Best Gift... Ever

I just got what is possibly the best give one person can give another: a second chance.

Think about it. It's sometimes hard to get a first chance. To get a second? Really? Boggles the mind in today's culture, doesn't it?

I can't really explain much more about the chance I was given. It's a matter of discretion to the giver. I'm not embarrassed that I needed a second chance. (Probably ought to be, but I've been in media too long. I have little shame left.) To be honest, I was absolutely stunned at what I was given. I'm getting a second chance from someone who is a relative stranger. I'm stunned by the kindness and, considering that I'm hoping to form an ongoing professional relationship with this person, it speaks loads to me about how desirable involvement with such a person would be in my life.

I've always thought the best gifts were homemade, but sometimes, they can leave you speechless.

Distractions: Skimming the Country

Can you define a geographic region by its milk consumption? I like this cow. I spotted him on a heritage breed dairy farm website and thought he was cute. Growing up on a farm, I always liked cows and calves.

Of course, I never had to milk them.

Washington, DC, as you may know, is still locked in snow. Focus on the cute baby cow, please! No need for pictures of the dreaded white. Keep your eyes on the cow! Yes, my car is still surrounded by drifted snow that is 30 inches deep, exactly as it has been for the past ten days.

And that was before it started. Again. Today.

So I ducked out of the house for a few more supplies. ("Stocking up" covered the first two weeks, but fresh bread and a couple of other things made the trip necessary.) Once inside the grocery store, I got a little surprise. The shelf for skim milk was empty. "All gone." I got to wondering, can you tell what area of the country you are in by the milk they're drinking?

In my home state of Utah, they like Vitamin D milk. Lots of kids there. Vitamin D for extra healthy bones and no need to skim the fat for growing, active children.

In Tennessee, they liked chocolate milk. Lots of sugar. Heavy chocolate. Heavy sugar. Heavy cream. Glug-glug-pudge.

To be completely honest, I believe what Southerners really want would be deep fried milk with "lil pat" of butter on the side. (Look at the look on this one's little face. Is he perhaps one named "Veal Chop?")

In Southern California, I remember seeing a TV commercial that showed a crowd of people excitedly running into the grocery store.

The big draw? A new brand of soy milk.

The funny thing was, it actually seemed completely plausible. It is accurate.

And here in Washington, where we hear about every study, survey, research project, prediction, projection or changes in fur on the back of water-bound rodents that eat only odd numbered insects flying at night could be somehow wildly extrapolated to mean something in terms of human health, we drink skim.

Can happiness be derived from milk without any fat? It's like life without luxury, isn't it? Sorta says something about us, don't you agree?

As for me? I wanted the skim, but seeing none, I forced myself to buy 2% and walked home feeling udderly flush!

(Venturing into pseudo-psychology and pop culture today. People Candy resumes as soon as everyday life regains normalcy in Washington. "This, too, shall pass!" Thank heavens.)

Great Truths and the Stupidity that Follows in American Society

So today, we aren't going to look for the irony. We're going to look for the common sense. Any sign or symptom of common sense. Any breath or whiff or hair along the sidewalk that says "Common sense was here." And has since fled.

I point you in the direction of American retailers who now are turning their eyes away from Baby Boomers.

I remember the first time I heard that nomiker: Baby Boomer. It sounded ominously huge, powerful, and very desirable. It sounded like the Club of Clubs. I recall hearing that this huge (42 percent of the U.S. population are "baby boomers") group would drive the economy before it. That with the sheer force of their numbers, these children born during the demographic Post World War II demographic baby boom, would set trends, fire growth and stability and make politicians tremble before them.


Look at those smiles! I always thought the smartest thing I could do would be to figure out some industry to harness their interests and serve their needs. Some wonderful idea such as "velcro'd clothing" for their dotage would suit me to a T and make my own dotage a lot more luxurious. I've been trying to find the key to that door for a very long time.

