Here's a crazy thought: Iowa needs to keep the caucuses

By Jeff Orvis

The final countdown is underway. By this time next week, barring some sort of tragedy, “Iowa” will no longer be the top national story. TV network correspondents who think they're entitled to hazardous duty pay when they have to venture out of Manhattan can go back to confusing Iowa with Idaho.

In a recent moment of engaging the fingers before the brain, I referred to Iowa's caucus experience as the “Republican Comedy Tour.” Seems some folks are taking this whole thing seriously and my Facebook post was probably unfortunate. But it came on a day when one of the lower level candidates made one of her famous gaffes and was called on it by one of her opponents. Then a veteran CNN reporter interviewed Ron Paul and tried to get him to admit he still believed some statements that were attributed to him 20 years ago. She asked the same question over and over and finally Paul had enough and walked away.

That's what I meant when I referred this whole exercise as a comedy tour. I have no doubt that the declared candidates for the Republican presidential nomination are sincere. I'm sure those tour buses that many of them have been using the past few weeks are nice, but some of them would much rather be back on a Tiffany's spending spree or sitting back sipping a cold drink in their penthouse apartments or estates. Instead, they are out here with members of the 99 percent, pressing the flesh and drinking coffee in small town cafes.

There has been the suggestion that if some candidate emerges from the bushes and surprises the so-called experts and wins next week's caucus, Iowa will become irrelevant in the process. Some have even suggested that we could lose our first in the nation designation. As much as I detest hearing all of those tasteless smear campaign ads on TV and as much as thousands of voters would rather not be bothered by robo-calls every night at the dinner hour, I hope we will still retain our spot in the process.

It takes an obscene amount of money to mount a presidential campaign. Both major parties are equally guilty in the amount they spend. It is said that the Obama campaign might raise as much as $1 billion for next year's race and he isn't even facing any opposition from his own party! As long as all that money is floating around out there, why shouldn't Iowa businesses continue to get their fair share? It takes cash to fuel those buses, house and feed the candidates and their staffs, make those annoying phone calls and send out that blizzard of campaign propaganda. In this economy, every little bit helps.

If you listen closely to the claims of the various candidates, you have to laugh (at least you should). It seems like every one of them is claiming to be more conservative than the next guy. Some of us may not agree that being labeled a “conservative” is necessarily a good thing. I'm currently reading the autobiography of former Vice President Walter Mondale, who makes a solid argument for responsible liberalism in government. With the help of a bull-headed Texas president and a cooperative Congress, many battles were won over conservative Republican and Democrats to greatly decrease discrimination and increase opportunities for young people and seniors in this country a generation ago.

Not all liberals want to freely spend government money with no regard for the national debt. But a lot of us know that you often have to spend money to make money, saying “yes” to some proposals while also asking “how are you going to pay for this?”

When I was still employed as a small town weekly newspaper editor, I had the honor of meeting and interviewing several state and national politicians. I've had breakfast with former governor and current secretary of agriculture Tom Vilsack, interviewed past and current Gov. Terry Branstad several times, had several interesting talks with Sen. Chuck Grassley, as well as congressmen Leonard Boswell, Jim Nussle and Steve King. While I definitely agreed with some of them more than others, I respected the offices they represented and the opportunity to meet them for one-on-one interviews, something many of my colleagues in larger cities would die for.

The 2008 presidential campaign gave me the highest thrill of any of my many interviews when Mondale stopped by Belle Plaine on one snowy Saturday morning in support of then-candidate Hillary Clinton. About a half-dozen of us sat around a table at the Lincoln Cafe discussing current national affairs and past history with a man who was on a first-name basis with several presidents, who represented this country honorably as a senator, vice president and later as an ambassador. He once had a Secret Service detail and a flock of aides with him at all times. But on this particular day, he arrived with one guy who served as his driver and clock-watcher.

That's what is so important about this caucus process. If you have any faith remaining that voters matter, that money is still only one component to a successful campaign, then just maybe the eventual winner will remember that person in small-town Iowa or New Hampshire who related his or her life story.

It was once inferred that President Ronald Reagan had a tough time dealing with the problem of poverty in this nation. The saying went that if he met a man who was down and out on the street, he would give him the shirt off his back. He was a compassionate guy who may have remembered some of the folks he met during the early days of the campaign. He just couldn't grasp fact that thousands were in similar situations around the country at that time.

Yes, the caucus process is often fuel for late night TV comedy monologues. It is frustrating at times. But it may be the last way those of us who aren't frequent visitors to our nation's capital will have a personal connection with those who will make the monumental decisions that affect all of us.

Remembering the reason for the season

By Jeff Orvis

The countdown is in its final stages. Less than a week from now, it will be Christmas. I've come up with some various thoughts on what is perhaps the greatest holiday time of the year.

With some stores putting up Christmas decorations as early as October, many of us are beginning to suffer from burnout regarding the commercial aspect of the holiday. Those folks who camped out three days before Thanksgiving outside Best Buy stores around the country to buy cheap laptop computers or TV sets need to get a life. The turkey dinner in a warm dining room trumped saving a couple of bucks on electronics any day.

One thing I definitely don't miss when it comes to my current financial situation is the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping. I don't want to say I'm broke, but let's just say none of my loved ones should expect to hear that familiar jingle and look out on the driveway to see a new Lexus with a red bow on it from me. By the way, if there are any car dealers reading this, I would like to know if they ever sold a car as a Christmas present.

Many people who are scrambling to buy that perfect gift for their someone special are fortunately also remembering that many Americans have no money for Christmas. Every kid deserves at least one special gift this time of year. The Salvation Army, Toys for Tots and other agencies have been working overtime to make sure many disadvantage families can smile this week. Putting that dollar in the kettle or dropping off that gift makes us feel good this time of year. But it's just as important to remember that very few of these families will face brighter prospects in the short term after Christmas is only a happy memory. Maybe more of us should make a New Year's resolution to take a bag of food to the local food bank in April or July or contact a relief organization during the middle of the year to determine how we can help at that time.

Perhaps even more important than food and presents this time of year, we should remember those who are facing physical or emotional problems. I know a couple of men who are facing major physical challenges. Their families are constantly in my prayers. Please stop for a moment and think about someone you know who is facing a major challenge and help if you can, either directly or through thoughts and prayers.

Some people are actually offended when you wish them Happy Holidays. They think you are afraid to say “Merry Christmas” or you don't know the Christian reason for the season. I understand the basics of Christmas. As we hear more and more about the Middle East, I am always amazed that the man who I believe would become the Savior of the world would come from a region of the world where everyone thought the world was flat and many probably didn't realize there was life beyond the horizon.

But one of the great things about living in this country is how we are all free to worship or not worship as we wish. I may not fully understand or agree with the Jewish faith, I know that Hannukah is underway this week and it is as meaningful to those who profess that faith as Christmas is to Christians.

So, keeping that in mind, may everyone have a very Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays!

A 40-year musical love affair

By Jeff Orvis

It's been more than a few years since I played my trumpet. Only in the past year have I had the honor of joining an awesome choir at church where several of the members are much better musicians than I am. But during that musical gap, I've still maintained an interest in many forms of music. But my main guilty pleasure has always been the group “Chicago.”

Like some school girl from another era anxiously awaiting the next song from Frankie Avalon, I've tried to keep up on every album release from Chicago. The group formed in 1967, the same year I entered high school. They called themselves “The Big Thing” at that time, but just a few years later, they changed their name to the Chicago Transit Authority. Like most guys my age, I was big on rock music at that time. I also was playing in the high school concert band and jazz band. When I first heard the band that would soon shorten its name to “Chicago,” I realized that there was definitely a place for horns in rock music.

If you are a fan of popular music, how many of the artists you like can you honestly say have been recording and performing for more than 40 years? Sunday night was an incredible night for rock fans. The HD Net television network opened the evening with an hour of the group REO Speedwagon, another long time Midwest rock band. The night ended with a concert by the Doobie Brothers.

But the centerpiece of the evening was a nearly two-hour performance by Chicago, playing in a theater in the city of Chicago. Four of the original members are still with the group. Over the years, they have been joined at one time or another by more than 25 musicians as some members of the band decided to get off the grueling tour grind or explore other avenues of music. Robert Lamm on keyboards, guitar and vocals, James Pankow on trombone, percussion, keyboards and vocals, Lee Loughnane on trumpet, guitar and keyboards, percussion and vocals and Walt Parazaider on woodwinds and vocals are the founding members of the group.

