With a lot of people getting ready to pay their taxes, you might find this interesting about the EU and some other countries. They have the following maximum tax rates in descending order:
Denmark=59% tax rate
Sweden=56.5%
Finland=52.1%
Holland=52.%
Belgium=50%
Austria=50%
Slovenia=50%
France=48.1%
Spain=45%
Italy=45%
Germany=42%
Ireland=42%
Greece=40%
Great britain=40%
Poland=40%
Portugal=40%
Luxemburg=39%
Hungary=38%
Malta=35%
Lithuania=33%
Czech Republic=32%
Cyprus=30%
Latvia=25%
Estonia=24%
Slovenia=19%
Norway did not report
Switzerland=34%
31 January 2006
Some Great Teachers #1
I imagine that all of us have had some great teachers. I have a few that I remember to this day. They do not grow on trees though.
This piece deals with MW. He is dead now, but I was fortunate to be able to speak with him several weeks before he died in order to just say "Thank you". I am so glad that I got to do this. He quite likely had the most neurosurgical cataloged knowledge of any person that I have ever known. He also had the rare ability to teach without getting in the way of his student. He didn't have to put his hands on the patient to show you how to do something. To say that he was highly thought of by his resident students is a gross understatement.
MW organized conferences in a program that did not spoon feed but left it up to the resident to learn. Basic brain anatomy was on Saturday morning. It was frequently attended by staff members who were not residents. If one asked a question on rounds or elsewhere, you got an answer, and frequently later, a call from MW's secretary saying that there was a reprint waiting for you in his office to amplify on that answer. MW was famous for asking a question, giving an answer, and pointing out that one might hear that question again when taking the board exam.
On the practical side MW shown with bright lights. He could stand by you or sit on a stool behind you while YOU, the resident, did the operation. The patient could be a pauper or a bank president, it mattered not. If a misfortune seemed likely, he was quick to calmly say what to do. Only in the times later did one realize how hard some procedures could be when he was no longer there. Maybe this surprises some who read this, but it was part of his talent. I am reasonably sure that such things are rare now (it was rare then) because of the malpractice climate.
MW left me a legacy long before he died. No, I did not become a teacher of residents (not much anyway). I realized that this was not a talent that I possessed. I thought of him often as I operated. When we talked as he was dying, he still kept his calm about the whole situation, explaining his pathology as if he were describing an interesting case in a conference. I'm really glad I got to say "thank you and good bye".
This piece deals with MW. He is dead now, but I was fortunate to be able to speak with him several weeks before he died in order to just say "Thank you". I am so glad that I got to do this. He quite likely had the most neurosurgical cataloged knowledge of any person that I have ever known. He also had the rare ability to teach without getting in the way of his student. He didn't have to put his hands on the patient to show you how to do something. To say that he was highly thought of by his resident students is a gross understatement.
MW organized conferences in a program that did not spoon feed but left it up to the resident to learn. Basic brain anatomy was on Saturday morning. It was frequently attended by staff members who were not residents. If one asked a question on rounds or elsewhere, you got an answer, and frequently later, a call from MW's secretary saying that there was a reprint waiting for you in his office to amplify on that answer. MW was famous for asking a question, giving an answer, and pointing out that one might hear that question again when taking the board exam.
On the practical side MW shown with bright lights. He could stand by you or sit on a stool behind you while YOU, the resident, did the operation. The patient could be a pauper or a bank president, it mattered not. If a misfortune seemed likely, he was quick to calmly say what to do. Only in the times later did one realize how hard some procedures could be when he was no longer there. Maybe this surprises some who read this, but it was part of his talent. I am reasonably sure that such things are rare now (it was rare then) because of the malpractice climate.
MW left me a legacy long before he died. No, I did not become a teacher of residents (not much anyway). I realized that this was not a talent that I possessed. I thought of him often as I operated. When we talked as he was dying, he still kept his calm about the whole situation, explaining his pathology as if he were describing an interesting case in a conference. I'm really glad I got to say "thank you and good bye".
