After 3 years, I'm still pretty appless.....

     I'm on a flight at o-dark hundred this morning, so this blog will be abbreviated, maybe I should skip the commas?  This one is about my purchase of an Iphone and the limited number of apps I have put on it. 

     I bought my Iphone about three years ago, a lot of my co-workers had switched to one, or an equivalent, and I figured it was time for me to get a smarter phone.  I'm not sure, however that I am smart enough for

the phone I have, as I do very little with mine.  I currently have only a couple of applications that I have added to my phone, and a lot of the ones that were pre-installed, I have never opened.  I liked the idea of having a phone that would do more, but I struggle with the concept of spending any more time looking down at it, versus looking up at the people I'm with or the places I'm in.  Here's what I've tried so far....

     I had installed the Livestrong program last year while dieting and while I did find it useful, after I had lost the weight, I found it less necessary to track my calories on a daily basis, so it got deleted.  I have the link still on my desktop and I can see using it again for short term diets (I have my 30th high school reunion coming up this summer, so I should drop just a few lbs before that), but I didn't find it necessary to haul the extra weight of the application around on my phone, unused, anymore.  I had a similar experience with Gas Buddy, which tells you where the cheap gas is.  I


I took cooking classes from this owner, featured on Triple D

used it for a while, but at the end of the day, I'm not the guy who is going to drive an extra mile or to the other side of town to save $.02 a gallon on gas.  The cheap place was almost always the same place, so if I'm by there and am close to needing gas, I fill up, but I deleted the application as it became less used.  My wife installed the Triple D application on her phone, which tells you when you are close to a Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives location, but I never put it on mine.  I like to check those places out with my wife and family, so if I need it, I'll just use my wife's (like she plans on using the cash in my wallet instead of her own).  I probably had installed others and deleted them but I don't recall any more.  When they create an app to help me to remember everything that I forget, I'll probably add that one.

     Many of the current icons on my phone go unused, some are redundant and some I have no use for.  Why is there a separate icon for photos, for example, when you can just open up the camera application and

touch the photo on the bottom?  It literally saves no steps.  When I open photo, I have to then choose camera roll to do anything, and when I open camera I have to choose a picture and start flipping through them.  I do take pictures on my phone regularly, but I don't do a lot with them after I take them, which makes me wonder why I take pictures regularly on my Iphone?  I have a Notes icon next to a Reminder icon and they seem redundant too.  I honestly just noticed the reminder icon when I started this blog, but I've entered things in the Notes section to remind me of things, so I'll say it again, I may not be smart enough for this phone.  I have a Game Center icon that I never opened until today and it thinks I'm my son Dan for some reason.  It may be Cloud related, but I've chosen not to get on the Cloud, so I really can't explain it.  The Newsstand icon goes unused, mine tells me that I can go and download magazines from the App store. Do I

Where I'll probably be after my wife reads that last line

really need an icon to tell me things I already know?  This seems really redundant, I downloaded a live application called a wife, for that,  26 years ago (only kidding dear, I'd be lost without you!).  I have no interest in using Passbook for travel or Stocks for checking stocks or even Itunes to use my phone to listen to music so those icons are useless to me.  I have exactly one song downloaded, it's the one for my ringtone and that took me years to customize. 

     I have recently downloaded Yelp and I have used it a few times, however, I find I get better information from the places that I eat.  My M.O. is to go to a good place and dine the first night, tip big, and then ask my server or bartender what other places in town are worth checking out.  They generally have the best information and after you've spent money in their place, they have no reason not to share it.  As I tend to travel in an area for 3 days, and repeat my visits,

thus far, this has been an more dependable way for me to find good restaurants.  My wife put Google Maps on for me, but I like my Tom-Tom, so I'll probably only use it if Tom-Tom doesn't work or it gets stolen.  I've thought about downloading a flashlight, but since I'm a Boy Scout leader, when I need a flashlight, I tend to have one.  I thought about downloading an app for tracking my wines, but I would have to enter the data while dining with others and I try and turn my phone off during these times, so it wouldn't be very helpful.  I regularly use the Contacts app, and I try and enter business cards in as soon as I get them.  If I'm at a great restaurant or hotel, I'll enter it in there and put a note in about why I liked it. A few weeks ago, while in Albany, I entered a great place to eat that was right in the lobby of a hotel I really liked (they even had a relaxation room with steam, tanning and massage).  That is invaluable information to me.  If there is a cheaper room rate to register under, then that gets entered too.  I use the  mail icon regularly, the settings button when I get on planes, and the clock button for an occasional alarm or stopwatch.  I text with the Message icon, but not very well.  Lastly, I'll use Safari to do a quick Internet search, but won't just surf the web on my phone, I'll wait to do that on my laptop later.  That's the whole gambit of what I have, have had, use and don't use on my phone. 

