Grammarians Gone Wild

Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson, pleaded guilty to vandalism after damaging an historic, hand-painted sign at Grand Canyon National Park. On March 28, they were accused of using a whiteout product and a permanent marker to deface a sign that's a National Historic Landmark.
Investigators learned of the vandalism from an Internet site operated by Deck on behalf of the Typo Eradication Advancement League, or TEAL.
According to the Internet posting, TEAL members correct typos on public signs. (The TEAL site is currently unavailable) Original and corrected signs are photographed and posted at the site. A detailed map tracks the progress of the grammar vigilantes' cross-country crusade.
In addition to being banned from national parks for a year, the two are barred from modifying any public signs and must pay restitution to repair the Grand Canyon sign. Read more...

Errors on public signs irritate me too, but I wouldn't deface a national monument in the name of good grammar. What kind of sentence includes being barred from modifying any public sign?

I have never experienced a 'whiteout emergency'; maybe I don't truly have a type-o personality.


Tags: [Jeff Deck] [Benjamin Herson]
[T.E.A.L.]
[Vandalism] [Good Grammar]
[Personality Types]

Honoring Mothers Defending Children

Motherhood is called a great surrender.

The mother surrenders control of her body to the child during her pregnancy. After the birth, mothers surrender to the unpredictability of their cherubs. We watch proudly as our little one achieves milestones and develops and displays her personality.

The great surrender doesn't mean resignation; good mothers recognize the perils of control and raise empowered children. Mothers protect and defend children. It teaches young ones how to protect and defend themselves.

All that to get to this: A Michigan mom faces aggravated assault charges after her daughter was involved in a fight at school.   Read more...

Loving your child unconditionally doesn't mean you beat down the security guard at her school! Our civilized society may have forgotten that defending the child doesn't mean absolving him of responsibility. Face it, your kid isn't always right.

Mom may choose to use this to illustrate that actions have consequences.

Tags: [Ottawa Hills High School]   [Grand Rapids, MI]   [School Safety]
[Mary Lee Brown]   [Mother]

Random Recommendation

I came upon a crew from Humane Wildlife Control Inc. while I was walking the dog. They were evicting squirrels from a home in the neighborhood.

The ad on the van indicated they offered control of raccoons, squirrels, bats, mice, skunks and birds. I asked the rep, who was at ground level, if they also offered service for chipmunk problems.

"No," he replied. "Coyotes control chipmunks. If you have a problem with chipmunks, you need a coyote. A fox might do it too." (I don't have a problem with chipmunks, I was asking for someone else who does.)

I checked out the triple extension ladder the crew used to get to the rooftop and it gave me an idea. "Would you be able to replace the downspout on my house?" I asked. We've needed this done since the fall. It was a job nobody wanted to do, so it was languishing on the To-Do List.

I explained that our extension ladder didn't stretch far enough for us to reach the eave where the downspout had disconnected.

Manny came to check it out. We had all the pieces of the downspout. We needed a screw to hold it together at the eave and some new strapping on the lower section. His son held the ladder and Manny reassembled the drain system and fastened it securely at the eave.

"Promise me that you'll replace the lower strapping today. If you wait, you'll end up with the same problem," he warned.
I promised it would be done.

He wouldn't even accept a cold drink for his trouble. He passed me a stack of fridge magnets to distribute and said, "If you have a problem with wildlife, make sure you call me."

Humane Wildlife Control Inc. offers service throughout Ontario and Quebec. If you have a problem with nuisance wildlife, call them.


Tags: [Wildlife Control] [SPCA]
[Humane Society] [Nuisance Wildlife]

Latest in Home Repair

From, The Times, June 26, 2007:

Haynes manuals, the bible of home car mechanics, are branching out to take on a particularly tricky and temperamental model – the teenager.

The publishing company, which specialises in step-by-step guides to vehicle repair, has swapped horse power for hormones in an attempt to broaden its market now that cars are all but DIY-proof. Read the rest of the story...

At amazon.com, a search under the topic of 'parenting' results in more than 82,000 titles. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have one more!