29 January 2006
Voice from the past
I got a real surprise this morning when I received an email from a friend of years past. Ira and I were resident mates in neurosurgery back in the 1960s. I had not seen him in 20+ years. He found me through the alumni magazine of our medical school. It was fun to hear from him, but it makes me feel really old to hear that his kids are grown and have their own. I guess it does the same thing to him.
The real surprise was that he lives in Dallas and over Christmas, I am sure that I drove by his home in Turtle Creek and never knew it. Some day we are going to have to get together and tell a few lies.
The real surprise was that he lives in Dallas and over Christmas, I am sure that I drove by his home in Turtle Creek and never knew it. Some day we are going to have to get together and tell a few lies.
28 January 2006
The Vent
The Vent is a part of the Atlanta Journal Constitution newspaper. You may have to sign up to get to it, but it is free, and they don't send you a lot of stuff that you don't want. It appears 6 days a week under the "Metro" section. The Vent is an anonymous way to say what you think. Reading it is a real insight into what goes on in the minds of the locals, but I have contributed three times from Switzerland.
There is a fair amount of local politics about which I care little, but there is also some great wisdom on occasion. It takes only 2-3 minutes to read it all, and it is fun.
No more today. No snow here but a southern Swiss blizzard yesterday.
There is a fair amount of local politics about which I care little, but there is also some great wisdom on occasion. It takes only 2-3 minutes to read it all, and it is fun.
No more today. No snow here but a southern Swiss blizzard yesterday.
23 January 2006
Earring History
Once upon a time, there was a neurosurgeon "V". He had two partners. One (Billy) was a true blue conservative guy who worn his label with pride. The second partner (Bill) was perhaps the most "malleable" guy that anyone could imagine. I say "malleable" because he rarely stuck with any opinion and was a real waffle. Anyway, V had a penchant for taking holidays in Switzerland. He had done this for many years and now lives there. He knew that men in Switzerland often wear earrings in one or both ears. This intrigued V, and on more than one occasion, he had voiced a wish to someday have an earring.
A few days before a Swiss trip, V and Bill were having lunch in the doctor's dining room with several other docs. V again voiced his desire for an earring someday. With some conviction, Bill announced, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you get an earring and wear it for a week". The week was supposedly to allow Billy's conservative feelings to recover when he saw the deed. Among doctors in a southern Georgia city, an earring was going to be a good way out of the norm. V replied to Bill that he would have an earring on his return from Switzerland, and that he would look forward to the check. This was all witnessed by several doctors, and Bill was locked into his hastily made statement. V went back to the office and announced to the personnel his earring intentions. Billy heard all this and ran out of his office to confirm the facts. He then said, "Hell, for a thousand dollars, I'll get one too"! Evidently, his conservatism did have its price.
During the Swiss trip, V obtained a nice earring with a Swiss cow on it. The procedure and the ring cost about thirty dollars. Upon V's return to the USA, Bill came over to his house almost immediately. He cast a look at V's left ear and said, "I knew you would do it". Upon V's return to his office the next day, Bill's thousand dollar check was waiting on him. I said Bill was malleable, not a welsher.
Well, for the next several days, V's earring was a hit. Some patients ignored it, and some liked it. While V was in the doctor's lounge outside the operating room a day or so later, Billy and another doc showed up with EARRINGS! They looked genuine and had backs on them as if they pierced the ear lobe. Bill wandered in after an operation and was amazed when they each asked for their thousand dollars. Of course he wasn't bound to pay off, and the rings had magnetic backs and were not pierced.
V cogitated about what to do with his thousand dollars. He knew Bill well and could imagine "Just shows that he will do anything for money" as being his response to one and all. It so happened that Bill had a longstanding feud with the local public hospital and would only with great reluctance, set foot in the place. This hospital had a charitable foundation in place to help it raise funds. This was a tax deductible arrangement for donations. V sent the check endorsed over to the foundation to the hospital. They received this with gratitude manifested by a letter to Bill and the inscription of his name on a plaque of honor. V took the tax deduction.
Fourteen years have gone by, and the thirty dollar investment still sits in V's left ear. Wonder what I would have gotten to NOT have it put into the right ear? Never thought of that!
