Edited By Artificial Intelligence

Posted on 04/09/2023 by Grumpa Joe

Today, I was reviewing an old computer file and came across this little piece of wisdom written by an 83-year-old woman and sent to her friend Bertha. I think it is beautiful, and her thoughts and philosophies represent my own. Currently, I am using an automated editor on all my writing, and it is installed on my computer and works on everything I write. I am learning that I don’t know when to use a comma. I thought it would be interesting to see just how the AI program would alter her words of wisdom.

First, I posted it as the old lady wrote it. Second, I reposted the same piece after letting the artificially intelligent soulless robot do its number on it. Can you tell the difference?

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FIRST

This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend.

*The last line says it all. *

Dear Bertha,

I’m reading more and dusting less. I’m sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the  garden. I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I’m trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I’m not “saving” anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I’m not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

“Someday” and “one of these days” are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it’s worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now

I’m not sure what others would’ve done had they known they wouldn’t be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.

I’m guessing; I’ll never know.

It’s those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn’t written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn’t tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I’m trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you’re too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn’t do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won’t be the last.

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know that you’re thinking of them.

“People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don’t need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there.”

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance

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SECOND

An 83-year-old woman wrote this to her friend.

*The last line says it all. *

Dear Bertha,

I’m reading more and dusting less. I’m sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I spend more time with my family and friends and less time working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I’m trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I’m not “saving” anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event, such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I’m not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

“Someday” and “one of these days” are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it’s worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now

I’m not sure what others would’ve done had they known they wouldn’t be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. They would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or whatever their favorite food was.

I’m guessing; I’ll never know.

Those little things left undone would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. I was angry because I hadn’t written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn’t tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I’m trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you’re too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn’t do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won’t be the last.

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about to let them know that you’re thinking of them.

“People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don’t need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there.”

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here, we might as well dance

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Truthfully, with the exception of a few more comma’s the piece reads identically the same. I was impressed that only the top line of the introduction was modified, and I don’t believe the little old lady wrote it.

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Four Score and Five

Posted on 04/08/2023 by Grumpa Joe

years ago a thirty-four year old lady from Hungary, and living in Chicago gave birth to a boy. He lived. Back then many new borns died at birth, but this boy survived. His father who was also from Hungary named him Joseph. Two years earlier this father lost his first born son Joseph Junior, age six, to scarlet fever. This new son was a replacement for his namesake and first born.

The sadness associated with these circumstances has always placed a damper on my birthday celebrations, and throughout the years I have spoiled many a celebration on this day with my sullenness and refusal to show a hint of happiness. This year seemed no different, even though my friends came, and we drank wine, and we had a seemingly great time. I shifted my paradigm however, by claiming it was not my birthday because my birthday was the next day. Instead I told them we are celebrating a going away, I am leaving 84 behind and going toward 85.

My three kids all called me to wish me a happy birthday and that made me happy. My oldest son has reached the age at which I had retired from my job to live happily ever after with my wife Barbara. He will not be able to retire yet for a number of years, and it is the same with my daughter and youngest son. They all live lives raising their children and working like we are all supposed to do. My grandkids are all responsible citizens, and that makes me very happy.

With each passing year I develop a new sense of urgency. As my time on earth shortens, the fire to complete my goals increases with intensity. Like my current intarsia art project burns inside me. I keep telling myself that I can’t leave the planet with an unfinished pile of wood pieces which my kids would not know how to deal with. At least a completed work could become a reminder of who I was, but a pile of wood?

The next project on my list before I start a new intarsia work is to complete the manuscript for my first novel, Space Rod. As with many projects I put writing a book aside when my second wife Peggy needed my help to negotiate Alzheimer’s dementia. She has been gone for four years now, and I either have to finish the work or find a new reason to use for not doing so. Unfortunately, finding reasons to blame are a whole lot easier to come up with than putting in the hard work and time to finish. My story line has had a lot of time to fester and I’ve had many ideas for how to change the story, but in the end I think I will proceed with my original line of thinking. I always thought it was a good story idea so why should I change it now. I can’t rest until I send the manuscript off to be published.

So many things to do, and so little time.

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Reignited Memories

Posted on 20/07/2023 by Grumpa Joe

The human brain works in mysterious ways. Last week my grandson called to tell us that his motorhome trip to Zion Park was terminated by a tire blowout on I-57 not thirty miles from home. It happened on an outside lane during heavy traffic, and he had to pull onto the left side shoulder. The tire change would have to be done with his ass hanging out into the fast lane. He opted for safety and called for help. Traffic backed up and the Cops called the freeway emergency trucks to tow him off the road into an accident investigation area.

