You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2011.
|
|
I am enjoying a lunch of corn soup, a grilled turkey & cheese sandwich, and cucumber slices, while absorbing “Modern Marvels: Future Tech” on HISTORY CHANNEL. I enjoy most episodes on “Modern Marvels,” but this particular episode has captivated me.
All sorts of exciting things:
- paper-thin television
- hydrogen-fueled vehicle
- brain-computer interface
- robotic soldiers
- commercialization of space
- Mars base-station
- walls that can change color by pressing a button
- framed screens that are computerized and can pull up photos much like your computer
- telekinetic energy powers
In my life of forty-seven years I have seen tremendous advancements in technology. What an exciting world it has become with so many technological inventions. And I know there will be even more, and more to come.
My great-grandfather, John William Garrett Clary, was born in 1898. When he was five years old the Wright Brothers flew the first airplane. By the time he was ten years old the automobile was becoming as popular as a horse drawn vehicle, and the telephone was moving into most homes. Grandpa Garrett saw the advent of radio, motion picture, and eventually, television.
When I was five years old, I was seated next to Grandpa Garrett on his Davenport in his home on North 9th Street in Elwood, Indiana. One July day we watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. Naturally, at age five I did not consider what this must have meant to my great-grandfather, but as I grew older I realized just how much his world changed over 99 years. What an exciting world he knew that seemed to grow, technologically, by leaps and bounds.
I can remember the excitement of my grandparents getting their first color-television, and microwave. They seemed pretty hip to be accepting of newfangled appliances! My Uncle Ron bought me my first calculator in 1974, and I thought I was so cool by owning a little device that could add, subtract, multiply and divide! My uncle also gave me my first 8-track tape player, and later, a cassette player. Life became even more exciting in 6th grade when I got “Pong” for Christmas. As a child, there was always this incredible feverish thrill when the JCPenney and Sears’ Christmas catalogs arrived. I can remember spending hours looking through the toy section, marveling at the plethora of new toys, many considered technological advancements.
What an exciting world we have known, continue to know, and prepare to embrace. God bless all the minds who bring us these newfangled innovations!
“Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”
opening for STAR TREK
|
||||||||||||
| President Lincoln’s Cottage | Upshur Street at Rock Creek Church Road, NW | Washington | DC | 20011 |
There seems to be an even greater wave of unrest sweeping our country, and the world. To be honest, I’ve not followed Occupy Wall Street, and what I did follow initially did not necessarily ring with any clarity of the mission. Even as the televised news programs invite guests to discuss the rallies, I am still somewhat distant.
I remember my first trip to Washington, DC in 1968, during the height of an earlier crusade by the people. There was a massive march on Washington that August, and I remember the vibrantly colored signs, and clothing, and hearing the chants. The expanse of The Mall near the Lincoln Memorial was overgrown with masses, and masses of bodies crowding every bit of free space. My parents kept me shielded from the protesters, but I was greatly impressed, and intrigued by the sea of faces that stretched out from the reflecting pool.
Forty-plus years later, we find our country racked, once again, with the parades of protesters. One of my friends, Jeffrey Carter, having returned from New York City, commented that he was glad that we lived in a country where the freedom of speech, the freedom of public gatherings is possible. So many countries do not have these rights.
My one question that I have asked through the years, especially when looking back on the late 1960’s and early 1970’s – do these demonstrations accomplish what the protesters hope? I honestly do not know the answer to this question, and have not researched it. Nonetheless, I am curious. I remember the sit-ins, walk-outs, and protests when I was quite young, but all I recall is the disastrous outcome at Kent State. I hope these current protesters, and the authorities assigned to watch over them keep good sense and do not allow anything to get out of hand.
It does seem, as Winston Churchill once remarked, “There is a gathering storm.” I fear it will be with the economy, or even our own government exploding in some capacity.
Something doesn’t feel right…
Friday morning Quintin and I went on a major hike through Dayton’s Woodland Cemetery next to University of Dayton’s campus. Thursday night was a bit on the rough side with the loss of Logan, but Friday morning’s hike through the wooded groves of the onset of the Autumn spectacle, accompanied by gorgeous weather, seemed to initiate grief’s healing process.
I underestimated the loss of Logan, my fuzzy-faced companion of 17 years. I’ve always considered myself to be a dog-person, despite having loved Logan for so long. An amazing cat, who was more like a well-trained dog, and an even more amazing companion who loved, and certainly knew she was loved.
