Why do we have a Veterans’ Day?
November 11 is officially veterans’ day. It started in November 1919 when President Wilson proclaimed November 11 as the first commemoration of Armistice Day, based on the end of WWI “the war to end all wars”.
An Act (52 Stat. 351; 5 U. S. Code, Sec. 87a) approved May 13, 1938, made the 11th of November in each year a legal holiday - - a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as "Armistice Day." Armistice Day was primarily a day set aside to honor veterans of World War I, but in 1954, after World War II had required the greatest mobilization of soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen in the Nation’s history; after American forces had fought aggression in Korea, the 83rd Congress, at the urging of the veterans service organizations, amended the Act of 1938 by striking out the word "Armistice" and inserting in its place the word "Veterans."
The Uniforms Holiday Bill (Public Law 90-363 (82 Stat. 250)) was signed on June 28, 1968, and was intended to insure three-day weekends for Federal employees by celebrating four national holidays on Mondays: Washington's Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Columbus Day. It was thought that these extended weekends would encourage travel, recreational and cultural activities and stimulate greater industrial and commercial production. Many states did not agree with this decision and continued to celebrate the holidays on their original dates.
The first Veterans Day under the new law was observed with much confusion on October 25, 1971. It was quite apparent that the commemoration of this day was a matter of historic and patriotic significance to a great number of our citizens, and so on September 20th, 1975, President Gerald R. Ford signed Public Law 94-97 (89 Stat. 479), which returned the annual observance of Veterans Day to its original date of November 11, beginning in 1978. This action supported the desires of the overwhelming majority of state legislatures, all major veterans service organizations and the American people.
Veterans Day continues to be observed on November 11, regardless of what day of the week on which it falls. The restoration of the observance of Veterans Day to November 11 not only preserves the historical significance of the date, but helps focus attention on the important purpose of Veterans Day: A celebration to honor America's veterans for their patriotism, love of country, and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.
Veterans’ Day is a time for Americans to remember the commitment of men and women that served their country. To honor those that served and sacrifice for the common good. This is the day Americans collectively express the country’s appreciation for their veterans.
America is the country she is today because of her veterans. Every family has military veterans and any member of a family can be one. They are the men and women in our lives that gave us life and help us live it, like our fathers, brothers, sisters and mothers. Some are war heroes who faced unbelievable challenges to survive. Some sacrificed all for their country. So, on Veterans’ Day let us not let the jangle of our daily routines over shadow what we owe our veterans for their service. Let us not forget that Veterans’ Day is a day that honors people we love.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thought note: Food ingredients?
I remember when food was simply mixtures of ingredients like flour, milk, sugar, and eggs. You cooked them, sat down and ate your meal. Now I am not a TV chef with recipes from around the country and abroad. I am the chef in my house and I do cook from scratch, using basic ingredients. If I eat out and enjoy a dish that tastes good I will go home and find the recipe on the internet and cook it at home. In my house we eat very few prepared foods from the grocery store.
I understand that today lifestyle moves at faster pace that when I was younger. Both mothers and fathers have to work to make ends look like they meet. Everyone is doing more to fill up the time in their lives. Kids have schedules that rival their parents. It is not just filling up all available time. It is the rushing to do it fast as possible. No matter fast the movement, there is never enough time. We feed with quick spurts to get something in the stomach. The microwave oven has become the major appliance in a kitchen. Our food ingredients reflect this pace of life. They have become chemical compounds designed in labs.
I don’t understand what is advertised as ingredients in food. You need a scientist to explain what they are. Corn maltodextrin, hydrolyzed soy and wheat gluten protein, sodium acid pyrophosphate, monoglycerides, sodium sulfites and sodium bisulfites (preservatives), disodium inosinate and disodium guanylate, sodium phosphate, calcium phosphate, yellow 5 and yellow 6 are ingredients. What food group they belong to? I have a sense that ingredients in today’s prepared foods are for the time they spend on shelves. But I’m sure that some government agency said it is okay for human consumption which I think means it’s okay to eat
I understand that today lifestyle moves at faster pace that when I was younger. Both mothers and fathers have to work to make ends look like they meet. Everyone is doing more to fill up the time in their lives. Kids have schedules that rival their parents. It is not just filling up all available time. It is the rushing to do it fast as possible. No matter fast the movement, there is never enough time. We feed with quick spurts to get something in the stomach. The microwave oven has become the major appliance in a kitchen. Our food ingredients reflect this pace of life. They have become chemical compounds designed in labs.
