Ovenable

Oven

I thought “ovenable” was a relatively new word, about ten years old at the most. It appeared on food labels as a way of indicating that a container could be heated in an oven. It turns out that it dates back to 1977. I should pay more attention. (There’s also “dual ovenable” and even “triovenable” now—suitable for use in a conventional oven, microwave or toaster oven.)

I have been thinking about ovens lately because the control panel on our three-year-old electric wall oven started peeling off in a rather large flap, taking with it the labels for the various functions of the appliance. The panel is one of those push pad designs usually found on microwaves. The pad sits above the oven cavity and apparently the heat got to be too much for it. I thought about gluing it back since I would rather repair than replace but I couldn’t think of a glue that would work. I won’t reveal the name of the manufacturer of the oven except to say that it involves two letters of the alphabet and it is a very large company. I thought of checking with the manufacturer to see if they would fix the panel for free since it really shouldn’t have delaminated so soon. I was prepared to argue with, reason with and beg them to fix our oven, being all too familiar with out-of-warranty appliances. I sent an email to their consumer site and they wrote back saying, essentially, sure, we’ll replace the control panel for free, sorry you have a problem, and when would you like to schedule the repair? It was too easy. I have gotten used to be ignored at worse and denied at best when I ask for something to be rectified. I’m in a bit of a state of shock about, but it bodes well for other situations when something is not right. Maybe it’s the beginning of a new day in America. (Or maybe not.)

So I don’t have to resort to cooking our food in the dishwasher. I recalled seeing some articles about cooking food in the dishwasher, and when I checked, sure enough, there were several recipes. Fish seems to be the favorite for dishwasher cooking, although there were a couple of recipes for beef. If you’re interested in trying this (and I don’t know why you would be if you have an oven), wrap the fish or meat in a foil pouch and then put it in the dishwasher for a couple of cycles. It seems to me that this is a lot of sound and fury (to say nothing of water and energy) to cook some food. I suppose you could do it to say you’ve done it. I used to work with a guy who put a can of soup on the engine of the truck we used. By lunchtime the soup was just about boiling. I could see doing this since we didn’t have an oven in the truck and it was winter. It’s also possible to wrap food in foil, put it on the engine of your car, drive some and have cooked food. I’m not recommending you try any of these methods: I’m just saying it’s possible.

Our present oven is a sight better than the one we replaced. I don’t remember the manufacturer so I can’t give you a veiled allusion so you can be an informed consumer. The single virtue of this oven was that it had two main controls. One dial (it had dials) had four positions: bake, timed bake, broil and off. The other dial controlled the temperature. To run the oven, you set the first dial to bake (or whatever) and the second to the temperature to what you wanted. The oven ran both too hot and too cold (or too fast or too slow as we cooking types like to say), and the controls for the timed cook feature had broken off long ago so we had to use a pair of pliers to set them. The oven was also an apartment model which meant it was too small to take a standard baking sheet. (We think the builders put in an apartment oven to make the kitchen look bigger since the house was a model for the neighborhood.) Something was always falling off the appliance such as the handle or the door. We used it for about 19 years until we couldn’t stand it any longer.

So, the control panel has arrived and the service technician has come out and put it in. Sometimes things just work out well, and that’s always gratifying.

 

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A Poem for the Day

Edmund Fitzgerald

A touching, elegant poem by Donald Hall about his wife Jane Kenyon during her final illness.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171766?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Daily+Poem+of+the+Day&utm_content=Daily+Poem+of+the+Day+CID_82aca6b3ad4508c69e33aacb807f7e0d&utm_source=Campaign+Monitor&utm_term=Poem+of+the+Day+The+Ship+Pounding

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Disappearing Jobs

Disappearing Job

There are various lists of jobs that are on the way out, some more clearly than others. This one is a compilation from several of those. don’t say I didn’t warn you.

 Retail store cashier.

Photo film processor. .

CD and video store employees.

Unions and organizers.

Encyclopedia author.

Miners of all varieties

Construction jobs

Fighter pilot.

Call center staff.

Oil company drillers and wildcatters.

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In Honor and Memory of Those Affected by the Navy Yard Shootings

Eagle

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September 16, 2013 · 8:18 pm

What Year Was I Born In?

Born in 1947

This is not a rhetorical question I ask of myself since I know the answer (or know what I’ve been told: I was there, but not up to understand what a year was, or anything else, for that matter); nor is it a solipsistic request for information (not under the Freedom of Information or any other Act.). Instead, it was a question I was asked by a political pollster yesterday as part of a political poll about my preferences in the upcoming gubernatorial race in Virginia. (I like the word “gubernatorial,” don’t you? It’s fun to say and a challenge to spell. I got it right the first time, but don’t try the same thing at home, boys and girls—I’m a professional!)