A few days before a Swiss trip, V and Bill were having lunch in the doctor's dining room with several other docs. V again voiced his desire for an earring someday. With some conviction, Bill announced, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you get an earring and wear it for a week". The week was supposedly to allow Billy's conservative feelings to recover when he saw the deed. Among doctors in a southern Georgia city, an earring was going to be a good way out of the norm. V replied to Bill that he would have an earring on his return from Switzerland, and that he would look forward to the check. This was all witnessed by several doctors, and Bill was locked into his hastily made statement. V went back to the office and announced to the personnel his earring intentions. Billy heard all this and ran out of his office to confirm the facts. He then said, "Hell, for a thousand dollars, I'll get one too"! Evidently, his conservatism did have its price.
During the Swiss trip, V obtained a nice earring with a Swiss cow on it. The procedure and the ring cost about thirty dollars. Upon V's return to the USA, Bill came over to his house almost immediately. He cast a look at V's left ear and said, "I knew you would do it". Upon V's return to his office the next day, Bill's thousand dollar check was waiting on him. I said Bill was malleable, not a welsher.
Well, for the next several days, V's earring was a hit. Some patients ignored it, and some liked it. While V was in the doctor's lounge outside the operating room a day or so later, Billy and another doc showed up with EARRINGS! They looked genuine and had backs on them as if they pierced the ear lobe. Bill wandered in after an operation and was amazed when they each asked for their thousand dollars. Of course he wasn't bound to pay off, and the rings had magnetic backs and were not pierced.
V cogitated about what to do with his thousand dollars. He knew Bill well and could imagine "Just shows that he will do anything for money" as being his response to one and all. It so happened that Bill had a longstanding feud with the local public hospital and would only with great reluctance, set foot in the place. This hospital had a charitable foundation in place to help it raise funds. This was a tax deductible arrangement for donations. V sent the check endorsed over to the foundation to the hospital. They received this with gratitude manifested by a letter to Bill and the inscription of his name on a plaque of honor. V took the tax deduction.
Fourteen years have gone by, and the thirty dollar investment still sits in V's left ear. Wonder what I would have gotten to NOT have it put into the right ear? Never thought of that!
22 January 2006
Out of the Closet and to the Ice
Probably no more than half a dozen people know that I am a former figure skating groupie. In the early nineties and for what reason exactly, I do not remember, I wound up in Atlanta at a thing called Skate America. This event is four days of great competition and the name belies the fact that the competitors come from a lot of countries. It was my first experience seeing such, and one must remember, this was some years before figure skating became a rage on TV. Anyway, it was a lot of fun, and I got hooked. Right now, the European Championship is going on in Lyon, France, and the TV coverage here brought back some great memories.
Those were the days before Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan got into it, so the skaters and the fans were co-mingled, rode the same buses to and from the rink, rode the same elevators, ate in the same restaurants, etc. I remember Peggy Fleming being just as gorgeous riding in a bus as she was on the ice, seeing the skaters who were famous and those who were just beginning, and watching them all go through their practice routines. I was impressed at how tiny the girls were, and how both the men and women seemed bigger than life on the ice. My last figure skating live competition was the 1994 World Championship in Detroit, so I haven't had a chance to see how safety and security have changed skaters and fans interaction, but I'll bet it isn't like it was then.
One of the best Skate Americas that I ever saw was in Dallas, TX. The arena was a short block from the hotel where all stayed. I had ordered tickets a year before and had a great rinkside seat. Those were the days of Brian Boitano, Viktor Petrenko, Todd Eldridge, Nancy Kerrigan, and of course Tonya who seemed always to be plagued by mishaps such as broken skates, laces, etc. Skaters and fans walked back and forth to the rink, one could watch the practices and competitions and then go have a drink and talk with the coaches. All in all, a wonderful time. I watched Brian Boitano's parents give him a shirt for his birthday in the hotel restaurant and tyrannical mother of another skater berate her and her coach. Some of today's skaters were still young kids then.
The highlight of my live competitions was the 1994 World's in Detroit, MI. The city has two ice arenas side by side and a nice hotel about two blocks away. This is located on the bank of the Detroit River. It was early January, and I remember the river being a sheet of ice. Cold?? Try 21 BELOW zero Fahrenheit! You didn't walk that two blocks, you took a warm bus. This week long event ticket gets you into all practices and competitions from early morning until late night. The cream of the crop on the world's best skaters are there, and you get to see them practicing without costumes or makeup, as well as see them in their best doing their best. I became even more convinced that no matter where in the placement they are, they are ALL champions.