I don’t understand what is advertised as ingredients in food. You need a scientist to explain what they are. Corn maltodextrin, hydrolyzed soy and wheat gluten protein, sodium acid pyrophosphate, monoglycerides, sodium sulfites and sodium bisulfites (preservatives), disodium inosinate and disodium guanylate, sodium phosphate, calcium phosphate, yellow 5 and yellow 6 are ingredients. What food group they belong to? I have a sense that ingredients in today’s prepared foods are for the time they spend on shelves. But I’m sure that some government agency said it is okay for human consumption which I think means it’s okay to eat
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thought Note: Product Recalls
I have had friends call and get on my case about not consistently writing my blogs (Lostsurvivor.com and TJThoughtsthings). My reasons, job and writing new manuscript (Ghost Watcher) was not good enough. I have to agree, especially when I wrote in TJThoughtsthings I would. I have to admit it was good hearing there are readers out there that wanted me to spill thoughts out of my mind.
So here is a thought note:
What happens to things that are recalled?
The media lets us know about products that are recalled, but I don’t remember ever seeing or hearing about what happens to the products. For example, meat recalled receives attention of being pulled off store shelves. I, like many others, assume it is send back to the company that made it. Then what? Do they destroy it? I have seen and heard of diseased cows and chickens destroyed in the media. But I don’t remember the media saying what happens to recalled packaged meats. It is a vast distribution system for these products, consisting of warehouses and delivery trucks before they get on the shelves. How do they handle recalled products in these cases?
And what about those toys that were recalled? What happen to them? Were they put a boat and shipped back to the manufacturer? If a recalled product is not good in American, does that mean it is not good in other countries?
Perhaps there are simple answers to these questions and I just missed it in the news.
So here is a thought note:
What happens to things that are recalled?
The media lets us know about products that are recalled, but I don’t remember ever seeing or hearing about what happens to the products. For example, meat recalled receives attention of being pulled off store shelves. I, like many others, assume it is send back to the company that made it. Then what? Do they destroy it? I have seen and heard of diseased cows and chickens destroyed in the media. But I don’t remember the media saying what happens to recalled packaged meats. It is a vast distribution system for these products, consisting of warehouses and delivery trucks before they get on the shelves. How do they handle recalled products in these cases?
And what about those toys that were recalled? What happen to them? Were they put a boat and shipped back to the manufacturer? If a recalled product is not good in American, does that mean it is not good in other countries?
Perhaps there are simple answers to these questions and I just missed it in the news.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Journey: New York, New York
New York, the big apple with Broadway shows, Empire state building, Harlem, Wall Street, and the 8 lane George Washington Bridge. Three or four miles before the George Washington Bridge we ran into a traffic jam. The smell of gasoline and diesel fumes from the slow crawl of cars mixed in stifling heat was overbearing. No one could go anywhere. People turned off their cars and stood or sat on their car’s hood watching the frozen stream of metal.
There are no bathrooms on controlled federal roads except at the exits. Some people had blankets and were lying in the grass on the side of the road drinking alcohol. People were yelling at other people, some cussed others passed a bottle between them. A few were peeing on the side of the road. It was a party to some, to others a pain in the butt. We had the CB on listening to the truckers. The chatted that filled the air was to watch out for the Mexican 500 that would start when the bridge lowered. The traffic started moving slowly, cars filled with Mexicans sped over highway embankments and dodged dangerously between cars. I don’t understand how there were no accidents.
We could see the Empire State Building outline through the smog. I asked Carol if she wanted to go into New York and see some sights. She was not interested in seeing any more of New York. She had seen more people in the traffic jam than she had ever seen in Springfield were enough people for one day. She said the only way she would see New York would be in a tank.
Stamford Connecticut, we stayed at the Stamford Inn, off 195. An older hotel, which in it’s hey day was a Holiday Inn catering. That night an assortment of characters filled the hotel. Highway travelers reflect the nature of America. They are from and going to every area of America. Regional differences of clothes, living, and thinking clash in hotels like the Stamford Inn. The local police visited the hotel twice.
One of Carol’s friends, in Springfield, had given us a contact name that was the owner of one of the local radio stations. Carol called him and talked about living and working in Stamford. He wasn’t very encouraging, but offered to help us.
I don’t know if it was the hotel setting, the constant buzz of traffic, the lack of encouragement, or our expectations that made up our minds we were not going to stay in Stamford. Whatever the reason we decided to leave and continue our search for a place stop and live.
We decided not to travel the main federal highways, but to meander on two-lane tree covered back roads.
There are no bathrooms on controlled federal roads except at the exits. Some people had blankets and were lying in the grass on the side of the road drinking alcohol. People were yelling at other people, some cussed others passed a bottle between them. A few were peeing on the side of the road. It was a party to some, to others a pain in the butt. We had the CB on listening to the truckers. The chatted that filled the air was to watch out for the Mexican 500 that would start when the bridge lowered. The traffic started moving slowly, cars filled with Mexicans sped over highway embankments and dodged dangerously between cars. I don’t understand how there were no accidents.
