More Wisdom

I like Ben Stein. Have for many years for many reasons. The following is another.

Here is an article from 2006 regarding taxes and who pays what percentage. First the excerpt that got me looking deeper.

Put simply, the rich pay a lot of taxes as a total percentage of taxes collected, but they don’t pay a lot of taxes as a percentage of what they can afford to pay, or as a percentage of what the government needs to close the deficit gap.

Mr. Buffett compiled a data sheet of the men and women who work in his office. He had each of them make a fraction; the numerator was how much they paid in federal income tax and in payroll taxes for Social Security and Medicare, and the denominator was their taxable income. The people in his office were mostly secretaries and clerks, though not all.

It turned out that Mr. Buffett, with immense income from dividends and capital gains, paid far, far less as a fraction of his income than the secretaries or the clerks or anyone else in his office. Further, in conversation it came up that Mr. Buffett doesn’t use any tax planning at all. He just pays as the Internal Revenue Code requires. “How can this be fair?” he asked of how little he pays relative to his employees. “How can this be right?”

Even though I agreed with him, I warned that whenever someone tried to raise the issue, he or she was accused of fomenting class warfare.

“There’s class warfare, all right,” Mr. Buffett said, “but it’s my class, the rich class, that’s making war, and we’re winning.”

Out of the Mouths of Babes.

Yesterday Wilson asked to go for a drive. Sam, Maureen and I went along and it was a great trip up Yokohl Valley. Here are some pictures Maureen took.

This is an area I discovered and explored as a teenager. Maybe it had something to do with a newly acquired driver's licence and cheap gas. Yesterday I was reminded of the beauty and Wilson's comment, "Wow, I never realized this was so close," gave me a moment of shame for not showing this to the children.

Add it to the list of this I forgot, or was too busy, to show you.

A picture of some tee shirt art from Oregon.

We have spent the better part of the last few days with the kids or in the garden. Maureen has many plants to plant and I have some time off of baseball to help. Her post on the Sharecropper blog displays some of that work. I have to say it was cool to be in the garden with her. Wish I would do that more often.

Being away from the baseball field is strangely calming. I do have to water the grass, soon. We had a good run during the Easter tournament, and though the ending was painful, the players learned something about themselves that will make them stronger. Hopefully it will carry over for the last few games and maybe into the playoffs.

Having all of the kids home is fun. Scrabble last night after fried chicken; one of our past routines. Watching some of their new favorite shows. The witty repartee between siblings. The examples of why we are a family.

Yet it is also a prelude of them not being here. Within a week two will be off to their abodes, and one of those two will soon be overseas.

And a new adventure awaits us.

A "REAL" Back in the Day Story

Just a few thoughts about the past.

How Wasteful the Older Generation Was ...

In the line at the store, the cashier told the older woman
that she should bring her own grocery bag because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment.. The woman apologized to him and explained, “We didn’t have the green thing back in my day.”

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. The former generation did not care enough to save our environment."

He was right, that generation didn’t have the green thing in
its day.

Back then, they returned their milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were
recycled.

But they didn’t have the green thing back in that customer's day.
In her day, they walked up stairs, because they didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. They walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time they had to go two blocks.

But she was right. They didn’t have the green thing in her day.

Back then, they washed the baby’s diapers because they didn’t have the throw-away kind. They dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts – wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that old lady is right, they didn’t have the green thing back in her day.

Back then, they had one TV, or radio, in the house – not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, they blended and stirred by hand because they didn’t have electric machines to do everything for you.
When they packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, they used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.

Back then, they didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. They used a push mower that ran on human power. They exercised by working so they didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she’s right, they didn’t have the green thing back then.

They drank from a fountain when they were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time they had a drink of water. They refilled their writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and they replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But they didn’t have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or rode the school bus instead
of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. They had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And they didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful the old folks were just because they didn't have the green thing back then?

I must credit my mother-in-law Betty for this post. Thank you for the memories.

On the Wings of Eagles

Yesterday was another day at the ball field office; this time Tulare Western. Through the years I have always enjoyed playing Western and it's another team that I don't worry about the game becoming a circus of catcalls or the ridiculous that is seen these days. Good coaches that teach the game as it should be played. Win or lose, the game is played with respect.

Even though it is their field, in this tournament we are the home team. They score two in the top of the 1st inning. We answer with one in the bottom. 2-1, good start and the game has all the makings of another well played game. I get up and walk to the end of the dugout and see the scorekeeper, my brother, talking to a couple of young men. I walk closer and see one is A.J. the son of a friend and coach. I then recognize the other, tall young man.

"What the hell are you doing here!" It came out of my mouth before I could think.

Sam. Supposed to be in North Carolina awaiting deployment. Surprising Dad, then later Mom. The gift that can't be bought.

As I was walking back into the dugout, one of the players asked why I was crying.

Sometimes a Moral Victory Isn't Enough

Ever feel like you're digging a hole in the wrong place? Or. . .

One day John was walking in town and came across his friend Simon digging a hole in his yard. Next to the hole he was digging was another large hole. John asked Simon what the holes were for. Simon replied, "My cow died and I need to bury him."

John then asked, "Well, what was wrong with the first hole."

"Oh, it was too small," said Simon.

After an auspicious beginning, the Monarchs have lost 7 games in a row. With few exceptions, we are in every game and are playing okay or better. We have lost two games by a run in the other team's last at bat. We have lost four games by 2 or 3 runs. Close, but no cigar seems to be the team motto at this time.

The great thing is the sun came up this morning and we get a chance to play again Friday and another on Saturday.

Nice Guys Do Finish Last

Had an interesting thing said to me tonight after our 8-0 loss in another town. The player in all earnest said he and others didn't like the coach being "negative" during the game. They "didn't like their effort being called 'pathetic.'"

Maybe the coach was being nice in a 8-0 loss that you only got one hit.

These Boots Are Made for Walking, Or Ironies of Ironies

Yesterday I looked in the mail and received as a surprise a letter from the California Department of Motor Vehicles. They enclosed a multi-page questionnaire for me to fill out, as well as even more questions for my doctor. If I didn't do such by a date in the near future, my drivers licence would be suspended. The irony is I ride my bicycle most everywhere, or now walk. The bike rider will have his license revoked.

This is all happening because I blacked out, became unconscious, in class one day a few weeks ago. I felt light-headed, sat down in a student desk and woke up laying sideways across two desks with my students laughing. They thought I was joking. I spent two nights in the hospital being observed, tested and ultimately being given a relatively clean bill of health. Now I guess the joke is on me.

But this still irritates me. I believe in government having a role in the safety of others, but how about personal responsibility? The doctor doesn't want me riding my bike and passing out in the middle of the street, so I've been walking. I enjoy the walking, but no driving? I drive less than 100 miles a month normally. Add another 100 if I drive with Maureen to Fresno for once-a-month supplies. I bicycle almost that much a month.

Hope you all feel safe without me driving.

To Those I Love

It's only seven minutes and forty-three seconds long, from Concisously Frugal.

Oh, I Am Sorry For Wishing For a Depression

So long ago, and far away. This picture was taken the week Sam left for Fort Benning. He now is returning from training in preparation for a trip to Iraq, and maybe Afghanistan.

I'm been thinking about people. We started the annual state testing protocol this week and the students are all hyped up after sitting in a class having their brain drained. Some things popped up to me. The school provided trail mix and fluids to drink. The students drank the sugar water and threw the nuts and candy at each other. Besides the waste, who is going to clean up your mess? People that are used to having things given to them, will suffer mightily in the near future. And not just the youth.