ARCHIVES - NOT CATEGORIZEDTammy Sutherland Working Shoulder-

Turn in Your Keys, Mr. President
I firmly believe that Oldegoats are an ignored segment of society. In part, it may be our own fault. We must speak out more frequently about public matters that concern us, particularly when it concerns a peer. This, and not partisan politics, is why I wrote this letter.

Hey JoeAs a fellow octogenarian, I have felt the pain of your age-stiffened muscles, your embarrassment at failing to temporarily remember a name erased from your age-shrouded memory, and your fear after unintentionally saying something concocted by your age-bedeviled brain.To borrow a phrase from you, here's the deal, Joe. We both know that no cure exists for these conditions,  that they will grow inevitably as you age, and that we octogenarians will continue to lose control over mind and body. If we believe otherwise, we have a delusion, like the mythical Fountain of Youth or a delusion of grandeur. You must know that scores of historians will be analyzing and rating your performance as President. Going forward, you face three determinative scenarios First, give up the keys immediately by announcing that you will not run, be praised by historians, and thanked by most Americans. If you require support, listen to LBJ’s March 31. 1968.speech announcing that he would not run for a second term.  Second, run and lose and be scorned by historians and cursed by many Americans.  Third, run and win. Ironically, this may be the worst-case scenario. Certainly, it is the riskiest for you and the country. All agree that the current treacherous domestic and international seas require precise navigation. Bluntly, your deteriorating mental and physical conditions likely will cause you to be incapable of successfully guiding this country. The historians will scald you, and I can't imagine how Americans will demonstrate their despair. If you doubt that icould happen, read about the pathos and chaos of Wilson’s last two years in officeafter he suffered a stroke  during his second term.I have heard that you have excellent handlers who can assist you with decision making. However, this runs contrary to the style of leadership used successfully on ships for millennia and sanctified as presidential by this time-honored statement “The President is the captain of the Ship of State “. The ship's captain has the duty, power, and authority to make all critical decisions. The crew (or group of handlers) carries out his orders. Americans want a mature leader, not a committee, as President.As an octogenarian, I have had two give-up-my-keys experiences. With due respect, I do not infer that they are anywhere near as important as yours, Mr. President One occurred shortly after I began my practice. I was befriended by an older lawyer who was a name partner in a respected Madison law firm. I learned that he had been a good trial lawyer but was now relegated to small claims court and family court commissioner hearings. Over time I noticed that he often forgot a necessity such as a pen or legal pad. I gave him what he needed but felt a bit bad for his clients because they weren't getting the representation that they needed. One time he came to a hearing without his client’s file or even his client’s name. I didn't see him again and later learned that his partners had had taken his keys by forcing him into retirement. The second happened about 35 years later when I realized that it was time to turn in my keys to my successful career as a trial lawyer. It happened this way. I was waiting in the courtroom to speak to the judge about an uncontested matter. As I listened to two talented young lawyers perform on behalf of their clients, I realized that they were as quick as I used to be. In other words, I realized that I had lost the proverbial step that separates the adequate from the very good. I realized that I no longer could give my clients the high-quality representation that they deserved in court.So, Joe, here's the deal. You need to admit that you have lost a step and no are no longer capable of giving Americans the high- quality performance that they need and expect from their President. If only for your own legacy, you need to follow the multitude of American men and women who every year , for different reasons, turn in their keys. Let’s do this thing, Mr. President. Turn in your keys.Respectfully,Dan BellFounder, oldegoats.comdan@oldegoats.com 

 
NEVER QUIT ON YOURSELFIn 1959, Lieutenant Coronel William H. Rankin, a Marine pilot, ejected after his jet lost power at an elevation of more than 45,000 feet while flying over a thunderstorm. He lived to tell the most amazing and inspirational first-person  story that I have ever heard.IT IS A MUST READ. It’s message: never quit on yourself.Here is the link to the reprint.https://loa-shared.s3.us-west-2.amazonaws.com/static/pdf/Rankin_Man_Thunder.pdf
Here are the proper credits for the reprint.The Library of America • Story of the Week Reprinted from Into the Blue: American Writers on Aviation and Spaceflight (The Library of America, 2011), pages 382-98. Copyright © 2011 Literary Classics of the U.S., Inc. From The Man Who Rode the Thunder (1960), pp. 150–63, 170–80. Copyright © 1960 by William Rankin. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved  

5 REASONS WHY I WON’T BUY AN EV NOW  PART 1

This week's EPA pronouncement that two-thirds of the new cars sold seven years from now will be evs demonstrates the government’s blind eye neglect of seniors, the growing lower middle class, and the poor. I will dissect this policy in the next blog.

