Last winter I lost a library book.

No, I didn’t misplace it; I know exactly where I lost it.  I had gone to a public place to eat lunch and do some shopping.  I had my arms full with a coat and a purse and a library book and a shopping list and reusable shopping bags.  I sat for a while eating my lunch and reading, then I went shopping.  When I got home and unloaded everything from my car, the book just wasn’t there.  I called the public place to see if some kind person had turned it in.  No luck.

A day or two before the book was due, I went to the library and ‘fessed up.  Since no kind person had turned the book in there, either, I paid for it.

That was several months ago, so I assume someone out there has, free of charge, a mildly interesting mystery novel with heavy-duty binding.  I can only hope that person has enjoyed it, maybe shared it with friends.  It would break my heart to know that he or she just threw it away.

A few weeks ago I turned off 21^st Street onto the entrance ramp to I-470.  There was a book lying there.  Even from a moving car, I could tell it had library binding.  There’s a little pull-off right there and traffic was light, so I stopped.  I walked back and picked up the book.

No, it was not THAT book.  We’re talking coincidences here, not miracles.  But it was a book from our local library.

On the way home that evening, I went by the Fairlawn Plaza library book drop, fully intending to return the book to the library that way.  But the Bookmobile was there, so I was able to hand the book to a real person.  I had the satisfaction of telling her my story, and she gave me a nice verbal pat on the back for my kindness. 

So, you out there.  You whose kid threw the library book out the car window onto the entrance ramp when traffic was too heavy for you to stop.  Yeah, you.

You’re welcome.

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Easter candy taketh away the thins of the world.

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I recently wrote to a correspondent who lives in the Bay Area that I am a Midwesterner by temperament.  He wrote back asking what that means, and “how to recognize one.”

That set me back a notch, because I realized I couldn’t define my terms; I couldn’t put into words just what it means to feel like a Midwesterner.  So I have been surveying friends who have lived both here and elsewhere, and I think I now have some insights:

Midwesterners are the base of the pyramid, the rock-solid foundation that holds steady in times of volatility. 

We are the original back-to-the-basics folks, and we don’t much hold with some of that foolishness out there.

We are exasperatingly provincial.

While few of us work the land any more, even those of us living in the cities are seldom more than one degree of separation from those who do.  Big-city dwellers near the coasts may know where there is a sheep farm to see lambs in the spring, or a pumpkin patch to pick pumpkins in the fall, but I know the sheep farmer and the pumpkin patch owner by name.

Whatever frivolous trends may show up far east and west of us, you can be sure that by the time it gets here it will be passé wherever it originated, and whatever version of it we choose to adopt will be pretty tame.  After all, we’re not going to toss it out just because some durn-fool designer says it’s no longer fashionable.

Visiting family on the west coast a year or two ago, I was told that, no matter what my age or my weight, out there I would be expected to wear form-fitting clothes; and, if I insisted on wearing overblouses that loosely cover my stomach and my rear end, everyone who looked at me would know I was from Kansas.  It was not said unkindly, but I wish I had spoken up and said that I don’t consider being obviously from Kansas a bad thing.

The fact is, around here you’re expected to know when you shouldn’t dress like that any more.  You’re expected to be aware, when the combination of your age and weight has passed some critical point, that it’s time to cover up a little more.  If I wore form-fitting clothes around here, people would ask each other if I had looked in the mirror before I walked out the door.  And my good friends would ask me if I were okay.

So in answer to your question, my more sophisticated friend, you can spot a Midwesterner because she’ll be wearing Sarah Palin glasses long after Sarah herself has quit wearing them, modest clothing if she’s no longer a youngster, and may have just a slight scent of pumpkin patch about her.

But, I guarantee you, you can depend on her.

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Is access to health care a right or a privilege?  This week “we” have decided, apparently, that it is a right.  The businesses that have historically eased that access, the health insurance industry, have been cast as the bad guys, greedy bastards interested only in making a profit.  They will no longer be allowed to make sound business decisions like charging more for older clients and pre-existing conditions.  And when they fail as businesses, well, we can always take on that role as a society and tax ourselves into oblivion by refusing to make those same sound business decisions.  After all, everyone, no matter what, has the right to access to health care.

Is access to food a right or a privilege?  The need for food is more immediate and usually more urgent than access to health care.  It follows that the businesses that grow, process, distribute, and sell our food are greedy bastards, too, interested only in making a profit.  They should no longer be allowed to refuse to give their products to people who cannot or will not pay for them.  And when they fail as businesses, well, we can always take on that role as a society.  After all, everyone, no matter what, has the right to access to food.

Is access to clothing a right or a privilege?  Surely it’s more urgent than health insurance.  What will we do about those greedy bastards who would rather make a profit than distribute clothing and shoes, free, to the needy?  Do they even deserve to stay in business?  Doesn’t everyone, no matter what, deserve access to clothing?

Is access to housing a right or a privilege?

Transportation?  Recreation?  House repairs?  Clothing repairs?  Car repairs?  Snow removal?  A furnace?  An air conditioner?  A water heater?  An umbrella?  Hand sanitizer?

Posted by Sharon under Libertarianism | 1 Comment »

Last fall, we Topekans voted a sales tax increase to fix our city streets. Never mind that city ordinances require that money be set aside from existing taxes for street repair.