If you've ever played a trumpet or saxophone in a band, you know it's hard to imagine doing it sometimes every night of the week, dancing on a stage for more than 40 years! What's amazing is that the Chicago sound is as fresh and up to date in the 21^st century as it was in the early 1970s. In Sunday's concert, they stayed with their early hits, recorded on their first 17 albums for their set.

I saw the group in concert many years ago at the Cattle Congress in Waterloo. I paid $14 for the ticket for the Sunday afternoon show. That was a lot of money for a young newspaper reporter. The group was scheduled to perform again Sunday night. I almost spent another $14 to hear them again, but decided I needed milk and bread for the week a little more.

Chicago recently performed at the I Wireless Center in Moline. Money's a bit more tight now and I decided not to try to find the $45 or more it would cost to see them this time. I'm glad I waited. I'm sure they put on a great show in Moline, but playing in the city where they first formed must have given them added incentive.

Sunday night was a real treat. It's not too late to jump on the Chicago bandwagon. The group recently released its 33^rd album, entitled “Oh Christmas Three.” It contains 14 holiday charts in an updated, jazzy fashion. Some of their albums have been good, others have not really caught on. Many fans anxiously awaited the release of an album called “The Stone of Sisyphus.” It was recorded in 1993 and was a lot different from the tunes the band had produced before. The band's label at the time, Warner Brothers, didn't like it. The work was shelved and finally released in 2008.

As you can see, this band has it all, longevity, quality, rock, horns and just a little mystery. Here's hoping the guys keep the good music coming!

A little politics, a lot of football

By Jeff Orvis

Today's topic is a little bit of politics and a bit more on the politics of football.

The recent news that Herman Cain is hanging it up when it comes to his bid for the presidency was certainly not surprising. Whether he committed some of the things he was accused of or was set up by someone with an ulterior motive, even the hint of infidelity is tough to overcome.

It was reported that he admitted he had a 13-year “friendship” with a woman and had also given her money over the years. He apparently kept this fact from his wife. Now, I'm certainly no expert on a good marriage relationship, but even I am smart enough to know that if you are friends with someone of the opposite sex who is not your spouse, you'd better let your better half know about it.

So the Republicans no longer have a pizza mogul to kick around anymore. Someone has to fill that void. Everybody likes pizza, so if the GOP hopes to appeal to the masses, it had better act fast to replace him. I first thought of Papa John, but he's so good looking someone would probably plant rumors about him. Perhaps Papa Murphy would be a better choice. Nobody knows what he looks like. Maybe Little Caesar would be a safe choice. He looks like everybody's favorite uncle.

Given the current craziness of the our political climate, maybe the Republicans could think outside the (pizza) box and consider Ronald McDonald. I hear he's looking for work. If there is not a complete makeover of our next Congress, the idea of Ronald McDonald giving the State of the Union address in 2013 makes good sense to me.

Now back to the reality of college football, if indeed there is any true reality there. After a truly amazing Big Ten championship game this past weekend, it only seems fitting that 10 of the 12 teams in that conference received bowl bid invitations. Only three-win Minnesota and one-win Indiana were left out of the loop.

A lot of my Big 12 fan friends were upset that Alabama was chosen over Oklahoma State to play LSU for the national title. Not me. I figured if OK State had been chosen and had found a way to beat LSU, many Iowa State fans would claim that the Cyclones must be the best team in the nation, since they beat the Cowboys this season.

Iowa, Iowa State and Illinois all gained bowl bids. Iowa has the best gig, as the Hawks will travel to Arizona for the Insight Bowl to face Oklahoma. Be sure to get a nap in the afternoon. Kickoff for the game is set for 9 p.m. Friday, Dec. 30. Iowa athletic officials are undoubtedly smiling all the way to the bank. The payout per team for this game is $3.35 million. Some bowls pay as little as $500,000 per team. Of course, if your team is picked for a BCS bowl, the payout is a cool $17 million per team.

The money is important to athletic programs. It goes to pay for the expenses of the traveling party and any left over is either divided among the other conference schools or is used for the department's general budget, or both.

Iowa State gets to travel to New York City earlier that same day to take on Rutgers in the Pinstripe Bowl at Yankee Stadium. Game time is 2:20 p.m. Cyclone fans better start looking at a second mortgage if they hope to go to that game. Top ticket prices are more than $120 apiece. Add in the cost of a New York hotel room for at least a couple of nights and you are starting to talk about serious coin.

The next afternoon, Illinois meets UCLA in something called the Kraft Fight Hunger Bowl in San Francisco. Game time is 2:30 p.m. They should rename this game the See Ya Later Bowl, as both coaches for Illinois and UCLA have been fired. But it should be a good game and a good way for one of these two veteran coaches to go out.

I was glad to see that Penn State will play Houston in the Ticket City Bowl in Dallas on Jan. 2. Regardless of the scandal that plagues the Penn State program, the players who worked so hard to post a 9-3 record should be rewarded. Penn State officials have already pledged to donate the bowl proceeds to groups fighting child abuse.

The Rose Bowl on Jan. 2 is shaping up to be an awesome contest between Oregon and Wisconsin. I know I should stick with my Big Ten allegiance, especially since the Badgers are coached by former Hawkeye Brent Bielema. But Oregon is an exciting team. This should be good.

My early prediction for the national title game is that LSU should take care of business over Alabama. But I still have a few weeks to change my mind. I have both an LSU and an Alabama t-shirt in my drawer, so I might wait until that morning and pick the shirt that is clean and pull for that team.

By my count, there are 35 football bowl games this season, plus three or four all star games. The fun starts Dec. 17 and ends with the championship game on Jan. 9. So ice down the beverages, get those nachos ready and put fresh batteries in the remote. It's going to be a wild three weeks!

Before we all get geared up for the major college bowl show, there's a very important game happening Friday night. Northern Iowa is seeking a national championship. The Panthers travel to Montana to play the Grizzlies. Game time is 7 p.m. It will be shown on ESPN 2. The forecast is for cloudy skies and 17 degrees. GO PANTHERS!!!

Wretched excess and college football myths

By Jeff Orvis

The Ford Motor Company seems to like the letter “E.” Its line of SUVs include the Escape, the Explorer and the Expedition. All seem like fine vehicles. I sometimes wondered if they could make something even bigger. Maybe they could call it the Wretched Excess. It would take premium gas, get about a dozen miles to the gallon and have a base price of over $50,000.

The Excess came to mind in recent weeks as I watched the thousands of folks all across this country (and some other places as well) occupying downtown locations. The Occupy Wall Street group, which was recently washed out of its campground, was protesting what they claimed to be the excessive salaries paid to some bankers and other Wall Street folks. In an era where many of us have been forced out of our profession, they are wondering why the corporate leaders keep on cashing those seven-figure annual paychecks.

I've written before on how corporate America is giving us less for our money, especially in the grocery store. Even more evident are the companies that continue to move manufacturing jobs to other countries and other practices in an effort to increase the almighty bottom line and look good for the stockholders.

Many folks questioned why banks tried to increase various fees while the CEOs of the national banks made obscene salaries and bonuses. But I've had a more basic question when it comes to banks: Why is the bank building the most prominent, massive and architecturally significant building in virtually every town in America?

Think about it. Travel to any town across the country, whether it is a major city or a small town with a two-block Main Street. If the city has a bank, it won't be hard to pick out of the other businesses in town. Soaring two or three story entries, heavy front doors coated in bronze or brass and hundreds of square feet of marble are often the norm, rather than the exception. When was the last time a plush bank lobby helped you get better interest on your savings account or helped you get a home or business loan?

I realize that this building design trend is nothing new. I suspect that many banks in the Old West were the only buildings in town with brass accents on the teller cages and inlaid tile floors. I suppose the idea of fancy buildings for banks came from the notion that customers would trust their money to someone who could afford a fancy place to house it. It probably was supposed to promote customer confidence.

But in an era where banks are trying to hit us with higher ATM fees or service charges for accounts that fall below a certain level, do they really need to continue to choose splendor over function? Just wondering...

