AJC > Sandy Springs > Blog > Archives > 2008 > May
May 2008
The hardest lesson of all
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
In our house the phone and the clock are intertwined in the evening hours. Any time the phone rings after 9:30 at night raises an eyebrow. Anything after 10 better be something important. Anything after 11 is almost always not good.
So it was two weeks back when my phone vibrated on the bedside table after 11. It was our son in Indiana. His grandfather (my former father-in-law) had died, apparently in his sleep. Zach, little more than three months beyond his 21st year, learned that getting older has its advantages with this exception - everyone is your life gets older and some get closer to the end of their journey.
I once heard that we all impose an unfair pact with the people we love the most. It is a decidedly selfish pact that goes like this - no matter what our differences are in age, gender, geography or genetics I get to die first. I do not want to be the mourner.
But there he was, late at night and missing his granddaddy. Like many boys he had a strong bond with his grandfather. Zach was the first grandchild and was on the receiving end of the indulgence parents are tempted to give their kids but can’t because they have to be, well, parents.
The same rules, happily, do not apply to grandparents. As such Zach lost a dear friend.
So now it was time to learn about some grown-up things — hurried plane reservations, reworking his schedule for the week, making sure his suit was pressed and being relied on to truly pitch in. He was getting a taste of what a friend calls “Big Boy School,” where life’s harder lessons are doled out.
I have gotten those calls, too. Once in college when my sister died in an accident and 15 years later while at work I was told my father lost a long battle with cancer. I can recall both conversations in detail, as I can the days that followed. These are things one does not forget.
If we are paying attention we come through those times with a little more understanding on how fragile life is, how much it truly needs to be appreciated and too wise to buy into that “no one dies before me” foolishness.
And if we take those lessons to heart we are blessed.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Should some restuarants have a no-kids policy?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
There is a restaurant - not in our city — catching some flak because they have adopted a no-kids under six policy. Their feeling is adults want a place where they can dine in peace and quiet.
The owners of the restaurant, which is located in Oregon, said that so far they have gotten some static from parents they have turned away, but they have also gotten a lot of gratitude from adults who do not want to share their dining experience with little ones.
I presume this is not an issue solely based on parents who won’t make their kids behave in a restaurant. It can be a lot to ask even a good kid to sit for an hour or so and not be too noisy. Kids don’t sit still well. They don’t want to linger over their dinner. Often when they cause a disruption they are truly acting their age.
Our kids are grown and off in college. As such I can appreciate going somewhere and not wanting someone’s young offspring present. The higher the prices, the less I want to share the experience with anyone who has Barney underwear.
Let’s put it this way. If there are starched linen tablecloths, a wine list of at least 10 pages and the tab will go north of $100 for two — leave your kids at home.
If chicken fingers are on the menu, if the restaurant offers coupons or if there is a hillbilly bear character acting as maitre’d bring your little darlings and you won’t hear a peep out of me.
That is, unless your wee ones are allowed to terrorize the restaurant, then all bets are off. I’d rather appreciate your little prince or princess from across the room and not running past my table playing tag.
Have I gotten intolerant since my own kids have been ordering from the adult menu? Should I be more understanding? Does being a parent of a child up to age 6 or 7 preclude them from a family evening out wherever they choose to eat?
Permalink | Comments (133) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Cyclists and motorists can share the road
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
A lot of us have been venting our spleen lately over the way cyclists and motorists share our roads. From reading some of the comments there’s a lot of bad blood doing a slow boil.
The cyclists think the drivers could be more aware of how to share the road. The drivers think cyclists ignore basic road rules and courtesy. There doesn’t seem to be a good common ground.
I don’t have a dog in this specific fight. I do jog through town and have had some close calls with motorists, but 90 percent of the time I’m on the sidewalks. And thankful we have sidewalks.
Our son Zach is a cyclist, up in Indiana where he’s in school. Cycling is a way of life in Bloomington, so people are used to sharing the road. But that didn’t keep him from being hit a couple of years ago.
According to him, the driver made an honest mistake on a misty day. There was no aggressive driving involved, but any time a bike and a car tangle the car always wins. Thankfully, the worst Zach took was some severe road rash. He said the driver was more shaken.
I bring this up because I read some of the comments of drivers and feel like they are a degree away from letting their emotions override their good sense and let their fender do the talking. And that’s not a car vs. bike issue - that’s a dangerous mindset to have when piloting a couple of thousand pounds of steel.
It should come as no surprised that I think the driving manners of Sandy Springs, on average, is dreadful. We zoom through yellow lights, we clog intersections, we tailgate school buses, we roll through stop signs, we don’t surrender the road to emergency vehicles and the list goes on and on.
There are several in our little burg who drive as though there is an expectation that other traffic will part like the Red Sea to let them get where they are going. We seem to forget that the roads are public.
What is it going to take for us to collectively learn to truly share the road, to slow down?
Why do Sandy Springs drivers have such lousy reputations?
And can anything change that?
Permalink | Comments (41) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Gas prices have consumers stumped at the pump
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The price of gas has put many people in that “someone should” mode, as in “someone should do something about the price of gas.” The person saying that usually has no idea who that person is, and certainly not what they should so. But they should do, well, something.
It’s as though we’re helpless - like the villagers in those movies waiting for Zorro show up and beat the stew out of the entire Mexican army. Not that there are any quick solutions out there.
Indeed, I saw my first sign on Roswell Road last week, advertising petrol at $4 per gallon. We’re still able to get our gas for around $3.50 thanks to the grocery chain that gives a discount if you shop enough in their store, and the big-box discount warehouse out toward Perimeter Mall. Hard to believe that $3.50 used to fill a car with money to spare.
And I wish I could recall what gas cost 40 years ago when I worked one misbegotten summer at a gas station at the corner of Roswell and Johnson Ferry, which has been a burger joint for decades.
I was 13 and I’m guessing gas was probably less than a quarter a gallon. The self-service concept had not come to the wonderful world of gas stations, so when customer pulled up my job was to bounce out there, ask much they wanted and deliver the gas.
Plus, check the tires. Not to mention their oil and water levels. And clean the windshield. If you needed a map I’d fetch it. They were free back in those days.
I worked Saturdays from 6 to 6 and after taxes I think I was knocking down $13 per Saturday not counting the occasional tip. Before I started working $13 a week sounded like great money. After a couple of Saturdays pumping gas in the heat and humidity it lost much of its appeal.
I’m still pumping gas, checking fluid levels, tire pressure and cleaning my windshield - but for one car only. No tips, but the work goes by fast. And $13 doesn’t buy much gas - even at what passes for a good price.
While I’m waiting for that mythical person to come and “do something” about the price of gas I’m trying to cut down on how much I drive, and motoring in the right lane of the highway at a speed a touch slower than the other drivers.
I’m trying not to go through fast-food drive-thru lanes, burning gas while I wait for my food. And when I can, I walk. I doubt Al Gore is going to put me in his next movie, but you do what you can.
Maybe if we all did what we could we could muddle through this gas thing with less anxiety while we wait on “someone” to “do something.”
Permalink | Comments (11) | Post your comment | Categories: Jim Osterman
Services »