     Why do I resist the use of the technology so much?  It comes back to the old adage, just because you can do something, doesn't mean you have to.  In my business and in my life, I'll take a live conversation over

an e-mail and especially a text, any day.  It especially doesn't help when my phone auto corrects things that aren't incorrect to begin with. I meet people every day that are experts on something, so I take advantage of that and ask about what they do, and try and learn from them.  It's not as efficient as Google, but I feel connected to someone and it's usually mutually beneficial.  I limit the use of my phone and because I do, I'm not dependant on it.  I don't twitch when I hear an e-mail tone or ring, and I can get a text, buzz or beep without my feeling the need to check it out immediately.  I did fine in the era prior to instantaneous communication and instant self gratification and I suspect I'll do fine in the next era, whatever that one brings too. 

I could live vicariously through my lost jackets.

      My mother would be proud of me, well, maybe half-proud, is that a thing?  I always remember to take a jacket with me, it's remembering to bring it back every time that I struggle with. In this blog, I wonder about all those jackets, that I've left behind, and what kind of life that they are living now.....

     This wasn't an issue when I was a kid, I don't remember losing my jackets then, of course, back then I only had 2 coats.  I had a winter coat for winter, and a jean jacket for all non-winter seasons and as

I live in Western NY, they split their time equally.  I wore that jean jacket well after it went out of style, and I was sad the day I looked into the mirror and I had to recognize that it no longer fit my growing frame.  Even then, I retired it to the back of my closet but I don't think it's there anymore (I blame my wife, she hides my things), I have a vague recollection of giving it to someone I know, like my daughter or son, or nephew, but that could just be a false memory as a coping mechanism I developed due to the loss of the jean jacket, it was just that cool.  The first jacket that I remember losing was in a nightclub in Atlanta GA, and by then, thanks for my generous company, I had a half dozen light coats, wind-breakers and jackets. 

     I was out with a bunch of my coworkers, people from all over the country, who worked with me as foodservice pie salespeople (It's weird, right?).  It was late, and I carried that light windbreaker from bar to bar, sitting it next to me in big leather booths, until

finally one club had a coat rack.  I put it on there when I walked by the coat rack, but we left by another exit, so I had no visual clue to remind me to claim it, and so it got lost.  A few bars later I remembered that I had taken a jacket, but by then it wasn't feasible to navigate back, so it remains lost.  Since I lost it in a nightclub, I imagine that it has had an interesting life, being thrown over the shoulders of scantily clad beautiful women (If you've never been to Atlanta, trust me, you can't even picture how pretty the girls in that town are, and they do try to out-do each other when they dress to go out), listening to 10 years worth of modern music, and learning the latest dances.    Last

year I learned how to Dougie, I wonder if that jacket did?  I lost another jacket kinda like that in Alex Bay, where after a long night of bar hopping, I was headed back to our resort in a limo with a bunch of people and a guy riding in the limo was really giving me the creeps, pestering a girl that had been over-served.  As we exited, I offered to escort her back to her door, and she accepted.  I made sure she got into the room and listened for her to throw the deadbolt, and then headed off to mine, but my jacket remained in the limo. Chivalry is not dead, but it will lose you a jacket or two in the process.

     I've lost 2 jackets at the Sand Bar in Canandaigua, though they really aren't lost, I know right where they are, I just realize that I'm not getting them back.  My wife and I were leaving there one

Sand Bar opens May 1

night and ran into a poker buddy of mine with his wife.  It was getting later and chillier, and she hadn't taken a coat with her, so I offered mine up, figuring that I'd get it back at my twice a month poker group.  Shortly thereafter, however, I started playing less due to my travel schedule, and then I heard that couple was divorcing.  You'd be amazed how hard it is to slip "Did you get my jacket back?" into a conversation when your buddy is telling you about his soul-crushing divorce and ongoing custody dispute.  That jacket, I imagine, hangs in the front closet of where my friend used to live and now has witnessed the weekly transferring of kids from one house to the other, many times over. I'm not sure I want to live vicariously through that

one.   I've seen her out a few times and thought about asking to come over to get it, but as I think that through, I always get held hostage at the threshold with her telling me what a jerk my buddy was, so I'm simply not getting that one back. I lost a nice black Nike windbreaker to my sister Hummingbird down there one night too, and she simply refuses to give it back.  Admittedly it looks pretty good on her, so I've written that one off.  I'll bet you that windbreaker gets out a lot, she'd married to a fireman and they love dining out in Rochester, which is something I never think to do. She raves about one place, Good Luck, and though I've never been there, I'll bet my coat has. 