We could see the Empire State Building outline through the smog. I asked Carol if she wanted to go into New York and see some sights. She was not interested in seeing any more of New York. She had seen more people in the traffic jam than she had ever seen in Springfield were enough people for one day. She said the only way she would see New York would be in a tank.
Stamford Connecticut, we stayed at the Stamford Inn, off 195. An older hotel, which in it’s hey day was a Holiday Inn catering. That night an assortment of characters filled the hotel. Highway travelers reflect the nature of America. They are from and going to every area of America. Regional differences of clothes, living, and thinking clash in hotels like the Stamford Inn. The local police visited the hotel twice.
One of Carol’s friends, in Springfield, had given us a contact name that was the owner of one of the local radio stations. Carol called him and talked about living and working in Stamford. He wasn’t very encouraging, but offered to help us.
I don’t know if it was the hotel setting, the constant buzz of traffic, the lack of encouragement, or our expectations that made up our minds we were not going to stay in Stamford. Whatever the reason we decided to leave and continue our search for a place stop and live.
We decided not to travel the main federal highways, but to meander on two-lane tree covered back roads.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
The Journey – car troubles in Pennsylvania
Bad weather and car troubles had to happen sooner or later. No car trip would an adventure unless these events are part of it. We had had no problems with either until we were in the low ridges of the Appalachian mountains in Pennsylvania. The Appalachian region is generally considered the geographical dividing line between the eastern seaboard of the United States and the Midwest region of the country.
We encountered large thunderstorms few miles out of Danville, Pennsylvania in the mountains. The wind driven rain was a torrid down pour causing everything to disappeared outside the car’s window a few times including the car hood. Cars were parked bumper to bumper underneath overpasses. Speeding trucks whipped the driving rain up from the road bed into a blinding dirty fog. I followed their lead and kept driving but slower. After about twenty-five minutes of creeping through the downpour, the sky cleared up and the sun came out. I told Carol if we had pulled over, we would still be on the mountaintop in the drenching rain. We were out of the rain but her mind was still on the mountain with the fright of speeding trailer trucks engulfing us with clouds of dirty back wash from their tires.
We were a few miles from Stroudsburg Pennsylvania when the front of the car begin to wobble violently side-to-side whenever I went over ten miles an hour. I pulled off the road and checked the wheels, looked under the hood. I could not see anything that would cause the problem. A state trooper pulled up behind us. He looked at the wheels and under the hood. He couldn’t see anything wrong. He directed me to a gas station at the next exit that repaired cars.
I drove slow, as slow as when we were caught in the drenching in the mountains. I had a difficult time controlling the steering wheel. We pulled into the gas station, a man was standing outside smoking a cigarette. His eyes got big and the cigarette fell from his mouth as he watched us wobbled into the station. When we got out of the car he said he could believe his eyes. The left front tire was wobbling side to side. He had never seen anything like it before.
We had lost three tire lugs off the wheel. Only two lugs, next to each other, were holding the tire on the wheel. The gas station didn’t stock Peugeot replacement parts. In fact they had never seen or heard of a Peugeot. We looked in the yellow pages for the nearest Peugeot dealer. There was one in New Jersey. Thank goodness the station did have some metric lugs that fit. They were plain tire lugs not the chrome-plated lugs like on the other tires rims, but they would hold the tire onto the wheel and stop the wobbling that’s all we cared about.
We didn’t realize that you don’t go driving around America in a Peugeot. Most people had never heard of the French car. We were very lucky to find a dealer close. There were very few dealerships in the United State. With all the fast hard driving and bad weather we had been through we felt blessed nothing happened to us.
We encountered large thunderstorms few miles out of Danville, Pennsylvania in the mountains. The wind driven rain was a torrid down pour causing everything to disappeared outside the car’s window a few times including the car hood. Cars were parked bumper to bumper underneath overpasses. Speeding trucks whipped the driving rain up from the road bed into a blinding dirty fog. I followed their lead and kept driving but slower. After about twenty-five minutes of creeping through the downpour, the sky cleared up and the sun came out. I told Carol if we had pulled over, we would still be on the mountaintop in the drenching rain. We were out of the rain but her mind was still on the mountain with the fright of speeding trailer trucks engulfing us with clouds of dirty back wash from their tires.