It was just about this time of the year. Our second grade class was eating lunch one day at Riverdale School. We were starting to get excited about Christmas and the accompanying school vacation. Our teacher, Miss Good, sensed our excitement and realized that many of us had younger siblings. In a matter-of-fact tone, she told us that while she realized that we knew that Santa would not be coming down our chimneys, we should keep the “truth” to ourselves so we wouldn't ruin it for our younger brothers and sisters.

I remember chills ran down my spine that day. I knew this day was coming, when I would have to admit to myself that the legend of the Jolly Old Soul was probably impossible. But my fear was if I admitted it out loud, I wouldn't get any presents! I did a good job of keeping this quiet in my family until the sixth grade, when my sister and I admitted to our parents we realized who was responsible for nice Christmas presents.

Fast forward about 50 years and I had that same chill when news came out of State College, PA, about the scandal involving the Penn State football coaching staff members. I was never a real fan of Penn State football, especially when the Nittany Lions joined the Big Ten. But I certainly admired what they stood for – a tough-as-nails team that gave everything they had on every play. They played tough, but by the rules. Their coach, Joe Paterno, virtually owned the program, having been associated with it for over 60 years. He and his wife recognized that while football was vital to his career, Penn State was more than its football program. To that end, they have returned over $4 million in personal donations to the university over the years.

All that was instantly forgotten with the news of a 40-count indictment of a former longtime assistant coach on the staff. Sixty-one years of devotion to a program was destroyed with one document.

In my mind's eye, I see a sorry parade of Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy marching down the road, fading into the distance, suddenly joined by the most veteran of college football coaches. Myths one and all.

Remembering a special small town cop

By Jeff Orvis

One of the best parts of my job in small town community journalism over the years was the opportunity to develop a good relationship with local law enforcement. When I first landed in Independence, I'll admit that I may not have had a high opinion of local law enforcement. Growing up in a larger metropolitan area, I had little actual contact with small town cops.

It didn't take long to realize that local law officers were our neighbors. If you called a sheriff's deputy for help in Scott County, chances are all you saw was the gun and uniform. You would probably never see the officer again. That was different in Independence. The police chief and his assistant both had children who grew up in the local schools. One of the officers was married to a woman who worked in our news room. A few years after I began working in town, we joined a church where the police chief, Buchanan County sheriff, his chief deputy and nearly half of the ambulance crew all were members. It was sort of like attending church with the president!

These memories came flooding back earlier this week when I learned of the death of the former assistant chief of the Independence department, Jim Hayward. By the time I arrived in town, he and his boss, Chief Dan Schremser, had many years of experience keeping the peace in town between them. As a part of my beat, I would collect the police news each week and sometimes, when there were ongoing investigations, I stopped by Jim's office to try to get more details not included on the news release. Usually when I stopped by, I knew he wouldn't be able to elaborate on what I already had learned, but it was worth a try. He always dressed in a tie and had a pipe handy – sort of like a modern day Sherlock Holmes. He also usually had a twinkle in his eye and you never quite knew if he was being truthful or handing you a line.

My experience with Jim actually included the only time I have been questioned in connection with a crime. I lived in a four-plex in town and a woman in another unit had reported a sexual assault. Jim stopped by my place and quickly told me that I wasn't a suspect, but he was just wondering if I had heard anything during the time of the alleged assault. I don't recall being able to offer any help, but he conducted the interview with his professional style, with just a hint of good humor.

Knowing all the officers on the local department was a luxury reporters in larger cities seldom share. Another time I heard a call on the police scanner of shots fired at a home in Independence. By the time I arrived, another veteran officer of the department had roped off the front of the home and was guarding it until state investigators arrived. He and I were the only ones there. Apparently a troubled young man had come home from school, gone to the basement and ended his life with a shotgun. I had known the officer for several years by this point and while he wouldn't have allowed me to go into the basement, he described in general terms what had apparently happened. His description left little doubt in my mind that I was glad he wouldn't allow me to enter.

Another time, I arrived at the scene of a murder in town. TV crews were already set up and were getting little or no information from the officer guarding the scene. I left the scene and drove to the law center where I found the county's chief deputy (one of my fellow church members). He confirmed that a murder had taken place, who had been killed and other details the TV folks were scrambling to find.

Because of the mutual trust I developed with many officers I met over the years, I heard about the time our sheriff spent two days laying in the weeds at a rural site on a stakeout. I was able to joke with a state trooper who lived in our town because it seemed that each time there was a traffic accident out in the country on the coldest, windiest day, he would be the one dispatched to the scene.

On my weekly visits to the law centers in Independence and later in Belle Plaine, most of my reports were about ambulance assists, traffic accidents, domestic disputes, etc. I once told a police chief that they could have simplified the code by making most infractions degrees of stupidity. Someone who was suspected of first offense drunk driving would be charged with “stupidity in the third degree.” I once told the Belle Plaine chief that his officers should change their uniforms to referee's shirts, since so many of their calls involved settling disputes between husbands and wives, neighbors, etc.

While there were lighter moments in my visits to the police stations, I realized that there could have come a time when I would have to report on an officer involved shooting or other dangerous, tragic incident. Small towns are not immune to bad people doing bad things or good people having bad things happening to them.

It takes a special individual, like Jim Hayward, to go to work each day for more than 25 years, knowing that the next time the phone rings, it could be news of something bad happening to someone he might have grown up with. He had to be prepared to quickly shed his personal feelings and assume the role of law enforcement professional.

You gain respect for small town cops when you get to know them, especially the men and women I've met over more than 30 years in this crazy business.

Rest in peace, Jim and thanks for your service and all you taught me about police work.

Free entertainment on the other side of the porch screen

By Jeff Orvis

It's been a year since I packed up the van, said my good-byes to my friends in Belle Plaine and began the next chapter in this interesting life. While the past year has been less than a success from the standpoint of finding employment, it's been very rewarding in the fact that I've been able to reconnect with family and some of the friends I grew up with.

I wondered how I would adapt to giving up a three-bedroom, two-story house for a bedroom and a storage unit. What kind of adjustment would I have to make going from a quiet, friendly town of just under 3,000 to a metropolitan area of more than 350,000, where everybody seems to be in a hurry?

In the first place, Mom's condo is incredibly well insulated. We live within two miles of perhaps 40 restaurants, four supermarkets, more than a half-dozen big box stores and one of the busiest streets in the area. But with the windows closed, every night is as quiet as a snowy winter night in Belle Plaine when the wind is blowing from the north. The last time I heard a train was this summer when I went down to the Davenport levee to hear a concert during the Bix Beiderbecke Fest.

The condo complex adjoins the Crow Valley Country Club. While we don't have a big course view, the golf course provides a small slice of solitude.

As I've grown older, I am discovering that I inherited some of my dad's traits. He could be quite eloquent on the rare occasions he sat down to write a letter in longhand. I've spent the better part of 35 years trying to put words together in a coherent way. His best expression came in his photography, where he could capture Minnesota nature at its finest. While working in the news business, I would take pictures when necessary, but not nearly as well as he did.

He grew up in small towns in south central Illinois, moving to the Quad-City area for work. I spent more than 30 years living in towns of similar size to his hometown and discovered an easy-going lifestyle where rush hour usually lasted about 10 minutes and involved a couple dozen cars.

So what does this have to do with my current living arrangement? Many summer nights when I was growing up, Dad would take a cup of coffee after supper and go out and sit on our front porch, which was across the road from a park. My sister and I might scramble to finish eating so we could go out and play or watch a favorite TV show. Dad would be content to spent an hour or two just sitting on the porch, enjoying the quiet.

Well, it too more than 40 years, but I finally found some of that contentment. Make no mistake, I admit I am a TV addict. Nobody is as well-versed in the operation of the remote than I am. But some of the best time I have spent since coming to live here has been spent on Mom's screened porch. The view is not really impressive – the next condo building is only about 40 yards away. But there's enough room for a few mature trees and a small patio where Mom has put up a couple of bird feeders.

I never saw a hummingbird before this spring. We had a couple who would regularly battle for the best spot to suck up the sugar water put in the feeder for them. I remember only seeing one or two gold finches over the years. We had a small flock who would constantly remind me that I should keep that feeder filled. Sometimes we see a hawk soaring overhead. One of his favorite perches this summer was on the roof of the adjoining building.

We also had a few non-winged visitors. Several squirrels seemed to find new and innovative ways to climb up on that hanging bird feeder. It really amazed me how far they could fly when I scared them off the feeder. Make a sudden noise and watch them fly off the five-foot high feeder and land on their feet.