  My last few lost coats were lost to family too.  My son Dan started borrowing one of my black mid-season Reebok coats while he was in high school and it ended up following him to college.  You would think that, that would be the coat to live vicariously through, but I think my current coats get out more than that one does, it seems to spend a lot of time on the Internet and gaming.  He's young

My Dad's coat

though, so there is still hope.   My wife has a coat or two of mine, but since we spend so much time together, those aren't ones that I would want to live vicariously through, but I do travel a lot too, so feel free to tell me what she has been up to while I'm gone (Smart money is on laundry and track meets) One of my prized coats was just returned to me from my sister, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.   It's a 30-year old green workman's coat with a red quilted liner with paint specs on it that was my Dad's.  He wore it in his electrical, plumbing and heating business, and I likely left it at her house one day.  It used to smell like paint and plumber's putty.   She kept it for a while, but she had a better conscience than Hummingbird, so she returned it recently.  It smelled of family outings like hikes, bike rides, sledding, and fall boat rides.   I'm not sure that smell will come out, and I'm not sure it is supposed to either. 
    

I want to help the faceless on Facebook

     This week I examine the phenomenon of joining a social media site that has face in it's name, but then never posting a picture of your own visage. 

     I think Alanis Morisette would find it ironic that I have over 50 Facebook friends (wait for it, that's not the ironic part), that currently have pictures of inanimate objects, their pets, their kids,

cartoons, or other people posted as their profile picture instead of themselves.  I've probably been guilty of doing this occasionally myself, with things like a Sapphire bottle or a panoramic background, but I also have friends who never post pictures with themselves in them, and no one can say that I'm guilty of that.  I'm not sure of the motivation behind never posting a face picture, I can imagine that there are the small few who are afraid of Facebook's facial recognition software, but I would guess that the vast majority of these people are just unhappy with some feature or combination of features and therefore don't share their faces with the world, and that I find unfortunate, because it assumes a shallowness in others, that I don't think exists.  I'll take this in a different direction now, to lighten the mood a little, but be warned, I'll close with some deeper thoughts.  I'd like to batch people together now and remark and why I don't like what they post....

     The pet people come first.  You can't make this stuff up, but I swear, this morning as I was

counting the profile pictures of my faceless friends, I had one that had a cat posted as the profile picture come up right next to one that had yarn posted as the profile picture, and it took every bit of my self control, of which I have little, to not suggest them to each other as friends.  I like cats and dogs, and fish, but I dislike seeing them as Facebook profile pictures in part because the picture rarely matches the sentiments of the accompanying status updates, and I dislike incongruity.  "Had a rough day at work, why do people have to act that way?" comes up next to a picture of a fish floating in a tank.  Is that the fish's sentiments or yours?  Am I defending humanity to the likes of fish or I am consoling a friend when they've had a bad day?  I get so confused.   We all have FB friends who speak from their profile pictures point of view, but how do you know when they are doing it and when they aren't? There is also the privacy concern thing to consider, would your dog appreciate Facebook's facial recognition software having several shots of him for any mailman to look at, or any street camera to capture and compare?  I don't think that they would, I've seen where they put their noses, and it's not pretty.  

     Sports fans, I do understand more, but they don't exactly show that they are multifaceted do they?  These folks  must know that it invites anyone who isn't a Yankees fan or Bruins or that thinks their

I wouldn't dare....

football team all belongs in jail to disagree with every other thing that they post, right?  I'm sure that one of these people has posted an update on their own children's sports accomplishments like, "Becca scored a goal in the big game!" next to a sport's team's logo, only to have someone argue the point with things like "yeah, but her defense was weak and her percentages for the year are still low...."   I like that people support their favorite teams, but I'll still take the picture of them wearing the team jersey over a corporate logo any day.

     Wilson Syndrome or the puzzle people come next.  In the TV series "Home Improvement" there was a running gag with the neighbor Wilson whose face was never shown in it's entirety, mostly

obscured by the tall privacy fence, and I have FB friends that do this.  I get profile pics of just a small part of them, an eye, an ear, cleavage, and I'm not sure what to do with those.  I will admit I read the status updates more closely when accompanied by the cleavage shot because  they seem more intelligent to me, but I'm always wondering if I should be printing each part and saving them up to make a picture of the whole person? Should I be messaging the other friends and trading, like " I have the right ear, do you have the big toe? "    My office would be full of partial portraits of people, mostly women, if I did this, and frankly would look like a stalker's shrine and create suspicion with the authorities, so I resist this urge too, but it leaves me unsatisfied.   To carry the Wilson analogy to it's logical conclusion, I'll compare the actor who played Wilson, Earl Hindman's career, to the actor who played Lisa on Home Improvement, Pamela Anderson's career and I think very quickly you see that posting a part of you doesn't compare with

Of course I found a reason to post this

 posting all of you.  I've seen Pam on Baywatch, Dancing with the Stars, in Playboy, with Tommy Lee, and in VIP and Barb Wire, but I've never seen Earl again. 

