WHAT’S NEXT? A FEE FOR A SAVINGS ACCOUNT?

  Why is it the largest bank in the country has the dumbest fees? Starting the first of next year, Bank of America will begin charging us $5 a month just to use our debit card. Not for the ATM machine, but for making just one single purchase.

  Some merchants charge us .50 cents to $1 to use a debit card to make a purchase. Others give us a break if we use a debit over a credit card.

  Look upon these little fees as “taxes.” If you haven’t already done so, start keeping track each month,of (no matter how small), the taxes you pay. Start with your utility and phone bills — especially the phone. My $9 monthly phone bill through my cable company comes to around $23 because of the various fees and taxes added on. I chose this $9 fee over the big phone company because of its high monthly price. When all the calculating is finished, I’m saving $1.15.

  Income, gas, sales, water, sewer, cable TV, are among those with “taxes” attached — several with relatively small fees, but nonetheless taxes that add up. I’m probably missing a bunch more, but try keeping track of what you pay each month above and beyond the principle item or service. It’s an eye-opener.

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“Adversity is easy to handle when it’s someone else’s.” — Cecil Scaglione

“I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is quite another matter.” — Winston S. Churchill

Until Wednesday, tah-tah

Tom Morrow

Tom Morrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOU NEED A SMILE OR TWO THIS MORNING…

The Sunday morning philosophers:

“We can do away with the two-party system. Which party do you want to do away with? — Cecil Scaglione

http://maturelifefeatures.wordpress.com

FROM MARS — “Time travel may be fun, but I just don’t see any future in it.” — the late Neal Mars of Oceanside

THAT’S LIFE! — “Today is tomorrow’s yesterday. So if you are longing for the ‘good old days,’ you’re there!” — the late Bonsall Eddie Haywood

And more sage sayings from a reader or two…

1. My Parents taught me about the WEATHER

“This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it.”

2. My Parents  taught me about HYPOCRISY.

“If I told you once, I’ve  told you a million times. Don’t exaggerate!”

3. My Parents taught me the CIRCLE OF  LIFE.

“I brought you into this world, and I can take  you out.”

4. My Parents taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.

“Stop acting  like your father!”

5. My Parents taught me about ENVY.

“There are millions of  less fortunate children in this world who don’t have wonderful parents  like you do.”

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And, from me…

I’m on the high seas along the Pacific coastline over the next week, so there will be nothing from this corner until next Sunday. Hopefully, I’ll have absolutely nothing in the way of excitement to report. In the meantime, read a good book to be found at:

http://oldwarriorbooks.com

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

 

 

Tom Morrow

East is West and West is East! 

  Everyone knows that Nebraska is west of the state of Iowa, but through a fluke of nature, namely the Missouri River changing course, you can head east out of Carter Lake, Iowa and go into Nebraska – for a very short distance.

    The small town is a shallow lake located next to the Omaha airport. The lake was a former channel of the Missouri River and was formed in 1877 during a storm when the bend in the river was cut off as a result of a flood.

  The community is served by the Council Bluffs, Iowa school district, whose buses have to go across the river into Omaha, then back into Carter Lake, Iowa to pick up students. This little quirk of nature makes for an interesting trivia question: Can you go East from Iowa into Nebraska?

More debts owed to my parents (as contributed by readers):

  1. My Parents taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

2. My Parents taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

3. My Parents taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

4. My Parents taught  me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

5. My Parents taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

Until Sunday…

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

 

The Two States Squared Off Over Honey

  Deep in the early history of Iowa and Missouri is an obscure reference to a time when the two states called out their militias over a tax on honey trees.

  In 1839, a Missouri tax collector cut down three hollow trees in Van Buren County, Iowa containing bee hives in order to collect the honey in lieu of taxes. Understandably, this aroused the competitive spirit of a number of Hawkeye farmers.