I cannot say enough THANK YOU’s to all who sent words of comfort, and the many kindnesses shown me last week. Everyone from family to friends to students to former students to distant friends and not-so-familiar friends was wonderfully kind, and so supportive during those last two days.
Thank you…
From the Haasienda
Several folks have asked me if I’ve ever had a pet die. Yes, I have; however, my first dog, an American Eskimo, died when I was about two or three years old, and my second dog, Pokey, died my senior year of high school. It was winter, and Grandpa took care of burying Pokey, so there was no official, ‘good bye.’
In September 1970, I was walking home from Washington Elementary School and stopped to look in the large plate glass window at Burger’s Dairy Mart (Linders or Taylors to the younger Elwood folks). I noticed a little puppy standing on the step of the store. It had no collar, and seemed excited to see me – a typical puppy trait I was to ignore forty years later when I first met Navi and Chief. I waited a few minutes to see if anyone would claim him. Mary, the stout, authoritarian who worked behind the counter stepped out with a dish of water. Mary’s burly frame, dressed in a white work dress that resembled a nurse’s uniform, bent down to give the dog some water. Her chestnut hair, bunned up tightly, reminding me of the Burl Ives Snowman in RUDOLPH, never moved an inch as she bent over and rose again.
“He’s been out here all afternoon. Probably a stray.” She watched the pup lapping up the water, seeming to speak to herself more than to me.
Once Mary returned inside the store, I picked up the puppy and walked the remaining block and a half to 825 Main Street – the tall white house on the corner, and on one of the largest hills in Elwood. Once I got to Dick & Betsy’s hedge that separate our yard from the Herndon’s yard, I set the dog down, and coaxed him to the steps. Since he could barely make the ten steps that cut into the hill, he quickly figured out he could just run up the hill.
I do recall walking through the front door with the dog, and greeting Mother. I know, according to Mother, that I elected to go with the story that the puppy had followed me home.
Mother said she could tell he was a stray, and placed an advertisement in The Elwood Call-Leader. If no one claimed the dog within two weeks, he could stay with us.
Two weeks passed, and the Alpo eating pup became a fixture at the Jolliff home.
In honor of my good kindergarten friend, Debbie Poynter, who lived one block over between the Mangas and LaPierre families, I named the dog, Pokey, which was Debbie’s nickname. Now, the older Poynter sisters claimed the nickname was prompted by Debbie’s slow nursing habits. Naming my new pup after Debbie, who was jokingly nicknamed ‘John’ by my grandfather, was a compliment to my childhood friend.
Pokey was a young boy’s true pal. He slept with me, went on walks with me, protected me, went nuts if I got a spanking, and was always at my side, much like Flyer, Navi, Chief, and Logan have been. Whenever we’d leave the house for an extended amount of time, we’d return to find Pokey sleeping on my footie pajamas he’d pulled from beneath my pillow. Of course, we would also return to find chewed up gloves, shoes, gnawed table legs, and other articles we’d not planned to abandon so soon. One particular item was a young member of my Johnny West action figures who lost his feet to Pokey’s boredom. From that point on, Jeff West was simply known as “Crip.”
After about two years, a neighbor’s huge German shepherd, Lance, began coming into our yard and attacking Pokey, once biting into his neck. Poor Pokey, when going on walks, was terrified. After those attacks, Pokey was afraid of all strangers, and nipped at the mailman. Grandpa hated seeing Pokey chained up in the yard, and offered to keep him out at their home in the country.
Off Pokey went to live two miles north of Lapel. And there he remained for the next ten years. Since we spent so much time with Grandpa and Grandma, Pokey was not missed.
My senior year of high school I could not return to the country as often due to marching band. By this time, Pokey had become quite aged, and he could barely walk. Grandpa built him a deluxe dog house with so much insulation you could feel the warmth in the coldest weather. By Thanksgiving 1982, Grandpa or Grandma had to lift Pokey off the porch so he could go potty.
When I arrived to Grandpa and Grandma’s for Thanksgiving dinner, Pokey spied me getting out of the car at the end of the drive. With great energy, and determination, Pokey rose to his feet, and carefully walked down the steps, and out to the car to greet me. I will never forget that moment of dedication shown me by a beloved pet. It was the truest affection, and devotion.
Later, it was time for my senior musical, OKLAHOMA!. I returned home for opening night to grab a bite to eat before returning to the high school for make-up and to get my hair curled. As we sat down to the table, my 8 year old brother, Destin, and I got into a quibble. Without dropping a beat, Destin said, “Your dog’s dead.” Mother, to this day, claims she will never forget the look on my face as I turned to her for confirmation. “Grandma found him in the garage this morning. He was dead.”