As an old goat, I treasure each moment of each day and all the little things that make me smile. I have enjoyed driving since I bought my first car in 1959, a '56 Ford. Driving down the street with windows down and radio a little loud, driving to a new place, and driving down a country road with my wife, destination unclear. I think many old goats share similar feelings.

My cars have all been affordable, comfortable, and amenable to my directions. If I must give up my car, I want something of equal value back. The current evs do not provide that. 

They certainly are not affordable. I have limited income and maxxed out dreams. I do not want to pay 40-60,000 for an ev. 

They do not seem comfortable. I think would be like sitting in front of a computer in a very small room. I rode in an Uber driver’s Tesla in Vegas(of course). I could not believe the large size of the screen nor the near-constant directives from a voice that reminded me of a backseat harpy.

The ev does only what its electricity-addicted battery allows. Say you want to go directly from A to D. Your math and your map tell you the ev can make it with volts to spare. But the boring and cautious ev likely will route you through B and C to satisfy its battery. And don't even think about a drive in the country to a destination unclear. 

Maybe one day I will consider an ev will be the quality of a car. But not now for these reasons:

· COST

Average Price of the Top Ten Best-Selling EVs  

The average price of the top ten electric vehicles in the US is about $68,817, with an average of $57,750 for the low-end trim of each model and $70,460 for the high-end trim of each model.  For these ten EVs, prices range from $26,500 at the low end (the Chevrolet Bolt EV) and go all the way up to $119,990 for the most expensive trim of the Tesla Model X (still the base MSRP, since you can option the Model X up to $144,590).

Information from Find My Electric “The Ultimate EV Marketplace”

Most 70+ men probably would not want to pay these prices for a vehicle, except perhaps for the Chevy Volt. For example, using a price of $62,000, the approximate mean between the low-end high and low prices, and putting down 20% in down payment and trade-in, your monthly payment for a 7-year loan would be about $850 which is a lot to spend on a vehicle at this time of your life.

SUVs sold best in 1922, and the Toyota RAV-4 was the best-selling SUV at a base price of $23,000. This year, the b74x, Toyota’s electric SUV, starts at $42,000, an increase of $19K.

Many of us like or liked our F-150 which has been the bestselling truck for 46 consecutive years. Its base price for the EV Lightening has quietly increased from about $41,000 when Ford started its order list in October 2021 to $56,000 now. 

· ROUTE

The range provided by your battery and the location of charging stations will determine your route. You may have to go places that you do not want to go or travel an out-of-the-way route to reach your destination. And this could hours to your road trip. And it would eliminate side trips to areas devoid of charging stations.

· CHARGING STATIONS

Companies own and maintain these. Because they make money from the sale of electricity, they will for sure install stations in high ev traffic areas like major highways and busy resorts. Low-income and rural areas likely will be left behind. 

According to a J.D. Power's study, the number of failed attempts at a charging station increased from 15 percent in the first quarter of 2021 to 21 percent in the third quarter of 2022. I presume you would have to shorten the distance between charging stations to ensure you had mileage in the bank to get to another station.

· EMERGENCIES

I am thinking about natural disasters such as hurricanes and tornadoes that could cut off power to the power stations. You would be stranded in your ev unless you had a generator at home.

I would rather have a gas car. Gasbuddy.com will list the names of gas stations with fuel in stricken areas, and some states have laws requiring gas stations to install transfer switches to allow the use of a generator to provide power to the pumps.

· ENVIRONMENT

Considering this alone, less pollution from evs should improve the environment. However, I am not convinced that the government-orchestrated switch to EV, with the unknown effects of this tsunamic change on the American way of life, will have a net positive effect on the environment. More on this next week.

Topic for  April -------

What is the favorite car you have owned?

Tell us about it.

 
“THE WHITSUN WEDDINGS” BY PHILIP LARKIN
According to James Booth in his 2014 biography (Philip Larkin: Life, Art and Love), Philip Larkin(1922-1985) is by common consent the best-loved British poet of the twentieth century.This poem has special significance to me for two very personal reasons. The first is that afterachieving a first-class honors degree at Oxford, Larkin became a university librarian, notablyserving with distinction for thirty years as the Librarian at the  University of Hull. His tenureincluded the years 1965-68 when I was an undergraduate there, and 1971-72 when I returned asa postgraduate student.Secondly, the train journey from Hull to London described in the poem is very familiar to me. Asa matter of fact, the 1:20 PM train on a Saturday was my favorite train to travel home on at theend of the university term.A word of explanation about Whitsun. Whit Sunday, or Whitsun, is a Christian holiday whichtakes place on the seventh Sunday after Easter Sunday. Until 1971, the day after Whit Sundaywas a public holiday in the UK, and the three-day Whitsun weekend was a popular time forgetting married.


