Happy New Year!

 

Here are a few of my favorite New Year’s resolutions written by famous people. Following these inspiring resolutions are my wishes for both you and me for the new year of 2024. (written before midnight on 123123.)

 

“New Year`s is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, friendly calls, and humbug resolutions” – Mark Twain

“Last Year’s resolution was to lose 20 pounds – Only 30 pounds to go.”-Anonymous

“If you want an interesting party, combine cocktails and a fresh box of crayons for everybody.” -Robert Fulghum

“Come gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.” William Shakespeare

“Every New Year’s I have the same question, ` How did I get home?” - Melanie White

“This New Year`s I was going to make a resolution never to be late again, but I didn’t wake up until Jan. 2” -Melanie White

“Out with the old, in with the new” is a fitting expression for a holiday that is based on vomiting.” – Andy Borowitz

“I was going to quit all my bad habits, but then I remembered that nobody likes a quitter.” –Anonymous

Now, here are my personal resolutions:                    

To my Silver Sneaker Friends – “I promise not to let you do stupid stuff all by yourselves.”

I think New Year’s resolutions often fail because people aim too high. Here is a suggestion for an achievable resolution –“I promise not to eat the entire ‘family sized pizza` myself.”

“This year I resolve to remember where I sat my coffee cup and my pickleball bag.”

“My wish for 2024 is that we have a year filled with happiness, laughter and love.”

 

Bill

 

Bill

 

 

 

Celebrating Christmas 2023

I may not have mentioned that Marjorie and I regularly attend Roscommon’s Good Shepherd United Methodist Church of the North. (Ours may not be the largest church in the area but we certainly have the largest name.) The church, like many others, has an annual decline in attendance about this time of year when our snowbirds decide to vacate the area for warmer climes. The temporary decline in attendance means that additional participation from the membership is needed during the Service to assure that all the religious ceremonies associated can be managed.

Accordingly, it was not a surprise when Marjorie mentioned to me that the church leadership had asked if we would manage the ritual of lighting the candles for the fourth and last step in celebrating the Advent Season. Of course, we said yes. Subsequently, a note appeared on our computer files that listed a two-paragraph text to accompany the lighting of the candles and an additional text for a thoughtful prayer to follow the readings. Marjorie was willing to read the prayer, leaving the aforementioned text and the lighting of the candles to me.

Our church has moved into the 20^th century with the use of pretend flames and/or an automatic fire starter for such things as lighting candles. The devices commonly used in our church for such things are the everyday butane igniters. The church must purchase them in gross since I’ve watched the minister countless times casually using the igniters for numerous candle-fired ceremonies.

I don’t mean to brag, but I have lengthy experience in using the butane-filled plastic guns that serve as our modern-day fire igniters. Mostly, they don’t work for me. At least, the ones I use daily to light the fire in our wood stove are not reliable as they routinely require three or four clicks and a swear word to function properly. I decided to expect the worst in my part of the candle- lighting ceremony for Advent.

I have told you in the past that Marjorie and I are also dedicated participants in our Silver Sneakers exercise class where we have developed several friendships. Some weeks ago, one of the new friends confided that she was looking for a church that could satisfy her religious longings. I quickly put two and two together and invited her to our Methodist Church. A potential new member to our church, I speculated. She attended one time and then missed the next several Sundays without further comment. Last week, and just before my starring role in the Advent ceremony, she told me that she had finished wrestling with the decision to discontinue her earlier church association and commit to Good Shepherd. It must have been during this explanation that she asked about attending church with us, and by the way, ‘what time do the Services begin?’

I thought no more about it until this past Sunday when our assignment about Advent was to occur. We arrived early and sat in the pew directly in front of the minister’s customary position when giving his sermon – a spot closest to the table with the candles and adjacent to the two microphones used to broadcast the sermon or other important announcements, like the Advent ceremony.

The service began with the normal introductory announcements by the minister that I followed closely, expecting him to urge us forward at any moment for our part of the service. Suddenly, I felt a substantial nudge against my shoulder. It was the Silver Sneakers friend who had just arrived at the church and, spotting us on the front row, had made her way down one of the two aisles to the front of the church where we were nervously awaiting our turn in the spotlight. In all likelihood, the entire congregation had watched the lady arrive and make her way to the front of the church.

I turned to look at the intruder now standing beside me. She made a whispered, but forceful comment. “You told me church started at 10:30, not 10:00 AM.” I must have looked stunned as I searched my memory for recall about a time announcement. Nothing arose. Just then, the minister signaled to us, and Marjorie and I made our way to the raised platform to face the expectant congregation.

Marjorie and I each had our own paper containing the script for the Advent readings. We had decided that I would go first, reading the first piece, followed by lighting of the candles, then the second piece, before I would introduce Marjorie and her prayer duty. We each clutched our paper as we moved slowly and stiffly to the Dias with the speed and gravity that I thought appropriate to the ceremony.