About ten minutes after leaving Cobo Arena and a practice session to go over to Joe Louis Arena to watch some competition, the word spread about Nancy Kerrigan's attack. That put a damper on things, but the competition continued. After attending some events, you begin to meet people again and again. These groupies follow the contests all year long, and in those days, got to know skaters as well. I miss that here, and I think I'll get tickets to next years European Championships. Who can tell?
Those were the days before Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan got into it, so the skaters and the fans were co-mingled, rode the same buses to and from the rink, rode the same elevators, ate in the same restaurants, etc. I remember Peggy Fleming being just as gorgeous riding in a bus as she was on the ice, seeing the skaters who were famous and those who were just beginning, and watching them all go through their practice routines. I was impressed at how tiny the girls were, and how both the men and women seemed bigger than life on the ice. My last figure skating live competition was the 1994 World Championship in Detroit, so I haven't had a chance to see how safety and security have changed skaters and fans interaction, but I'll bet it isn't like it was then.
One of the best Skate Americas that I ever saw was in Dallas, TX. The arena was a short block from the hotel where all stayed. I had ordered tickets a year before and had a great rinkside seat. Those were the days of Brian Boitano, Viktor Petrenko, Todd Eldridge, Nancy Kerrigan, and of course Tonya who seemed always to be plagued by mishaps such as broken skates, laces, etc. Skaters and fans walked back and forth to the rink, one could watch the practices and competitions and then go have a drink and talk with the coaches. All in all, a wonderful time. I watched Brian Boitano's parents give him a shirt for his birthday in the hotel restaurant and tyrannical mother of another skater berate her and her coach. Some of today's skaters were still young kids then.
The highlight of my live competitions was the 1994 World's in Detroit, MI. The city has two ice arenas side by side and a nice hotel about two blocks away. This is located on the bank of the Detroit River. It was early January, and I remember the river being a sheet of ice. Cold?? Try 21 BELOW zero Fahrenheit! You didn't walk that two blocks, you took a warm bus. This week long event ticket gets you into all practices and competitions from early morning until late night. The cream of the crop on the world's best skaters are there, and you get to see them practicing without costumes or makeup, as well as see them in their best doing their best. I became even more convinced that no matter where in the placement they are, they are ALL champions.
About ten minutes after leaving Cobo Arena and a practice session to go over to Joe Louis Arena to watch some competition, the word spread about Nancy Kerrigan's attack. That put a damper on things, but the competition continued. After attending some events, you begin to meet people again and again. These groupies follow the contests all year long, and in those days, got to know skaters as well. I miss that here, and I think I'll get tickets to next years European Championships. Who can tell?
16 January 2006
More Blue Butt(s)
Just as my left buttlock is a nice blue-turquoise hue, the better half that lives with me in this abode takes a dive on the ice too. Technically, she has no blue butt, but her knee and elbow are not happy, so we don't look like twins. Anyway, mornings at our house sound like the inside a Calcutta pest hole with moans, groans, creaks, and other visceral sounds. The joint reeks of some new liniment that one of the local ladies swears by and probably makes, since it costs a lot. The heating pad is on overload, but finally we have some ice for drinks instead of packs. I expect that truth be known, the locals suspect mutual spouse abuse.
At least no blood was spilled externally, but there are some injured dignities for sure. Guess what? Snow is on the way until Thursday!
At least no blood was spilled externally, but there are some injured dignities for sure. Guess what? Snow is on the way until Thursday!
14 January 2006
Blue Butt
I have never claimed to be a "blue blood", but I can now say that I am a "blue butt". While practicing my ballet moves along the lake path the other day, I busted buns on a patch of ice. My left buttlock and leg now look like someone took a 2 x 4 plank to it. At my age, I am thankful not to have fractured a hip, but I can tell you it felt like it for awhile. Now, most of the pain is gone, but the black and blue remains. I'd put a picture on the blog, but that would REALLY be scary. I did invest in a bag of salt for the local steps, etc.