All week my mind has been sending me messages about roadside dilemmas that I experienced with the family campers. In 1980 we owned a 1978 GMC van with a 405 cu in engine that had horsepower to spare. We pulled a 18 foot long Skamper camping trailer which opened up to 26 feet. We named the trailer ‘G4″, the “G” stood for “Gypsy”, and the four meant it was the our fourth camper. There is a separate story attached to each of the G series outfits, and this one will concentrate on the biggest travel trip our family of five took. That year I had accumulated over eighty hours of uncompensated work time and asked my boss if I could add the time to my three week vacation, and miraculously he agreed.

Barb and I planned to explore the National Parks of the west. My part involved getting the van and the trailer ready. Caution urged me to re-lube the trailer hubs which I did, but this meant I had to remove the wheels first. My trailer manual told me to tighten the lug nuts on the wheels, and to retighten them after a thousand miles on the road. Barb’s part was to cook meals that we could freeze and keep frozen for at least three weeks. This took a big load off her having to cook in camp. We left on a Saturday morning and headed north on I-94.

Mount Rainier above meadows of aster, lupine, paintbrush, and more near Paradise, Mount Rainier National Park, Washington, USA.

We planned a route that would take us to Theodore Roosevelt, Grand Teton, Yellowstone, Glacier, Mount Rainier, Olympia, Lassen, Redwoods, Sequoia, Yosemite, and finally the Grand Canyon, an aggressive schedule for sure. In the beginning we dreamed of staying days at each park, but that changed quickly as we realized to make it we would have to drive 500 miles every single day. When we arrived at Mount Rainier I made a decision to camp more and drive less. One of the biggest impressions we came home with were the trees along the West coast. At Mount Rainier my son and I took an after supper hike up a trail that spiraled upward. What impressed me most was the physical size of the trees growing there. From the road, or from a distance the trees look small, but from the ground they look like they extend to heaven, and a girth of five feet at the base was a baby. When we finally arrived in Redwood territory, the trees on Mount Rainier were truly babies. The girth of the General Sherman tree is at least twenty five feet, and he is at least three hundred feet tall. I never saw any greenery on this redwood because it was so high up.

We left Mount Rainier and headed for Olympia NP, but it was one of the parks I opted to pass by in order to have more quality time. We moved down the Oregon coast and stopped at several beach camp grounds along the way. We even made an emergency visit to a dentist for Barb. In southern Oregon we crossed over the mountains toward Crater lake on Lassen NP. The passage was a twisty windy two lane mountain road. They posted a rule that if you were holding up more than two cars you were to pull over and allow them to pass. I spent a good part of the ride pulling over. We finally reached Interstate 5 at 4 p.m. and there was still another hundred miles to Crater Lake. I made another decision to pass this up in favor of moving on toward the Redwoods. We boogied south on the I-five. About a half hour into the ride, I felt the van suddenly jump-up and land hard. I looked into my rear view mirror and saw a rooster tail of sparks flying off the trailer. I slowed and pulled off to a stop. The Trailer was sitting very low on the passenger side. I looked around and could not tell immediately what had happened. Then I saw it, one of the wheels on the low side was gone. It dawned on me, I never re-tightened the lug nuts. The twisty curvy mountain road had worked the nuts loose on this one wheel and it finally came off the hub. The bump I felt was the free spinning tire hitting the trailer frame to get loose. I never found the wheel. There we were in the boondocks of Northern California with one trailer wheel and four lug nuts short. Thankfully, I had a spare wheel, and I stole one lug nut from each of the remaining wheels to get back on the road. Within minutes of rolling again I sensed a new problem, I smelled rubber burning. This time I crawled under the trailer to see what was happening. When the wheel lifted the trailer to escape it came down hard and the impact of the hub against the concrete road bent the axle. The tire was rubbing on the frame and melting. We limped into a small town, probably Redding, and found a camp ground. It was Friday evening by that time, and finding help to fix the axle was nonexistent until Monday. Luckily, I was able to find a shop that could do the job, but it would take two days. We left the trailer with the fixer and checked into a motel. We spent the time sight seeing the area.

Since this event came to mind, I have recalled three more break down stories on our vacation trips pulling a camper. It has been fifty to fifty-five years that this event was tucked into the folds of my brain, and it took Jerry’s unfortunate breakdown to trigger the memory.

We drove over eight thousand miles during our five week National Park Tour and arrived home physically tired but very refreshed with memories that have lasted a lifetime. I want to do it again, but this time without the trailer, and not constrained by a five week time limit.

