Category Archives: safety
On throwing your cigarette butt out of your car window
On going too fast
We lead lives of quiet desperation as we chase from one thing to the next, blind to our own panic and our senseless running to and fro in order to make everything work. We speed, break all the traffic laws, destroy our nerves, put ourselves in danger, put others in harm’s way. There is no sense of meditation or self-reflection or self-awareness in our wild chasing between appointments and deadlines. We are totally unaware of the danger into which haste and hurry put us. The modern connectivity of our digital gadgets is driving us all to distraction. We are all over-committed, over-booked, and over-worked because we can’t say no, and we let the tail wag the dog. I actually yearn for the simpler days when phones were on kitchen walls, we were unreachable when out of the house, we could walk to work and school, and we had limited reasonable commitments. We no longer have time for even the most casual moment to relax and smell the roses, have a cup of coffee, talk with a friend, drive reasonably to the next thing–or maybe even not have a next thing? I have written about time poverty in the past and its relationship to digital media and constant on-line connectivity, but I think that American society has hit a moment of critical mass of appointments, meetings, lessons, sporting events, reunions, and events. All of which makes for a very full and interesting life, but it also leads to forgetfulness, missed appointments, frustration, speeding tickets, red lights, and disappointment. One of my resolutions for this year is to just slow down.
On going too fast
We lead lives of quiet desperation as we chase from one thing to the next, blind to our own panic and our senseless running to and fro in order to make everything work. We speed, break all the traffic laws, destroy our nerves, put ourselves in danger, put others in harm’s way. There is no sense of meditation or self-reflection or self-awareness in our wild chasing between appointments and deadlines. We are totally unaware of the danger into which haste and hurry put us. The modern connectivity of our digital gadgets is driving us all to distraction. We are all over-committed, over-booked, and over-worked because we can’t say no, and we let the tail wag the dog. I actually yearn for the simpler days when phones were on kitchen walls, we were unreachable when out of the house, we could walk to work and school, and we had limited reasonable commitments. We no longer have time for even the most casual moment to relax and smell the roses, have a cup of coffee, talk with a friend, drive reasonably to the next thing–or maybe even not have a next thing? I have written about time poverty in the past and its relationship to digital media and constant on-line connectivity, but I think that American society has hit a moment of critical mass of appointments, meetings, lessons, sporting events, reunions, and events. All of which makes for a very full and interesting life, but it also leads to forgetfulness, missed appointments, frustration, speeding tickets, red lights, and disappointment. One of my resolutions for this year is to just slow down.
On a bandage
I had to put a bandage on my finger tonight because I accidentally hurt myself while preparing food. I don’t know about you, but I have sliced and diced my left hand until it has bled. Though I would not say I am particularly clumsy, I am not particularly deft and my hands bear the scars of years. My new bandage covers a small wound that only gave up a few drops of blood, so I don’t need stitches, but I wasn’t happy that I hurt myself either. It will heal, no doubt. I’ve put the requisite anti-bacterial products on my wound, a little peroxide. I put pressure on the wound to staunch the flow of blood, albeit a trickle. The bandage is holding in the rest. The bandage is flesh-colored except that my flesh is not that particular color of pink, but it does keep new germs from getting into the wound and infecting me with who knows what deadly horrors from the bacterial world. It turns out that if I cut myself, I bleed, that even on the macro-level, my blood is dark red, and I am not immortal. That is what the flimsy plastic bandage on my left finger tells me.
On a bandage
I had to put a bandage on my finger tonight because I accidentally hurt myself while preparing food. I don’t know about you, but I have sliced and diced my left hand until it has bled. Though I would not say I am particularly clumsy, I am not particularly deft and my hands bear the scars of years. My new bandage covers a small wound that only gave up a few drops of blood, so I don’t need stitches, but I wasn’t happy that I hurt myself either. It will heal, no doubt. I’ve put the requisite anti-bacterial products on my wound, a little peroxide. I put pressure on the wound to staunch the flow of blood, albeit a trickle. The bandage is holding in the rest. The bandage is flesh-colored except that my flesh is not that particular color of pink, but it does keep new germs from getting into the wound and infecting me with who knows what deadly horrors from the bacterial world. It turns out that if I cut myself, I bleed, that even on the macro-level, my blood is dark red, and I am not immortal. That is what the flimsy plastic bandage on my left finger tells me.