When you need a firing order, turn to Haynes Manuals. When you need torque specs, Haynes will provide it. Ditto for wiring diagrams and removing the bezzel from around the gear shifter.

But parenting? I'd just sum it up this way: Intermittent problem, may lead to short fuse, no further explanation available.

[DIY Repairs] [Haynes Repair Manual] [Parenting]

Seriously, Folks...

I know that regular readers are not used to posts without sarcasm or irony or a little poke of fun. I have to get serious for a moment.

In our world, with its increasingly self-absorbed society, it might be easy to lose faith in humanity. If you submit to it, another cynic evolves. Each of us has probably witnessed at least 10 acts of selfishness in the past 24 hours. We won't recount them; it's not productive.

The prevalence of insolence makes me value considerate kindness even more. It is humbling to receive.

I have been the recipient of selfless generosity - from family, relatives, friends and friends-of-friends. There are truly no words great enough to express my gratitude for your help in getting me the treatment that I need. Without your support, encouragement, assistance and the occasional respite, this new lease on life would not have come my way.

From what you may term small deeds (your word, not mine) to large bestowals, each made a valued contribution to get me to this point of progress. I am grateful and want you to know that we appreciate it all.

Over the past 12 months, the stamina of our family has been tested many times...repeatedly...at length...ad nauseam...and each time our strength has proven greater than the challenge. We really will do anything for each other.

And we know Sincere and Great people.

Thank you!
Please pass this thank you post on to those who may not read this blog regularly.

---

Below the line:

My parents took me to Cleveland and all I got was life-saving surgery.

Thank you for being our family.

Michelle's gonna cry.

Summers ahead 3-0.

---

We now return to our regular programming.

Noise Filter

John's been driving his newer car for over a week. I asked him if everything was OK with it. "Yeah. It's OK." He paused.
"It sounds like there's a but coming," I said. "Well, it's just that there's this noise. It's not all the time. It's there when I back out of the driveway. And then it's just intermittent. This sounds stupid, but the noise reminds me of a creaky spring. I don't know what it is," he finished.

Two years ago, I drove to meet John to switch cars. I got into his car, pulled out of the parking lot and heard a noise. A clunk and a screech. I took my foot off the accelerator to see if I could hear it again. BAM! The car stopped and dropped at the right front corner. "What the..." I got out to see what was up. The wheel had fallen off. I looked at the angle of the wheel to the ground and surmised a broken ball joint. There had been a noise in the car that he hadn't mentioned. He's improving.

When we went to the store later, John drove. He turned off the radio so we could listen for the noise. I heard it. It was coming from the right rear. It did sound like a spring. Hmmm. We listened some more. I missed it one time because I was relating this story:

There was a time that I was the Manager of Automotive Parts and Service at a retail outlet. A customer called me, concerned about a noise she was hearing after having front and rear brakes replaced the previous day. After the repairs were completed, she drove the vehicle home. Her husband then drove the car. She was driving it for the first time this day. The noise wasn't present yesterday. I asked her to describe the noise. When did she hear it? Did it ever change or go away? I invited her to come to the store so I could take it for a test drive with her. On the drive, I heard the noise too. It was an odd rattling sound. Not quite a rattle, and not a rumble. We drove to the next block. I leaned forward and touched the brakes. I heard it louder. I did it again but went harder on the pedal. I reached down, opened the ashtray and removed a golf ball. No more noise.

John pulled into the driveway and I heard that 'sproing' clear as a bell. "You know what that sounds like?" I asked as I got out of the car. "Yep, here's the noise," I said from the rear of the car, as I tightened the antenna.

No more noise.

Suburban Smash

We were driving into the parking lot at Mimico Arena. Jessica's team was playing the first game of the North Metro Playoff series against Uxbridge.

Our usual spot was taken, but a large Suburban was pulling out of the spot beside that space. We waited for him to leave, so we could park there.

"Cut the wheel. Cut the wheel," I coached from inside our vehicle.
"He's going to hit that van," Jess said.
As she finished the sentence, BAM, the Suburban rammed into a Pontiac Montana parked across the lane.