Meantime, retailers have noticed that Boomers are taking this recession hard. This information came out of studies and white papers by Retail Forward, which is a retail consulting group that studies and presents trends. If you'd like to read some frightening, pessimistic stuff (or just see signs that Americans are finally understanding what frugality is) then you can click here for their website.

It always was going to be problematic: Americans need to spend because that's how the economy recovers, but they need to pay down their debt because well, $8000 per household in credit card debt was really never going to do, was it?

Back to Boomers. This is the time of their lives, demographically, when they ought to be enjoying and spending their wealth during the highest productivity of their lives, but it turns out, they're a bit depressed. And why not? They've being laid off with the rest of the country. They are staring down their retirement (the statistics on that are utterly terrifying), they are actually more pessimistic than much of the rest of the population about recovery, and they have cut their spending drastically.

Remember those childhood cartoons of poor people eating canned beans? Not so funny anymore, is it? And considering that Boomers are the wealthiest segment of society, it isn't a good sign.

So retailers have decided to move on. I'm not quite sure what they are thinking but it seems to run along these lines:

"Can't sell to the Boomers? Eh, so what? Let's go after the 20-somethings. They're still paying off college loans and living in their parents' basement, but let's get them to spend the money they save on rent!"

In other words, let's teach them to spend beyond their means, too. Ugh.

So, if 42% of your population is older, cranky, and nervous about money, do you ignore them? Or do you figure out smarter ways to attract them? At some point, those older folks still have to buy a new pair of pants and when they figure out that you're only selling capris for the 20's set, they are going to be so annoyed.

If you can tell me how any of this makes sense, I'll be interested to know. Meantime, watch this little bit from late night television's Craig Ferguson as he tells us how things got so far off course in the first place.

I think it may be the funniest, saddest, wisest, most insightful, and yet altogether horrifyingly true thing on Youtube.

Let's Talk About TAYLOR, Please?

I've got a new theory about celebrities, apologies, and the stupidity of some people.

Now that the news cycle on someone's bad behavior is past 48 hours, and people are still talking about HIM, it's clear that he's worked this to his favor. And why? Because we gave it attention.

So here's my suggestion: every time you hear anyone talking about this rude incident, talk about Taylor Swift instead. If the other person continues to bring up the rude person's name, make a honking noise until the name is over. Then, resume talking about Taylor.

Or talk about whatever else you wish. Talk about a restaurant you've just been to, or a great meal you had at home. Bring up a good movie you've just seen, or better yet discuss the book you just finished. (You do still read, don't you?) Ask for advice on your Christmas list. Offer your latest money-saving tip for grocery shopping. Anything but the bad behavior that was recently rewarded with two days worth of attention and hype that would have otherwise required millions to achieve.

And let's figure out a way to do this every time someone behaves badly in public. Sure, there's a "watercooler effect" for a day. But two days? It apparently took the little jerk (did you see what a short little snit he is compared to the 19 year old that he stole the moment from?) over 24 hours to apologize. Are you thinking that delay was an accident?

I didn't hear an apology on Leno last night. He said he felt bad. He acted like he was the injured party. Huh? That was the time a sincere person would have apologized and left the spotlight. But to drag it into a second day? Let's tell him and every faker to come that we're not fooled.

It's time to change the national conversation to something and someone who can be a positive influence for us, rather than rewarding bad behavior with the attention that the jerk was apparently seeking all the time. Enough is enough!

PS: Please feel free to pass this along. Post it on your own blog or twitter it yourself. BUT ENOUGH OF THE EMO CREW!

"Space: The Final Frontier"

Have you ever wondered what space smells like? I have to admit, I have not. And yet I was caught by this internet headline:

"Space Sights and Smells Surprise Rookie Astronauts."

Maybe I watch too much Sci-Fi. I thought if you got sucked out into space, somehow your head caved in, so I had no idea you could actually sniff around out there. I learn something new every day on the internet!