As I stepped behind the table with the candles, I must have been thinking about the reluctant igniter. I grabbed it for a practice firing as I was accustomed to doing at home. To my surprise, the igniter sent a burst of blue flame at the business end. The candles stood in front of me. There was nothing for it, as it seemed a natural movement to light the first candle, then its neighbor and suddenly I had a nice fire going as all four candles were ablaze. As I laid the igniter aside, I noticed the piece of paper that I was to read from. Words started coming from my mouth and I completed the first paragraph without incident … and then the second paragraph erupted almost magically from my mouth. I had concluded my part of the ceremony but not in the order expected.

It was then that I noticed the white space in the script where I was to pause while I ignited the candles. I had forgotten that lighting the candles was supposed to be an integral part of the text. With that realization it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I HAD ALSO given the wrong church starting time to my friend and maybe I had thoughtlessly given the first and second part of my speech AFTER lighting the candles instead of the sequence speak, light the fire, speak again, introduce Marjorie.

I remember turning to the audience. “Now I will ignite the candles,” I announced as I made a show of laying my paper aside. I was rewarded by a few smiles from the audience members who were listening and recognized my screw up. At this point, I remembered Marjorie and the prayer. I announced her part then she walked to the microphones just as I should have also done.

I stood my ground, hoping that my place next to the candles was the pre-ordained place for me while she reverently broadcast her prayer. She finished and I slunk behind her to our seats in front, next to the lady who had endured the stares of the congregation as she walked in to join us.

During the remainder of the church service, I tried to think of something positive about my part of the Advent ceremony. And then it hit me; I decided that one good thing about my first Christmas Advent reading was that I probably wouldn’t be asked to volunteer for another reading for quite some while.

I hope you had a Merry Christmas and it was just as joyous as mine and maybe with fewer mistakes in the religious arena.

 

Bad News for Michigan and a Xmas Gift to Enbridge

 

The battle for clean air and the reduction of the pollutant, carbon dioxide, took a step backward this month when the Michigan Public Service Commission announced their decision concerning the Canadian oil company giant Enbridge and their pipeline known as Line 5. (See my previous blog “Saving the Great Lakes” Nov 2, 2023.

The nominal decision-maker in this circumstance is Michigan’s public authority, the Public Service Commission. The Commission is charged by law with making decisions in the public interest that energy companies (think Consumer’s Power, Detroit Edison, and myriad others) must abide by to do business in Michigan. (The Commissioners of the three-member Public Service Commission are named by Michigan’s Governor with new members being named on a regular basis.)

This controversary that the Public Service Commission has weighed into is Enbridge’s refusal to follow the rules concerning Michigan’s authority over leases that involve placing Michigan citizens in harm’s way or, more specifically, refusing to follow direction from Michigan’s Governor when she decided that Line 5 should be shut down given its risk to the Great Lakes and Michigan citizenry. The Governor must have thought she settled the controversary when she told Enbridge that the authority to operate Line 5 had expired 20 years earlier and she would not extend the lease. Enbridge quickly responded by refusing to recognize the Governor’s authority and replied that an obscure treaty between Canada and United States overrode the Governor’s authority. This extraordinary claim provoked legal wrangling between the two parties with suits and counter suits that seem to this author as a means of allowing the status quo to exist which Enbridge very much favors.

It was into this cauldron of competing claims that the (PSC) Public Service Commission stepped as their authority would seem to dictate. On December 10, after months of debates and public pronouncements, the PSC announced their decision. They said that Enbridge could continue to use Line 5 in its current form until a new design for the line could be completed and installed. Enbridge claims that this new pipeline design, which involves building a tunnel under the Staits of Mackinaw, would lower the risk of daily pumping several million gallons of oil and gas into the Great Lakes waterway. It is not a foregone conclusion that this would solve the dilemma – the tunnel is expected to take several years to design and build AFTER the designs are finalized and APPROVED by the US Army Corp of Engineers. It seems more like kicking the can down the road in deference to Enbridge and their powerful legal team.

I read about the PSC announcement that included a report. The Commission’s decision was by majority vote – 2 to 1 in favor of the status quo for the next five years or more until the tunnel issue is settled. The abstaining member remained silent on her rationale, but the other two members seemingly used a staff report as the rationale for their decision.

I decided to read the staff report. (It was unsigned by the way). I had some trouble reading it.

Make that a lot of trouble since the report was not written in English, nor was it intended to explain anything as nearly as I could tell. I began on page one, intending to read every word in search of something that made sense to me. After 40 pages of what appeared to be a legal brief and history of Line 5, I decided to give up on reading every word. Instead, I decided to skim the report and search for anything that sounded like an excuse for the incomprehensible decision. This change in approach didn’t help. The text was written using rare English words that were presumably useful for 3^rd year law students but just as certainly not suitable for ordinary readers despite my love for current and past American literature.