Anyhow, I don’t normally answer calls from people I don’t recognize on the caller ID (one of the great inventions of all time, as far as I’m concerned. You can ignore people you don’t want to talk to and greet people using their name which is impressive unless it’s a husband using his wife’s line or vice-verse. Then it’s just confusing or embarrassing), but in this case I took a chance and found it was a nice young man wanting to know my opinions on the race. What I have plenty of is opinions, so I filled his ear with them, which seemed to make him happy. I had guessed right. If a pollster is calling from the party opposite the one you support, it results in an argument or a very short call. I prefer the latter.

So, as the nice young man was closing his survey out, he asked me, “What year were you born in?”

I wouldn’t have minded telling him how old I was (I’m 65), but it occurred to me that this was a way to find out someone’s age without actually asking them since many people take umbrage (and probably sackage and sockage and tollage and other forms of offense) to being asked directly. I had to smile at the cleverness of this approach to a bit of data that has to be pried out of some people. It’s anyone’s right not to reveal his or her age. I supposed I could have answered, “Long ago in a galaxy far way,” but that’s only true in my imagination. And I did like the young man, so I was glad to surrender my secret. I’ve been eligible for Medicare for some months now and it’s a good time! I hope more people get to experience it!

 

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Remembering

September 11

It has been twelve years, but the memories of that day are still fresh in my mind. We had been in school for about week. Mid-way through the second period of the day, our principal Ann Monday came over the PA system to say that an airplane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. We had been atop one of the Towers just three weeks earlier, and I remember looking down and seeing a Cessna flying along the Hudson below us. I figured it was a light aircraft, and that couldn’t do much damage. My students were working on an assignment, and I looked quickly at my computer for a news feed. What I saw were the shocking images we are all too familiar with from that day.

The students finished their assignment, and were curious to see what was happening. We had a news feed on the classroom television, so I turned that on, telling them that they probably didn’t want to see it. They didn’t  react much, but left in silence. Then, chaos ensued as students gathered, hugging and crying, especially as news leaked out of the attack on the Pentagon where some of their parents worked. I remember especially one of my students who had come from Afghanistan holding another student whose father worked at the Pentagon.

Parents began arriving in droves to pick up their students because the phone lines were tied up. Classes were clearly done for the day, so I helped parents find classrooms. The buses came early, and soon the school was deserted. The teachers went to their cars and left.

I drove home listening to the news on the radio, thinking that the brother of one of our daughter Amy’s college friends worked on the 101st floor of one of the towers. Matthew Horning did not survive. We remember him every year with a donation to Heifer, International, which provides families around the world with livestock to allow them to improve their lives.

Everything was canceled that dark day, and our daughters joined us for dinner. There was no school the next day, and with all flights cancelled, an odd silence in the skies as no giant airliners came above our house on their way to land at Dulles Airport.

And so we remember…sacrifice and courage, and the day that “the world stopped turning.” May we never forget.

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A Tale of Two Picnics

Image

Normally, I suspect that many of us think of the time after Labor Day as being too late in the season for picnics. Of course, there are no Picnic Police (not yet, anyhow) to prevent us from having a picnic any darn time we want to. I taught with a fellow who grilled out on his balcony every evening, regardless of the weather and of the season. He used the leftovers for his lunch, and he had one of the best lunches going.

This weekend we went to a couple of really good picnics. One was at Caton Merchant House Saturday, an assisted living facility where my dad lives. It is a fabulous place, with a caring and competent staff. They had all sorts of food and a bluegrass band, with residents and families enjoying the fine weather and the good food.

Sunday our church had its annual picnic, staged by the deacons. They supplied hot dogs and hamburgers, and members of the church brought side dishes. Church people can cook! We spread out under some canopies on the front lawn of the church and had a good time eating and talking. We met some nice people who were prospects both for the Bible study class I co-teach and for Becky’s children’s choirs.

We don’t normally like to eat outdoors, but the weather cooperated and the food and company were great on both occasions. You can’t ask for more than that!

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Rules of Thumb

Image

My friend Bob in college (the one with all the Uncle Jim stories) used to say, “A rule of thumb generally doesn’t involve thumbs.” Bob might have been partly right about that, although the phrase “rule of thumb” probably came from craftspeople doing rough approximations with their thumbs. I for one am glad we have rulers and measuring tapes now, although rules of thumb are interesting to think about. I’ve collected a few rules of thumb.  I hope you find them entertaining and useful:

A city street is most visually appealing if its width is the height of the buildings along it. (New York City is probably an exception.)

If your feet are cold, put on your hat. (And your shoes and socks.)

Prehistoric archaeological sites do not occur on slopes greater than 20 percent (9 degrees). (Apparently those societies were not much on skiing.)

To find the most interesting books in a library, look for the shelf where returned books are stored before they are reshelved. (I actually do this.  It works!)