Anyhow, the fact that there's no oxygen in space (that's still true, right?) apparently hasn't stopped some folks. And those people say that space has a unique odor that can be compared to gunpowder or ozone. Yeah, ozone. As if that's on your familiar smell list? I should also point out that if you don't know what ozone smells like, perhaps that's because it's toxic. So don't go out and sniff up some. These tricks are strictly for the professionals.

From his lofty perch on the International Space Station, Discovery shuttle pilot Kevin Ford, a first-time spaceflyer says about odour, "It's like...something I haven't ever smelled before, but I'll never forget it. You know how those things stick with you."

Clearly, a comment from a "newbie," but I'm guessing I'll take have to his word for it. There are still lots of things I can get my grip on here on the planet.

Awhile back, a Los Angeles TV station sent me into a canyon to do a story on inner city kids at a trust building retreat. As part of the retreat, they climb 110 feet up a tree and jump out. They invited me to join their experience.

They said it would be a "great peg" for the story. It absolutely was not. My story was about the kids and I didn't want to distract. But since I don't get offers like that every day, I definitely did the climb and jump. And it got me over my life-long acrophobia nicely.

I like to do stuff that scares me. I like to close my eyes and leap. I don't do dangerous things because well, I'm over that silly immortality complex I had a few years back.

But maybe I do have a little too much Captain Kirk in me. Offer me an experience that feels strangely different, beyond my comfort zone and out of control, and I'll jump for it in about half a second flat.

Change is good. Change is growth. Change wakes my senses up and makes me feel alive.

But space? Isn't that where the orange juice tastes like Tang?

PS: Use of the word "odour" above is not a typographical error. It is French for "odor." Clever, huh? It is my effort to expand all of our horizons with a little international flavor today.

Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses Who Need a Little Info...

I have been working at Voice of America for the past several months. It's interesting work. I write the basic news copy that is used by foreign language news services on American government radio broadcasts overseas. The copy I write is then translated for radio announcers in a couple dozen languages. It's interesting for several reasons.

First, because the world is a fascinating place.

Second, because it turns out that while our country may have more educated people per capita, we certainly aren't the most educated about world politics and what is going on out there.

As it turns out, people living in other countries are often much more focused on world politics and frankly, they sometimes know their geography better, too. Apathy and complacency have not been not good for America.

But one of the things I noticed quickly at VOA is that a lot of my coworkers are immigrants. Most of those are naturalized American citizens. But there are definitely lots of foreign nationals and former foreign nationals floating through those hallways, rubbing shoulders with us boring All-American domestically-produced-type of folks.

Some of that is great. I find it fascinating to see all the different national costumes that walk past me in the hallways. But some of their habits are a little distressing. I wonder if you might have noticed this, too?

I'm talking about little things that they do that are a little less than what we have come to expect in this country by virtue of hanging around together for a couple hundred years.

We're sorta like an old bachelor uncle who is stuck in his habits (and usually dug in deep to an old barcalounger) and doesn't want to change. Of course some of those habits are things that stop us from catching diseases, passing them along, and generally grossing each other out, right?

If you have encountered these thoughts with our newest citizens (or those lovely new wanna-be citizens), could you please leave a comment about it here for me? I'm doing some research on this and it would be extremely helpful.

Here's my disclaimer: I'm not trying to kick up dust on immigration issues. I'm not trying to poke fun at anyone's habits. I'm strictly looking for information on what these immigrants are missing in the way of information that would help them to fit in better. If you just want to fuss, please do it privately. If you need to vent, you can email me. But privately... please? I don't want the hate-comments. I want helpful comments, please.

For instance, when someone is coming directly toward me and we would have a head-on collision, whether we're talking on foot in a hallway or in a car on the road, I keep to the right side. I've grown up and been trained to drive on the right side of the road in traffic in this country. Therefore on foot, I would also walk to the right side.

Immigrants from around the world don't have the benefit of such training. Europeans might go to the left side, based on their background and training. People from developing countries have no idea which direction to go. The reason for that becomes obvious when you visit their countries: traffic goes every direction without any organizational flow.