     I'll batch the rest of the posts in a game I like to call FB Bingo.  You'll get some of these profile pics on a random card and you have to fill it from your friend list.  I would include the following......

     Cat, Dog, Fish, Sports logo, sports stick (bat, hockey or lacrosse stick, etc), beer bottle, beach, bridge picture, Mickey Mouse, smart phone, overly attached girlfriend meme, sunset, dice, birds at a feeder, political slogan, sexy shoe, TV shot, album cover (not allowed by me unless you are on the album cover), bar sign, duckface, cigar, kid's artwork, black and white photo, tree, statue, Betty Boop, Spongebob, skull, flower, sci-fi character, sports car, angel, pot leaf, truck, and a picture of a guy with a girl on each arm. 

    I'll close this week with these thoughts.  I've been as heavy as 50lbs more than my high school

weight at times in my life, my forehead is growing and my hairline receding, I've never had good fashion sense, and yet I've shared each of these stages with my FB friends, to not do so would seem disingenuous to me.  I viewed a series of pictures of a friend's vacation with her children recently and as I noticed that she was absent in all she posted, I could only hope she had taken some with her in them, and chose not to post them.  How sad would it be if your children only had photos of themselves, without you in them, when you pass away?  How comforting would that be for them?  In my family, my wife takes the vacation pictures, so she's not in as many of them, and I need to start correcting that and documenting her participation in our family and our lives.  I politely request that you do too, we are less judgmental than you think, even your cat would agree.

The only acceptable album cover, is with you on it.

Some things that scare me.....

     I had no ideas for a blog this am, and then one was provided for me.  I'll stretch a simple incident into a 4 paragraph rant, or my name isn't the Ongion. 

     Few things scare me, but this morning I'll admit, it was a bright yellow Easter chick with bunny ears window cling that did it.  After I rose and as I started the coffee, the outside motion detector

Pretty scary, isn't it?

lights on my back deck went on.  As the man of the house, it's my responsibility to investigate these things to keep my family safe, so I went to the french doors that lead to the deck and parted the venetian blinds to peer out, and came face to face with a window cling that my wife had put there.  At 4:33am I had no expectation of coming face to face with anyone or thing, history had taught me that it likely was a neighborhood cat or maybe even a fox, or even just the wind and some leaves, so when the window decal was right there, in my face, unexpected, I was scared for a second.  It was only a second as my brain processed what it was, and I don't expect a long term phobia or anything to develop because of the encounter, I was just startled for a second, but in that second I knew some fear. 

     I won't declare myself brave here, but I will say that I don't get scared easily as I tend to approach things from a position of logic, so I quickly dismiss things that are illogical or improbable.  I grew up watching Star Trek in the 70's and I gained that trait by emulating Mr. Spock.  I fly often, but am not

scared of crashing, because I know the statistics bear out that I'm far more likely to die heading to the airport in my car, than dying due to a plane crash.  Even in heavy turbulence, I only have to remind myself that over 75% of crashes are survivable too, so I can go back to reading my book.  After 9/11 many people were afraid to fly, travel or even go out.  I, on the other hand, flew into New Jersey the week following, had a great Disney vacation that winter, with slow crowds in the park, and got some fantastic tickets for a Broadway play due to soft sales.  I didn't hesitate for a second on these decisions, because I knew logically that we were more prepared to prevent a similar attack the weeks following 9/11 due to all

Roseland's Skyliner, now in Altoona PA

the restrictions and checks put into place.  Similarly, I will try any thrill ride in an amusement park once.  They are tested regularly and most deaths on them come from people disabling or disregarding the safety systems put into place.  As a youth, I'll admit a moment of regular panic that would come as I rode the roller coaster at Roseland Park.  The weird thing is, that it wasn't the big coaster, the Skyliner that scared me, it was the kiddie coaster that did.  At one point during that ride the coaster would take a sudden dip to the left and it felt like the car was going to come off the track and fall towards the lake, and it got me almost every time.  So, you can startle me, but scaring me is harder to do. 

