Zen and the Art of Getting Older

By JIM PURCELL

Living is a test for everyone who has done or ever did it. Getting older is the consequence of survival. But, is survival enough for someone to get some real peace in their lives?

No.

Survival is only enough to survive.

Anyone who lives long enough is going to know triumph, tragedy, heartbreak, love, loss -- the whole range of experiences. Make no mistake about it -- anyone who has known nothing but success and triumph. love without loss, and has never failed is someone who missed out on some important stuff. I don't know how people grow without falling down, losing something, ever being heartbroken.

Yet, the bad things we live through can bite us on the butt spiritually, as well as financially and personally, of course. But, as we age, we are given the gift of more time. If we are truly lucky, we get a chance to retire and work on ourselves. This is for the best, because after a long life of getting bumped around and surviving the metaphoric shark tank, we need time to heal -- and the will to do it.

In this life, we can lose who we really are: the mortgage has to get paid, the kids are having a rough time, the job is demanding, the relationship with your partner has demands, there isn't enough money to make ends meet, maybe there is enough money but it takes everything you have to stay on top of your game...there are all kinds of things that will divert your attention from becoming a better you.

You know, that term 'a better you,' just sounds like something from a 1980s women's magazine. No disrespect to those, they gave and continue to give great insight to millions. But, the phrases that came from that sometimes sound fake.

Here is another way to put it: Don't you want to get closer to the person that you imagine yourself to be at your best? Forget about what other people think. All of us have an idea of who the best version of ourselves might be. I certainly do.

I'm not in the vicinity of there with that version either.

I am coming back to retirement here: A time when the wolf is not at the door. A time when I have a chance to breathe, when I can wake up in the morning and not have to throw coffee down my throat to get ready to go into the office and deal with a lot of people's problems. It is a time when the rules for what happens everyday are the ones I make.

So, what rules should I make?

Well, I suppose the rules should depend upon what I want to achieve with my day; my personal goals. Am I encouraging you to begin to meditate, maybe try therapy to work out long-term problems, or take up some hobby that invokes harmony? No, I think people have been told what to do enough by the time they are a certain age. I don't think any of those things are a bad idea, though.

I do say that peace in someone's life will never, ever happen accidentally. If any of us are going to have real peace then we have to each do what is right for ourselves to get it. Many of us -- and I am raising my hand on this one as well -- have bottled up a lot of negativity over the course of a half-century, or more. I think all of us choose whether or not we are going to let that hang around or we are going to give it back to the universe for disposal. As for me, I make regular trips to the galactic dump, where I throw my trash on the pile and leave.

I was in a very dog-eat-dog game for many years -- the newspaper business. That industry was not for the feint of heart. Either you killed the bear every day or the bear killed you and you limped back home to lick your wounds until it all started again the next day. There were personal losses and issues along the way, like every life. I choose not to continue to be a victim to the ghosts of the past, however, no matter how much I want to fall into that sometimes.

Living in the past has never achieved anything for anyone, and never will. The only thing that gets left behind by the past are memories, experiences, whatever we choose to take from it. Being human, and not perfect, most of us carry around some baggage from the past. But, like a traveler at an airport, at some point we have to check the bag or it will get in our way every time we try to do anything.

I say find the way you can do that, which is right for you and might not be for anyone else: But, do the work. Life without baggage can lead to an increased amount of smiling, sleeping better, making friends, enjoying your own company and even enjoying that beautiful sunny day a little more.

Find your own road to peace, and don't sit around thinking it will fall into your lap is all I am saying. Thanks for stopping by.

Louis Armstrong What A Wonderful World

Retirement: A time to live life to its fullest

By JIM PURCELL

Life is about transitions: transitions from childhood to adulthood, from student to job-holder, from girlfriend or boyfriend to spouses, or perhaps from being a couple to being parents or from worker to supervisor. The point is that one of the main things that stay the same in our lives is change: people moving from one perspective to another.

Well, growing older is a transition and, in my opinion, it is the biggest, most important change of all. I worked for many years as a journalist in the news profession. It was my job to construct, write and frequently edit news stories and I started looking at life like a story: there is a beginning, middle and end. Over the years doing that job, it occurred to me that the beginning and middle of a story is not as dynamic, not as defining as the end of a story. A man or woman can be a good person all their lives, have a great career, a wonderful house and be a pillar of the community. But, one day, he or she falls onto hard times and then turns to drinking; maybe they even receive a DWI. So, they die. How are they remembered? Sadly, unkind people will remember them simply as ‘that drunk who was arrested for a DWI.’ Then again, a homeless person, maybe a veteran, who lived in a gutter, saves someone from a mugging. What is he or she remembered for? Frankly, a certain number of people will remember the ‘Hero Homeless Vet’ who helped someone in need. In either case, it was the end of the story that defined the story; not the beginning or the middle.