We were a few miles from Stroudsburg Pennsylvania when the front of the car begin to wobble violently side-to-side whenever I went over ten miles an hour. I pulled off the road and checked the wheels, looked under the hood. I could not see anything that would cause the problem. A state trooper pulled up behind us. He looked at the wheels and under the hood. He couldn’t see anything wrong. He directed me to a gas station at the next exit that repaired cars.
I drove slow, as slow as when we were caught in the drenching in the mountains. I had a difficult time controlling the steering wheel. We pulled into the gas station, a man was standing outside smoking a cigarette. His eyes got big and the cigarette fell from his mouth as he watched us wobbled into the station. When we got out of the car he said he could believe his eyes. The left front tire was wobbling side to side. He had never seen anything like it before.
We had lost three tire lugs off the wheel. Only two lugs, next to each other, were holding the tire on the wheel. The gas station didn’t stock Peugeot replacement parts. In fact they had never seen or heard of a Peugeot. We looked in the yellow pages for the nearest Peugeot dealer. There was one in New Jersey. Thank goodness the station did have some metric lugs that fit. They were plain tire lugs not the chrome-plated lugs like on the other tires rims, but they would hold the tire onto the wheel and stop the wobbling that’s all we cared about.
We didn’t realize that you don’t go driving around America in a Peugeot. Most people had never heard of the French car. We were very lucky to find a dealer close. There were very few dealerships in the United State. With all the fast hard driving and bad weather we had been through we felt blessed nothing happened to us.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Lost Time
I have lost a lot of writing time the past few weeks, between mother-in-law trips from nursing home to emergency room a few time, medical procedure on me, working for the State of Illinois (which is planning to pass a thirty day budget for a 12 month year), and installing new window Vista on my laptop. But, the swirl of activity has put my mind to work which always helps my writing. Ah, but the writing doesn't get done unless I write the words. So, I have to get back to my writing disciple. Writing everyday. One of my goal to is write in this blog at least every day. Everyday is what I working for.
I thought about lost time. What makes time lost? Distractions. Something, most of the time ourself, wish we were doing something different than what we are doing. It gives us the feel we have lost time. You can't get time back you lost. All you can do is to do what you feel is important for your time.
I thought about lost time. What makes time lost? Distractions. Something, most of the time ourself, wish we were doing something different than what we are doing. It gives us the feel we have lost time. You can't get time back you lost. All you can do is to do what you feel is important for your time.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The Journey: On The Road East
On route 80 going east big trailer trucks whizzed past us. Their speed scared Carol. She asked if they knew the speed limit. That was unimportant to them, time was money and speed was the way to get more time.
We had a CB radio that plugged into the cigarette lighter and had a magnetize antenna you put on the roof of the car. CB’s were the highway's communication link. You don’t realize the number of people that are on the airwaves until you spend time out on the road. Truckers have CB conversations like they are in the same room with you. They talk about everything from the weather across the country, how to by-pass state weighting stations, what they had to eat and what their wives and girlfriends did or didn’t do. No one uses their real names on the air they have handles. Airwave names, that most of the time are reflective of who they want people to think they are, like Grey fox, wild man, hoochy momma, farm boy and the like.
Carol like to listen to the CB traffic, a new and different language to her. She heard women on the CB saying what milepost or exit the commercial beaver house was parked. She finally asked what the women where talking about. I laughed. Her face flushed when I told her they were telling men where their camper was parked. They were women who were applying one of the oldest trades.
She couldn’t believe there were women traveling the highways doing that. Long distance truck driver don’t stay in one place very long. When they off the road they were not making money. Since they are always on the on the road, houses of pleasure were mobile like their customers. The journey would be full of discoveries we had never thought about.
We had a CB radio that plugged into the cigarette lighter and had a magnetize antenna you put on the roof of the car. CB’s were the highway's communication link. You don’t realize the number of people that are on the airwaves until you spend time out on the road. Truckers have CB conversations like they are in the same room with you. They talk about everything from the weather across the country, how to by-pass state weighting stations, what they had to eat and what their wives and girlfriends did or didn’t do. No one uses their real names on the air they have handles. Airwave names, that most of the time are reflective of who they want people to think they are, like Grey fox, wild man, hoochy momma, farm boy and the like.
Carol like to listen to the CB traffic, a new and different language to her. She heard women on the CB saying what milepost or exit the commercial beaver house was parked. She finally asked what the women where talking about. I laughed. Her face flushed when I told her they were telling men where their camper was parked. They were women who were applying one of the oldest trades.
She couldn’t believe there were women traveling the highways doing that. Long distance truck driver don’t stay in one place very long. When they off the road they were not making money. Since they are always on the on the road, houses of pleasure were mobile like their customers. The journey would be full of discoveries we had never thought about.
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