http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
One of the proposed designs for the Iowa quarter was in honor of the Sullivan brothers. Those were the five brothers who insisted on serving on the same boat in World War 2. Their destroyer was sunk and all of them perished. It would be a safe bet that few people outside of Iowa have heard of them.
The US Mint has made a ruling on the proposed Iowa quarter to be issued in 2004. The U.S. Mint has rejected the Sullivans design because images of "any person, living or dead" are banned from state quarters. This seems harsh, but makes sense. Were it not for the ban every state with a Republican majority might have been inclined to use an image of Ronald Reagan and the motto, "E Pluribus Reagan." Or something like that. Thankfully, that's not an option.
Here's a suggestion. If they can't get Reagan's bust on Mt. Rushmore, maybe they could try New Hampshire. They have space on a mountain and a need to fill it. Looks like a win-win to me. New Hampshire regains a tourist attraction and Republicans gain a shrine.
Back to Iowa. The Sullivans are out. The Mint's ruling seems a little strict though. While the Sullivans certainly fall under the classification as "dead" the proposed design almost doesn't classify as the image of any one person- it's five overlapping profiles of a bust, and the facial image is so general it could be anyone but Jimmy Durante, Karl Malden, or Pinnochio.
On a side note, what has happened to great schnozzes? I can't think of any current media personalities that sports one. Have we become so image conscious that there's no room for the prominent proboscis? Forget Barbara Streisand, she doesn't count. She gets in under the Old Enough to be a Grandmother Clause. You don't want "Skin like buttah" on a a quarter anyway.
Back to Iowa. Not that you want to. There really isn't any "there" in Iowa. There's less "there" than there is in Oakland. The Iowa motto could be, "You can't go "there." The number one tourist destination in Iowa is the Amana colonies. That's right, the number one tourist attraction is watching old guys in black flannel suits drive a horse and buggy. People from all over go there to giggle at the Slow Moving Vehicle orange triangles. Yeah, sure, right.
Let's face it, there isn't much to do in Iowa. No mountains. No oceans. There are lakes, but every state has them, nextdoor Minnesota claims 10,000 of them. Prairie? Hardly unique, and most of it was put to the plow. You could spend a vacation just trying to find some. There are no significant natural, or unnatural, symbols of Iowa that are unique.
Most Iowans would become defensive if you pointed this out to them. They would say, "Yeah, but we're nice." Let me venture my personal opinion here. The reason Iowans are nice, is because there aren't enough of them. The reason there aren't enough of them is because the kids run like hell when they reach legal age.
Iowa has fews towns of any size. Most of them are small. Should you decide to walk down one of their main streets. You will be barraged by "hellos," "good mornings," "good afternoons," and "good evenings." You may even be stopped and find yourself in conversation with a complete stranger, because you are noticed. The whole street is a person's personal space.
While you can never be sure, you will probably be the subject of conversation when the amiable stranger gets home. You thought you were just a visitor walking down a street, to the locals you were the days entertainment. Even the larger ones, Des Moines, Cedar Rapids, and Davenport, are not very densely populated. You can walk down their mainstreets and acknowledge every person you meet.
Alright, maybe not Des Moines. Maybe not at rush hour. "Here it comes, there it goes!"
In a large city, most notably New York, people walk down the sidewalks shoulder to shoulder. It's quite impossible to acknowledge everyone. You have to pretend to ignore everyone because there is no other choice. No one enters your personal space, because the limit is your skin. And that's the Iowa secret of nice. There aren't enough of them to ignore you. They can be nice all the time.
Actually, people are nice everywhere. You just have to meet them outside of a crowd.
But back to quarters. Five Dead Guys is out, leaving us with five surviving contenders. Three of them feature a cow, pig, and cornstalk. One of them features the leaf of a.....cornstalk, inspired by Grant Wood. By the way, Grant Wood, could not be considered because he's dead, thereby running afoul of Mint regulations. The subjects of his most famous painting, 'American Gothic' are dead too, thereby.....uh huh.
Where were we? Oh yes, cow/pig/cornstalk "Feeding the World", cornstalk "Young Corn", and the remaining contender is........... a little country school house that would appear capable of pulling double duty as a church on any Sunday morning. It's motto is "Foundation in excellence." Iowa, we have schools for children built a century ago. Tuition is a bucket of coal.