For several months now, we have been paying an additional 0.5% (total: 7.95%), and neither I nor anyone I know has ever seen the streets in worse shape. Interestingly, there are a number of road construction projects underway, but precious little repair.

I was inspired to write this piece of literature by the evasive actions required to maintain some semblance of alignment in the front of my car.

The Topeka Pothole Hoedown

Well, swing that steering wheel off to the right.
If you fall in that hole you’ll be out of sight.
If you fall in that hole you will never be found,
And your tires will never again be round.
You will never again see the light of day,
Oh, Yippy Ky-Yo and-a (Stomp!) Ky-Yay!

Well, slam on the brakes and go real slow.
You don’t wanna speed through that big ol’ hole.
It’ll rattle your doors and pop your hood,
And won’t do your axles no darn good.
If my car had wings it’d fly away,
Oh, Yippy Ky-Yo and-a (Stomp!) Ky-Yay!

Oh, swing that steering wheel off to the left.
Ya think the tax increase mighta been theft?
They raised our taxes to fix the roads.
But whatever happened to all that dough?
We may never know, but what the hey.
Oh, Yippy Ky-Yo and-a (Stomp!) Ky-Yay!

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I suspect that each of us has a number of activities which we secretly feel are not valid if they are easy. The results of our labors are valuable only if producing them is difficult, painful, or otherwise mildly unpleasant. Here’s one of mine.

This is the way Christmas shopping used to be:

First you went out shopping at the local stores. Sometimes you knew what you wanted to buy, and sometimes you went out there counting on divine intervention. Once you had purchased the gifts, you took them home to wrap. It was a bonus if they came already boxed; but many gifts, notably clothes and toys, arrived home scrunched up in the bottom of a shopping bag. Most basements featured a pile of boxes suitable for gifts because they were clean, presentable, and didn’t smell bad. None of them, of course, was the right size or shape for the just-purchased gifts, but you could usually find some that were pretty close.

Then it was time to wrap the gifts. You got out the wrapping paper, ribbon, cellophane tape, and gift tags. The dining table had to be cleared, because there were invariably some big packages. And no matter how you planned and cut, there were always several pieces of wrapping paper left over too small to wrap anything and too big to throw away. I always wrapped them back around the roll they had come from, confident that next year I would have a tiny package just exactly the right size for that 4-by-6-inch piece of paper.

Once the gifts were wrapped, some of them had to be mailed. Back to the basement you went, to the other pile of boxes – the mailing boxes. It was a sure bet that not one of them was the right size and shape for what you wanted to mail, so you had a choice – you could either pick one way too big and stuff the extra space with newspaper, or you could cut one down to the right size. Either way, the USPS expected you to show up with your package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string. The brown paper and string were in the basement somewhere over there with the mailing boxes.

All this had to be done by December 10 to ensure safe arrival by Christmas.

This is the way Christmas shopping is now:

Go to the website, pull up recipient’s wish list, choose something in your price range, click on it, choose to have it gift wrapped, enter recipient’s address and your credit card number, click “submit.” You can do that as late as December 23 if you’re willing to pay a lot for shipping.

It’s the easiest thing in the world, and the recipient gets what he or she wants.

So why do I feel so guilty?

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Several nights ago, having fallen asleep trying to watch television, I was awakened by a raucous commercial. A young, attractive couple had rushed into a pharmacy frantically looking for a specific sort of condom. They were breathlessly demanding that the pharmacist tell them where it was so that they could buy some and hurry home.

They were not in such a hurry that they couldn’t explain why it’s so wonderful. Apparently, “his side” and “her side” are coated with different chemicals, and they…well, I don’t know what they do. I was still partly asleep, although waking up rapidly.

So here’s my question.

If the condom comes rolled up in its wrapper, don’t the chemicals on “his side” and “her side” get all mixed together?

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October 8, 2009
To the Editor
Topeka Capital-Journal

I’d like to comment on Don Baldwin’s letter in the October 8 issue of the Topeka Capital-Journal.

While there is merit in much of what Mr. Baldwin says, he is mistaken on one important point. He states that the “Constitution clearly states that the majority rules,” then goes on to decry the fact that we “don’t live in a democracy anymore.”

A democracy is arguably one of the worst forms of government imaginable. In a true democracy, every person votes on every issue, and the majority rules. In a true democracy, the majority can dictate every detail of your life, including where you work, where you live, and even the name of your next child. It’s called “Tyranny of the Majority,” and has been explored by many writers over the past several hundred years.

In a constitutional rebublic such as ours, the voters elect people to vote for them on state and national issues, and the Constitution specifies what items the elected representatives can control — national defense, treaties with other nations, regulation of interstate commerce and the like. Our tenth amendment makes it quite clear that every power not specifically granted to the federal government is reserved to the states or to the people. Echoing that, the Kansas state constitution leaves to the people all powers not specifically granted to the state government.

In other words, you control every aspect of your life, even if you are a minority of one, except for those very few functions specifically granted to the government by the Constitution.

Sharon DuBois

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I have figured it out.

I am NOT overweight!

I have been using a shampoo that claims it will provide “more body.” Now, when I rinse my hair in the shower, the shampoo flows down all over me, and I am convinced that it is just living up to its advertised promise.

No, really. When I was a young woman, I always washed my hair over the sink and the shampoo never touched anything but my head. And I didn’t have anywhere near this much body.

This is not my fault! Blame the shampoo industry!

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