Those who are becoming senior citizens need to know that, more than any time in their lives, they are entering a part of life that will define them. How do they wish to live it; how do they wish to be remembered by their friends, family and – to some extent – the world? How does the individual want to live the last – and best chapters of their own story?

My father, the late Jim Sr., served as an inspiration to me: not about those things to do in retirement but about those things not to do. Jim Sr. worked all his life as a fuel truck driver in North Jersey. He woke up at 4 a.m. in the morning. He re-heated coffee from the night before and then he drove my mother to work at 4:30 a.m. He left work at 5 p.m., picked my mother up from her job, and then made the trek back to suburban Central Jersey. He did this year after year for almost 40 years. He deserved a good retirement with my mother. He didn’t get it. He got in his own way.

I had long since left my old bedroom, after I joined the Army at 17 years old some 12 years before his retirement. So, he converted my old bedroom into a sort of television room for himself. He put an old black-and-white television in it along with a comfortable chair. And, for the next 18 years, he watched television, yelled to my mother when he wanted something to eat or drink and then died of a long-term illness one day. The highlight of his retirement was receiving a gold watch from his company, Liberty Fuel Oil, a night before he finished his last day of work.

Dad’s retirement amounted to a nice night of celebration and was punctuated by almost two decades of television watching. So that was it – the big reward.

I cannot speak for anyone else, just for me. In the words of Dylan Thomas, “I will not go quietly into that good night.” I will live life with vigor, more commitment than I ever have. I will go down the roads that were not practical in my earning years now, now that I can afford to do it. In my case, I will be an artist for those last chapters of the story. Maybe I will never sell a work – and if I do not then you will not see me shed a tear. I will apply the last and best efforts I have to the dream I left behind when I was a boy…to be a working artist. Practicality demanded that, in my case, painting oil works was not the best use of my efforts when I was younger. Now, I can afford to live a dream I set down before, and I can do it with all the effort I have.

I am joining not one but two arts guilds, am planning how to market my works, have started sketching works I am interested in and am once again studying great artists for inspiration. And, I find that my enthusiasm is as intoxicating as when I was a child, when I dreamed of being alone with a blank canvas – eager to make new worlds.

No one knows how long they have in this life. There is only one God, and I am not Him. I cannot control the length of my life. I can control the quality of my life, though. Meanwhile, I have put together in my experience so far that if someone is doing something they love, they are far more likely to stay healthy and vital so they can keep on doing it.

I will not surrender to old age. I will not sit in front of a television and make it my whole field of vision. I will continue to live in the world, contribute to the lives around me and find joy in God’s creation.

I think it is a better plan than the alternative. I know men and women who spend their remaining lives, disappeared into the lives of their children – quietly working as care providers for their adult children and minor grandchildren. They contribute financially to their children’s households, and become adjunct members of those households. Well, that is one way to do it. It is not wrong to love one’s children and to serve their family. It just isn’t my personal way.

I want the last drop of life and joy from my days. I don't want to live my life to be part of the scenery of someone else’s.

My personal hero in retirement was this wonderful woman I met while attending Georgian Court College, during my bachelor’s studies. She was this lovely French woman who had immigrated to the United States many years before, married a man, raised a family and had a career. But, along the way, she never had the time or opportunity to obtain her bachelor’s degree. She and I spoke about this and I remember she told me that her life goal was to obtain her bachelor’s degree – to not attend someone else’s commencement, but to be a participant in her own. Her age did not define her. Her circumstance did not define her. Her marriage did not define her. Instead, her spirit defined her – her will to achieve the goal closest to her own heart – not someone else’s. To me, while this lovely lady was living her own dream, she was inspiring me to live my own.

The Tale of Billy and Jerry: Legends of the Jersey Shore

Look -- it's opportunity NOT there!

By JIM PURCELL

I remember when I was eight years old, the summer of 1974, Billy Walsh and Jerry Anderson left the neighborhood to move 20 miles closer to the Jersey Shore, in Long Branch. They had just graduated from high school and they both bought cars (for a couple hundred dollars apiece). They both worked two jobs at minimum wage and their rent was $250 and utilities per month. They were gods to us kids. They worked, they had their own place, and even if their cars weren't that great -- they had them. Billy and Jerry worked hard, played hard: It was the all-American thing -- probably should still be if you ask me. They saw so many Van Halen and Doobie Brothers shows I am surprised the crew didn't start taking mail for them.

No 18 year olds today can mimic Billy and Jerry because, due to the march of time, an apartment now is $1000 per month (at least) and that is before utilities. Two full-time minimum wage jobs would, at best, buy you a Happy Meal and buying a part for a car will cost you more than a few hundred, let alone an entire running vehicle. Let's not forget New Jersey driver's insurance either.

Why can't Johnny get off Mom and Dad's couch? Well, it is too damn expensive and there are too few routes to do it at the ripe young age of 18. Now, pretty much the only shot some kid has of getting a little space from the parental units is joining the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines or Coast Guard. Not such a bad choice, really.