A couple of chipmunks also were local residents. Mom had some potted plants on the patio and the chipmunks liked to forage in the dirt, trying to eat the flower bulbs. Mom heard somewhere that if you sprinkled chili powder on the base of the plants, the chipmunks would leave them alone. A couple of days later, I told Mom that I saw a few chipmunks wearing tiny sombreros, playing mariachi music and having a fiesta. She didn't see the humor in that one.

The point is, we spend about 40 years of our lives raising families, looking after our investments, perhaps trying to own the best car or biggest home. How many of us spend the afternoon or evening simply sitting on a porch, away from the TV or computer, enjoying the best entertainment in the world?

Would I like to find the perfect job to finish my work career? Of course. But even more important is waking up to many more days when I can take at least a few minutes to the kind of free entertainment on the other side of that porch screen. I hope that would show a potential employer that I pay attention to detail and know how to prioritize my life.

And even more importantly, know how to occasionally stop and smell the roses – and maybe feed a chipmunk or two.

Occupying this space with word on the 'Occupy' movement

By Jeff Orvis

Occupy Wall Street. Occupy Atlanta. Occupy Chicago. Occupy Quad-Cities. Thousands of people all over this country are gathering with only one apparent common purpose. They are all saying “We're mad as hell and we aren't going to take it anymore,” to borrow a phrase from a movie.

The majority of the talk radio folks who have been busy dispensing the audio Kool-Aid to the Tea Party crowd have been quick to condemn the “Occupy” folks as a bunch of left-wing kooks and other less-than-kind descriptions. It didn't help the cause in its early stages by the fact that there were few stated goals of the protests. We are all creatures of instant gratification and instant news and when the organizers had a difficult time forming specific goals for the demonstrations, it made it easier for those on the right to condemn the exercise.

Early news reports of those who were flocking to Wall Street and other venues around the country showed many of them who looked like descendants of the brave folks who assembled in Grant Park in Mayor Daley's 1968 Chicago. Remember “The Whole World is Watching?”

But as the new movement continues to grow, we see more and more of the participants who are like you and your neighbors. They may have advanced college degrees with 10 or more years of experience in a job who were suddenly thrown out of work. Their superiors can only shrug their shoulders and blame the cuts on the economy. But those of us who have been sidelined have been quick to notice that the decision to cut down on staff at many corporations are made by company CEOs who continue to happily cash their seven-figure annual paychecks.

I've mentioned before that it seems that many of our products, especially those in the grocery stores, aren't what they used to be. Corporate America has been busy finding ways to increase its bottom line by putting more water in canned products and giving consumers 11 ounces of coffee in cans that used to hold 16 ounces.

In our fast-paced world where few of us take time to read labels on the products we buy, it's natural to assume that we won't notice we are getting less for our dollar. But when those dollars are suddenly not there, not only are more of us unemployed, we also have more time to spend in the store reading labels and noticing the changes in our products.

Lack of jobs and obscene upper management wages are only part of the story. Many of us are realizing that there is an unhealthy shift from the philosophy in this country. It seems that an honest dollar for an honest day's work or a fair price for a good product has been replaced with “what can we do for less and still make a big profit?”

The radio talking heads would have you believe that the only thing the protestors are looking for is a free ride. But if you listen closely to the nightly interviews from the streets you will learn that all many of us want is a fair shake. Many blame the federal government, specifically Congress, for the nation's ills. Money talks and it didn't help the situation when the U.S. Supreme Court recently ruled that corporations were free to contribute to political campaigns.

The elections are a year away. As more well educated people are suddenly unemployed and are finding they have time to pay attention to presidential and congressional campaigns, just maybe they can see past the well-financed half-truths in broadcast ads and begin to ask serious questions of the candidates.

Last time I checked, we still elect folks with votes by the public and not by direct purchase by those with the fattest campaign bank accounts. Just maybe we will elect some leaders who care about the rest of us and not just who can contribute the most to a campaign.

The “Occupy” movement may not be the answer. But at least it has the country paying attention.

Illinois government. - you can't make this stuff up

By Jeff Orvis

I've lived almost my entire life in Iowa. For much of my adult life, I've tried to follow the actions, and at time in-actions, of state government. I've had the privilege to speak with our last three governors and all three are nice guys. Each had their own way of governing, some more successful than others. I've gotten to know a few state legislators and each seemed enthused and honored to represent their respective sections of the state.

As a whole, there have been times when I've wondered just what the heck the legislature is trying to do. During the last session, legislators faced the tough task of balancing the budget. But suddenly, they switched gears and gave us a hunting season on mourning doves. It was as if they were saying we can't handle the tough stuff, maybe you will be happy if you can shoot doves.

So there have definitely been times when you hear some things coming out of Des Moines and you just have to roll your eyes and shake your head in disbelief. But after living once again on the east edge of our great state for almost a year now, I have only one thing to say: Be glad you don't live in Illinois!

Make no mistake, there are many good things about Illinois and many good people living there. Some of them are my relatives and I hope I will still be welcome when I go to visit them. But the state and county government in the state of Illinois is so strange you can't make something like this up.

I had heard all of the old jokes about the alleged corrupt nature of Chicago politics, with dead people voting, etc. But did you know that four of the last eight governors of the state have been convicted of crimes, including corruption? The last governor was accused of attempting to sell his appointment for a senator to fill the seat vacated with the election of President Barack Obama, among other charges. He is currently awaiting sentencing.

The current governor, Pat Quinn, came into office knowing he had to try to clean up the image of the office while attempting to balance a budget that some reports indicated carried a $13 billion deficit. He has attempted to close several state institutions, much to the protests of many citizens. He simply refused to pay the state's area school superintendents, claiming that the legislature didn't give him enough money. Never mind they had signed contracts. And the governor found a judge who agreed with him!

Meanwhile, in a further attempt to balance the budget, he enacted a 66 percent increase in personal income taxes and a 46 percent increase in corporate taxes. Almost immediately, state development groups from other Midwestern states began luring businesses from Illinois with promises of healthier business climates.

One positive action that the current governor has taken was abolishing the barbaric practice of capital punishment. That was inspired by the release of an inmate who was 50 hours from being executed after 15 years on death row when DNA evidence proved his innocence.

The strange nature of government doesn't end at the state level. A real head-turner for me came this summer when I learned that Rock Island County, right across the river from Davenport, has 25 county supervisors! To put that in perspective, there are five state senates with fewer members. The Chicago City Council has 50 members, but they represent more than 3.7 million residents.

Rock Island County has approximately 150,000 citizens. Scott County, which includes Davenport and Bettendorf, has a population of 165,224 and is governed by a five member board of supervisors.

This summer, there was a move to reduce the size of the Rock Island County Board. But board members had to agree to cut their own body. Few wanted to give up their princely $3,000 annual salaries. One of the arguments in favor of keeping the board as is was that cutting the number might mean the county would have to hire a county administrator. That was also a shock for me. This is the 21^st century. Doesn't a county of 150,000 deserve a professional running the day-to-day operations of the county?

Like many other municipalities, the county is wrestling with a tight budget. But it was recently revealed that only two of its 25 sheriff department squad cars are equipped with dash video cameras. Much of the county is rural and many of the patrol miles are driven by solo deputies who must make traffic stops and arrests. It would seem that functional video cameras, mounted so that the officer's actions and those of the people who are stopped could be recorded.

This is specially true as we have experience several officer-involved shootings in recent months in this area. Much of the actions of two of those events were captured on video. They both occurred in the city of Davenport. But a traffic stop in rural Rock Island County where a deputy was forced to shoot a suspect was not recorded.

One of the most recent chapters of Illinois' Believe it or Not came recently when a new assistant warden was appointed for an East Moline state prison. The young man had no previous corrections experience, other than a brief stint as a drug and alcohol abuse counselor. There is even no evidence that he has ever been inside of a prison. This son of a recently defeated congressional candidate does have a Master's degree...in theater.

Like I've said, some of this stuff you just can't make up.

Perhaps the Iowa tourism folks should focus some advertising on the state of Illinois. They could try to lure Illini visitors with a slogan like, “Come to Iowa where our governors and former governors stay out of jail and only the living can vote!”

He was much more than a football coach

By Jeff Orvis

It's hard to believe that we already have five games in the book for the 2011 high school football season. But just in time for the rest of the season comes a book that should be required reading for every current prep football player across this great country.