In the meantime, winter remains with us. No big snows, but the last one is still here. The nightly ice fog makes it look like fresh snow each AM. Since the temperature hasn't been above 24F in several weeks, stuff hangs around. I LOVE WINTER!!
In the meantime, winter remains with us. No big snows, but the last one is still here. The nightly ice fog makes it look like fresh snow each AM. Since the temperature hasn't been above 24F in several weeks, stuff hangs around. I LOVE WINTER!!
09 January 2006
The Man without a Country
The blurb on the internet regarding Harry Belafonte's visit with Hugo Chavez in Venezuela made me think of a story that my dad told me when I was very young. It impressed me, and now that the internet makes it so easy, I found it again. The story is true and well documented. You can find it at: www.bartleby.com/310/6/1.html
In a nutshell, it is about a young naval officer, Paul Nolen, who in a court martial trial damns the United States and says that he wishes that he never hears the name again. The judge gives him just that as a sentence. Until his death, he never set foot on the USA, nor heard its name. He lived under that sentence for 56 years, always aboard a naval ship at sea, transferred at sea to other ships, so that he never saw his country again, with naval personel who always treated him with respect but were forbidden to mention the USA.
Here is a quote from Edward Everett Hale's story about Phillip Nolen.
Now, this is quintessential "cruel and unusual" punishment, and by no means do I think Mr. Belafonte deserves this. I do think that if he wants to criticize our leaders, that he should do it on home soil and not give aid and comfort to those who oppose us. Phillip Nolen's story is far more complicated than just these few words, and I encourage all to read it.
In a nutshell, it is about a young naval officer, Paul Nolen, who in a court martial trial damns the United States and says that he wishes that he never hears the name again. The judge gives him just that as a sentence. Until his death, he never set foot on the USA, nor heard its name. He lived under that sentence for 56 years, always aboard a naval ship at sea, transferred at sea to other ships, so that he never saw his country again, with naval personel who always treated him with respect but were forbidden to mention the USA.
Here is a quote from Edward Everett Hale's story about Phillip Nolen.
“WASHINGTON (with a date which must have been late in 1807). | |
| “SIR—You will receive from Lieutenant Neale the person of Philip Nolan, late a lieutenant in the United States Army. | |
| “This person on his trial by court-martial expressed, with an oath, the wish that he might ‘never hear of the United States again.’ | |
| “The Court sentenced him to have his wish fulfilled. | |
| “For the present, the execution of the order is intrusted by the President to this Department. | |
| “You will take the prisoner on board your ship, and keep him there with such precautions as shall prevent his escape. | |
| “You will provide him with such quarters, rations, and clothing as would be proper for an officer of his late rank, if he were a passenger on your vessel on the business of his Government. | |
| “The gentlemen on board will make any arrangements agreeable to themselves regarding his society. He is to be exposed to no indignity of any kind, nor is he ever unnecessarily to be reminded that he is a prisoner. | |
| “But under no circumstances is he ever to hear of his country or to see any information regarding it; and you will especially caution all the officers under your command to take care, that, in the various indulgences which may be granted, this rule, in which his punishment is involved, shall not be broken. | |
| “It is the intention of the Government that he shall never again see the country which he has disowned. Before the end of your cruise you will receive orders which will give effect to this intention. | |
“Respectfully yours, | |
“W. SOUTHARD, for the | |
“Secretary of the Navy.” |
Now, this is quintessential "cruel and unusual" punishment, and by no means do I think Mr. Belafonte deserves this. I do think that if he wants to criticize our leaders, that he should do it on home soil and not give aid and comfort to those who oppose us. Phillip Nolen's story is far more complicated than just these few words, and I encourage all to read it.
08 January 2006
Heinrich Harrer Is Dead
Heinrich Harrer, one of the four man team that climbed the north face of the Eiger near Grindelwald, died yesterday at age 93.
Being an armchair mountaineer, I have read his book on the feat, "The White Spider", several times. Usually this is best done on cold, wintery nights because it describes the details not only of his climb, but those of the failed attempts before that. He was an Austrian and was hailed by Hitler at the time as part of the "super race". He was 25 years old at the time. He later was interned in India and spent most of WW II in Tibet where he was a teacher-friend-advisor to the Dalai Lama. This was chronicled in his book," Seven Years in Tibet" which became a popular movie later.