On changing a tire
A flat tire gives you all kinds of time to ponder the world. You have to clear out the trunk to get to the jack and other tire changing gear, so as you ponder all the crap you keep in the trunk, you might also ponder the meaning of life, wondering all the time why you do have so much useless stuff in your trunk. Jacks today are a little different than the bumper jacks of yesteryear that our fathers taught us to use. They are smaller and safer, but harder to use–most of are a scissor-type that goes under the frame just in front of the tire. Once you have that figured out, you have to attack the lug nuts with the lug wrench. Since most lug nuts are put on with power tools that torque the nuts to a certain torsion that will not loosen up on its own, getting them loose by hand is a real challenge. The act of loosening those lug nuts really gets you in touch with your feelings, your muscles, your weight. All of this takes time, and for someone who doesn’t do this every day, this is a chance to review the principles of physics that govern mass, work, gravity, torque, and the like. Since changing a tire is a solitary past-time, you get to talk to yourself, review procedures for the correct changing of the tire, debate the pro’s and con’s of carrying a larger lug wrench, and analyze the engineering of the jack and its correct application. Once you have the old, flat tire off and the spare tire on, you have to repeat the procedure of removing the tire, but in reverse. You screw on the lug nuts, lower the car, tighten the lug nuts, remove the jack, and had to the tire store to get the flat fixed. You pick up your tools, put the flat tire in the trunk, ponder the destiny of all the junk that was in the trunk, pour yourself a cool drink and wipe the sweat from your forehead.
On changing a tire
A flat tire gives you all kinds of time to ponder the world. You have to clear out the trunk to get to the jack and other tire changing gear, so as you ponder all the crap you keep in the trunk, you might also ponder the meaning of life, wondering all the time why you do have so much useless stuff in your trunk. Jacks today are a little different than the bumper jacks of yesteryear that our fathers taught us to use. They are smaller and safer, but harder to use–most of are a scissor-type that goes under the frame just in front of the tire. Once you have that figured out, you have to attack the lug nuts with the lug wrench. Since most lug nuts are put on with power tools that torque the nuts to a certain torsion that will not loosen up on its own, getting them loose by hand is a real challenge. The act of loosening those lug nuts really gets you in touch with your feelings, your muscles, your weight. All of this takes time, and for someone who doesn’t do this every day, this is a chance to review the principles of physics that govern mass, work, gravity, torque, and the like. Since changing a tire is a solitary past-time, you get to talk to yourself, review procedures for the correct changing of the tire, debate the pro’s and con’s of carrying a larger lug wrench, and analyze the engineering of the jack and its correct application. Once you have the old, flat tire off and the spare tire on, you have to repeat the procedure of removing the tire, but in reverse. You screw on the lug nuts, lower the car, tighten the lug nuts, remove the jack, and had to the tire store to get the flat fixed. You pick up your tools, put the flat tire in the trunk, ponder the destiny of all the junk that was in the trunk, pour yourself a cool drink and wipe the sweat from your forehead.