“The Sacred Acre” by Mark Tabb is now available at local book stores. I picked up my copy at the local Wal-Mart. After just finishing it, I am really glad the big box store has this on its shelves. The book tells the story of Ed Thomas, veteran high school coach at Aplington-Parkersburg in northeast Iowa who was gunned down in the weight room at his school on a bright June morning in 2009.

Thomas was a legend in high school football circles. He had been named National Coach of the year earlier in the decade and four of his former players went on to play in the NFL. It came as no surprise to the folks who knew and respected him in the community that he spearheaded the rebuilding of the A-P football field, which others had called “The Sacred Acre” after an EF-5 tornado tore through Parkersburg in 2008.

This book chronicles the work done by Thomas and the A-P community to rebuild the city of just under 2,500 residents. It also recounts in painful detail the events that led up to and followed that fateful morning in 2009. Tabb had the full cooperation of the Thomas family in writing this book. It contains a forward by former NFL Coach Tony Dungy.

Thomas was a deeply religious man. His family attended the same church in town as the family of his murderer. In fact, Mark Becker, who was convicted of the crime, had been a player on the A-P team a few years before.

The book contains some of the favorite quotes of Coach Thomas. The first one may best describe how he tried to live his life:

“I want my legacy to be that I wasn't just a football coach, but a man who tried to live a Christian life and impact others.”

Anyone who has ever played the grand game of high school football, or who has had a son or daughter who has played or can't imagine a Friday night in the Fall without seeing stadium lights shining in the middle of a small town or big city will gain a lot from this book. It is much more than a football book. It is a good portrayal of life in a small town and how folks will pull together in times of adversity. It makes me homesick for Belle Plaine or Independence...

Ten years later - we're down, but not out

By Jeff Orvis

“I just wanted you to know that I'm okay, but I'm heading home.” That was the message from my sister 10 years ago this week. I was in the middle of putting the finishing touches on our newspaper at our Marengo office. Melissa worked in an office in Bossier City, LA. Her call came in the early afternoon of Sept. 11, 2001.

A group of my co-workers and I had left our Belle Plaine office that Tuesday morning for our weekly trip to the printing plant 15 miles away. As we were leaving, I glanced at the TV in our office in time to see a plane hitting the first tower.

The next few hours were spent finishing the paper. I don't think any of the people I was working with really understood just how devastating this was. Living in rural Iowa, where the tallest structure is a grain bin, you don't have daily reminders of just how massive a big city office building can be. Of course, later on, we witnessed horrors we thought we might only see in computer-generated scenes of fictional movies. But this was real. People were falling to their deaths right before our eyes.

When my sister called, I had no idea where President George Bush was. He had been visiting a school in Florida when he got the news that first one, then two aircraft had barreled into the World Trade Center in New York. After a brief statement to the nation at the school, the Secret Service hustled him back to Air Force One, We later learned that while the president wanted to immediately return to the White House, his security detail said it was uncertain whether the attack threat was over and they refused to send him into what may have been harm's way.

It was decided to land the plane at Barksdale Air Force Base near Shreveport, LA. Some of my sister's co-workers, outside for a cigarette break, noticed that a large Boeing 747 was landing at the base. They quickly guessed that it was the president's plane. Not knowing if he was being hunted by an enemy, my sister decided she wanted to be home with her family and she called just before she left her office.

The rest of that day, as well as for several days ahead, there was plenty of speculation on who mounted the attack and what effect it might have on this country and the world. Some predicted that there might be an immediate gasoline shortage in this country. Deciding to get away from the wall-to-wall TV coverage for a few minutes, I drove down to our local convenience store that evening and saw a string of cars all the way out to the street. My neighbors were topping off their tanks just in case.

None of us really had a clue on how to act in the succeeding days. We had no experience with an attack on our shores that claimed over 3,000 lives. Should we go to work the next day? Would school be canceled for the week? Three days later, our high school football team was scheduled to travel out of town for a game. Should that game go on?

By Friday, we had a few more details about what happened. But many of us still had a tough time wrapping our brains around the events of the week. The trip to the football game was just the tonic for many of us to help soothe the pain and shock. It also sent a signal to the beasts who planned the attack that Americans might be down, but not out. There was a moment of silence before the game to show respect for the memory of the victims and support for their loved ones.

In those days following the attack, none of us would imagine that in the coming months and years that air travel would become a lot tougher because of increased security measures. We didn't know that our country would become involved in the longest war in its history or that a huge federal agency, the Department of Homeland Security, would become yet another necessary drain on our tax dollars.

Before we had the luxury of hindsight later on, we had no choice than to trust that the president would handle the threat. When I saw tapes of Bush's reaction when Andy Card whispered in his ear that the second plane had hit the towers and this country was under attack, Bush looked like a deer in the headlights. Some of the kids in the classroom thought he would become physically ill. But very soon the Texas stubborn streak kicked in and he went to work. He has written and spoken about his reactions and actions of that day. I would have hoped that one of his first phone calls would have been to his father, George H.W. Bush, who had been president less than 10 years before. I would have also hoped he would have called Bill Clinton, who held that office less than a year before.

Regardless of what we might think about the job George Bush did as our president, none of us can truly imagine the thoughts and fears that must have been pulsing through his brain as he turned to the TV in the plane and saw people jumping to their deaths from the burning towers and knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to help them.

It's been 10 years since that terrible day. But we still haven't fully recovered. The emergency crews who responded to the scene are still feeling the physical effects of inhaling toxic dust and fumes from the crash site. Families of those who died that day are still coping with the emotional trauma. Our armed forces are still huntin terrorists in far away lands.

And those of us who live more than 1,000 miles away from New York, Washington or Pennsylvania know that despite the measures taken by our government over the years, terrorists could still attack us in any number of ways. This is a new era in warfare. It was the worst attack on U.S. Citizens since that December day in 1941 when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor.

We might not be able to completely eliminate terrorist threats, but we can send a strong message to those who would vow to bring us down as a nation that we will never be defeated. We can do that by serving in the military, holding our elected officials accountable so that active duty personnel, veterans and their families are treated as heroes, whether they were involved in a firefight in Afghanistan or worked as a clerk at the Rock Island Arsenal. We can also volunteer through our churches or community organizations to help make life better for our neighbors, regardless of where they might live in this world.

Any of these actions will tell potential terrorists that while you might have us up against the ropes, the final bell hasn't rung and we will bounce back, again and again.

It's not like TV

By Jeff Orvis

When the message came asking if I would be willing to cover a murder trial that had been moved from Iowa County to Davenport, it didn't take me more than a minute to agree. While it's true that I had never spent more than an hour or two in a courtroom, being excused from jury duty three times, I figured I had seen enough trials portrayed on TV, it should be easy.

The trial involved a first degree murder case. The defendant had been the operator of a restaurant in Belle Plaine. She was accused of conspiring to kill her common-law husband in an elaborate scheme to end years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. I was acquainted with Denise from her work in restoring and opening the restaurant. I had been in her establishment a couple of times and she always seemed cordial, hardly the type who would one day admit that she and two others bashed in the head of another.

As the day approached for the opening of the trial, I became a bit anxious about some things that would later seem quite trivial. What would be the proper thing to wear? How stern would the judge be? Would there be anyone else in the courtroom I had ever met besides the defendant?

The first day of the trial was taken with jury selection. There must have been 100 or more Scott County residents in the courtroom, most probably hoping somebody else would be called to sit on the 15-member jury (12 jurors and three alternates). Few were dressed better than I was. I figured business casual would be appropriate.

I soon determined that a real trial is not quite like a 60-minute TV drama. First off, I noticed that as the day began, we didn't stand when the judge entered the room, but once the jury was chosen, we were asked to stand when the jurors came into the room. The judge didn't use a gavel, but we all knew when things were underway. The trial was held in one of the larger courtrooms in the courthouse. There were no windows and the seats for spectators were hard, non-padded church pews. Apparently aware of this, the judge, who seemed like a nice guy with a tough job to do, gave us frequent breaks during the nine-day event. He was also a stickler for the time, starting court promptly at 9 a.m., breaking for lunch at noon and ending each day at 4:30 p.m.