He returned to CH several years ago to witness a repeat of his climb done by a Swiss team of four for Swiss TV. Prior to WW II, he became a member of the Nazi party in Germany, but he was cleared of any of its misdeeds later.
Anyone with any interest in mountains will enjoy both his books. When one walks along the massive north face, one is impressed even more by his team's efforts. He was the last remaining of this team, Anderl Heckmair, Heinrich Harrer, Fritz Kasparek und Ludwig Vörg..
Being an armchair mountaineer, I have read his book on the feat, "The White Spider", several times. Usually this is best done on cold, wintery nights because it describes the details not only of his climb, but those of the failed attempts before that. He was an Austrian and was hailed by Hitler at the time as part of the "super race". He was 25 years old at the time. He later was interned in India and spent most of WW II in Tibet where he was a teacher-friend-advisor to the Dalai Lama. This was chronicled in his book," Seven Years in Tibet" which became a popular movie later.
He returned to CH several years ago to witness a repeat of his climb done by a Swiss team of four for Swiss TV. Prior to WW II, he became a member of the Nazi party in Germany, but he was cleared of any of its misdeeds later.
Anyone with any interest in mountains will enjoy both his books. When one walks along the massive north face, one is impressed even more by his team's efforts. He was the last remaining of this team, Anderl Heckmair, Heinrich Harrer, Fritz Kasparek und Ludwig Vörg..
07 January 2006
Now, I like flying with this guy!
During our recent USA sojurn, we had occasion to fly from Atlanta (ATL) to Huntsville, AL (HSV). We pushed back from the gate as darkness fell, but we didn't even get to the runway. The captain announced that the #2 engine wouldn't start. For those of you not in the know, planes run one engine at the gate until pushback to save fuel. Anyway, we just got a push over to an adjacent gate where we parked. Again, the captain announced that there was a valve problem in the engine, that it could be fixed, and that a mechanic was on the way with a new valve. I was in an ideal seat to watch this take place. It took just a few minutes. Then, the engine failed to start, or at least the instument in the cockpit showed no start. This led to a search for a new switch for the cockpit instrument. All along, this information was relayed to us by the pilot, who had by this time, exited the cockpit to stand in the gangway using the microphone that the flight attendents use to show seatbelt use, etc. The captain throughout kept an optimistic tone in his relay of what was going on. After an hour or so, the switch was found, it was in position, and we were OK to go. The best part was the pilot's last announcement. I quote, "Folks, I have some great news. I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance." That got a big laugh, and if anyone was nervous (I didn't see anyone that looked nervous.), it broke the spell. Then he announced that we were off, and we got to HSV without incident.
Actually, HSV is an end airport, so no one was concerned about missed connections, and we were to meet other people there who were coming on a later flight. That worked fine for us. My point is this: This was a Delta Airlines flight, they ( like most other US airlines, are in bankruptcy ), it was going to an airport with no connecting flights, and was flown by a guy who should have been a diplomat. I liked the hell out of that! Delta is likely bankrupt because some business school graduate(s) had his head up the wrong part of his anatomy. The people who work for Delta otherwise are still able to do a good job while not knowing where they will be next year. The pilot was concerned about us first, then the company second. I am sure that he was concerned about his own position and that taking off with a running engine but a malfunctioning cockpit indicator was a big no-no, but he didn't give that impression at all.
While on this rant, I want to say a word about women pilots. Again on Delta some years ago, I had occasion to know that the pilot was female. I knew this because, I had seen her before I boarded, reading the riot act out to a ground personel about something. It was to the effect of, "You get that job fixed like I want it, or this plane stays right here on the ground". For some reason (maybe because she reminded me of what I used to hear from my mother), I have always liked the idea of a lady pilot.
