe if you ask me.

Are there some bad teachers? Yes, of course, just as there are some bad car mechanics and some bad grocery baggers.

The thing we need to do is find a way to foster excellence in teaching; publicly humiliating them is not going to help them I'm sure.

Think about it: someone may rip a teacher for whatever reason, and someone else may read that and then decide to not take that teacher. Meanwhile, that teacher may be perfectly fine, and someone may have missed out on a really good experience because of some rant by a student who was dissatisfied for whatever reason.

I'm sure this happens and it, for lack of a better word, sucks.

When I go to buy something on Amazon.com, I, of course, look at the reviews. This is especially helpful when there are a lot of reviews and you have the time to read a good share of them.

Sometimes there are only a few to look at, with one being a five-star review, saying it's the greatest thing since sliced bread followed by a one-star review, saying it's garbage. That's to be expected because we all have different experiences and expectations; what works well for one person may not work well or work at all for another. Having a lot of reviews assures the good and bad will average out, like when ice skating judges throw out the high and low scores.

Now it's one thing for this to happen with a widget on sale at Amazon, but quite another when it happens to a teacher. Think about it: When you like a teacher, you're probably not going to seek out a website to say he or she is doing a good job. You just accept it and move on.

But, if you're disgruntled for whatever reason, you might want to "vent." Reading even some of this drivel can make the teacher look bad. That's not good at all.

At home I use the Linux operating system on my computer because it's fast, free, and technically on the cutting edge. Other people might struggle with learning to use something different, even if it is better (and trust me it is).

The point is, Linux, like some products on Amazon, or even a specific teacher, is not for everyone. This is fine, but ripping things or people that you don't particularly like is not fine. It's unproductive unless it's done constructively, and what I've read on the teacher-review websites is far from constructive.

The funny thing is I've visited my little brother (he lives in Wisconsin) several times, and have seen him interacting with students and faculty. He always gets a good reception.

I'd even go so far as to say he's very, very well liked in the academic community that he's been a part of for so long; he has a PhD. and has chaired his department for many years. That's why it was so jarring to see him get ripped like this.

The only thing I can figure is some folks just don't like his personal style, which is their prerogative. Again, we all have cerain personality types that we like more than others. But, if my brother is teaching correctly — and by all accounts he is and has done so for a very long time — then it's just not fair to rip him, or any teacher, simply because you don't like his style, jokes, or hair. How petty and stupid.

What are we going to have next, websites where our doctors, dentists, and plumbers get reviewed or ripped anonymously? Actually, I'm sure these already exist, but I don't bother to look for them.

When I find a professional I like, I stick with them and that's it. Any mature adult who doesn't have good professionals would be best served by asking around for good referrals, and not wasting time ripping ones they don't like as much. Note that I'm not saying to give crooks or swindlers a pass, just, if you don't "click" with someone right off the bat, let it go. I can see if you want to provide positive, constructive feedback, which we all can benefit from; that's a good thing. But, when it gets nasty and rude, you lose me every time.

I'm especially sensitive to teacher criticism because I've given many technical presentations over the years. You're up there in front of the room, looking out into a sea of eyes, and you have no idea what the background of each person is.

A lot of times, you just get blank stares, so now you're thinking, “Am I so technical that they have no idea what I'm talking about?” or, “Am I dumbing it down so much that they're bored to tears?”

It’s very hard to strike the right balance, and this is just for a 90-minute technical presentation. Compare that to a group of students with very different backgrounds, abilities, and expectations that you have to work with for an entire semester. That can't be easy.  

It takes me about an hour to write one of these columns, then another hour to go back and edit it, and then it's done. That's not much of a time investment, I know, yet overwhelmingly, when I meet one of my readers around town, I'm always flattered by how much they like my writing.

Now, I'm fully aware that there are others who may think this column is suitable for birdcage lining and nothing else, and that's fine as well. We all like different music, books, etc.

Thankfully, I'm not aware of anyone ripping me online like they did my little brother. What a waste of energy. Blowing off steam is one thing, but intentionally and anonymously ripping someone who is trying hard (teaching, writing, or whatever) is just punk.

I have no respect for it at all. Constructive criticism, yes; crude insults are just mean.

The question I ask myself is: If I were going to take a class now, would I look up the teacher on a review website? I suppose I would, just because it's there, but I can guarantee you I would ignore any rants or comments about looks or personality.

Rather, I'd look for anything constructive and try to base my decision on that. Yet I went through my whole academic life never worrying about what teacher I was getting, and, except for one, I never had any complaints. Even with that one, it was just a personality thing.

I still learned something and passed the class; it just wasn't as great an experience as it could have been. Not bad when you consider the many, many teachers I've had over the years.

 I wonder what it's like for a teacher who reads an anonymous bad review somewhere. Here he or she is trying to do more and more with fewer resources, trying to impart hard-earned knowledge, trying to have a positive impact on some young people’s lives, and then have to deal with getting ripped publicly. Ugh.

If it were I, I'd ignore it completely and let my work speak for itself. Life is too short to deal with such nonsense. I'm going to find and hug a teacher today, and you should, too.

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