I had never met the victim. But when the prosecution spent the better part of one session showing graphic crime scene and autopsy photos, I wondered how anyone could do that to a fellow human being. When it was the defense's turn to present evidence and the defendant's psychologist took the stand and related what she had been told about the couple's relationship, I wondered how a man could do that to a woman he professed to love.

The trial drew few spectators. One woman had served on a jury for another of the three defendants and she was at this trial to observe most days. On only a couple of occasions did I see anyone there to support the defendant. By the second day, when she entered the courtroom, she recognized me as a former Belle Plaine person and we nodded to each other.

During breaks in the proceedings, several of the attorneys for both sides were very friendly. When I explained that this was my first trial after 35 years in the news business, they were willing to explain some of the procedures to me and also make some off-the-record comments that helped me understand what was happening and why. They even displayed some humor in this very serious situation. One of the attorneys kept looking for the TV reporters, claiming he had a deal with a local restaurant in his hometown and when they appeared, he was going to wear a sign on his back advertising the restaurant.

After the prosecution explained the crime and outlined its claim on how the defendant and the other two had planned the murder, the defense attempted to explain that the defendant was the victim of battered woman syndrome. "Somebody was going to die" is how the lead defense attorney began his opening statement.

On the eighth day of the trial, the jury got the case. After about four hours of deliberation, the day ended with no verdict. The next morning, the jury returned and an hour later, the verdict was in. Denise Frei was convicted of first-degree murder, the third defendant to receive the same judgment. She was placed in handcuffs and began her journey to a permanent life in prison. Several relatives of the victim, including his 16-year-old son, remained in the courtroom after the the proceedings. They were happy with the verdict, but two years after their loved one was killed, there seemed to be more relief that it was all over, than jubilation with the result.

After all, up until that fateful night in July, 2009, many of those left behind considered Frei to be a friend living a good life in a small town.

Maybe in an attempt to put the gruesome details of the crime out of my mind for a few minutes, during some of the breaks, I wondered how attorneys, judges, deputies present in the courtroom, court attendants and others could spend hour after hour, for days on end for much of their careers working in a windowless room. When I thought about the victim and defendant, I wondered how men and women could live like that, dominating someone else in the name of love and staying in an abusive situation.

It made me so thankful that I never had to personally experience that lifestyle. It also made me quite grateful to see the sunshine at the end of each day of the trial.

A great weekend of good friends, good jazz

How many of today's popular recording artists will be remembered 80 years from now? Thanks to the tireless efforts of several Quad-City area music fans, the work of Bix Beiderbecke was celebrated last weekend for the 40th year in a row.

Beiderbecke was a jazz performer who lived a short 28 years before the ravages of alcoholism claimed him. But in those few years, he left a mark of innovation that has lasted for decades. Beiderbecke made his mark in some of the larger cities of this country, but he was a native of Davenport. His most favored style of music, Dixieland jazz, was prevalent at several venues in downtown Davenport last weekend as bands from as far as the east coast and Australia filled the air with the sounds of sweet jazz.

Last weekend marked 30 years since my dad died way too soon at the age of 54. One of his gifts he gave me was a love of music, particularly jazz music. He told me of the days when he would go over to Rock Island and hear Louis Armstrong play for 50 cents. I still have hundreds of 78 rpm records my dad collected.

Back in the summer of 1971, I was preparing to continue my education after graduating from high school. On a warm August night, he took the family to the lower level of the local Holiday Inn to hear a series of jazz musicians who played in the first Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Festival. Last Friday afternoon, something drew me to the banks of the Mississippi, to LeClaire Park, for an afternoon of great jazz music. Perhaps it was my inadvertent tribute to my dad. All I know is something drew me to spend the afternoon in the brilliant sunshine listening to great music on Friday.

On Sunday morning, I attended services at First Presbyterian Church in Davenport. It was the Beiderbecke home church and the pipe organ was replaced by the sweet sounds of the Jimmy Valentine Quintet with guest clarinetist Dave Bennett. If you closed your eyes and allowed your imagination to take over, it was easy to think that you were hearing the great Benny Goodman and Pete Fountain in dueling clarinets. Jazz music in a church service gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "Make a joyful noise!"

In this era when the fine arts program in many schools is in peril because of budget cuts, it is more important than ever that this style of music not be allowed to die. This festival draws thousands of fans from around the country each year. Make plans to check it out the first weekend in August in 2012.

This was also a big weekend for the Pleasant Valley High School Class of 1971. Many of us gathered at a local restaurant Saturday night, wondering where the past 40 years went. As we are nearing the age where we can claim we are having "senior moments," name tags were very valuable.

Our school was on the outskirts of the Quad-Cities and we weren't really sure whether we were a suburban school or a rural school. While I didn't notice any of my classmates arriving in a limousine, many of us have achieved a lot in our careers and in our lives. Several have moved away and settled in the far corners of the country. Some have stayed close to where they grew up and carved out successful careers in many fields. Some of the real heroes of my class were several of my friends who have battled various serious ailments and have persevered. Unfortunately, more than a dozen of the folks I graduated with are no longer with us and we held a special remembrance for them.

I realize that each year thousands of high school graduating classes hold reunions around the country. But even in this era of social networking and multi-tasking, it's even more important to periodically physically climb in the car, drive to a location and shake hands or give a hug to a former classmate. E-mails can't quite compare.

The Pleasant Valley Class of '71 is AWESOME! None of us has aged a bit and we still know how to party!

A couple of leftover comments: It's been a few weeks since I've made any political comments, so here goes. As I've heard the babble of the endless bunch of presidential wannabes from the party currently not in the White House, I have yet to hear anyone say how he or she would deal with international affairs. Many of them feel that the Obama administration is vulnerable because of our financial mess, but any current or former president will tell you that there's more to being the leader of the free world than how the stock market is doing. A handsome financial portfolio doesn't mean much if terrorists attack our country. The next time you have an opportunity to hear a presidential candidate, ask him or her how they would do a better job of protecting us from foreign threats.

Corporate America strikes again! I have become a fan of a particular brand of mixed nuts. It's the brand that features a walking peanut as the spokesman. The last time I bought a can of nuts, I noticed that the net weight had dropped from 21 ounces to just over 18 ounces. If my math is correct, that's a decrease of over 13 percent! The nuts cost the same for 18 ounces as they had for 21 ounces. A few days later, as I was driving down 53rd Street in Davenport, I saw this big vehicle the size of a bus that looked like a giant peanut on wheels. Remember the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile? This was a nut mobile, apparently a marketing tool for the nut people. Now I know why the nuts increased in price by 13+ percent. Thanks, corporate America! I guess you have to keep fuel in the nut mobile somehow.

Vacationing? For a different perspective, hit the road!

If economic circumstances, lack of time off or simply a desire not to go through the hassle of packing and spending nights in strange beds has kept you staying close to home in recent years, it might be easy to forget there's more to this world than your street, your town or your state.

In recent years, several factors have kept me close to home. TV and the internet have helped open my eyes to the fact that this is a great big world. But nothing quite compares to climbing in the car and heading out on the open road. We just returned from a 10-day, nine-night journey to Jacksonville, FL. My mom provided the car and a lot of the expenses. She had a desire to see her daughter, son-in-law, grandson and granddaughter and especially a great-grandson who is not quite two years old.

Since I am in between jobs at the moment, I suggested that we avoid the potential delays and inconvenience of air travel and put her Buick through the paces. I checked my handy-dandy road atlas and thought the 1,220 mile trip would be no problem.

As the day for departure grew closer, I was beginning to wonder if this old man would be up to the challenge of being behind the wheel for three straight days. A couple of days before we left, my aunt, who is only a couple of years older than I am, expressed an interest in joining us. Suddenly, the driving chores were cut in half!

The first night we stayed in Metropolis, IL, the unofficial home of Superman. The next day, we traveled through Kentucky and Tennessee (first time for me) and on through Alabama (another first) to Montgomery. Driving on interstates most of the way, my only problem on this day was a crazy trip through Nashville at midday. My aunt then took over and had to drive through a stop-and=go rush hour in Birmingham.

Many states have welcome centers just over the border as you enter the state. I would say one of the most unique such facilities in the country is just north of Huntsville, AL. We saw the attraction a mile before the exit. A Saturn 1B rocket rested on the grounds of this welcome center. Not a replica, it was the real thing, towering almost 250 feet tall. The connection is that Huntsville is home to the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory. I had wanted to see the Kennedy Space Center while visiting Florida for the first time, until I learned that tourists had to pay $44 for the experience. So the chance to stand less than 20 feet away from the model of rocket that had sent astronauts into space for free was amazing.