THE JERSEY SHORE: Anyplace is a great place if you have a job.

Why not college? Well...why not college? OK, thanks for asking. Because college is too expensive for someone who may or may not get a career out of it. If someone goes idly frolicking around college for a few semester, they can quickly find themselves in debt to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars -- and that is not even with them living there. College is right for some. To say it is right for all is to lie to everyone in earshot.

Here is a hard truth: Not every one of Mom's precious kids are right for college. It puts them in debt well over their head, and impedes their ability to slip into adult life without debt. College should be for people who are very serious about their professions, or young people whose parents have a lot of money and possess over-permissive attitudes about flushing it down a toilet.

Even if some ordinary kid graduates from college in a non-demand field -- they are likely to find their first jobs after graduation in chain fast food stores or dying retail outlets rather than in the profession they studied four long years to be newbies at. And, the debt they made will still be there -- hanging over their head like a dark financial cloud that will not leave.

Not fun stuff, but there it is.

But, to continue the story of Billy and Jerry: Billy got a job at a factory (you'll have to visit a museum to see one of those in New Jersey today) and did good. He rose through the ranks and met a nice girl. He was all set up by the time he was 21 -- thanks to a decent union he joined at that factory. Meanwhile, Jerry became a mechanic -- not school-trained --  but he was naturally inclined and did good. So, he found a lovely girl and a nice little house. Well, here are the stories of Billy and Jerry -- fables now since no one can hope to repeat them.

NJ: Home to high taxes, rent, car insurance and school loans.

Flash to today: If Billy and Jerry were living as adolescents today they would both be on their parents couch until they were 40, if they ever left. Unless Billy could make his way to a time machine, he would never find a successful union job at a factory. Maybe he could work there as a temp without benefits for 20 hours a week. And, Jerry -- he would have to go to school. The world always needs good mechanics. But he is not making it out of Mom's house before he sees his first gray hair.

OK everyone who is talking about the rousing economic behemoth that is the United States....on three let's all yell....YAY! WE'RE THE BEST! After we do, maybe Billy and Jerry's moms will makes us some smores and treat us to lemonade.

But, what is the answer to getting these kids a trade and getting out of the house? Beats the hell out of me, truly.

The Gospel of Thomas

Sorry for Technical Difficulties

From time to time, like all things electronic, there are technical difficulties here on the site (some more embarrassing than others). I am sorry for any inconvenience this gives and for the confusion that sometimes occurs thanks to the gremlins in the machine. 

Thank goodness these are few and far in-between. Anyway, all the best and thanks for stopping by.

Americans and Work: Not Getting It Right

Americans are stuck in the past where it involves work. 

By JIM PURCELL

Americans work longer than Europeans and that drives up the need for increased healthcare but for some reason -- God only knows why -- American conservatives seem dead set to allow people of limited means the absolute right to die in the street. Of course, Europeans are not struggling with this, and seem to get by fine with universal healthcare, more vacation time and a less demanding work week.

Why the United States is unable to adopt good ideas from somewhere else is as mysterious as why the Jets cannot put together a winning season without help from the divine.

Alright, let's throw a log on the fire and see how it goes: If you work more hours, you are not going to have the same quality of life as someone who works fewer hours. You will need more healthcare, and it would make at least some sense to take more time off. But, that is not the state of affairs in the United States.

Americans: The Jets of the work world?

According to an article in Forbes, by staff writer Steve Landsburg, the average American works 25 hours per week, while the average Britain works 21.5 hours per week, the average Frenchman works 18 hours per week and the average Italian works only 16.5 hours per week.

In 2013, a report by the Center for Economic and Policy Research (CEPR), based in Washington DC, showed the U.S. lags behind Europe badly in paid vacation time. CEPR reported that 77 percent of private sector companies in the U.S. voluntarily offered their employees some paid vacation time (to the tune of about 21 days). However, in Europe the average number of paid vacation days amounts to 34, in Austria, 31 in Italy and France, and 35 in both Germany and Spain.

Meanwhile, insofar as universal healthcare, every developed country in Western Europe has had universal healthcare in place since before the Mets won the 1969 World Series, though each nation administers it slightly differently. Some European countries have single-payer systems, such as Great Britain and Spain. Other European states, like France, have systems that are employer-based, but law compels insurance companies to adhere to strict government regulations -- unlike in America where they can do anything they want so long as they report enormous earnings every quarter for their respective boards of directors.

Why must Americans insist on doing things their own way, even if it is a total catastrophe (e.g. our public education system)? I will say this, and it is not the whole problem but at least some of it -- we have Bible bangers who come up with bizarre ideas that link Christianity (at least their version of it) to work, healthcare and insurance. And, the last time I checked, at no point did the Lord Jesus Christ bring up the merits of HMOs versus PPOs, yet still the conversation rages.