So if you have a thought on this, please post it. I'll be most appreciative. Again, please be nice about it. If you can't be nice, then just email me directly. You can rant to me. I've listened to rants for living for some time now.

Addendum: The first and only comment I had so far was just someone going on to about how immigrants don't want to fit in; they just want the opportunities and freedom and to "wear their headgear in drivers license photos." As I said, if you want to rant and complain about immigrants, do it privately. This is a research project; not an (unkind) opinion poll. I'm sure I've already heard plenty of that.

The Marti/Julia Project

I want to go see "Julie & Julia," which judging by the buzz it is generating, will likely be one of the top movie releases for this weekend. The other new release this weekend is "GI Joe," (I refuse to link this movie in. Google it yourself, if you must know more.) and nobody knocks 'tweens and teens out of their market-making position.

"Julie & Julia" is the real-life story of Julie Powell, a young newly-married resident of Long Island City, NY who wants a writing job and needs to learn to cook, so she begins the "Julia Project," which is year-long effort to cook her way through Julia Child's classic "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," and blog about it the entire way. Clever, huh? If you read her posts, it actually is very clever.

Then her blog became so popular that she got a book deal. And a movie deal. Life gets better and better, doesn't it? Good for her!

The movie is being relished by fans of Meryl Streep, who plays Julia Child, as she does all her roles, with aplomb and gusto. (So tempted by write "a-plum" but I stopped myself.)

The cinematic release plays back and forth between both women's lives. Watching Meryl Streep play Julia Child is more visual candy for my gluttonous little movie-loving soul. So I have promised myself that I shall get there.

In counterpoint, the portrayal is not pleasing to actual friends of Julia Child, who say that the lady herself (who passed in 2004, two days short of her 92nd birthday) didn't like the "Julie/Julia Project." She felt like Julie Powell was usurping her name and brand for personal benefit. She didn't approve or appreciate the little upstart from New York. Sigh.

I've not seen the movie. But I will. Until then, I've decided to begin the Marti/Julia project. I've decided to walk around in very tall shoes (Julia herself was 6'2"), trilling in a high falsetto and using words like "marvelous souffle-y concoction" and tossing the word "bechamel" into every third sentence.

Hmmm, "Marti/Julia Project." It just doesn't have the same ring, does it? Oh well. Bon appetit!

You're a Dirty Girl and I'm Telling!

This morning, I got up and pulled on a favorite t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I wore the t-shirt last night for a few hours, before I went to bed. It is, afterall, one of my favorite t-shirts (there are three) and here's an admission: it sometimes gets worn several times between washing. (The t-shirt in question is 25 years old. How do you think it survived that long? Dirt is protecting it!)

Okay, I'm not a sweaty woman. And you know what? I'm not alone.

85% of American women will wear something a couple of times before washing it. Yes, we wear dirty clothes. Or even go hamper-diving. As my mother would tell you, I just toss my clothes around the room, so I rarely go on a hamper tour, but when I do, be assured, those would be some dirty clothes I'm digging through.

You thought the boys were the only dirty ones? Ha! You were wrong!

Glamour Magazine polled 1000 women to discover all kinds of weird and somewhat annoying hygiene habits that we generally won't admit in polite company. It goes without saying that Polite is defined as anyone but our closest girlfriends. Although I can't imagine having this discussion with my closest girlfriends because they're too, well, polite. Want more?

75% of American women pee in the shower. That's not so bad, right? Urine, unless you have an infection, is sterile and nontoxic. And peeing in the shower saves on water that might otherwise be used in flushing a toilet. I wonder if I could get that printed up on a bumpersticker: "Save the planet: pee in the shower!"

40% of us observe the "5 second rule." When something falls on the floor, a sizable percentage of us will still eat it. Boy, I hope they're talking about hard rolls and potato chips here. Tomato soup in this instance is a little icky. But I sorta like the child-like trusting attitude that this implies.