     In Myrtle Beach last week, I paid good money to go through the Ripley's Spook House, and my only fear during it was tripping in the pitch black darkness that they had you navigate.  I've done my

share of these and never have been scared in them. The same goes for the ghost walks that I've paid for, and for walks in the woods at night. Barking dogs and snakes tend not to scare me, although I'll give them a wide berth if they act aggressively, that's just common sense, not fear.  I'm not a huge fan of spiders, but I'll manage them, but admittedly hate to encounter them unexpectedly while showering, that's just creepy.  So what things do scare me?  Not death, it will come when it does, and I believe I'll live as long as God intends me to, so no fear there.  Some of the only things that scare me are the ones that I have no control over, like the possible breakdown of our society.  This country was founded because the populace felt that they were being overburdened with taxes and that they had no say in the process by which they were governed.  As a conservative, living in NY, this statement is as

Now, I'm scared

true today as in 1776, so is a rebellion possible?  Sure.  So is a natural disaster like a meteor strike or an earthquake, so I'm more impressed by people that prepare for these (preppers), than I am worried about them as a group.  I don't find their actions threatening at all, they are just preparing for what they think are events, likely to occur.  That sounds logical to me.  Our crushing national debt is a big fear of mine, and relating it to a roller coaster, the ride has no end in sight, and it's increasing in speed within a infrastructure not designed to maintain it.  We are watching other countries and even cities within the US now coming off their rails, and no one wants to take on the task of fixing it, they just want to slap a new coat of paint on it, and tell us how it's not as bad as it looks.  To not fear this, would be illogical, even to Mr. Spock. 

Lessons from my Father - part 3

The last part in a 3-part blog on life lessons learned from my Father, Paul Cooper Yarger.  While he may have left this earth, I know at least some of his teachings remain.

Lessons from my Father - part 3

Spare the rod and spoil the child, but use the rod sparingly too - I grew up with parents that spanked their kids.  Misbehaving would earn you a trip to Mom and Dad's bedroom where the punishment was usually administered, and while a firm hand was the normal method of delivery, a wooden spoon, a paddle or a belt could be used as well.  As weird as the next sentence sounds, especially in 2013, I was never abused in my life.  Yes, I was hit with a belt, a paddle and a spoon but it was always done by a loving parent

who was administering a deserved punishment for some egregious behavior on my part.  Sure, in the moments immediately following a spanking, I would mutter and curse and swear how I hadn't deserved the punishment, but even as the redness on my posterior faded, so would my misplaced anger and it would be replaced by the inevitable realization that I had earned the spanking, and that it would likely happen again without some adjustment on my part.  That's not abuse, that's parenting.  My father understood this and I'm sure that he grew up in a household  where corporal punishment was administered, but I suspect that my father used it less than his father, and I used it less than my father.  My father would vary his routine, so that you never knew whether you would be punished by spanking, or when, or with what.  It wasn't uncommon for him to line the perpetrators up, spank the first few only and then send the rest packing with an admonition of "Let that be a lesson to you".  It was a lesson, it showed the quality of mercy and that the threat of punishment can be equal to the actual punishment itself.  He believed in Birthday Spankings too, where he would give you a spanking for each year lived of your life, and I never knew my dad to count

these correctly the first time or to not finish with "And one to grow on".  My wife thinks the practice is barbaric, but I never did.  My father was also known to occasionally throw in the "Gotcha non-spanking" where he would call you down from your bedroom in the same voice that normally accompanied a spanking, only to offer you a surprise of some kind, a visiting relative, or even ice cream.  I remember a particular incident in Boston where we all filed down expecting a deserved spanking only to be given ice cream, which we all ate with one eye firmly affixed to my father, not really knowing if he was softening us up first or not.  Dad had to spank less as each kid shared his/her horror stories with the next and due to the power of adolescent exaggeration, he attained Keyser Soze status (The Usual Suspects, rent it if you haven't seen it) in both our family and in the neighborhood.  Yes, my dad was loved, but he was also feared.  The right look from my father could quiet a whole room within seconds.  Later in life, when you knew all the rules of the house and my parent's expectations, a look of disapproval could be an even more effective way to communicate.  I know that I would trade 1,000

The infamous Keyser Soze

spankings for every time I got one of those looks from my father, and I suspect almost every sibling I have, would too.  I spanked my children and you never know if you get the punishment part in proportion to the lesson part right, but I do recall one time, almost immediately after spanking Nolan, where he crawled into my lap to snuggle with me.  That day I got it right. 

It's OK to have a girlfriend or two - To my knowledge my dad lived a completely faithful life as it relates to the marriage to my mother, however, I never knew him to shy away from close relationships with other women, and he found benefits in them.  He flirted shamelessly with my mother's sister, he danced with other women, and he had more

Did you really think I wouldn't use a pic like this?

breakfasts, over time, with our family friend Glenda, than I think he ever had with my mother.  The trick was that the interactions always supplemented his relationship with his spouse, it never supplanted it.   My mother would much rather have dad take his girlfriend out for a 6 am breakfast than to rouse her to get up and ready before 8am.  I suspect that my mother liked it when her husband got attention from other woman at gatherings because she knew where he'd be at the end of that evening and every other one, snuggled up and snoring next to her.  When we were on family trips, and you would see a pretty girl jogging, dad would almost always give 2 short beeps of the horn as we passed her, but I never remember him ogling the girl, he would always be giving a sideways glance at my mother, awaiting her reaction.  I have an exercise girlfriend who helps to keep me in better shape (yes, round is a shape) and I'm sure my wife never minds me going off to be with her either, because she has my mom's instincts for picking men. 