If the cats aren’t sleeping on the radiators, turn down the heat. (If the cats aren’t sleeping, something is very wrong.)

Bird calls are mostly adjectives with few verbs. They don’t tell you what they are going to do – only how well they are going to do it.  (No idea how anyone came up with this.  Who knew birds know grammar?)

It takes two minutes for the sun to drop out of sight once it touches the horizon. (Watch quickly.)

Arctic icebergs are tall and narrow. Antarctic icebergs are shaped like sheets. (So if you’re shanghaied on a ship and get out of deck, you’ll know which polar zone you’re in.)

Nearly half of all unsolicited proposals for novels will be about disasters. (Don’t write about disasters unless you want your book to be one.)

You are middle aged when your high school and college days are featured as nostalgia on TV. You are at old age when your wedding presents are sold as antiques. (What a great way to tell without actually counting!)

Be especially cautious if you’re bicycling near a hospital, movie theater, or nursing home. Visitors to those places are distracted and aren’t paying attention.  (True if you’re driving as well.)

If an ad is well designed, it will look just as good upside down. (It just looks upside down to me.)

Plan on one reindeer for every 75 pounds of supplies. (Endorsed by Santa, I suppose.)

If you’re standing on an overpass, you can count on five out of ten drivers on the highway below returning a wave. (If you’re standing on an overpass waving, you need a new hobby.)

The diameter of a machine screw in inches is 13 times its gauge number divided by 1,000, plus 60 thousandths of an inch. (Useful if the diameter is not marked on the box.)

Odd-numbered ages seem older and more worldly wise than even-numbered ages. (Soon I will be worldly wise…again.)

To estimate the surface area of your body, multiply the surface area of the palm of your hand by 100. (Don’t know why you need to know the surface area of your body, unless you are planning on painting yourself.  In that case, you can cover 450 square feet with a gallon of paint unless you’re me and cover 600 square feet with a gallon, which is why one coat never covers when I paint.)

Only 1 in 50 published novels gets optioned as a movie, and only 1 in 200 gets made into a movie. (And you give up all rights to your story when you option your novel, unless you’re Stephen King.)

A book of poetry sells no more than 800 copies, on average. (Sad but true.)

Ten people will raise the temperature of a medium-size room one degree per hour. (Invite some friends over this winter and save energy.)

In interior decorating, a fashion cycle lasts from 7 to 15 years. (There are fashion cycles?)

Trash never stops. (This from a friend in the trash business, who would know.)

And finally:

Hold your thumb at arm’s length against a distant background. Estimate how far your thumb jumps on the background when you look at it with one eye and then the other. The background is ten times that distance from you. (At last!  A rule of thumb that involves using a thumb!)

 

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Uh Oh…

Uh oh

I came across this passage by writer and writing teacher Anne Lamott and it hit me right between the eyes. (Readers, please note that my book is slated to be published in two months.) 

I used to tell my writing students to write what they would like to come upon, and this is what I would like to come upon today:

The worst time in any writer’s life is the two months before publication. ALL writers become mental and pathetic, even those of devout faith, who have some psychological healing to lean up against, and gorgeous lives. All writers think that this time, the jig is up, and they will be exposed as frauds. 

Two months before publication, all writers worth their salt have days where they hate everyone, and wish everyone would just die, especially their best friends, who have responded inadequately to the book that is coming out soon, and who are total asshats and losers.

I suppose I’m not worth my salt, because I don’t hate anyone or wish anyone would die. I also don’t know any asshats and losers. I’m not even sure what an “asshat” is, except it doesn’t sound like a nice name to call someone.

So hang on, readers! We’re in for an interesting couple of months!

Yr. Ob’t Srv’t,

The Author

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For Workers on Labor Day

HIgh Steel Workers

(This is a re-post from Labor Day, 2011. I hope you enjoy it.)

Labor Day is one of those holidays that has lost some of its original meaning.  Originally established to honor those who labor, it had strong ties to the union movement in this country. I would venture to say that unions are controversial these days. Some see them as an important factor in establishing decent working conditions, benefits  and pay for workers. Others blame them for closing businesses and industries with their demands and contracts. In any case, the holiday has become a transition from summer to fall, from vacation to school, marked by picnics and special sales.For my part, I’d like to add a word or two in praise of those who labored to build this country and who work to keep it going today.

Canadian Gordon Lightfoot, my favorite singer/songwriter (much to the chagrin of my daughters, who consider him hopelessly old school) has had a remarkable career. He began singing publically as a child, and  moved into the folk/songwriter area around 1960. Marty Robbins’ hit “Ribbon of Darkness” is a Lightfoot tune. Lightfoot broke into a wider audience when Ian and Sylvia recorded his “Early Morning Rain” and “For Lovin’ Me.”  Peter, Paul and Mary later covered both songs. I first became aware of him around 1965 when he released his first solo album, Lightfoot! and have followed his career since then. He is still performing 62 concerts a year all over North America.  His voice isn’t what it used to be, but he has one of the tightest bands around, with some members 30 year veterans.  The band lost extraordinary guitar player Terry Clements to a stroke a few months back.