Closer perusal of the designs reveals no "E Pluribus Reagan." A bit surprising since he worked at a radio station in Davenport before political ambition seized him. Like most famous Iowans, he was just passing through. In its hunger for identity any and everyone can be an Iowan. All you have to do is enter the state. All you have to do is enter its airspace. Overfly Iowa, become a celebrity, and someday the Iowa papers will refer to you as "the former Iowan."
In this era of warmer relations with Russia, airspace may be extended beyond the air. Thereby even making Cosmonauts Iowans. They may complain that they're giddy from oxygen deprivation, but really they're just overcome at becoming a citizen of the Nice State.
Ummmmmm, quarters. Nice is why no design will be submitted like- a mouth blowing a raspberry, with the motto, "Sullivans, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah." Nope, won't happen, it's not New York.
When the decision is finally made, and chances are 80% it's going to be a pig/cow/corn, there will be a statewide sigh of relief that can be heard all the way to Nebraska. That will be nice.
Publicserf
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
No post last night. I was determined to get some pictures up. It occurred to me that BloggerPro is supposed to support images, so they should have a way to upload them. Per Blogger instructions the correct FTP address is supposed to be automatically entered after clicking the "Upload" button. It was not. I wailed, I gnashed my teeth, neither did any good. I could not get it to work. Apparently it's too easy for me.
Eventually I caught myself falling asleep. It was time to give up. It would have been a miserable failure of a session except that I took a scanned picture of the wife and set it as the desktop.
Tonight, tonight we try again
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
No post last night. I was determined to get some pictures up. It occurred to me that BloggerPro is supposed to support images, so they should have a way to upload them. Per Blogger instructions the correct FTP address is supposed to be automatically entered after clicking the "Upload" button. It was not. I wailed, I gnashed my teeth, neither did any good. I could not get it to work. Apparently it's too easy for me.
Eventually I caught myself falling asleep. It was time to give up. It would have been a miserable failure of a session except that I took a scanned picture of the wife and set it as the desktop.
Tonight, tonight we try again
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
After work I went home and got the wife and kids. We went to Target to pick up Ms Pikachu's pictures. Not only did she get her pictures, but a few packs of Pokemon cards too. It was her payment for practicing piano. You can try to convince her that learning piano is good for her, that no one ever regrets learning an instrument- she won't care. You can tell her that learning an instrument will help her think- she will yawn. You can tell her it helps develop self-discipline- she will tell you she's busy enough. You can demand she stop wasting time and to practice piano- she will tell you she doesn't want to learn the stupid piano. She will not be pressured. She stands like a stone wall, Ms. Stonewall Jackson Pikachu.
It's been frustrating because she's so gifted. It was obvious from her first lesson. Her teacher frequently commented on it. After about a year of lessons her teacher could play a new piece and she could just repeat it. Gifted is gifted, whether she likes it or not. She doesn't like it.
Sometimes compliance is just a matter of finding the right motivator. She would learn for Pokemon cards. She would not be pressured, but she could be bought. That actually simplified things somewhat. If I wanted her to practice or perform an extra household duty, we negotiated the price in Pokemon cards. We also had to agree on when she'd get them. She had become quite a negotiator. She'd try anything, including demanding that she get the cards before practicing. Like I'm a fool. We could agree on a pack to start, and the balance on finishing. I've felt a little uneasy about it sometimes, but it simplified things. The upside is that she learned to negotiate. She won't be intimidated.
Today was the first day in about a year that she practiced. She had grown tired of piano, and refused to practice any longer. Ms. Pikachu had refused to negotiate. We didn't want her to hate learning an instrument so we backed off and hoped she'd change her mind. To our surprise she practiced today, and then she asked for cards. Her negotiating skills are obviously rusty. To be fair, and to encourage more practice, she got a couple packs.
I always knew I wanted to be a father. I had no idea that also meant playing both ends of an extortion racket- Godfather and victim too. It's been a lesson in labor negotiations.
the Publicserf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
After work I went home and got the wife and kids. We went to Target to pick up Ms Pikachu's pictures. Not only did she get her pictures, but a few packs of Pokemon cards too. It was her payment for practicing piano. You can try to convince her that learning piano is good for her, that no one ever regrets learning an instrument- she won't care. You can tell her that learning an instrument will help her think- she will yawn. You can tell her it helps develop self-discipline- she will tell you she's busy enough. You can demand she stop wasting time and to practice piano- she will tell you she doesn't want to learn the stupid piano. She will not be pressured. She stands like a stone wall, Ms. Stonewall Jackson Pikachu.