Finish what you start and above all protect the honor and integrity of your name - My Dad wasn't a quitter.  He was taught that if something was worth starting, it was worth finishing, so I never knew him to

A typical 4th degree Knight

give up on a project or job until it was completed to his satisfaction and he passed that lesson along.  I recall him sitting with my mother one time talking about a job that he had bid that had gone sideways and he ended up making little or no money on it. He was a heating, plumbing and electrical contractor at the time, and while it was a hard thing to do, he felt it was the right thing to do, so he completed the job at the agreed upon price and learned his lesson from it.  It was that kind of honest dedication that kept the phone ringing many, many years after he had shut down his business.  When he joined the Knights of Columbus he was as active a member as you could be, in spite of his many other obligations and rose to the order of the 4th degree.  When he worked in a union shop, he became the steward or the union representative.  When we started a job or a sport, or joined an organization, we were encouraged to participate fully and to rise the highest level that we could.  One winter morning I agreed to shovel a neighbor's driveway and negotiated a pittance to do it and instantly regretted it, as I started the job.  I tried to come back in, but Dad had me bundle up and go back and finish what I had agreed to do.  Dad felt that it was your obligation and duty to do no less than your best and he felt it reflected on your honor and integrity and your good name if you didn't.  This was the last lesson he passed along to his children as they prepared to depart his house.  Dad gave a plaque to each of this boys (not sure if the girls got one too?) with a poem penned by Edgar Guest, the people's poet, on it.  To comment after such an eloquent and moving piece would only detract from it, so I'll simply finish this blog, about the lessons learned from my dad, with it. 

Your Name

You got it from your father,

t'was the best he had to give,

And right gladly he bestowed it

It's yours, the while you live.

You may lose the watch he gave you

and another you may claim,

But remember, when you're tempted,

to be careful of his name.

 

It was fair the day you got it,

and a worthy name to bear,

When he took it from his father

there was no dishonor there.

 

Through the years he proudly wore it,

to his father he was true,

And that name was clean and spotless

when he passed it on to you.

 

Oh there's much that he has given

that he values not at all,

He has watched you break your playthings

in the days when you were small.

You have lost the knife he gave you

and you've scattered many a game,

But you'll never hurt your father

if you're careful with his name.

It is yours to wear forever,

yours to wear the while you live,

Yours, perhaps some distant morn,

another boy to give.

And you'll smile as did your father,

with a smile that all can share,

If a clean name and a good name

you are giving him to wear.

 

- Edgar A. Guest

Lessons from my Father - part 2

     Last week I opined on some life lessons that were passed on to me from my father, now deceased for 20 years.  I continue those here......

Lessons from my Father - part 2

Keep your food sources close - It's tough to talk about my Dad without making him sound kind of super hero-ish, and this paragraph won't help to dispel that kind of thinking, but the fact is, as I think back, it was amazing how much my father knew about how to make food.  He had a farmer's

A Hobart grinder similar to the one we had

background, so you won't be surprised to learn that we kept a root cellar at our house and we had a 6 foot long bin, filled with sand, where we would store our potatoes and carrots through the fall and winter, but where did he learn how to butcher?  Our garage was set up as an amateur butcher shop complete with a commercial band saw and meat grinder.  I always remember this happening in the winter, but a farmer would call, late at night, and say that he had lost a cow on the ice.  An hour later, the farmer would arrive and back up to the garage, and the whole family would be put to work butchering the animal.  The ladies mostly stayed inside and wrapped the steaks, cuts and hamburger that came in on long enamel coated trays, and the men and boys cut, trimmed and ground.  In a matter of a few hours, the cow would be taken down to the bone, and we'd get to keep half of the meat for supplying the labor and the butcher shop.  Dad would use that same grinder to make our own sausages sometimes. With the leftover pork trimmings (everything but the squeal), he'd make pon hoss or scrapple. I wasn't a fan back then, anything that you had to put on the inside porch to help "set up" just wasn't