On detours
Are you where you always thought you would be? As a child I always dreaded those big orange “detour” signs which were always synonymous with “getting lost.” In the pre-digital age of gps devices, getting lost along your way was a pretty common phenomenon. The most common reason for detours is to allow road crews to do road work and for drivers to make it around the mess. Some detours are cut and dried simple, but others can really carry you out of your way, taking you into neighborhoods you’ve never seen before, giving you a chance to visit previously unknown scenes. Unexpected detours wreck your schedule, add miles to your trip, and raise nervous emotions of uncertainty. My childhood dread of detours usually meant the trip would be longer, and we would arrive later. No one ever tells you how much longer the detour is going to be, if there will unexpected waiting while other cars pass. At the same time, however, the detour might show you a new way to get where you are going. We are all creatures of habit, and we don’t like to have our habits disturbed, even if the old normal way was never that good in the first place. Detours always test the validity of what we hold to be true. Whether that detour puts you on a new road or it makes you second guess the route you have always taken, it makes you re-examine all of those old values that you hold so dear. If we could only stick to familiar scenes, avoid the unknown, stay in our cocoon, life would be so much easier, but then come the detours, those orange signs with black arrows sending us off into the great unknown, making us wonder if we are going to get lost after all. We think that we can plan everything out, that we can control every situation, that we know how the world works, what the future holds. The uncertain chaotic nature of detours dashes every plan, destabilizes futures, destroys the illusion that we are in charge. Detours delay our arrival at a final destination–home, the cabin, the farm, the office, a restaurant, church–giving us time to think about things, give us a chance to examine what we are doing. How many times have I sat behind the wheel of my car and slowly turned onto a detour, all the time wondering what was in store for me now, giving me a chance to think about things, giving me a moment to contemplate my journey, the automatic pilot won’t serve anymore. Perhaps there is nothing like a detour to put most everything in its relative place. What scares us most about a detour is the idea that we might not ever arrive at all, but will instead end up somewhere else, a new place where nobody knows our name. Maybe detours are less a detriment to our lives and more of an opportunity to do something new–learn a language, eat something new, climb a mountain, visit Dr. Johnson’s house, follow a dark trail, read an old book, have a drink with a stranger. Detours challenge our inherent fear of the unknown because we are so deathly afraid of change. Life is so uncertain that even a good detour cannot be planned. So we check our maps, look at time schedules, program the global positioning device, consult the internet for delays, construction, detours, and jams, but where the rubber meets the road, we still run into detours, which derail all our plans.
On detours
Are you where you always thought you would be? As a child I always dreaded those big orange “detour” signs which were always synonymous with “getting lost.” In the pre-digital age of gps devices, getting lost along your way was a pretty common phenomenon. The most common reason for detours is to allow road crews to do road work and for drivers to make it around the mess. Some detours are cut and dried simple, but others can really carry you out of your way, taking you into neighborhoods you’ve never seen before, giving you a chance to visit previously unknown scenes. Unexpected detours wreck your schedule, add miles to your trip, and raise nervous emotions of uncertainty. My childhood dread of detours usually meant the trip would be longer, and we would arrive later. No one ever tells you how much longer the detour is going to be, if there will unexpected waiting while other cars pass. At the same time, however, the detour might show you a new way to get where you are going. We are all creatures of habit, and we don’t like to have our habits disturbed, even if the old normal way was never that good in the first place. Detours always test the validity of what we hold to be true. Whether that detour puts you on a new road or it makes you second guess the route you have always taken, it makes you re-examine all of those old values that you hold so dear. If we could only stick to familiar scenes, avoid the unknown, stay in our cocoon, life would be so much easier, but then come the detours, those orange signs with black arrows sending us off into the great unknown, making us wonder if we are going to get lost after all. We think that we can plan everything out, that we can control every situation, that we know how the world works, what the future holds. The uncertain chaotic nature of detours dashes every plan, destabilizes futures, destroys the illusion that we are in charge. Detours delay our arrival at a final destination–home, the cabin, the farm, the office, a restaurant, church–giving us time to think about things, give us a chance to examine what we are doing. How many times have I sat behind the wheel of my car and slowly turned onto a detour, all the time wondering what was in store for me now, giving me a chance to think about things, giving me a moment to contemplate my journey, the automatic pilot won’t serve anymore. Perhaps there is nothing like a detour to put most everything in its relative place. What scares us most about a detour is the idea that we might not ever arrive at all, but will instead end up somewhere else, a new place where nobody knows our name. Maybe detours are less a detriment to our lives and more of an opportunity to do something new–learn a language, eat something new, climb a mountain, visit Dr. Johnson’s house, follow a dark trail, read an old book, have a drink with a stranger. Detours challenge our inherent fear of the unknown because we are so deathly afraid of change. Life is so uncertain that even a good detour cannot be planned. So we check our maps, look at time schedules, program the global positioning device, consult the internet for delays, construction, detours, and jams, but where the rubber meets the road, we still run into detours, which derail all our plans.