Actually, HSV is an end airport, so no one was concerned about missed connections, and we were to meet other people there who were coming on a later flight. That worked fine for us. My point is this: This was a Delta Airlines flight, they ( like most other US airlines, are in bankruptcy ), it was going to an airport with no connecting flights, and was flown by a guy who should have been a diplomat. I liked the hell out of that! Delta is likely bankrupt because some business school graduate(s) had his head up the wrong part of his anatomy. The people who work for Delta otherwise are still able to do a good job while not knowing where they will be next year. The pilot was concerned about us first, then the company second. I am sure that he was concerned about his own position and that taking off with a running engine but a malfunctioning cockpit indicator was a big no-no, but he didn't give that impression at all.
While on this rant, I want to say a word about women pilots. Again on Delta some years ago, I had occasion to know that the pilot was female. I knew this because, I had seen her before I boarded, reading the riot act out to a ground personel about something. It was to the effect of, "You get that job fixed like I want it, or this plane stays right here on the ground". For some reason (maybe because she reminded me of what I used to hear from my mother), I have always liked the idea of a lady pilot.
06 January 2006
Home from the Travels
After almost 24 hours back in CH, the haze in my brain is just like the fog out the window. Whoever said that travel is educational was right on the money. I still am awed by the fact that 48 hours ago, I was in North Alabama, USA. Through the technical marvels of the jet engine, here I am now. Just when my brain will arrive remains unclear.
Just when the baggage will arrive is also unclear. The trains no longer bring it to the nearby village. That is done by trucks, so we will see what they do.
As usual, after a trip to the USA, I am a bit overwhelmed. The size factor is to blame mostly. Such big stores, highways, airports, cars, inventory, etc. The number of cell phones probably isn't any greater than in CH, but because of so many people, it seems larger. I never knew that one was supposed to make an immediate call to someone before the plane reaches the gate. Who are these folks calling? Cabs? Worried relatives? Girlfriends? Spending some time in a Walmart Super Store or a Target Mega-whatever is a hoot in itself. Shopping carts abound that can easily hold a small elephant (sometimes a small elephant is pushing one). People frequently buy a case of peas instead of a can of the item. I saw very little cash pass hands. I can believe the credit debit is in the statosphere.
I swear that the traffic in a medium sized North Alabama town at certain hours rivals that of the freeways in Los Angeles. Gas is cheap by CH standards, but especially in Texas, there is a Hummer at every intersection. Pickups still outnumber Hummers in Alabama. Gas stations are usually packed with customers. The number of restaurants is scary. Some are packed with people while others seem nearly abandoned. How do all these eateries pay the rent? I guess the same way that some of the empty mall stores do.
All along, a recurring thought kept swinging into my head. What happens when the gasoline pumps are dry, or the price is ten times what it is now? Gasoline is now over ten times the cost per gallon that it was 50 years ago when I began to drive. I am not a tree-hugging doomsayer, just curious.
Just when the baggage will arrive is also unclear. The trains no longer bring it to the nearby village. That is done by trucks, so we will see what they do.
As usual, after a trip to the USA, I am a bit overwhelmed. The size factor is to blame mostly. Such big stores, highways, airports, cars, inventory, etc. The number of cell phones probably isn't any greater than in CH, but because of so many people, it seems larger. I never knew that one was supposed to make an immediate call to someone before the plane reaches the gate. Who are these folks calling? Cabs? Worried relatives? Girlfriends? Spending some time in a Walmart Super Store or a Target Mega-whatever is a hoot in itself. Shopping carts abound that can easily hold a small elephant (sometimes a small elephant is pushing one). People frequently buy a case of peas instead of a can of the item. I saw very little cash pass hands. I can believe the credit debit is in the statosphere.
I swear that the traffic in a medium sized North Alabama town at certain hours rivals that of the freeways in Los Angeles. Gas is cheap by CH standards, but especially in Texas, there is a Hummer at every intersection. Pickups still outnumber Hummers in Alabama. Gas stations are usually packed with customers. The number of restaurants is scary. Some are packed with people while others seem nearly abandoned. How do all these eateries pay the rent? I guess the same way that some of the empty mall stores do.
All along, a recurring thought kept swinging into my head. What happens when the gasoline pumps are dry, or the price is ten times what it is now? Gasoline is now over ten times the cost per gallon that it was 50 years ago when I began to drive. I am not a tree-hugging doomsayer, just curious.
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