  The Missouri tax collector was accosted by the farmers, causing the Clark County, Missouri sheriff to cross the border to his rescue. This brought the Van Buren County, Iowa sheriff into the fracus, arresting the Missouri sheriff for illegally attempt to collect taxes from Iowa.

  The governors of both states (at that time, Iowa was a territory), called out their militias, which lined up along the border in southeastern Iowa and northeastern Missouri. Farmers showed up with blunder busts, pitch forks, muskets, and anything else that might do harm.

 The entire matter began over an interpretation of a survey line was made by John C. Sullivan in 1816, for the Louisiana Purchase of 1803. Tempers were quickly soothed before anyone was hurt or killed, and both states retreated to let the courts decide who owned the honey. The matter was referred to the U.S. Supreme Court.

  In 1846, Iowa was admitted to the Union, but still no resolution to the border dispute. Finally, in 1849, the Supreme Court issued an opinion that since for more than 10 years the state of Missouri never challenged its straight line border between Iowa from the Missouri River ending at the Des Moines River, the border was valid. The court further upheld the Sullivan Line as the correct border, but it ordered it resurved in 1850, in order to correct some quirks in the original survey where Sullivan’s line had jogs in the two states extreme eastern sections.

  As far as Missouri was concerned, the matter really wasn’t truly settled until 2005, when Missouri finally got around to having the border resurveyed for itself. Those modern-day surveyors found many of the original markers the surveyors had put down as a result of the Supreme Court survey of 1850.

  Next time: Going “East” from Iowa into Nebraska.

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

 

 

Tom Morrow

The Things I Owe My Parents

More “oldies,” but goodies…

1.     My Parents taught me TO APPRECIATE A  JOB WELL DONE.

“If you’re going to kill each other, do  it outside.. I just finished cleaning.”

2. My Parents taught me RELIGION. 

“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

3.  My Parents taught me about TIME TRAVEL.

“If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock  you into the middle of next week!”

4. My Parents taught me LOGIC.

“Because I said so, that’s why.”

5. My Parents taught me MORE LOGIC . 

“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going  to the store with me.”

Until Wednesday…

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

http://oldwarriorbooks.com

Check out the below blog  — there’s a neat story on “Living Aboard.”

http://maturelifefeatures.wordpress.com

 

Tom Morrow

YOU KNOW YOU’RE GETTING OLD WHEN…

  An old high school classmate put me onto a Facebook group that a few alums from my hometown have started, which not only has piqued my alma mater juices, but shows just how old I’m getting.

  When graduates of good ol’ Seymour High refer to events that happened 20 years after I left town as “ancient history,” then I realized I’m really past my prime.

  The Facebook group, “You Might Be From Seymour High If You Remember …” has all sorts of strange names chiming in with questions. A lot of queries began flying around about the old hometown, such as: “Was there a movie theater in town?” “Why was Al’s Cafe called “Al’s” when the guy who owned it was called Jack?” “Did the old school house have a bell?” “Were those stripped uniforms the girls wore the ones they wore when they won the State Basketball Tournament?”

  The questions were non-stop for the entire weekend. I began answering on history what I could. I even uploaded a few old photos of the town square and the old high school that hadn’t been standing since the late ’30s. Those images amazed a lot of kids because most of the buildings are no longer in existence.

  I call them “kids.” Many of them are in their late ’30s and well into their ’40s. I finally asked who their parents and grandparents are (or were) because I didn’t recognize most of the names signing in. Indeed I did know most once they revealed their family lineage — and, I had a story or two to go with a few of those names. One girl said that I probably knew her parents and grandparents. The grandparents both entered kindergarten five years after I left town.

  To most of these folks, the ’70s were happenings found only in history books. Many of their fathers were too young to know much about the Vietnam War. I could just see their eyes glaze over when I wrote about World War II, the WPA, who built our gymnasium, the movie theatre, the town’s new car dealership, etc., etc., etc.