Some of Lightfoot’s more popular songs were “If You Could Read My Mind” (1970– to my way of thinking the best pop song every written about failed love), “Sundown” (1973), and  “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” (1976–an over six minute recording about the loss of the ore carrier Edmund Fitzgerald that sank in a Lake Superior storm in November, 1975. It had considerable radio airplay in spite of its length and subject matter). His catalog includes over 237 recorded songs.  Not too shabby.

Early in his career, Lightfoot celebrated workers who built Canada, and workers in general. He wrote about go-go dancers (“Go-Go Round”), truck drivers (“Long Thin Dawn,”), textile mill workers (“Cotton Jenny”), laborers (“Early Morning Rain” and “Steel Rail Blues”), bush pilots (“Flying Blind”), singers (“Hangdog Hotel Room”), miners (“Boss Man” and “Mother of a Miner’s Child,”), and numerous songs about ships and sailors (“Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” “Triangle,” “Ghosts of Cape Horn,” “Ballad of Yarmouth Castle,” “Marie Christine”).

In two songs, Lightfoot sings specifically about the contribution of workers to building up the country. “Crossroads” is first-person account of a young man who worked all kinds of jobs.

When first I did appear upon this native soil
All up and down this country at labor I did toil
I slumbered in the  moonlight and I rose with the sun
I rambled through the canyons where the cold rivers run…
So I swung an axe as a timberjack
And I worked the Quebec mines
And on the golden prairie I rode the big combines
I sailed the maritime waters of many a seaport town
Built the highways and the byways to the western salmon grounds…
Lightfoot’s magnum opus is “The Canadian Railroad Trilogy,” a song which honors and recognizes those workers, mostly Scotch-Irish in Canada (and Irish and Chinese in this country) who built, almost entirely by hand, the Canadian transcontinental railroad. In first two movements, Lightfoot comments on the building of the railroad.
There was a time in  this fair land when the  railroad did not run
When the  wild majestic mountains
Stood alone against the sun
Long before the  white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark  forest was too  silent to be real
 
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds
As to this verdant country they came from all around
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall
And they built the mines, the mills and the factories for the good of us all
 
And when the young man’s fancy was turning to the spring
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
And many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay
 
For they looked in the future and  what did they see
They saw an  iron road running from the  sea to the sea
Bringing the goods to a  young growing land
All up from the seaports and  into their hands
 
Look away said they across this mighty  land
From the eastern shore to the western strand
 
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open her heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way ’cause we’re moving too slow
In the third movement, he gives a voice to those who constructed it, mile by mile:
We are the navvies who work upon the  railway
Swinging our  hammers in the  bright blazing sun
Living on  stew and  drinking bad  whiskey
Bending our  backs til the long days are  done
 
We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun
Laying down track and building the bridges
Bending our backs til the railroad is done  
Oh the song of the future has been sung
All the battles have been won
On the mountain tops we stand
All the world at our command
We have) opened up the soil
With our teardrops and our toil 
Our nephew, Jonathan Pankey, like the workers in Lightfoot’s song, is a symbol of all the hardworking men and women out there who keep the country moving. Jonathan is about the hardest working person I have ever known.  He has had his own lawn care business since he was fifteen.  His mother had to drive him to his jobs until he got his license.
Jonathan had his start with mowing and machines and growing things under the tutelage of his late grandfather and my father-in-law, Oscar Detwiler. Oscar could grow or fix just about anything, and Jonathan learned from a master.
When he got his driver’s permit at 16, he began to acquire the trucks and lawn equipment he needed to do a professional job.  He presently has a Ford-350, a trailer that must be thirty feet long and dozens of pieces of equipment.  He serves dozens of customer and, with a helper, works from first light to total dark.He does a wonderful job with our lawn, which is a typically-sized suburban patch of grass, in thirty minutes.
Jonathan is a delightful young fellow.  As I have said, he is hard-working.  He is also honest, sincere, polite and possessed of a great sense of humor.  He is one of the good ones.
 And so, here’s to Jonathan and to all the people who work hard for a living and make a difference for us all–the crossing guards, the steel-mill workers, the miners, the truck drivers, the school bus drivers, the toll takers, the mechanics, the locomotive engineers, the cowboys, the administrative assistants, the C.N.A.’s, the dry cleaners, the medical techs, the stone masons, the plumbers, the carpenters, and all the rest too numerous to list here (there are tens of thousands of occupations such as these). To the people who built this country and all these who keep it running, thank you for all you do, and God bless you all.

 

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