How pon hoss is made

appetizing to me as a kid, but I miss it now.   This was just the start of the stuff that I remember making as a kid.  We canned spaghetti sauce, corn, jellies and jams, peaches, pickles, and more.  We made applesauce and homemade ice cream.  We would help my Uncle Charlie out at his "garden" (several acres makes me call it a farm, but they called it his garden), and we'd share in the proceeds.  I helped butcher chickens out there one time, and yes, it's true that they still twitch after their heads are cut off.  My Dad had me swing the chicken in the air first, he said it made the feathers come off easier, and then chop the head off, and to this day, I'm still not sure if he was

Our vat was 3x this size, but you get the picture

pranking me or if I learned a valuable butchering lesson that day.  Dad and Charlie had even built a small contraption that helped shull black walnuts, I think it was a modified corn sheller.  We had a vat in our basement where the homemade sauerkraut lived, we'd remove the wooden cover, reach through the brine and put what we needed in a strainer, rinse it several times, and it would be ready for consumption.  I don't remember my dad making beer, but I know he helped make some elderberry wine one time.  I never lived in a farmhouse with my mom and dad, so I'd appreciate hearing from my older siblings on other foods that he made that I may not have know about or remembered.  Point is, anything my dad could do for himself, food related, he did, and we were better off for it. 

Work what you need to, to take care of your own -  My dad worked two jobs for much of my adolescence.  He would go from work at a factory, to working the counter at a heating supply store and then back home.  His day never ended after his first 8 hour shift, and sometimes not even after his second.  An unexpected expense would sometimes have dad picking up a short time 3rd job, because he felt simply, that you had the obligation to work 

A lunchbox like my Dad used to take to Garlock

as much as you needed to, to support the family that you had.  I missed my dad, as he walked out the door carrying his black metal lunchbox, to one of his jobs, but I understood what a valuable lesson that he was teaching me, when I became a father.  That's not to say that my dad wouldn't accept assistance, we did participate in the free and reduced meal program at school for instance, but he never did this easily, or without first doing everything humanly possible to provide for his own first.  To do less than that, would never have occurred to him.  My household runs differently, as my wife has always worked as well, and I've never needed to take a second job, but if my salary was cut and one job wouldn't support my family, you bet your bippy, I'd be

Shout out to brother Aquaman

looking for a second one.  I'd be remiss in my duties as a blogger, if I didn't mention the sibling that took this lesson to heart and epitomizes my dad's work ethic, more than any other one, and that's my brother Aquaman.  For a decade he worked back to back factory jobs, 8 hours a piece each day, and then found time to help out a Chinese restaurant too.  I've never known him to have a single job and he juggles 3 more times than he juggles 2. 

Marry well and keep dating your spouse - I've told you that my dad basically stalked my mom to get her to pay attention to him, but it worked.  Maybe he realized that she was the perfect fit for him and knowing that,  he fully committed to pursuing her.  It was only after I left the house that I realized how aligned they were in their parenting and how they balanced each other out so perfectly.  To my recollection, I never remember my mom questioning his decisions in front of the family, however, there were times when she would take him aside later, they'd have a brief conversation and dad would come back and at an opportune time, announce that his decision had changed.  I've had this happen in my marriage too and Char will approach me with something like, 

"Honey, you really can't ground her until she's 30 you know..." and I of course acquiesce (Ok, til she's 21 then).   My dad could go off to work his many jobs assured that his household was well taken care 

Mom and Dad

of.  The respect my father earned each day, was given to him by my mother, because he married well. There is nothing sadder to me than to see a couple denigrate each other to their children or others, and because of the example my father set, I try each day to give my wife the respect she deserves, and I get the same in kind.  Another lesson that my dad taught me was the importance of continuing to date your wife.  In spite of the number of kids he had, the financial situation the family was in, and his hectic work schedule, my dad tried and set aside Friday night each week for a date night with my mom.  Most week's it was just a trip to a local diner for a fish fry or they'd host another couple for a euchre game, but dad understood that you should date your wife after you marry her too.  I have friends in Canandaigua that I love to see out because the way that they interact remind me of my folks.  It might surprise you to know that they are a same sex couple, but every time I see them out or read their Facebook statuses, it seems like they are still honeymooners (Shout out to Val and Janine).  It's a hard thing to do, and it's work sometimes, but they make it look easy.  I mentioned 

Me and my better half

that Aquaman was the epitome of my Dad's hard work ethic, but I'll actually point to my own relationship as a prime example of marrying well.  Char accepts and supports me, warts and all, and I can travel each week knowing that my household is in good hands.  We'll choose to miss one of our kid's activities sometimes, because we need a date night more.  After our kids leave, we won't be one of those couples that find themselves sitting across from each other, with nothing in common, because over the last 30 years, we've invested in our relationship equally to investing in our kids.  Dad taught me that.  I have a younger sister, "She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named", who likes to say that in the best marriages, each spouse is convinced that they got the better half of the deal.  In my marriage each of us feels that way. 