It's been frustrating because she's so gifted. It was obvious from her first lesson. Her teacher frequently commented on it. After about a year of lessons her teacher could play a new piece and she could just repeat it. Gifted is gifted, whether she likes it or not. She doesn't like it.
Sometimes compliance is just a matter of finding the right motivator. She would learn for Pokemon cards. She would not be pressured, but she could be bought. That actually simplified things somewhat. If I wanted her to practice or perform an extra household duty, we negotiated the price in Pokemon cards. We also had to agree on when she'd get them. She had become quite a negotiator. She'd try anything, including demanding that she get the cards before practicing. Like I'm a fool. We could agree on a pack to start, and the balance on finishing. I've felt a little uneasy about it sometimes, but it simplified things. The upside is that she learned to negotiate. She won't be intimidated.
Today was the first day in about a year that she practiced. She had grown tired of piano, and refused to practice any longer. Ms. Pikachu had refused to negotiate. We didn't want her to hate learning an instrument so we backed off and hoped she'd change her mind. To our surprise she practiced today, and then she asked for cards. Her negotiating skills are obviously rusty. To be fair, and to encourage more practice, she got a couple packs.
I always knew I wanted to be a father. I had no idea that also meant playing both ends of an extortion racket- Godfather and victim too. It's been a lesson in labor negotiations.
the Publicserf
Sunday, May 11, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Last night Super Nurse told me how her day had gone. She's a resource nurse at a hospital. She's certified in practically everything, so they can send her anywhere in the hospital they need help. Unfortunately, her work ethic is obvious to anyone she works with. So whenever she's assigned to a unit they load her up with the worst patients. She runs nonstop, rarely gets a break, never gets lunch. She comes home exhausted, but comforted in knowing her patients got the best possible care. As much as she's given to do she still finds mistakes made by other nurses, trains them to do it right, and goes to the mat with doctors as the patient's advocate. When I had my brain surgery she probably saved my life. Not for nothing do I call her Super Nurse.
Last night she had a patient who had signed a Do Not Resuccitate order. The woman had been conscious all shift, then fell asleep at the usual time so nothing was amiss. DNR and asleep. Super Nurse checked her frequently anyway. She walked in once and the patient had slid down in the bed and, probably confused, had pulled her oxygen mask off. Her blood oxygen level was low and her breathing had become agonal- bad sign. Super Nurse pulled her back up and put the oxygen back on her. Her blood ox came up, and she became conscious. Nobody dies on Super Nurse's shift. It's her policy.
Ever mindful of her patient's comfort, Super Nurse asked if she needed anything for pain. Sometimes patients won't tell you, they have to be asked. They can be terminal and still be fearful of becoming addicted to painkillers. The woman said, yes, she'd like a painkiller. Super Nurse gave her some morphine and knew she probably wouldn't make it to morning. Then she called the patient's sister and told her she should come up. When the sister got there she explained the situation.
Had Super Nurse been one of those that hangs around the Nurse's Sation to gossip, or goes outside for frequent smoking breaks, the sister would have next seen the patient in the morgue. I hope she was grateful. Super Nurse gives her profession a good name. Her patients think her quality of care is outstanding. I just wish the hospital units would stop abusing her. She's too good to be so overworked.
And the moral of the story is: If you're ever in a hospital and you like the quality of a nurse's care, say something, they appreciate it. If you're feeling expansive, write a note to the head of nursing, it helps at appraisal time. If it sucks, say something, you could die if you don't. And if you're in a hospital it's a really good thing to know a nurse that will check on you.
And another thing. Here it is Mother's Day. Super Nurse is nowhere around. Her usual schedule on Sundays is 3 PM to 11 PM. That way we get to go to church and have lunch together. Other nurses wanted the day off, so they scheduled her for 11 AM to 11 PM instead. No church, no lunch, no supper. She asked if she could go in at her usual 3 PM. She was told no, we need you 11-11. I could call up her boss and swear at her, but that wouldn't do any good.
You could get more stories of Super Nurse if you want. She works every weekend. But some of them aren't very nice- like cockroaches running out of clothing. Maggots. Ask and ye shall receive, but be careful what you ask for.