We saw a lot of the things that many other tourists see on their vacations. I finally got to wade in the Atlantic Ocean one afternoon and we walked the streets of St. Augustine, FL, the oldest city in the country. On a visit to Daytona, my nephew gave us a personal tour or a huge auto auction facility where he is in charge of the computer systems. The company auctions thousands of cars each year from this location and the administration, security and other aspects of this operation was much more than I ever expected. We stopped at the Daytona International Speeday and stood along the fence just past the fourth turn while a couple of cars roared past at more than 120 mph on practice laps. We also got to meet many of my sister's co-workers in her 12th floor downtown Jacksonville office.

Seeing the sites, experiencing new places and getting away from the daily grind are all important reasons to take a vacation. But even more important for us was the opportunity to reconnect with a sister who continues to amaze me in her professionalism, my brother-in-law who is exploring new professional opportunities and is a real inspiration, my niece and nephew, who have weathered some adversities to grow into mature and caring young adults. and the newest member of our famiy, Warren, who at just under two years of age has already displayed a strong throwing arm. If he can throw a baseball or football in a few years the way he can fling his pacifier, I just hope I'm around to be his agent!

When you board a plane in Moline and a few hours later you land in Florida, it's easy to forget that you are passing over woods and fields and cities and towns. Behind the wheel of a car, you gain much more appreciation for the thousands of people who labored millions of hours to carve a roadway through the mountains and woods of the Southeast. Besides, traveling by air, you miss the opportunity to stop at a produce stand along the road just north of Montgomery and buy peaches the size of softballs picked that morning and sold to you by a nice lady with a strong southern drawl. America is great!

Does this really matter?

In reviewing some of my recent posts, I've noticed a trend. I'm spending a lot of time and space complaining. I try to be a positive person, but some of the things I've witnessed in the past few months make it difficult. I'm going to point out a few things here that bother me a bit. But I also hope to point out some of the beautiful things left in this old world.

I have been a fan of CNN for years. I rely on that network to present up-to-the-minute news day or night. Although live programming usually ends at 11 p.m., we know that if something big happens in the middle of the night, CNN will be back on with live reports.

Lately, I've become a bit disappointed in this news outlet. CNN and its sister network, Headline News, has devoted a staggering amount of attention to a murder trial in Florida. For those of you who have been living in a cave for the past couple of years, authorities accuse Casey Anthony of killing her young daughter. Casey Anthony is not the daughter of a head of state, or an heiress. By all accounts, she might be a troubled young woman who may or may not have smothered her daughter and stashed the body in the trunk of a car.

Unfortunately, this case doesn't seem to be unique in a world where there is still way too much violence and lack of respect for human life. But somewhere along the line, some genius in a newsroom somewhere decided to play up this case and suddenly the courthouse is surrounded by network TV satellite trucks and spectators are fighting each other for a spot in line to sit in the courtroom.

Before you plan your day tomorrow around scheduled TV coverage of the trial, ask yourself this question: "How does this murder trial directly affect me or my hope of making my world a better place?" Murder trials usually drag on for months, if not years. During the time much of this country's attention has been zeroed in on this non-remarkable event, dozens or maybe even hundreds of others have met a violent death. Where was the extended TV coverage for them?

Make no mistake. The death of any child is tragic. But aren't we really doing a disservice to the memory of other victims by focusing so much attention on one routine murder case in Florida?

Another recent media-generated guilty pleasure involves the case of a New York congressman, Anthony Weiner. He finally admitted that he had sent improper text messages to several women and ultimately resigned from Congress. He didn't represent my district. As far as I could determine, he would never have become a serious candidate for president. But just because a photo surfaced of a clothed portion of his anatomy, we all became anxious to see what would happen next in this incident.

While being a bit critical of CNN, aren't we all growing tired of that yellow banner that seems to flash across the screen every hour that says "Breaking News."? I always thought that breaking news was the term used to get our attention to an event that had happened within the hour. But the network is using it way too often. It's like the old fable about the boy who cried "wolf." After awhile, it loses its meaning. Anderson Cooper, you should know better. During Hurricane Katrina, you did a wonderful job of keeping local, state and federal officials honest in their bungling of aid to the citizens of New Orleans. You must want to choke when the hucksters in your control room flash the "Breaking News" banner across the screen for a story that actually broke 10 hours before.  

As for our morbid fascination with the Casey Anthony and Anthony Weiner stories in this world, I have one question to ask: Don't we all have better things to do? And don't get me started on the explosion of "reality" TV shows. That's for another time.

Personally, I have other things to be concerned with. I am still looking for a job that will take me to my retirement years. We are involved in several wars that are taking lives of our troops on a weekly basis. On a lighter note, I still have hope the Chicago Cubs can put it all together in the second half of the season and make a run at a pennant. And the NFL owners and players still are at odds, jeopardizing the most important season of the year - pro football season.

I promised to mention some of the more uplifting things happening in this world, so here goes. When I grow tired of worrying about murdered children, wacko politicians or pro sports, I wander out to the screened in porch and sit and watch the activity around our bird feeders. We have a colony of gold finches that stop by on a regular basis. At the other feeder at least a couple of hummingbirds visit regularly. It has been a long time since I saw a gold finch and it took 58 years for me to see my first hummingbird. And yesterday, our neighborhood was visited by a large red-tailed hawk, that perched on the roof of a neighboring building and sent out his plaintive cry for a half-hour or so. 

Naked pictures of a New York congressman can't top that.

Time for a consumer uprising?

Dear Folgers: Where's my six ounces of coffee? Back in the dark ages, when I began drinking coffee as a way to cut calories and stay awake, the familiar red can was the only brand in our house. We usually bought a one-pound can - that's 16 ounces. Sometimes, if we were expecting company, we might splurge and buy a two-pound can, 32 ounces.

Soon, folks who decided cut down on their caffeine intake but still wanted the taste of coffee in the morning were rewarded with a green can of Folgers, also in 16 and 32 ounce sizes.

Have you paid attention to the amount of coffee in those same red or green containers today? I'm betting that the bean counters at corporate are hoping you will be more swayed by the numerous varieties of coffee on the store shelves. But look close at the fine print and you will soon discover that the can that at one time contained 16 ounces is now just over 10.3 ounces. I'm no math expert, but I know that's a considerable drop from what we used to buy. Was their a corresponding drop in price? Guess again.

Coffee is far from the only culprit. Try to buy a half-gallon of ice cream. The square container looks the same. but it contains only 1.75 quarts, sometimes less. Canned vegetables seem to have more water in the can than they used to. Buy crackers or cereal and you can often notice that the product doesn't fill the box. Sometimes there is a disclaimer on the package that says some settling might have occurred during shipment. Nonsense! They are just using a box that once held 14 ounces of product to hold 12 ounces or less!

If a person had way too much time on his hands and somehow had access to some of these products from 10 or 20 years ago, he could start a web site alerting consumers to just what companies are doing to increase their bottom line while hoping we won't notice.

In this era when people are suing companies for virtually anything, commercials on TV and radio and ads in magazines and newspapers are containing more silly stuff than ever before. Most broadcast car and truck ads that quote a certain price or interest rate contain a voice of somebody who escaped from auctioneers' school who reads a paragraph of stuff in warp speed and a hushed tone. If you listen closely, you might learn that the deal they just spent 25 seconds telling you about doesn't pertain to you unless you have just won the lottery and you are the son of the car dealer.

In the past few years, we have been bombarded with ads for prescription drugs. It may show a scene of a family with smiles on their faces, going about their business with the mother recovering from some frightening condition, thanks to this miracle drug. But while the scene continues, the positive aspects of the drug are followed by a list of what might happen to you if you take it and you are a member of a small minority. Thank the lawyers for that.

We have been aware of an increase in health care costs of recent years. Doctors claim the number lawsuits they are subjected to and the cost of liability insurance has caused the increase. But I wonder if at least a small part of those increases are an aggravation stipend. If a doctor must take time to explain to a male patient why a drug meant to alleviate problems that plague some females is not right for him, it takes time away from seeing the next patient.