Final part next week.

Lessons from my Father - part 1

     Last week marked the 20th anniversary of my dad's untimely passing due to cardiac illness.  I was traveling, and only my sister's Facebook post reminded me of the significance of that day.  I've wanted to blog about my dad for a while now, and while he's certainly made appearances on these pages before, I've never sat down and thought about all that I learned from him and put it into a comprehensive blog, so that is this morning's task.  I'm not sure how many normal size blogs that it will take, but before I even begin, I know the number is more than 1.  

 Lessons from my Father

Paul Cooper Yarger

     Persistence pays off - I could cite a lot of examples of this in my dad's life, but none more powerful than the story of how he wooed my mom.  My mom and dad met in the Navy and I'm not sure if their first ship was the U.S.S. Upshur, but that seemed to be the ship that they talked about the most.  There were a couple of ships, over time, that were named Upshur, but I'm fairly certain that the one that they served on was a Troop ship (T-AP-198).  The crew consisted of a couple of hundred seamen, and 2-3 women that served in the infirmary.  The main mission, at that time, was to transport Troops and the families of military personnel.  The ratio of men to women on board was at least 100 to 1, and larger when you only count the women who were single.  My dad a clod-hopping farmer from the hamlet of Cheshire NY, wooed my mom, a beautiful urbanite from Boston, simply by wearing her down.  The story goes that he would bring her a coffee each day and while she initially insisted that he wasn't her type, he continued to do it, and then moved to escorting her platonically on shore leave.  After many months of this, she finally agreed to their first date, and not

Tattoo on my nephew Derek memorializing my folks

only did that lead to them marrying, she left the big city, moved to the farm, and the woman who thought she might not have kids ever, bore my Dad 12 children.  A movie could easily be made about this courtship, and it would be a blockbuster, so you see, persistence does pay off.

     Church is not just for women - Unless my Dad was traveling, a Sunday did not pass where I did not see him occupying the church pew next to my mother.  Dad wasn't born Catholic, like my mother was, but after he joined the faith, he set a shining example of how a man and a father should practice it. An ABC news poll recently confirmed that many more Catholic women attend church weekly( 49%) than do men (26%), but that is not the lesson that my dad taught me.  He felt, that if you found value in your faith, that you had the duty to participate fully in it.  Dad stood proudly each week in his pew, with his hands clasped in front of him, standing erect and listening intently with his family next to him, looking like descending step stairs.  I try and do the same, because he taught me that church is not just for

My family 1972, I'm in red on the bottom

women.

     Stay connected to your family - Love em or hate em, they are all you get.  Dad's love of his family was inspirational.  While still in his father's home, he disregarded his father's wishes and continued to visit an ex-wife of his father's, who also lived in their hamlet and later on, a sister of his who had fallen out of favor with his dad.  While dad was raising his family, he reserved Sunday afternoons for trips to his sibling's houses and farms.  We'd  find ourselves spending the day on Waneta Lake at one of his sister's cottages (they had places next to each other), Atlanta NY at their camp, outside of Cdga to visit his brother's farm, or sibling's places in Buffalo, Cheshire, or Bristol.  We never went to to the state of Florida without a stop in to see his brother there (Abe, his sole surviving sibling).  My dad, to my knowledge, never missed a family reunion and hosted it far more than his share.  He's chastise us if we suggested we had other things to do, with the rebuke, that

My family a year or so later

you only get one family and it was once a year that they all gathered.  My father hosted New Year's eve parties and the guest list always included his siblings, nieces and nephews.  When he started his heating, plumbing and electric business, he frequently hired his older brother, Charlie, to work with him.  For a while they did some out of town jobs and shared a pop-up camper together for the week, and would come home for the weekends only. I reach out to my siblings regularly, have helped to develop events that bring us together, all because my dad taught me to stay connected.

     There is always room for one more - Dad's generosity was legendary.  Rare was the night that someone didn't join us for dinner, if you were around close to the time, you were invited to break bread with us.  Dad would invite passing veterans

Dad in his element at the head of the table

in for coffee and a hot meal, and at least a dozen people shared our home for varying amounts of time while I was growing up.  Our house-guests were down on their luck contractors, teachers that couldn't find housing, cousins that passed through, and the list goes on from there.  I still meet people today that tell me of how much that my dad's generosity meant to them as it relates to dinners with us, or short respites at our house.  Even on vacation, I remember my dad inviting neighbors in campsites next to us, over to have breakfast, lunch or dinner, over to our campsite.  Truthfully I haven't practiced this lesson as much as my Dad did, but I've never turned a friend or relative away either, because there is always room for one more.

More to come next week...