What is the rest of the problem? Well, I just do not think Americans look outside their borders much for good ideas. I believe there is a sort of nationalism about good ideas that has been ingrained in us; 'If it wasn't thought up here then it's a bad idea.' Utterly ignorant actually.

It is like there is something wrong with doing good for the greatest number of people in the United States, at least in the minds of some. And, how these people are elected is quite beyond me. Yet, they are.

America fails when it comes to not only its work hours, vacation time off, healthcare -- but also in its public education system, mass transportation and gun control. I am sure there are biblical arguments crafted by some Right Wing nut-job or other about keeping children stupid, shooting people and leaving them stranded. Now, there is a tough weekend -- someone shoots you, leaves you stranded away from mass transit and the poor person isn't educated enough to follow a map back to town. Yes, the perfect American get-away.

This is about work, though, and there doesn't seem to be any common sense on the horizon here in the Old U.S. of A. My father, God rest his soul, was a big union supporter. He and my mother were union workers for their entire careers. At some point, perhaps just to be different, I argued the point of view of business owners to him. He said if business owners had all of the power they would abuse it. He was right. He was wrong about a lot of things -- but not that.

It makes no sense how we go about work in this country. Collectively, via NAFTA, we made it a point to send all of our manufacturing and industrial jobs overseas. Then, where it involves those poor bastards of us left behind, we get the worst healthcare, working hours and vacation time in the developed world. Maybe it would sound more cheery if I compared the American status quo to China or developing countries.

Instead of building a wall along its southern border, maybe it would be more constructive to get a decent universal healthcare measure finally set (that isn't politicized beyond all get out), and do something to advocate for workers. This might be a nice flourish given the fact unions are all but dead in this country.

Other than all this, things are wonderful with the state of work in this country.

The Gospel of Judas - National Geographic

The Real Mary Magdalene (National Geographic Documentary)

Gospel of Philip (Human Voice, Read Along Version)

This is very interesting for the Christians out there. The Gospel of Philip, though not included in Scripture during Nicea, has been considered a substantial work for millennia. If you have an interest in hearing it, check it out.

Praise You In This Storm - Casting Crowns

The Largest Galaxy in the Known Universe [IC 1101]

Ignore Communities of Need at Our Collective Peril

By JIM PURCELL

I hear a lot of non-linear thinking going on about disproportionate military and law enforcement spending by people all hopped up about Right Wing politics. Well, there is a balance needed in things; this is true of our individual lives, our families, the communities we live in and the larger communities we live in.

I work with the homeless, the jobless, those in recovery from addiction and, by the way, every single client of mine is a military veteran. And, I am here to say there are no 'disposable populations' of people. People are not disposable, as much as some might want to wish them so.

Homeless people are not made less of a problem by putting them in jail overnight. I have heard the arguments from some people that most homeless people like being homeless. Well, let me dismiss that fairy tale out of hand, as I am someone who was homeless and, rest assured, not only was I on the streets because I had nowhere to go but the vast majority of homeless people have nowhere to go or they would be there. By rounding up the homeless every night and putting them in jail does nothing to curb the problem of the homeless. They need somewhere to go, they need access to health care and to vocational training, food and essentials if they are ever going to move beyond being a problem by those who do not want to see them anymore.

What company wants to move into a place where the homeless gather? What family wants to move into that neighborhood? More police -- and more violent police -- will still not give a homeless person someplace other to go than the street. And, frankly, there is a move by the Trump administration to de-fund places like homeless shelters, supportive employment programs, meal programs, vocational rehabilitation programs and the like.

In the news, it was recently reported that, because President Trump saw a report where a little Syrian girl was gassed in an attack by the Assad regime in that country, he had the Navy fire 60 tomahawk missiles into an airfield there, after the White House called the Russians to alert them that the strike would occur. During that strike, the U.S. spent $31,500,000 in missile, according to Wikipedia. The politics here are strictly Machiavellian. Why tell the people you are shooting missiles at the missiles are coming if you are going to fire any missiles in the first place? So, it can be expected that, upon seeing any random image of grief anywhere in the world that our president will shoot tens of millions of dollars of ordnance there and then sail away -- his anger abated? Well, $31.5 million would have cured homeless in New Jersey -- perhaps permanently.

Meanwhile, by building the largest standing military in the world, the president does something else -- he creates the largest pool of veterans in the world. There have already been rumblings that these veterans will not receive the same level of benefits that their predecessors did. Certainly, Post-9/11 veterans do not receive the same long-term veterans as their fathers or mothers, unless they are service connected. Yet, here is a vital question: What other military in the world asks kids to travel all over the globe and assume any mission given by their country -- sometimes thousands of miles from their home country? I say giving veterans the benefits and rights they have since World War Ii is simply the cost of doing business and the reason why American young people do and should sign enlistment papers into the various services -- and that amendment of their rights and benefits constitutes a serious mistake and breach of trust between veterans and the nation they protect or protected.