43% of us don't brush our teeth at night. Wow, really? REALLY? This blog is written by someone who can't sleep until she has done the thing with the brush and floss. And she's feeling pretty darned good about herself just this moment.

So do you hit the showers before you turn in? A third of us will hit the sheets still wearing our sweat. No shower taken, we're okay with that.

24% of American women don't wash their hands after using the bathroom. Who are these people? Do they think of themselves as "Ladies"? Now you're thinking twice about the girl that brought your sandwich at the lunch-counter, huh?

Finally, 32% of us go barefoot at the gym. Well, that's just risky. But there's a wild rumor floating through this survey that if you get athlete's foot or some other nasty foot fungus, peeing in the shower will help cure it.

Now you're wondering, huh?

My American Journey

To update you, I recently returned on a more or less permanent ('permanent' is all relative, right?) basis to the East Coast. Below are photographs and a little narrative of my trip.

I left California. I got up on Sunday morning after covering Michael Jackson's demise for two grueling (and a bit surreal) days to load my little econo-car at its limit. I then drove off on a new adventure.

On the first day, after drying my tears, I drove to Southern Utah to see some family. I found them under a rock in Zion National Park.
They were every bit as much fun as they look, but soon I was off again. I drove on across Utah toward Colorado. This is Spotted Wolf View, which hangs out over I-70. It goes out another 50 yards or so of gravelly drop-out path.

See that crack in the lower center of the photo? It appears that chunk of "path" to the left could fall off just about any second.

It looked like a great place to walk out, rather like this scene in the movie, "Pride and Prejudice" starring Keira Knightley.

Due to the fact that these are not climbing shoes...

...but are in fact falling to your death shoes, I did not walk out to the edge. I may regret that someday. But any regret will have to wait until I stop shaking at the thought.

Next I drove thru Colorado and into Kansas, which appears to be a beautiful, if seemingly endless state. Finally, I arrived at that spot of gastronomic heaven known as "Arthur Bryant's" in Kansas City, Kansas.

Here I am in front of Arthur Bryant's BBQ House at the Legends in Kansas City, KS. I'm particularly proud of this t-shirt. My Dad presented it to me just two weeks before. He, uh, didn't like the one I had worn to Father's Day lunch at my brother's house, which said "Jesus is our dishwasher" on the back. I don't think he likes colloquial humor. Oh well.

Mr. Bryant's barbecue establishment is world-famous for its great tasting smoked meat and sauce.

This generous overall-clad fellow was behind me in line. He said it was a great bbq place and since I'm a believer that "you are what you eat," I expect he'd be one to know.

He proceeded to order a luscious pound and a half plate of barbecue meat, including pork, ribs, and sliced brisket. He also got himself a large order of fries. I know this because they arrived just as I got to the "pay up, please?" part of the deal. He said "Aw, look what Daddy got!"

I asked "Daddy" if I could try three of his fries. He graciously agreed. I swiped 'em. I swiped my card. And I dashed around the corner to indulge myself.

Yessiree! (That's colloquial Kansas barbecue house verbage, right there!) It was great!

It's funny how in LA, those sunglasses look sorta hip. In a Kansas City barbecue house, they make me look a teensy bit like blonder, less hairy Blues Brother, don't you think? Of course, what they really do is let me hide behind them as I watch my fellow diners. This way, I can see their expressions as they gather their families around the table for the big treat. Yessiree! Arthur Bryant's is that good.

And "Daddy?" I passsed him and his pal on the way out. He said they would have invited me to dine with them, except I disappeared. I was actually a little worried I might have been tempted to steal another fry and that might have proven lethal. He definitely he could eat.

Next, I drove over to this place, Sheridan's Frozen Custard, which was also at "Legends." For those of you homebodies, "Legends" is a big "town center" bunch of strip malls with stores and restaurants covering a good 20+acres just off an exit in a nice area residential area of Kansas City. BTW, I was tipped off to the this particular location by my barbecue consultant, Kevin Westhues, who I worked with years ago in Omaha, NE.