Mother, while trying to offer sympathies to me, was also trying to shut up Destin who seemed to thrive in the one-upmanship of his 18 year old brother.
Grandma Donna had entered the garage that morning to find her dog, Duchess, cuddling Pokey’s warm body. Duchess was crying out as she wrapped her paws around the dog that had gotten grumpier with her the past year.
That moment in 1993, punctuated with “your dog’s dead,” has become a family staple in our cupboard of humorous, memorable family moments.
This afternoon, I prepare for the departure of another pet – or rather, a fury family member – my wonderful cat of seventeen years, Logan. The day has practically shut down with this tender, loving vigil of farewell, and I am so grateful to the many, many friends who are sharing in this moment, reminding me that they, too, think of their pets as members of the family.
Pokey saw me age six to eighteen, and Logan was with me from age twenty-nine to forty-seven. All together, I’ve had pets over half my years living, and I cannot think of a more wonderful companion, or gift.
Continue to rest in peace, dear Pokey. Thank you for being a boy’s best friend…
And thank you, Debbie Poynter, for graciously allowing me to borrow your childhood nickname!
As I write this while sitting up in bed at my hospital table used for working mostly late into the night, Logan snuggles next to me. This is a familiar sight, and the warmth of her fur next to me is even more comfortable. When I pet her, I faintly hear that familiar purr that has always been a comfort, much like listening to the ocean’s waves crashing against the shore. It’s been familiar for the past seventeen years.
In June 1994, I decided it was time to get a pet. Since I traveled a good deal between Dayton and New York City, a dog would not have been practical. So, June 19th, I went to the home of a Centerville marching band family and selected the most energetic little male cat. In honor of my beloved mentor, Joshua Logan, I named the kitten “Mister Logan.”
For the first two months, while I waited to see if he would survive better than my indoor/outdoor plants, I took him to the veterinarian who convinced me I should probably just call the kitten, “Logan.” Mister Logan, as it turned out, was a girl. He asked for her birth date, and all I could remember was that she was born mid-April. “Pick a date,” he encouraged. So, I selected April 13th – Thomas Jefferson’s birthday.
Several months later I rushed through the door of the vet’s office, carrying Logan wrapped in a towel. Something had fallen on her that morning; she was crying loudly, and dragging her backside. “There’s nothing we can do for her, Mr. Haas.” The tears began flowing down my cheek. When I asked if we should put her to sleep, the vet assistants, trying their best to stifle chuckles, assured me there was no need to put her down.
“Logan is fine. She’s in heat.”
I thanked the ladies, and then tucked Logan under my arm, walking out of the building with all the dignity I could muster.
Logan has always been popular with my students, and their families. When Benjamin Gross played the piano as a young 6 year old, Logan would lay across his lap, or stand to hug him. For some reason, Benjamin was Logan’s favorite. When anyone sits in the living room, their laps are generally filled, for Logan has always hated to see an empty lap. When I work in my study, Logan loves to lay on the side of the L-shaped desk to keep me company, and when writing in my bedroom/sitting room, Logan is always by my side.
This morning, it is different. Logan, after seventeen years, and one day short of six months, is slipping away. She is comfortable, but her breathing has become a little more shallow. I lifted Flyer, who has been blind nearly a year, onto the bed to say, “good bye.” Flyer sniffed at Logan without a hissed rebuttal, and laid down on the bed by Logan. Navi and Chief sniffed Logan and seem to comprehend something is different this morning. Even the extra-playful Navi is subdued this morning, curled at the foot of the bed keeping watch.
August 2010, I was a mess as we prepared to put down Flyer who was suffering with pancreatitis, and assured by the vet she would not survive. Fortunately, Flyer did survive. The outpouring of affection for this dog was incredible. This morning it seems to be the same for Logan. Many have experienced her personality and antics for years, thus making her quite the popular cat.
At Stubbs Park and The Fraze Pavilion, Logan was a familiar presence during concerts, basking in the attention, and gobbling up any food offered her. On airplane travels to and from NYC, Logan always rested comfortably in my backpack stored under the seat in front of me. While Mother sat on my back patio drinking her morning coffee, she solved the mystery of Logan’s escapes from the townhouse: Logan opened the sliding screen-door, and closed it herself! While walking through a festival with Logan on my shoulder – a typical perch in her younger years – I heard a lady let out a light scream. I turned to see Logan eating her elephant ear which she was holding up as she walked through the crowd.