The driver of the truck pulled forward and prepared to pull out of the parking lot. He stopped when I waved him down.

"You just hit that van," I told him. The van had rocked considerably upon being struck. He had to know!
"Oh," he said. He put the shifter into reverse and added, "I guess I'd better check it out then."

The driver of the Suburban made a big display of checking the van out for damage. He stood back, like he was having trouble seeing the door. He shrugged. He walked from the front to the rear of the vehicle, all the while peering closely at the side panels. It was a terrible performance.

We went into the arena and asked people in the lobby if they owned the Montana. I asked the fans watching a game from the boards. I went up to the stands and asked. I interrupted the mini-stick game under the booth and asked the fans in the Home stands. Jackpot.

The owner of the van came out to the parking lot, to find the Suburban was gone. It was easy to see the dent, stretching about 4 feet along the sliding door and passenger door of the van. The owner of the van looked to see if some contact information had been left under the wiper blade. None. Back in the lobby, I gave Jim my contact information and the plate # of the truck.

Mr. Suburban-driver had been watching two teams of 9 and 10 year-old girls play a non-competitive house-league game at the arena. I hope he wasn't one of the coaches. Imagine this dressing room talk: 'OK, girls, we're here to have fun. So make sure when you're out there...if you do something wrong, like hit another player, well, just do your best to get away with it.'

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Million Dollar Blog

Gifter.org invites you to make a wish and/or sponsor a wish.

They have initiated a campaign to collect one million wishes sponsored by one million dollars in donations made to charities around the world, hence, The Million Dollar Blog Post. Follow the instructions at the Gifter site to ensure your wish and sponsorship are included.

Here's my own humble offering to the Daily Bread Food Bank in Toronto and CanadaHelps.org.



Go ahead, make a wish... it's on me!

Thanks to Joe Summers for sending the link.

[Gifter.org] [Daily Bread Food Bank] [CanadaHelps.org]
[Million Dollar Blog]

I'm Not Hercules

Monday 1:30 p.m. at an intersection. This particular intersection has a total of 7 left turn lanes, 8 lanes for thru-traffic, plus each direction has a right turn lane. It is a major intersection.

I was the first car in an outside left turn lane and my light was red. There was a car in the middle of the intersection. The car wasn't moving and was positioned in such a way that traffic could not pass. Right turns could be made and one southbound lane was passing.

Horns started. I rolled down the window and heard the driver trying to start the engine. I got out of my car, approached the stranded driver and asked what the problem was.
"I ran out of gas. I called the Auto Club," the older man said. By older, I mean older than my parents (who are still young).

"Well, we gotta get you out of the intersection. We'll have to push you out of the way." I said.
I was far enough from the car that we had to raise our voices. And there were lots of cars around. Many drivers had windows open on their vehicles.

Again, louder, I said, "We'll have to push the car out of the way." I waved to a couple drivers to encourage them to help. One was on the phone; another had to adjust something on the dash. All the while, more cars lined up and waited for the man's Oldsmobile to get out of the way.

Now, I'm no Hercules. I'm not Goliath. I'm not feeble, but I know that I do not look like I can single-handedly move this man's car across 3 lanes of roadway. I could not interest anyone in helping. Finally, four cars behind mine, a door opened. The driver got out and came to help.

We did it. Me and this other guy. While the others watched. Once the Olds was out of the way, we shook hands and went back to our own vehicles.

I do not understand how any of those other drivers could watch this situation, assess it and then make a conscious effort to not help. Sad, isn't it?

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Call My Family

My family's largest fault is that we do not ask for help. So, when someone does ask, it means he or she really needs it. Several months ago, Michelle was admonishing me for not asking for help. She said that there would never be a circumstance when you couldn't call your family for help.

"Well," I said "If a bus runs me over, I would not refuse the help of strangers and ask them to call my family to help instead."
"OK," she agreed, "but that is probably the only circumstance. Now, promise that you wouldn't accept help from the strangers only after you try to lift the bus by yourself."

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