By page 50, I was turning page after page with little comprehension of anything that had to do with tunnels, pipelines, or legal authority for contrary action. Yet the report continued. I was reduced to turning pages as fast as possible until the end. I checked the last page number; 350 pages had been filled.

I suspect the PSC members did not read the report but merely weighed the completed copy and congratulated the staff writers for its voluminous nature that must have seemed appropriate as a testimony to the importance of legal briefs when common sense is denied.

Let me know what you think.

 

 

First Snowfall

 

 

*Today, November 27, 2023, a Monday that will live in infamy, since this day saw the first substantial snowfall that came to Roscommon, MI. Of course, we have had earlier ‘teaser snowfalls’ [those that my neighbor said delivered merely a skiff of snow – the type that comes one day and departs the next.]

Today’s snowfall was nothing like that. This was an honest-to-God snowfall that toyed with us in the morning and then continued in the afternoon. It was clear that snowblower season had arrived. Unfortunately, I had an early appointment demanding my attention most of the morning. When I arrived home at lunch time, I knew immediately that a snow emergency had arisen. I had fallen prey to a white accumulation and by early afternoon I saw the dreaded tracks that had already shown themselves by dint of the morning motoring over the expansive white, cementing the snow into two clearly discernable tracks on the driveway, never to be removed unless I took immediate and decisive action.

It was time to retrieve my snowblower from the dark recesses of the barn. Unfortunately, by the time I reached this decision the wind was blowing somewhere in the vicinity of 30 to 60 miles an hour. At least, that it what it felt like when I made my way to the barn and wrenched the machine from the darkest corner where I had left it last spring.

*As noted, I began this blog on Monday. It snowed again on Tuesday morning, thus provoking the need for a revision. By Wednesday it was apparent that the entire text needed revision, so I did. See more below.

**Last year’s failure to remove the snow before tracks appeared led to a season long strip of ice on the driveway, never to be removed. Not only was the ice hazardous, it also revealed to my neighbors my ineptitude in dealing with a common nuisance for those of us who live in the north woods.

Today, November 28, 2023, a Tuesday that will live in infamy, since this day saw a sequential two-day snowfall that came to Roscommon, MI. The snow had covered the driveway for a second time overnight. Unfortunately, Tuesday was the day that I was forced to leave home early to attend our regular exercise class in the village. In other words, I was forced to drive on the freshly deposited snow, no doubt creating fresh tracks that would stand out for all the neighbors to see, especially my next-door neighbor who always shoveled his driveway by hand and NEVER, EVER drove his car on fresh snow. His driveway always looked pristine. What I dreaded most was him commenting on my work with the flat bladed shovel. But he did.

“Looks like you’re having a hard time removing the ice, Bill. The best thing to do is don’t drive on fresh snow,” he offered. I muttered an unmentionable reply as he drove off.

I was confident in my ability to remove the snow this year since I now owned a new snowblower, a two--stage humdinger that could throw the snow an easy 20-30 feet distance from the driveway. Unfortunately, I had forgotten one of the details of elementary physics that demanded the snow must be thrown several feet high to allow it to be thrown several feet distant. Normally, this was an inconsequential detail – a common sense speck of knowledge of no particular consequence – unless the wind is blowing at 30 to 60 miles per hour, in which case the airborne snow has an equal probability to circle back and blow directly into the face of the snowblower. That was me. I quickly deduced that I had insufficient clothing and no means of peering through a wall of snow.

I retreated to the house for a better hat, artic type gloves, and a rain-proof outer jacket allowing a make-shift shroud over my face. Thus prepared, I began anew. In ten-minutes I was covered in snow, indistinguishable from the adjacent trees and shrubs which had endured the snowfall far longer than me. Regardless, I completed the plowing job in record time, notwithstanding the two strips of packed snow that stood out like jewelry on a bride’s neck.

I put the snowblower away and broke out the other new tool from last year – a long handed spade-like device with a single eight-inch flat blade designed for removing flattened snow that is rapidly becoming ice. Scraping the concrete to remove the strip was hard work. It took as long as the snow blowing job to remove only a fraction of the square footage of the driveway. I persisted. Finally, the job was finished.

Today, November 29, 2023, a Wednesday that will live in infamy, since this day saw another snowfall, albeit with only a small accumulation. Wednesday’s schedule included a slew of errands in the village, thus creating more tracks and, once again, no time to scrape them. Given the new circumstances, I decided the Monday and Tuesday blog needed a revision. This provoked a complete re-write and the decision to forego all other activities until the driveway was scraped clean. It turned out to be totally unnecessary.

By noon, Wednesday’s temperature increased and passed the freezing point. The new snow and the new ice melted. The driveway looked pristine, my earlier efforts were found to be totally unnecessary. As I finished admiring the driveway and the blog re-write, I decided the whole thing was just one more brick in the wall.

Bill