I bring up veterans because they are a notable population within the homeless population. And, by attacking the homeless, there is the consequence of attacking the homeless veteran population also. I would say, though, that regardless of whether someone is a veteran or not they should receive great consideration from the government because it is in the government's best interest to reduce the number of homeless effectively. By 'effectively' I do not mean putting them in jail or putting them up in a homeless shelter for a year. I am talking about housing them, retraining them and moving them into real work restoration -- so they can become taxpayers instead of tax drainers.

Individually and collectively, we reap what we sow. Rest assured that some random missile strike in some Third World country will not sow the United States anything but what it has created in recent years -- more enemies overseas looking to target our interests here at home. Meanwhile, re-investing into actual areas of need will do nothing but solve problems that are plain to the naked eye.

Enough of my ranting for the moment.

Reflections about work and what that means

By JIM PURCELL

Does our work define who we are, how we see ourselves? Well, it shouldn't, but I think it can and often does....and it is a shame. I have known many wonderful people in my life who had very working class jobs; perhaps someone might have been a custodian, but they were a fine man or woman. They cared for their family and the community. They worked hard and made peoples' lives better for having known them. And, they were steady in their work and in their lives. No, I do not think it would be accurate to summarize this man or woman as simply a "custodian."

Photo by Jim Purcell

Meanwhile, some of the worst human beings I have known have enjoyed lofty titles at work...so many of them were elected at that. High title at work does not inform anyone about someone's character, or lack thereof, or their trustworthiness or their heart and generosity. If anything, our titles at work can be a mask that is worn, and one of those masks put on and taken off can be one of great splendor. The, when taken off, the very faulty man or woman beneath is in full view of their most truthful critic -- the man or woman in the mirror. 

Photo by Jim Purcell

No, a man or woman is not made more or less gentle by their profession. It is the content of their character that does that, and there is no salary afforded for those whose characters are better than others. I am writing in a dispassionate voice throughout this, my little diatribe. In my fairest estimation, I can say I am not the best nor the worst man I have ever met, but somewhere in between (with much company).

I began working at eight years old, and I suppose my first work duty titles were 'dishwasher' and 'pet store assistant.' I earned literally pocket change with my friend, Paul Fiquet, but it was some of the hardest money I have ever earned. I was made aware of muscles I never knew existed when I began working hard. My parents were OK with me working and Paul's was OK with it too. Like everything else with children, we worked for awhile and then it lost our attention and we were back to unemployed nine-year-olds like the rest of them.

Mostly, the work I did throughout my life was fun. I cannot imagine doing anything well that one does not essentially enjoy. There were times, though, when I was unfortunate enough to fall into jobs I did not like. In my travels, I guess the jobs I disliked (and was very poor at) included: stock clerk at a dollar store; security guard (there were times when sleep got the better of me); volunteer firefighter (upon doing it I found I had neither any talent or desire for it); military police officer (never was someone more wrong picked for that field); book store employee; party tent installer (yes, it is a real job and is as dreary as the title); nurse aide (now, there is a ferocious amount of gut-wrenching work); receptionist (just...bad); telemarketer (who does that for a living?); political campaign manager (it's like wrangling cats for a living); copy editor (I almost fell asleep editing other peoples' stories more than once); and bar tender (there is good and bad in it, but mostly there is a lot of work and a fair amount of politics).

Photo by Jim Purcell

The jobs I liked better were: soldier (every teen-aged and 20-something young man loves being a soldier); Army non-commissioned officer (the best job you'll ever love and hate at the same time); intelligence analyst (no comment); flea market manager (it's like running away and joining a circus that doesn't move); journalist (there is so much good and bad to it I have nowhere to begin); newspaper editor (interesting stuff); newspaper publisher (one might as well be a politician); blogger (lots of freedom and no money); and peer specialist, if you don't love helping people it will drive you to hate them through and through.

For a time, I was a clergyman...I do not know judge this time as good or bad. It was both, perhaps in equal portions if put on a scale.

Are the people that one meets at work the best thing about working? Maybe...I would not argue that point. I admit that, even the bad experiences I had with people have become brighter over time in my memory. My work people were among the best and worst I ever met. Now, staring into my own retirement more and more -- even the good experiences and the most wonderful memories make me tired. It occurs to me that my first work experiences were 43 years ago...a lifetime ago...maybe a few.

I cannot remember all of the moments, good or bad. For too many memories, I only remember that I once remembered them. I still have more than enough for a good old fashioned '80s montage if I thought about it enough, but why bother?