I had to purchase voice mail when it first came out because Logan knew how to press the correct buttons on my answering machine, thus erasing new messages. A year later, I had to remove numbers from the novelty of speed dialing on my new phone because Logan would press the speaker button and then hit a speed dial button to carry on a conversation with whomever answered. Several students got to witness Logan’s phone conversations, especially the Nienaber family.
The fond, memorable stories of Logan are countless. For seventeen years, I have been blessed with an incredible, fuzzy-faced companion, who will always hold a special place in my heart. Through the course of this blog’s post, she has continued to snuggled closer. I am sure she knows she is loved, and that she has been loved dearly for many years, and by many folks.
It’s been a great life for Logan, and for me. We have had wonderful times together – times that have turned into beautiful memories.
As one friend wrote on my Facebook page, “They are not just pets, they are family.”
And very shortly, the Jolliffe-Haas family will bid farewell to one whom I’ve jokingly referred to as “my first child.”
Good bye, little Pal… my beloved little Fuzzy Face.
Know you are loved…
-
- family pets logan 1996
-
- family pets logan 2011 a
-
- family pets logan flyer
-
- family pets logan
-
- family pets logan deck
YOU’VE BEEN MOONED
|
.
Cool beans! Martha Stewart – you’re up!
 |
 http://clicks.aweber.com/y/ct/?l=E8rS_&m=3c5N2ZrEAvDVYNB&b=oGcGjn5yZz7ZJqK44c4lZw |
Hair Wraps – 2011-10-05 12:57:05.361649-04 With 3 girls at our house and a lot of hair, I am always looking for fun and creative hair ideas to play with! Today, I found a site called Kara’s Creative Place and she has made the cutest candy-corn Halloween hair wrap, and even has a great tutorial on Do It Yourself Hair Wraps! […]
Hanging Pictures – 2011-10-07 02:53:17.05312-04 We have such fantastic readers and today’s idea comes to us from Darin L. Jolliffe-Haas. He writes…”Yesterday, I read the article on ‘How to Arrange Pictures,’ and wanted to share something I’ve used in my own home. I actually borrowed the idea from Thomas Jefferson’s home, Monticello. I am attaching a photo of Monticello’s parlor. […]
Live Your Best Life,
Amy Allred
Just copy and paste the code below to your website! If you’ve got great ideas and would like more visitors to your website, click on the button below, submit your idea, and if it’s good, we’ll post it on our site!
| GoodIdeasandTips.com Shop Coming Soon! |
Allred Enterprises, PO Box 442, Central Arizona 85531
| To unsubscribe or change subscriber options visit: http://www.aweber.com/z/r/?jCwsnKysnLQsnIyMnGwsrLRGtIxMjCxsrAxs |
Arizona 85531
| To unsubscribe or change subscriber options visit: http://www.aweber.com/z/r/?jCwsnKysnLQsnIyMnGwsrLRGtIxMjCxsrAxs |
As a young child growing up in the late 1960’s I was caught up with discovery and exploration. It was an exciting time to watch rockets lifting off, men walking on the moon or bouncing around in the moon-buggy, and even seeing a ship flying across the night sky over my hometown, Elwood, Indiana. For me, it was not necessarily about the scientific mission to the moon but more the excitement of going places.
In school, we celebrated another feat of exploration: Columbus Day.
We watched movies on Christopher Columbus, learned about the man, the countries of Italy and Spain, and sang songs about the Nina, Pinta and Santa Marie. We never heard the tales of genocide, slavery, and other barbarous accounts. In fact, it was not until 1992, the 500th anniversary of this poignant discovery that I even knew of any discontent, and protestations of the discoverer. I paid little heed to the opposition, and actually, did not participate in any celebration of Columbus Day that year except, perhaps, driving to the Dayton Mall for a JCPenney Columbus Day Sale.
Today, I am becoming acutely reminded by Facebook posts that we should not celebrate Columbus Day. Some Facebook friends have even taken offense (some more kindly than others) that I would dare post a link from Belief Net celebrating inspiring Columbus Day quotes about Self-Discovery & Exploration. Two ladies took me to task in private emails that I am
being inconsiderate of my Navajo son’s heritage. I only posted the You Tube video, PLEASE, MR. COLUMBUS: just to toss that canister of Morton’s their way.
Because I am not posting anti-Columbus Day rhetoric I am being insensitive to my Native American child? I believe that my Facebook posts – even before adopting my son – offered numerous items regarding my love for Native American culture, and heritage. Having adopted a Navajo son has made this interest all the more exciting to explore, and share.