  Seymour, Iowa was in the neighborhood of 1,200 in population when I graduated in 1958. Today, it struggles to reach 800. Three-quarters of the town square is gone, with less than a third of the businesses struggling to stay open.

  For my part, it was a grand time of remembering and a chance to play history teacher. I even learned a thing or two from them. I thought the Rock Island depot had closed while I was in high school, but one of the kids chimed in and recalled being with her agent-Dad on the depot’s last day in 1968. A few of them didn’t even know the Rock Island railroad ran through town. One or two didn’t know the Rock Island was a railroad.

  Last weekend’s little exercise proved to me that what knowledge I possess about such things can be of value to the younger generation. Personal and family histories are important for everyone. People should put down on paper or record the key events of their lives “before the colors fade.” Someone in the future will find it of value or interesting.

  See you on Friday…

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

For a copy of my latest book, “Write Your Own Life’s Story,” e-mail me your address and I’ll send you a copy — $10 plus postage. E-book formats available at:

http://oldwarriorbooks.com

Tom Morrow

From The Book of ‘WHY?’

  A reader  sent me some interesting questions for us to ponder on this day of rest.

  Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are almost dead?

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  Why do banks charge a fee on ‘insufficient funds’ when they already know there is not enough money?

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  Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars; but have to check when you say the paint is still wet?

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  Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?

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  Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?

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And, this from the ever intriguing mind of fellow scribe Cecil Scaglione:  “The Newspaper, which has been described as “a nation talking to itself,”  has been replaced by the Internet, which is where everybody in the nation is talking at once. “

See you Wednesday…

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

http://oldwarriorbooks.com

Tom Morrow

 Turn Out The Lights, Please!

  It never rains in Southern California in the summertime, but occasionally the lights go out.

  We had 10-plus hours of power-less living here in Oceanside. Some portions of our region are still waiting for the lights to go on.

  I have to admit, it was kind of nice last night, sitting on the porch in the candlelight, just visiting. We didn’t even think about missing the football game, and, DARN IT, we missed the President’s Jobs Speech. Is everyone back to work now?

  I’ll get a bit of satisfaction in the coming days from some of my nay-sayer friends who told me I was crazy for installing three solar panels a couple of years ago. I didn’t need to use the four-battery power I had available last night, but there was enough for two or three 14-watt lamps and a small TV for about three hours. But, the candles and the transistor radio was all we needed.

  Latest word has it some clutz in Yuma flipped the wrong switch. It knocked out all of SoCal, plus much of Arizona, New Mexico, and northern Mexico. Who knows what really happened.

  Anyway, it broke the usual routine. And, for those who think California drivers are crazy, I want you to know that with no traffic lights yesterday afternoon during rush hour, there were fewer accidents than normal; everyone was extremely polite and courteous at the intersections, and nearly everyone drove with caution. It was amazing.

  Okay, back to normal. See you on Sunday.

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

 

Tom Morrow

CATS RULE WHILE WE ARE TOLERATED!

  Everyone living with a cat or cats knows full well that it’s their house; we merely are allowed to live with them. And, each has its own personality. Often-times you don’t have to study very hard to recognize this.

  Hemingway, our male Maine Coon, is kind of a bully. He goes around the house, picking fights with his sister, a sweet black beauty with green eyes. He howls like a dog if Rosalee or I are out in the yard or on the porch. He doesn’t like it when we’re not in the house, available for him should he require our presence. Example:

  After eight years, Hemingway has begun marking his territory, our individual living room chairs, if we’re not sitting in them when he deems it necessary. It took us awhile to figure this out. Rosalee talks with him and he let her know just how he feels about us not being where we are supposed to be. He begins by growling and crying, then starts prancing back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room. Rosalee knows what he wants: for her to go in and watch him do his business in the sand box. If she isn’t there to witness this little ceremony at least once a day, one of our chairs will get christened. It doesn’t matter which one — Hemingway is an equal-opportunity ruler.