Photo by Jim Purcell

As retirement closes in on me, it is not with dread or immense joy that I look back at my work days -- it was a life I lived. There were so many moments in there that made me who I am today. And, I am grateful....for all of the good and for all of the bad, and for all of the in-between. I am tired, though, all the way through to my bones. I have given my time and what few talents God gave me to my jobs and that work life. On the whole, I am very satisfied with the effort, with some minor exceptions. Before I learned how to work smart, I found success in working hard and brutishly long. It could have saved me a few tanks of career gasoline if I had walked more gently through a few things. Yet, one should not try and nit pick themselves...because Monday morning quarterbacks don't produce many yards during game time.

Photo by Jim Purcell

I do wish I were younger and strong again. I think, as long as I could know everything I do now, I could be a lot better for work. But, once the miles are put on a car you cannot put it back in the showroom. It's closer to the junkyard than the showroom after many years.

This is where people are different. People go on, and are not cars. We do not go to a junkyard. If we retire then we have a rare opportunity to heal our bodies, minds and souls from the storm of our work lives. Retirement is the ending of one journey, but it can begin another one also -- one of self-discovery and real joy. All any of us have to do is be brave enough to take the journey and set a new course -- instead of staring vacantly into a television set while nursing a beer.

I look forward to staying up all night and listening to the rain now. I cannot wait until I lose weight and again try to coax my body back into good health. I will relish playing every vinyl record over and over, and I do look forward to staying in one place long enough to really know it as 'home.' I guess it is about time.

Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone) - Chris Tomlin (with lyrics)

To retire or not...that is the question

The next few days are no pressure. Just going to figure out if I can retire immediately or not.

'Fat, drunk and stupid' is no way to go through life

The guy driving this wagon 300 years ago was smarter than kids now.

By JIM PURCELL

It used to amaze me when my mother or father wrote something or did mathematics, especially my father. He was born in May, 1919, the son of Irish immigrants, straight off the boat from Leprechaunville. His penmanship was immaculate, and he did math in his head -- totally accurately. He did not do "long division" or carry this or that. He thought about three or four large sums, rolled his eyes a bit and there was the answer.

Both my mother and father's penmanship was near perfect and, though both of them were high school drop-outs, they both wrote cursively in a way that would have made for excellent invitations to a formal gala. Both of them could recite all of the presidents until Herbert Hoover, and then they lived through the other ones so they didn't have to think about those. They each knew when the Declaration of Independence was signed, where it was signed, notable signatories, when the Constitution was signed, who basically made it and could give you a mini-lecture on states' rights if you had the time. Again, they were drop-outs from public school. 

Dad had to work for his family, to make ends meet, and Mom, who was a few years younger than Dad, left school during the outset of World War II to help make tank parts at the future Revlon plant in Edison. Of course, Mom stayed at the tank plant until it became the Revlon plant, so she could have drawn you a schematic of the building. 

The point is that even though these people were not educated in any way anyone would consider 'meaningful' today, they had a lot more effective education than those who did finish high school later. Indeed, their vocabulary, though smaller than those of some others, was strong. They could spell very well and use grammar, including colons and semi-colons, the way it is supposed to be used. 

How things have changed. I know college graduates who cannot spell or use grammar effectively. If not for the calculators on cell phones, how would sums ever be calculated? As for knowing the English language in the written sense, I ask you this: If you cannot fluently use the spoken and the written language -- do you even know the language at all? Is English just becoming an oral tradition that now includes emojis and computer jargon? I will take the leap and say that this bridge has already been crossed. I am saying people are so ignorant and dim today that they do not even know how much they do not even know anymore. 

Computers seem to be the measure of intelligence now -- but no one even remembers how to program using Computer Basic language, So, the one thing -- computers -- that people are supposed to be 'smart' at, and they do not even remember how to program in fundamental language anymore. 

I am taking a long time to make a simple point: We are living in the dumbest era of American history right here, right now. Yes, we have Dr. Stephen Hawking, and this is an era of great scholars, but they are the very few and not the many. The knowledge disparity between the very smart and the very dumb is as steep an angle right now as the angle between the very rich and the very poor. To put it plainly, people are so stupid today that I am surprised they do not go about their business wearing a football helmet to buffer their craniums from minor slip and fall accidents, should they arise. 

Today, the United States ranks 28th in the globe among First World nations in education, far behind Japan and South Korea, and even lagging behind Ireland (where there are still thatch, one-room multi-grade school houses) and Canada (which closes some of its schools for months at a time for inclement weather).

What is the answer to this mess? Well, the answer is to start educating children correctly and I think that means worrying more about curriculum than what deity is or is not paid homage to first thing in the morning. I think the teaching of creationism should be a flogging offense in science class, and English class needs to have a lot more -- English in it. 

I hear there has never been young people so obese than today, and that young people have never faced more concerns about drugs in school. So, I will sum this up with the sentiment of Dean Vernon Wormer from the movie "Animal House," when he looked at one of his freshmen and said, "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son."

I agree.

Can we, as a country, do better? It might very well be that, if we all collectively tried, we could not do worse. 