That Whitsun, I was late getting away:    Not till aboutOne-twenty on the sunlit SaturdayDid my three-quarters-empty train pull out,All windows down, all cushions hot, all sense   Of being in a hurry gone. We ranBehind the backs of houses, crossed a streetOf blinding windscreens, smelt the fish-dock; thence   The river’s level drifting breadth began,Where sky and Lincolnshire and water meet.All afternoon, through the tall heat that slept       For miles inland,A slow and stopping curve southwards we kept.   Wide farms went by, short-shadowed cattle, and   Canals with floatings of industrial froth;   A hothouse flashed uniquely: hedges dipped   And rose: and now and then a smell of grass   Displaced the reek of buttoned carriage-cloth   Until the next town, new and nondescript,   Approached with acres of dismantled cars. At first, I didn’t notice what a noise    The weddings madeEach station that we stopped at: sun destroys   The interest of what’s happening in the shade,And down the long cool platforms whoops and skirls   I took for porters larking with the mails,   And went on reading. Once we started, though,   We passed them, grinning and pomaded, girls   In parodies of fashion, heels and veils,   All posed irresolutely, watching us go,As if out on the end of an event    Waving goodbyeTo something that survived it. Struck, I leant   More promptly out next time, more curiously,   And saw it all again in different terms:   The fathers with broad belts under their suits   And seamy foreheads; mothers loud and fat;   An uncle shouting smut; and then the perms,   The nylon gloves and jewellery-substitutes,   The lemons, mauves, and olive-ochres thatMarked off the girls unreally from the rest.       Yes, from cafésAnd banquet-halls up yards, and bunting-dressed   Coach-party annexes, the wedding-days   Were coming to an end. All down the lineFresh couples climbed aboard: the rest stood round;The last confetti and advice were thrown,And, as we moved, each face seemed to define   Just what it saw departing: children frowned   At something dull; fathers had never knownSuccess so huge and wholly farcical;    The women sharedThe secret like a happy funeral;While girls, gripping their handbags tighter, stared   At a religious wounding. Free at last,And loaded with the sum of all they saw,We hurried towards London, shuffling gouts of steam.   Now fields were building-plots, and poplars cast    Long shadows over major roads, and forSome fifty minutes, that in time would seemJust long enough to settle hats and say    I nearly died,A dozen marriages got under way.They watched the landscape, sitting side by side—An Odeon went past, a cooling tower,   And someone running up to bowl—and none   Thought of the others they would never meet   Or how their lives would all contain this hour.   I thought of London spread out in the sun,   Its postal districts packed like squares of wheat:There we were aimed. And as we raced across       Bright knots of railslPast standing Pullmans, walls of blackened moss   Came close, and it was nearly done, this frail   Travelling coincidence; and what it held   Stood ready to be loosed with all the power   That being changed can give. We slowed again,And as the tightened brakes took hold, there swelledA sense of falling, like an arrow-shower   Sent out of sight, somewhere becoming rain.
Contributed by Roy SargeantSeptember 2023




AGE MONOLOGUE BY GEORGE CARLIN


 The outstanding stand-up comic George Carlin (1937-2008) reminds us, the only time in our lives we like to get old is when we’re kids… When asked how old you are? If you are less than 10 years old, you are so excited about aging you think in fractions. I am four and half going on five. You are never thirty-six and a half! When in your teens, you jump to the next number or even a few ahead. I am gonna be 16! You could be 13, but hey, you’re gonna be 16! And the greatest day of your life…..you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony. You become 21. Yesssss!But then you turn 30. Ooooooh! What happened here? You become 21, turn 30, then you are pushing 40. Whoaaa! Put on the brakes! Before you know it, you reach 50!But wait!! You make it to 60. You weren’t sure you would!So, you become 21. Turn 30. Push 40. Reach 50 and make it to 60. You’ve built up so much speed that you hit 70! After that it is a day-by-day thing. You get into your 80’s and every day is a complete cycle; you hit lunch; you turn 4:30; you reach bedtime! And it doesn’t end there. Into your 90’s you start going backwards. I was just 92! Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. I’m 100 and a half.May all of us make it to 100!!Anonymous Contributor




"THE PIANO" BY D.H. LAWRENCE
David Herbert Lawrence (1885-1930) was an English writer who is best known forhis powerful and highly original novels. When he died, his friend and fellownovelist E.M. Forster described him as the greatest imaginative novelist of hisgeneration. But he also wrote poems, of which “Piano” is my favorite. Its meaning,and its ending, “I weep like a child for the past,” resonate deeply with me. I thinkit's likely that this poem may resonate with my fellow old goats.
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;Taking me back down the vista of years, till I seeA child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling stringsAnd pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of songBetrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belongTo the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outsideAnd hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamourWith the great black piano appassionato. The glamourOf childish days is upon me, my manhood is castDown in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
Contributed by Roy SargeantJune, 2023