So how did my day go? Blew time with the kids. Ate at Bishops. During which time I had a decaff. Trainboy poured each packet of sugar in, creamer too. Each addition was made with seemingly appropriate construction sounds. The creamer caused a little overflow. Trainboy exclaimed, "Goodness, Goshess!" Never heard that one before.
Then we went to Wal-Mart for picking up a Mother's Day thing. Even though she won't be home till after midnight. She's always stuck for a couple extra hours. Ms. Pikachu picked out a card, Trainboy and I picked out a begonia. Because Super Nurse hates cut flowers- they're already dying. She wants a potted plant that keeps growing.
That's it for the moment. There are kids to put to bed and laundry to do.
The slightly honked-off Publicserf
-
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Last night Super Nurse told me how her day had gone. She's a resource nurse at a hospital. She's certified in practically everything, so they can send her anywhere in the hospital they need help. Unfortunately, her work ethic is obvious to anyone she works with. So whenever she's assigned to a unit they load her up with the worst patients. She runs nonstop, rarely gets a break, never gets lunch. She comes home exhausted, but comforted in knowing her patients got the best possible care. As much as she's given to do she still finds mistakes made by other nurses, trains them to do it right, and goes to the mat with doctors as the patient's advocate. When I had my brain surgery she probably saved my life. Not for nothing do I call her Super Nurse.
Last night she had a patient who had signed a Do Not Resuccitate order. The woman had been conscious all shift, then fell asleep at the usual time so nothing was amiss. DNR and asleep. Super Nurse checked her frequently anyway. She walked in once and the patient had slid down in the bed and, probably confused, had pulled her oxygen mask off. Her blood oxygen level was low and her breathing had become agonal- bad sign. Super Nurse pulled her back up and put the oxygen back on her. Her blood ox came up, and she became conscious. Nobody dies on Super Nurse's shift. It's her policy.
Ever mindful of her patient's comfort, Super Nurse asked if she needed anything for pain. Sometimes patients won't tell you, they have to be asked. They can be terminal and still be fearful of becoming addicted to painkillers. The woman said, yes, she'd like a painkiller. Super Nurse gave her some morphine and knew she probably wouldn't make it to morning. Then she called the patient's sister and told her she should come up. When the sister got there she explained the situation.
Had Super Nurse been one of those that hangs around the Nurse's Sation to gossip, or goes outside for frequent smoking breaks, the sister would have next seen the patient in the morgue. I hope she was grateful. Super Nurse gives her profession a good name. Her patients think her quality of care is outstanding. I just wish the hospital units would stop abusing her. She's too good to be so overworked.
And the moral of the story is: If you're ever in a hospital and you like the quality of a nurse's care, say something, they appreciate it. If you're feeling expansive, write a note to the head of nursing, it helps at appraisal time. If it sucks, say something, you could die if you don't. And if you're in a hospital it's a really good thing to know a nurse that will check on you.
And another thing. Here it is Mother's Day. Super Nurse is nowhere around. Her usual schedule on Sundays is 3 PM to 11 PM. That way we get to go to church and have lunch together. Other nurses wanted the day off, so they scheduled her for 11 AM to 11 PM instead. No church, no lunch, no supper. She asked if she could go in at her usual 3 PM. She was told no, we need you 11-11. I could call up her boss and swear at her, but that wouldn't do any good.
You could get more stories of Super Nurse if you want. She works every weekend. But some of them aren't very nice- like cockroaches running out of clothing. Maggots. Ask and ye shall receive, but be careful what you ask for.
So how did my day go? Blew time with the kids. Ate at Bishops. During which time I had a decaff. Trainboy poured each packet of sugar in, creamer too. Each addition was made with seemingly appropriate construction sounds. The creamer caused a little overflow. Trainboy exclaimed, "Goodness, Goshess!" Never heard that one before.
Then we went to Wal-Mart for picking up a Mother's Day thing. Even though she won't be home till after midnight. She's always stuck for a couple extra hours. Ms. Pikachu picked out a card, Trainboy and I picked out a begonia. Because Super Nurse hates cut flowers- they're already dying. She wants a potted plant that keeps growing.
That's it for the moment. There are kids to put to bed and laundry to do.
The slightly honked-off Publicserf
-