I went up to the window and met another Kevin. This 'un is friendly enough until you tell him you want to take his picture. Then he gets quite unfriendly. Downright weird, in fact.

You ask him his name. He says "William." Not true. His name is Kevin. There's an entire story, but it's frankly pointless and boring, so let's move on. His name is KEVIN. Deceptively pleasant looking, isn't he?It was here as I tried to decide on ice cream that I met the Hongslo's of Minnesota. Marie and Michael and their kids were enjoying Kansas City's gourmet fare as much as I was. It took them a fair amount of time to order. I think they really enjoy the "ice cream with the kids" experience a lot.
Marie Kibler Hongslo (I know her full name because she "friended" me on facebook a few days later) is as honest and agreeable of a person as you could wish to sit down next to and begin chatting up. I hope she forgives me for posting this picture of her from the backside with her family.

As for me, I wimped out. I ordered this double scoop, which was the smallest thing on the menu at Sheridan's and I only made it halfway through before I was "sugared out." I'm guessing I'll always be kinda disappointed in myself about that.

But I'll learn to live with it. That and the "no walking out on to deadly overhangs" thing.

I drove on to Columbia, Missouri that night and woke up to a lovely barbecue turkey sandwich for breakfast before driving on to Lexington, Kentucky.

In Lexington, I was invited to stay with an old friend and make two new ones. Keith, on the left in the picture below, is my old friend.

Keith was the first friend I made when I moved to the East Coast years ago. His best friend Andrea and their dog Autumn are my new friends. Check out that dog's face. Andrea's face is pretty darn cool, too!

I enjoyed my time there so much that I wanted to enhance the local economy.

So I bought myself a gift: a spiffy new tire. Don't ask.

Please don't ask.

Eventually, I arrived in my new home. And boy-howdy-yessirree, I was glad to get out of the car. That's more colloquialism, by the way. I learned it in Kentucky... waiting for my new tire to be put on.

As you may by now know, I drove from Los Angeles to my new home, enjoying the scenery and talking to people I met along the way. I'd smile and compliment them on something and tease them about all kinds of things. From barbecue orders to restroom decor and anything else I could think of... I just talked with people who were out and about. It was very fun.

People always ask me about these cross-country drives. Three time this year has been a bit much, even for my wanderlust.

But the Great American Countryside is absolutely beautiful and the horizon always draws me. I always seem ready to go.

One thing I have figured out that it's not the views (although they are pretty great!) that pull me out my door and down the road. It's the people.
Look at this woman. Can you not want to smile at her? I never asked her name. Most of them, I did not. (Marie: You were special.) I just snapped her picture because she was so fun to look at. She was beamingly happy on July 4th. Which is great, isn't it? And it made me happy to look at her.

Because to me, Americans are like candy and for the life of me, I can't stop wanting to gobble it all up.

100th Blog Post Anniversary

This is my 100th post. I started at a time when journalism was changing, politics were in transition, and watching pop culture to be honest, was making me a little ill. The pendulum seems to be swinging more than anyone could have predicted.

I am certain journalism will never be what it was, nor should it be. But it will evolve into something useful. And those whose voices are strong will still be heard.

But as I looked around the online universe today and saw one more "long-time TV personality leaving his position to reinvent himself," it seems obvious things are changing. That statement no longer is cover for firing someone. It's more like the sad excuse of offering someone so little money that they can only hope they'll find something better by leaving.

I guess that's what all of us hope for: something better. Starting a little roadtrip this morning. Catch you on the other end.

Pop Culture/Pot Culture

I nominate craiglist.com as the new barometer of our culture. Looking through its pages, you can find garage sales, make new friends and hire sexual favors. But this isn't about that old story. I want to look to craigslist for its ability to highlight cultural trends.