FLASH FICTION FOCUS: The Death of American Business By JIM PURCELL

FLASH FICTION

"I have been doing it this way for 20 years. I don't need to hear this from you," Malcolm said. He set his jaw and gave his 30-year-old boss a fish-eyed stare that dared the younger man to 'do something about it.'

"OK, you have been doing it the same way for 20 years, which is great, but the company has been losing money doing it your way for the past 15 years," said Charles Saginaw, the new publisher.,

"Well, how is that mny fault? I can't do anything about it!" Malcolm retorted.

Former CIA Officer Will Teach You How to Spot a Lie l Digiday

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The Jersey Shore -- All photos by Jim Purcell

Union Beach, New Jersey

Wildwood, New Jersey

Wildwood, New Jersey

Middletown, New Jersey

Union Beach, New Jersey

Cape May, New Jersey

Red Bank, New Jersey

Sandy Hook, New Jersey

Wildwood, New Jersey

Middletown, New Jersey

Keansburg, New Jersey

Middletown, New Jersey

Keansburg, New Jersey

My interview with Valerie Persaud, September 2011

By DAVID KERR 

Here is my interview with Valerie Persaud of “Inside Social Work” taped in September 2011[1].  I thought it appropriate to post again since it describes much of the long-term cost-effective self-help philosophy that I have seen work for many hard core addicts and even the present day “suburban addicts” who are finding themselves trapped by the harmful lifestyle of addiction.  The penalty that people and families are paying for ignoring addiction grows quietly and insidiously.  Often people don’t realize what they are doing and what they have done to themselves, their friends, their employment and their family, until it is too late.  

Sickness and death from highly toxic painkiller overdoses are reported nearly every day in the news media in 2017, far in excess of that seen and reported in 2011.  Now they know that they are addicted and need help yet they often face long waiting lists for treatment.  The treatment though is a good beginning but the real recovery begins once they leave the safety of the residential or out-patient center.  They must know that their recovery will take a minimum of five years in order to lock in to a new safe and healthy lifestyle, drug and alcohol free.  For starters, I suggest calling Integrity House (973-623-0600) and describe your problem or that of a loved one; or feel free to email me as well for advice at dkerr.recoveryadvisorygroup@gmail.com.  If you need emergency detoxification one suggestion is to call Bergen Regional Medical Center at 973-967-4000 or click on http://www.detoxlocal.com/

Click on the following link to see and hear my thoughts on addiction, treatment and recovery in the 2011 conversation with Valerie Persaud on “Inside Social Work.”  Hopefully you will find the 25 minute interview interesting and informative!  What I said then is even more applicable today. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxX277UogZM&list=PLfVl2qR9AxMfIJJxv4GqAPjMCrL_9xsS9&index=1

from “Inside Social Work” with Valerie Persaud: “Integrity House for Alcohol and Drug Recovery”
Valerie Persaud    https://www.google.com/#q=valerie+persaud&*

Here is my blogsite: 

http://blog.nj.com/njv_david_kerr/index.html

My book “The Voices of Integrity” can be found on:

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_19?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=the+voices+of+integrity&sprefix=the+voices+of+integ%2Cstripbooks%2C126&crid=1A6N24NCKO1RB

If you would like this book, send me an email and I will follow up sending it to you at a reduced rate.

---

[1] I retired from work at Integrity House in March 2012 and I am pleased that the program is now in the very capable and experienced hands of long-term Integrity House staff member Robert Budsock.  

What is Brownian motion? | The Chemistry Journey | The Fuse School

Brownian motion is, according to Wikipedia, the "random motion of particles suspended in a fluid (be that a liquid or a gas) resulting from their collision with the fast-moving atoms or molecules in the gas or liquid."

This was named after Robert Brown (who would have guessed "Brownian theory" was named after someone named "Brown"?). Anyway, in 1827, while squire Brown was peering through a microscope at particles trapped in cavities inside pollen grains in water, he made note that the particles moved through the water. He saw no mechanism for this movement. Why did they move? No answers at first.

However, in 1905, physicist Albert Einstein, in an epic move to be a smart aleck, published a paper that explained how motion that Brown observed occurred. It occurred by the pollen being moved by the water molecules. Later on, someone even smugger than Einstein actually received a Nobel Prize, in 1908, for related work on the subject: French physicist Jean Perrin, He noted that the direction of the force of the atomic bombardment is constantly changing, and at different times the particle is hit more on one side than another, leading to the seemingly random nature of the motion. Can you believe they gave the guy a Nobel Prize for that? Well, it was pretty clever.

Visualization of Quantum Physics (Quantum Mechanics)

What are you doing in retirement? It should be more than just watching TV

By JIM PURCELL

There comes a time when a middle-aged person pauses and considers what is next. At 51 years old, I am not an old man, but I am at an age where I can peer into that future and can see the shapes and forms of what can be. There are some at my age who simply say that it is not time to consider what is next for them. In some ways, I wish I could be like that, but it has come to me that I want to do more than just keep on being as I am, working as I am, digging a deeper foxhole than the one I defend now, so to speak.