One lady accused me of being weak-minded because I would not post anti-Columbus Day items to my Facebook page. “You are being cowardly and week [weak] minded when you do not stand up for something that injures your children.” I assured her that I was not being weak-minded, nor cowardly. but rather, electing which hills upon which I should take a stand. I also reminded both ladies that they had clearly stepped over a line with me, and one more note from them would result in me posting their letters in my blog for all to see. Both women consider themselves to be pillars of their churches, and vibrant school supporters, and their language applied towards me in their notes would have greatly embarrassed them.
For many years I have elected to be a visionary rather than an apologist. If I were to oppose Columbus Day, something for which I care very little in the first place, I would also feel the urge to oppose President’s Day: we had presidents who were slave owners, presidents under whose administrations Native Americans were treated brutally, and killed, presidents who ordered military action against countries who did not attack us first or offered no true threat to us (Vietnam, Afghanistan, etc.). And what about Christmas and Easter? How could we celebrate these particular Christian holiday when remembering The Crusades and other violations throughout it’s 2000 year history? As for now, I prefer to celebrate The Presidency and US History, and I love giving presents, and filling Easter egg baskets for my sons.
The only holiday that does bug me is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Why? Personally, I feel it should be Civil Rights Day to honor the two hundred-plus years of countless individuals who fought for Civil Rights throughout our country’s history. If there were organized committees who wished to over-turn the current title of this particular holiday, I doubt I would join the cause because to me, personally, it doesn’t matter that much.
Am I being weak-minded? Nope. There are other matters to which I would like to direct my interests, and my energy.
This particular Monday is not about me celebrating a man known to us as Christopher Columbus. It is about me celebrating the fact that I am very open to the continuity of self-discovery, self exploration. The voyage upon which I am embarked is one of great joy, enthusiasm, and so many other things. In many South American countries, today is called “Discovery Day.” I am still discovering, and delight in the fact that I still have the love for learning, and growing, that was so alive when I was five years old and watching man walk on the moon for the first time.
After 42 years, I am still going places!
-
- 800px christopher columbus3
-
- 22158288
-
- christopher columbus 760595 8579
|
|||||||||||||||
| President Lincoln’s Cottage | Upshur Street at Rock Creek Church Road, NW | Washington | DC | 20011 |
The past several days I’ve enjoyed the fortunes of social network as I attempt to complete a multitude of tasks. With my cell phone in hand, I have a remarkable tool at my fingertips as I dart about my day running errands, or standing in the middle of Walmart trying to figure out what to do with some window coverings!
Quite often have I turned to Facebook to ask about recipes, installing ceiling fans, seeking tickets for shows, and needing information on all sorts of things. Earlier this week I needed to know where I could buy Sharpie pens for the marching band contest, and I texted the inquiry onto my Facebook page while standing in the middle of Kroger. By the time I left Kroger I had well over ten responses via Facebook and cell texts. Piece of cake.
Later that evening I was stressing over panels to hang beneath my own valance-creation in the living room, and since this is an area of complete mystery to me, I decided to take it to the masses. Since I have a large number of moms who sit in my living room each week, I took a photo of the swatch I’d brought with me, and sent it to thirty or moms. In less than a minute I began receiving texts with great suggestions. The window hangings are not completed, but at least I am armed with numerous ideas.
As a band parent I’ve especially enjoyed how we can communicate so quickly, and effectively from bus to bus, across the field, or from miles apart as we plan things.
This morning I drove to Mason to watch the preliminary competition for the Bands Of America regional competition. Rather than pay the expensive BOA ticket prices, I watched Fairmont’s performance from the side gate. Afterward, I tried to acquire internet access at the Mason Public Library but was unsuccessful.
How do you find a place with Wifi in Mason, Ohio?
Well, you post it on Facebook from your cell phone! And the responses quickly poured in. I knew Panera Bread had internet access, but did not realize so many other places did, as well. Right now, I am sitting in the McDonalds typing this post.
It is also neat to know that people do read my posts as I had responses from those who live in Arizona, California, Illinois, Ohio, and Florida!
Facebook is great for staying in touch with family, friends, high school and college classmates, current students, and former students. I have especially enjoyed connecting with so many cousins who live all across the country. We get to reunite, watch one another’s families grow, and share the beauty of sharing a past, not to mention a gene pool!
Thank you to all those who come to my aide through the wonderful world of social networking!
The Play-Wright Flyer Guy 