We are also subjected to several ads each hour which promote a product that makes a man able to perform to his wife's or girlfriend's expectations. One such ad shows a guy trying to eat a sandwich when the missus comes in with that gleam in her eye and he drops the sandwich and races after her. Another ad shows the woman calling her man away from his garage. They walk hand in hand across the lawn. Their house falls away and they are shown putting up a tent. The final scene shows them side by side in bath tubs. The moral of the ad is if you take this drug, your house will fall down, you will be forced to live in a tent and the only way you will ever get clean is in a bath tub. No more showers. Now I don't know too much about intimacy, but I do know that not much hanky-panky can be accomplished in separate bath tubs!

Thanks for allowing me to climb up on my soapbox for a few minutes to vent my frustrations. It's 91 degrees here in Davenport this afternoon - too hot to do anything outside. The Cubs are on a seven-game losing streak and I was turned loose in front of a computer keyboard. I just read what I wrote and realize that it might not be wise for an unemployed hack who has applied to several public relations and ad agencies to be making fun of potential future clients. But just maybe somebody will admire my candor and give me a chance. Besides that, the weather is supposed to cool off in a couple of days and the Cubs still have more than a half-season to turn it around. The glass is still half-full - or maybe just over a third full.

Is the end near?

This might be my last column. Please don't misunderstand. It's been a real pleasure being able to use this forum to vent my frustrations from time to time and at other times, to congratulate people for their good actions. I've had a Ramblings column for more than 35 years, in three newspapers, later on the internet and most recently on my own blog. 

But according to the 89-year-old owner of the Christian Family Radio Network, the end is coming on Saturday, May 21. He says it should happen at about 6 p.m. But he doesn't say if that's eastern time, Mountain time or Zulu, whatever that is. 

According to published reports, Harold Camping has calculated via some Bible verses and mathematics that we are less than two days away from extinction. He is so certain of this that he has posted the message on 2,000 billboards across the country and taken out a lot of big newspaper ads to warn us all. 

The Orlando Sentinel reports that Camping had first predicted that the end would come in September, 1994. When most of us were still here the next day, he explained that he had uncovered new Biblical information, or news flash or revelation, that said that calculation was off. 

I feel quite safe in continuing with this column. After all, if he's right, he won't be around to tell me “I told you so” and I won't be around to listen. I would hope we would both have better things to do at that point in getting acquainted with our heavenly home.

I don't mean to mock someone who studies the Bible. In a secular sense, everybody needs a hobby. In a spiritual sense, if you are a believer, you know Biblical study is vital to a better understanding of your faith. But in the limited understanding I have of the Bible and based on more than 50 years of listening to sermons from a variety of preachers, I remember hearing that God will take us in his own sweet time and we won't necessarily know when that will be. 

The Bible is a great book to study. But the danger is if you open the book and have a notion of what you want it to say, you might see something that really isn't there. That explains that nut case in Florida who claimed he was doing God's work when he planned on burning copies of the Koran. All this did was give the leader of a congregation of under 100 his 15 minutes of fame and prompted riots and the deaths of several people in the Middle East. 

There have been numerous incidents where people have murdered doctors who performed abortions under the misguided theory that they were doing God's work. Then there's that nut case preacher in Kansas who feels compelled to stage noisy, irreverent protests near the funerals of war heroes, claiming to do the work of the Lord.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out here that I am a Christian. I believe that is the one guaranteed way to eternal life. But I would be the last to try to force my beliefs on others. In fact, I admire the dedication others show in their faith journey. There are hundreds of millions of Muslims in this world. I don't agree with what they teach, but I admire the devotion of the vast majority of them who practice their religion in peace. My heart aches for the Jews and the persecution they went through in World War II. I don't agree with their teaching, but admire their devotion. I may not agree with all of the teachings of the Mormons, but I think all of us could learn a lot on how they conduct their missionary teachings. 

I draw the line at inciting riots, killing or dying “in God's name” or mocking others who choose to practice their faith in peace. 

I really don't know if Mr. Camping is right. Maybe the second coming will be Saturday at 5:30 and when Mr. Camping asks God what happened to the 6 p.m. Schedule, He will say, “who's in charge here anyway?”

But just in case he's wrong, I plan on picking out my clothes Saturday afternoon for Sunday church. And I'll begin thinking of what to write in this space next week. Just in case...

Self-assessment following recent events

A couple of events in the past week should make all of us take a long, hard look at our own values. One, the elimination of Osama bin Laden, could have been considered an act of war and a victory for our country. On a less serious note, the recent NFL Draft was an annual evaluation of human flesh.

When many of us were sitting at home late Sunday night, just waiting for the final local newscast of the weekend, our TV shows were interrupted with the news that the White House was preparing an important announcement. At first we returned to a few more minutes of "CSI Miami" before the network news folks couldn't contain themselves any longer and began breaking into regular programming to announce that the U.S. had successfully exterminated the most wanted terrorist in the world.

It took nearly an hour after the first notification before President Obama made his brief speech. So we knew that while it would be an important statement, the country was not in imminent danger. After the president made the announcement, I suppose many of us had the same thoughts as I did. I was glad we got him and I just hoped he died slowly. Some of those same sentiments flooded Facebook soon after. There were impromptu celebrations at many locations in this country that lasted well into the night.

As some of the initial details of the operation were presented, it became clear that the president made the decision to bring a swift end to the bin Laden era and the Navy Seals carried out his orders perfectly. Of course we all had time after the fact to wonder why bin Laden wasn't taken into custody, why the Pakistan government wasn't notified until after our troops had exited the country and why when bin Laden was killed, his body was taken to an aircraft carrier and he was accorded final religious rites.

Ever since the attack on our World Trade Center in 2001, bin Laden has admitted his role in this attack, as well as many others around the world. His capture would have prolonged the inevitable, while jeopardizing whatever country in which he would have been imprisoned. Had the Navy done anything with the body other than treat it with the respect accorded any other human being, it would have added fuel to the fire of the extremists who remain to fight bin Laden's fight. We are not a country who beheads people and parades their heads down Main Street. We are a much more civilized people who took the high road to exterminate this menace to a civilized world.

When it was determined that bin Laden had been holed up in a compound in a large city close to the Pakistani capital for perhaps five years, the decision to make this an all-U.S. operation would seem to be a no-brainer. To say our trust factor with leaders of Pakistan took a big hit when this information became apparent would be a big understatement. There would have been a lot of money changing hands to make certain officials turn a blind eye to their unwanted guest.

There have been subsequent calls for the release of photos of bin Laden's body after the attack. Some would say that this would offer more proof that he had indeed been eliminated. But our government took great care to run DNA tests to be more than 97 percent sure of the target. Those of us who became aware of national politics during the Nixon era know full well that documents can be altered and in this modern age of technology, photos could be edited. But as bin Laden's allies have confirmed his death, I don't think release of the photos are necessary.

Our president made the right decision and our military performed flawlessly.

The death of bin Laden came on the end of a weekend when many American sports fans were recovering from three days of the NFL Draft, where more than 250 young men were chosen to attempt to make a wonderful career move to pro football. If you tuned into ESPN or the NFL network during those three days, you heard an exhaustive evaluation of each potential draft pick. The talking heads spoke about the player's speed, ability to run down the quarterback, catch a football, his height, weight, wing span, etc.

A few times, there was a refreshing referral to the athlete's academic ability or his service to his community. Unfortunately, those references were far too few. At one point, I thought that if there was this much evaluation of each person who was loaded onto those slave ships in Africa more than 160 years ago, it would have taken at least a week  to get a boatload.

It might be a stretch to compare the slave trade to modern pro football. After all, the only thing the slaves could hope for was to survive the trip across the ocean and to be sold to a master who would provide them with a dry place to sleep and food to eat. Each of the players who were drafted who make the opening day roster of his team will receive at least a half-million dollars for the year.

But there is no free enterprise in the pro football draft process. If you are picked by a team, you cannot opt out of that selection and seek employment elsewhere in the league. You are committed to the team that picked you for that first year of your new career.

Terrorism and football seem a world apart. But just as we become numb to deaths in wartime until someone we know is killed or injured, we often don't seem to care what kind of kid is joining our favorite football team, as long as he stays healthy, scores enough touchdowns and stays out of jail.

This might be a good time for all of us to take stock of what is important and what we value most. Let's not thirst for blood, bin Laden did way too much of that in his miserable life. Let's keep track of the players chosen for our favorite team and try to find out if they are more than football machines.