  Now, if this little ritual would have started eight years ago, well, his highness might have found himself holding court over a different home, but you have to be a cat-lover to understand why he now can get away with this behavior. For those who don’t know about cats, I suggest you read the Garfield comic strip for a few weeks — you’ll get a true-to-life picture of what it’s like living with a cat.

  If any of you out there know of a way to alter Hemingway’s routine, we’d love to hear about it. In the meantime, it will continue being, “He, who must be obeyed!”

———-

  I admit that I should have done a bit of simple research before I titled my “how to” booklet on writing one’s autobiography. After uploading my files onto Amazon.com’s Kindle store for E-book distribution, I discovered no less than five other books with the same title: “Write Your Own Life’s Story.” The only way you can find mine at Amazon is to include my name in the search. However, at my personal web site (click on below hyperlink), mine is the only title available. Or, send me your snail-mail address, and I’ll mail you a copy — no confusion on who is the author.

Until Friday,

Tom Morrow — quotetaker@msn.com

http://oldwarriorbooks.com

Tom Morrow

FALL LOVE-HATE MEMORIES  OF IOWA

Fall is the time of year I used to look forward to while growing up in southern Iowa. The smell of leaves burning, the crispness of the air and the cracking sounds of football pads on Friday night.

  For me, Fall in Iowa was a great time of the year. The only time better was Spring. Why, you ask? Because we knew that as great as  it was to smell the leaves burning and experience the game of football, we knew all too well that winter was not far behind. And, who the hell loves an Iowa winter?

  Most folks living in the warmth of the South or the West have no idea what it’s like to tackle a runner on frozen ground. It gets that way around the last part of October, but for sure, by the first week in November.

  I remember early Novembers quite well. And, even though now I endure days of 60 and 70 degrees through the winter months, my knees still ache when I think about playing football on frozen ground. No one wanted to get hit or, forbid the thought, tackle a player. Touch-football seemed a better and more civilized alternative.

  Call me a whimp, but ask any guy who played football on frozen Midwestern tundra and he’ll tell you the same thing. You had to really love the game.

  In 1957, my senior year, our team wasn’t any different than our opponents. None of those guys wanted to hit that frozen Iowa dirt any more than we did. October brought rain, which meant we played a lot of times in the mud. When mud freezes, it turns to hard-as-rock clods.

  In those days we played Bedford and Lenox on the last two games, and you could always count on one of those encounters being in the snow. No, not enough to cushion a collision with terra ferma, but just enough to make it cold, damp and unpleasant.

  My last football game was played at Lenox the first week in November 1957. It was an unusally warm night — about 35 degrees, so the ground wasn’t quite frozen. Both of our teams had been desimated that season by something called the “Asian Flu,” and it was the first game in the last five where everyone was back together.

Lenox had us beat 6-0 until late in the fourth quarter. We had them backed up against their own goal line and forced them to punt. I got lucky, broke through their line and blocked the kick. Well, my face blocked the kick.

For those old warriors who have blocked kicks, you’ll remember that stunned feeling. Neither team could find the ball. We all just stood around looking at each other — all of us except Dick Sharp, our left end. He was staring up in the air at something — positioned perfectly while standing in Lenox’ end zone. Suddenly the ball dropped into Dick’s arms. Touchdown! Cold, snow, freezing weather be damned — it was a great time that night.

  With the extra point kicked by Gary Stafford, we won 7-6. It was one of only three victories that year, but because of the look on Coach Maurice Stamps’ face, we might as well have undefeated for the season. That smile will be etched in my memory forever. It was his last game after a career on the gridiron that began in the mid-thirties.

  During the Fall season in Iowa, there are only three things to look forward to after the first really hard freeze: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the warmth of  playing on a basketball court. I’m sure that much of the season hasn’t change for I doubt if the weather has gotten any better with the passage of time.

Tom Morrow

For my latest book, “Write Your Own Life Story; How to Get It Done,” go to:

http://oldwarriorbooks.com