As an example, I was looking through the Los Angeles craigslist.com site under employment ads. I clicked on "TV / Film / Video." This section is usually primed for actors and those seeking immediate fame, so every once in a while, there's an interesting advertisement there. This caught my eye today:

Cannabis Dispensary hiring COOL PEOPLE

Yeppers. You, too, can get a job selling pot in Los Angeles. Well, specifically Van Nuys. But there are now some areas of Los Angeles where the "cannabis dispensaries" are popping up like magic mushrooms on a decaying in. The advertiser said the ad was posted in three craigslist categories: Food & Beverage because this group is all about being warm and friendly with no attitude; Customer Service because those folks like working with people; and TV/Film because well, these are good looking people who are frequently out of work. We are to believe then, that these are also the defining characteristics of "cool."

As far as the craigslist.com posting, it's truth in advertising, I guess. Since pot for medicinal use is legal here in La-La Land and there are apparently so many terribly sick people in need of its medicinal properties, they must hire a lot of staffers. Here's what you need to qualify:

In order to work at the Dispensary, you have to be a resident of California, with valid Identification and we cannot have any out-of-state ID cards. A DMV printout will do with another photo ID, just as long as we know you're awaiting your California ID in the mail. Also, a new rule that we have to enforce is that all applicants be OVER 21 YEARS OLD (please do not respond if you are not 21, we just can't, sorry). Training will be provided.

This might be fun, huh? Oh, and if you decide to apply, please keep in mind the employer is expecting a HUGE amount of responses, so be cool and feel free to send fun photos or tell jokes in your application letter. It is afterall, an advertisement on craigslist.com.

A Penny for Your Thoughts...

"A penny saved is a penny earned."

"Every time it rains, it rains pennies from Heaven."

And even more outdated,

"Here's a quarter for you and your brother to buy some penny candy."

Penny candy is a term that died about 30 years ago. At that time, penny candy could make the day of a child. It was individually packaged and came in near endless variety of which any kid could list their favorite. But as will happen, the cost of sugar rose. The price of these smallest bits of candy sold separately went to several cents or a nickel. The term simply went out of use. This recession won't bring it back, but it is causing Americans to think about how they spend money. Those pennies that have been so casually left on the counter are now being put in the pocket, collected, and valued.

And now in honor of the 100th anniversary of the smallest and most long-running American coin's current featured face (100 years of Lincoln, but the penny itself actually dates further back.) the U.S. Mint is issuing 1-cent coins with four different designs on the back, each coming out through the year 2009.

By the way, the coin isn't legally named "penny." It's actually a 1-cent coin. And collectors are rabid about having as many of these commemorative pennies as possible, tidily rolled up in their U.S. Mint wrappers. The U.S. Mint decided not to be driven to distraction by numismatists, as coin collectors are known (or numistmatics... haha!) and allowed each to purchase only six rolls each.

I've been watching and hoping this recession restores a little common sense to how some in our country think about and value money. I'd also like to see it restore some value to reality instead of our culture focusing solely on what can be purchased on a Friday night in a darkened theater for $13.

Lately, I look at the advertisements on television and note that some home improvement (and other types of stores), which must be suffering greatly due to the downturn in home building, sales, and renovations, are now offering "everything at greatly reduced prices." I am sure they think that's a wonderful thing to advertise to consumers, but to me it logically says that in the past their prices were greatly inflated. I mean, they've still got to be making a profit somewhere, right? I wonder that no one has pointed that out to the great marketing minds at Lowe's Stores.

Remember last year during the gas crunch when food processors and grocery manufacturers were trying to avoid being accused of inflating their prices so instead they just cut the size of the packaging and hoped consumers didn't notice? This year, they'd do anything just to hang on to the sales they have at the prices they try to command. The word "deflation" is coming into view.

Wouldn't it be nice if with some of our deflated dollars and our now re-valued 1-cent coins, we could somehow buy back a little of our lost American way of thinking? If we could restore the simpler times of our parents and return to valuing time spent together? A few dollars could buy a backyard barbecue with friends in a way that the same amount doesn't really cover more than one or two beers in a darkened smokey bar filled with too much noise.