I do not see retirement as an end to the light and the beginning of some dark thing. Rather, I see it as a reward I can give myself for the life I have lived, the work I have done, the labors I have been through. Of course, there is a very serious financial planning side to retirement. And, this essay is not about that. For the purposes of this essay, let us just say that side of the house is watertight and coming along well.

I think one of the great mistakes of people contemplating retirement is that they only speak about the financial planning dynamics to retirement. At no point do some people stare into the mirror and say, 'What will I do with myself?' OK, you have a place to live, and in your planning it is taken as said you can afford your monthly bills and are comfortable enough with your medical care and such. Who is around you in retirement, what does your day look like? What are you getting up for in the morning?

Well, I want to paint. I am informed as much about art as the next person, studied it during my bachelor's years in school, and also as part of my Master's program. I love the wondrous, limitless potentials of a blank canvas. A blank canvas, for me, is a place of endless possibilities into creation.

As part of the financial side of my planning, it has always been my objective to move from the Northeastern United States to the mountains of North Carolina, within some proximity to Asheville. Far from a whimsical idea, North Carolina has the kind of tax structure and economy where retirees can not only sustain themselves, but they can thrive. I would not and will not try to envision me painting as some business or other. The fact of the matter is I have only nominal talent. It is not to create the great masterpiece that I will insinuate myself as part of some larger Asheville art scene. Rather, I just want to travel with the herd. See the sights. Enjoy creating a small garden to grow vegetables. Maybe do some freelance work for the local newspaper if they need someone to cover a budget meeting or give an account of some dry chicken dinner by local squires.

In my last career, I was a professional journalist for weekly and daily newspapers.What I wrote paid my mortgage, my car note, afforded my groceries and lifestyle. I have no want of this life, and that is not the writing or the painting I am discussing. No, I just want to be in the moment and feel the use of whatever I am doing. Not everyone will be inclined to writing and painting. They do not have to be.

Maybe some mechanic who has done his or her years wants to build the dream car, or some accountant for a large firm wants to open up a coffee shop. The direction of the creativity of this wonderful part of our lives, retirement, can travel in any direction -- like beams of light.

The point of my 'career after my second career' is not to make a living. I must see to it that my financial strength can support me and my significant other by its own merit. Yet, these endeavors, painting and trying to show and maybe penning some articles are not the beginning of some mighty new chapter. They are simply for me to enjoy the days. Because these will be the days to be enjoyed.

After living life for a half century, no one gets to do that without knowing disappointment, success, great joy and sadness, love and the retraction of love. It's part of the human experience. Our walks in life may be varied, but some of the same signposts are along all of them. I choose to make the last part of my life, my retirement, not the quiet, desperate chapter where I stare into a television set and dwell upon my victories and defeats in life. I do not want to re-live the big game or withdraw into seclusion. I want to make new friends, embark on a new journey....learn and do things I have only daydreamed about from desk.

I will never get a gallery show at a swanky, upscale hotspot. The New York Times will not come to one of my shows and proclaim the next Van Gogh. But, with a little luck, maybe I can be part of a show at a local volunteer fire department, or coffee house. Maybe I can make some art friends and discuss the thing I love -- painting -- with some regularity. Maybe I can grow a perfect tomato one day, or help some Elks lodge looking to raise money for a good cause by getting a couple lines in the local (print) newspaper. No, this is not a great ambition. It is just a reason to wake up and go outside. It is a reason to step lively from my bed and to set my alarm.

Retirement is my time when I will actually take dancing lessons with my girl, rather than just rely on what my Mom showed me when I was nine years old still. I was not blessed with a family in life, as many people are, and that is how it was supposed to be. Why curse the night because it is not day? I have done so many things, though, and gone so many places, worn so many hats and worked in so many different things. I had a life. I have a life.

If things in life are not perfect, then it is as it is supposed to be. Any artist can tell you there is no perfect line. There is no perfect painting. It might be said that a painting is not just measured in those things done well within it but also in the eccentricities of the work: the imperfections. Like all lives, all paintings have their imperfections. Artists ruin perfectly lovely work all the time trying to rub out some imperfection, only to make a charming flaw into a hideous blob.

My life was my greatest work, not perfect but a well-earned canvas. I want to savor the days and enjoy my dabblings now. I go to work and, to some degree, I guess I am like that anxious kid in the third grade, who cannot wait until the freedom of the bell releases him from the duldrums of school only to run home as fast as he can and grab his baseball mitt and bat and head for the local field to find a game of ball to play.

Life is many things, and encapsulating it into a few lines is ridiculous. It is big, wide and as vast as the widest, mightiest forest. It is filled with so many things. I am so glad to have experienced the things I have. But, I certainly cannot wait until that damn bell rings so I can get the heck out of class and go indulge my inner eight-year-old all over again.