Our parents knew how to make their own fun. Their good times were at home: theirs or those of friends with their loved ones around them. And those times were purchased with pennies to spare.

Farewell Farrah. No, really, FAREWELL.

Would it really diminish anyone to quietly die and in peaceful privacy? Perhaps surrounded by friends and loved ones? But truly, no cameras.

Celebrities, some of whom live their entire lives and seem to exist solely to get into the spotlight, are, in fact, mere mortals. Which means that like the rest of us, they come to the end of their life on earth.

And yet they want more. Living in Southern California was never anything so much as it was an education in the desperate neediness of the celebrity culture. But whose fault is this heralding of the end of things that border on creepy?

So on Friday, NBC will air a documentary called "Farrah's Story." Does Farrah Fawcett, suffering through a two year battle with terminal anal cancer, need her dying breath chronicled? It makes me wonder... who is making money off this last greedy grasp at celebrity?

Remember years ago, people who suffered such awful fates went in silence. They suffered through their chemotherapy, exhausted all their options in chemical, surgical, radiation and alternative therapies before simply going home to die. Quietly. It was sad that we shamed them into hiding in some cases. But shall we now be shamed by our own morbid, prying eyes? The pendulum swings too far.

It's wonderful that we now have seen and understood their suffering because of the bravery of some of these souls in going on camera or at the very least, writing about their final struggles.

But when did we lose touch with what was called in an earlier time, a Sense of Decorum? Does our lack of it mean we need to see someone desperately reaching for their final minutes of fame? Do people, particularly because of their past lifelong celebrity status, deserve to have the prying eyes of a camera along? And when will we realize that we are far beyond the limits of good taste in searching out these things?

This is the same fixated culture that allowed celebrities who think that their political feelings and ideas are more valued than anyone else's. It is this the same society that allowed some famous folks to threaten moving to Canada if anyone other than their candidate was elected? (To be honest, those same folks had wives who famously demanded Evian water in which to wash their hair. Think about it.) The more amusing point was the complete lack of voices calling for them to stay. Ha!

I'm truly sorry to see the sad, near end-of-life struggles of anyone going through the worst life has to offer. But I'm even sorrier to see a culture that is so fascinated as to allow for the sick voyeuristic interest in following Farrah Fawcett's "story" to its completely known and unhappy ending.

Let her go. Remember her as she would want to be remembered anyway. And don't let the future be determined by watching, which will surely drive a ratings boon that is rolling right over someone's future grave.

Social Networking Overtakes Porn as #1 Internet Draw

Good news for Moms everywhere: Reuters reports that social networking sites are now officially the top attraction on the Internet.

They have triumphed over pornography, which for years has been the leading destination for internet surfers. They also put down gaming sites, which perhaps were never really in contention as much as they were draws for teenaged boys and very sad social outcasts in their 20's and 30's.

But what this also indicates is a major change in how people communicate, according to some experts.

Bill Tancer, general manager of global research at analytics firm Hitwise, said in the article that analyzing web searches did not just reflect what was happening online but gave a wider picture of society and people's behavior.

"There are some patterns to our Internet use that we tend to repeat very specifically and predictably, from diet searches, to prom dresses, to what we do around the holidays," said Tancer, whose new book, "Click: What Millions of People are Doing Online and Why It Matters," was released a few weeks ago.

Tancer said in the article that porn surfing has dropped to about 10 percent of searches from 20 percent ten years ago. "As social networking traffic has increased, visits to porn sites have decreased," said Tancer, who also indicated that the 18-24 year old age group particularly was searching less for porn.

Social networking is actually often a more convenient way to communicate with friends because it weeds out everybody else. Anybody who has been put on a corporate listserv knows that going on vacation means you need to arrive back two hours early in order to clear out the email box so that you can start the real work of post-vacation catch-up.

Another reason it's good news: it also means we might be reading more... instead of just looking at the pictures.