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Don’t Shop For Food When You’re Hungry

Posted on 15/07/2023 by Grumpa Joe

The past two days have been quite a bit different from our usual mundane existence. Lovely went to bed early a couple of eves ago complaining of feeling lousy and having chills. She hid under several layers of covers and fell into a deep sleep. Our/Her grandson went about busily readying his inherited motor home in preparation for the first shake down cruise of the summer. Unhappily, he has suffered a series of motorhome failures that have kept the Holiday Rambler in the shop having the brakes worked on. After having it towed a couple of times he was anxious for the problem to be resolved. I, in the meantime, I struggled internally between taking a baby step on my project, paying attention to a sick wife, or writing blog posts, with a resulting quandary in resolving any of these issues.

Yesterday, Lovely complained of feeling generally lousy with pains in her left shoulder, along with a terrible head ache that has consumed her for the last four days. I knew what that meant, and prepared to take her to a nearby emergency room (15 miles). For once we arrived mid-day and not at 8 p.m. Our experience with emergency rooms is that they tend to become over whelmed in the evening hours. It seems that people put off complaining about chest pains until they are home from work. In our case we chose not to wait until going in during the rush. We bit the bullet and arrived at 2 p.m. Before we left, however we waived bon voyage to the grandson and wished him happy camping.

The ER staff responded quickly in assessing Lovely’s problem by taking an almost immediate EKG and some blood tests. A short thirty minutes later the nurses took Lovely in for an MRI of her head. Then we started the next step, waiting for results. It was seven hours later that Lovely finally complained about how long things are taking. She hadn’t eaten in a day and a half so I figured her blood sugar was non-existent thus adding to her headache. A kind nurse told her she couldn’t have food because the doctors might order a test that required fasting. Now, I tend to get a nasty disposition when I am super hungry, but Lovely made my tendencies look amateurish compared the the degree of nasty she exhibited. I finally went looking for her nurse and told him we wanted to check out, and go home. He arrived within two minutes with a turkey sandwich and a container of juice. I never saw Lovely attack two pieces of bread with a slice of turkey between them as aggressively as she did. I would say she “inhaled the sandwich. ”

1990 Holiday Rambler Motor Home

At about five p.m. we received a call from the grandson. He reported feeling something was wrong again, and shortly after that the motorhome blew a tire while on the Interstate near downtown Chicago. The exploding tire did extensive damage to the exhaust and the under frame of the vehicle. We made arrangements that I would pick him up from the garage where it was to be towed once again. He would call when he was underway.

At ten thirty p.m. the ER doctor consulted with Lovely and he recommended that she stay oversight so they could give her a stress test in the morning. I left her to go home for a snack, because I too was ravenous not having eaten since breakfast.

I entered the house at eleven p.m. just as it began to rain cats and dogs with lightening and thunder. My phone rang. It was grandson telling me he was finally on the way in a tow truck and I should meet him in thirty minutes. I had enough time to turn on some house lights and to eat a handful of nuts. We arrived at the Ford Dealer in Peotone, IL within five minutes of each other. I parked in front of the dark dealership and watched as the tow-driver threaded a needle with this huge motor home hanging off his back end as he negotiated between rows of dealership cars and then stopped. I thought it strange that he stopped without unhitching, and wondered if there was a problem. I texted the GS. He replied that the driver cannot release the vehicle from the truck until the payment clears. I offered my card thinking that perhaps the kid’s card was maxed out and not being accepted. His response was “no”. Another hour passed and the tow truck remained attached to the MH. Finally, the GS came to explain what was happening. When GS first negotiated the cost of the tow with the owner it was an exorbitant but acceptable fee. When the driver presented the bill it was inflated by three times the negotiated amount. Happily, GS held his ground as they entered a Mexican standoff. and finally wound up with a price that was still higher than first agreed upon but about fifty dollars different. The driver unhitched the MH, and went on his way. GS and I arrived home at 2:00 a.m. Now I can tell the story in the title.

Lovely was released from the hospital this afternoon. Her cardiac doctor said she didn’t need a stress test. The nursing staff skipped both her breakfast and lunch. She was famished as was I. We left the hospital as quickly as we could, and I offered her a stop for breakfast-lunch. She said “no, we have food at home.” As we drove out of the hospital compound she told me it would be nice if we could go to the deli. She loves her European food and loves going to delis that specialize in Old Country food. I turned the car into the direction of Orland Park where Gorka is located. It is one of our favorite delis. Normally, I would wait for her while she shops, but this time I chose to go in with her. Between the two of us we filled a shopping cart with European foods and deli-meats. The bill was $105 dollars for three bags of stuff. We came home and devoured as much as we could hold. Normally, we spend about fifty dollars on this quantity of food from this deli, but with inflation a one hundred dollar bill is the new fifty.

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Lacking Leadership

Posted on 12/07/2023 by Grumpa Joe

For the very first time since I have been a Lion my club lacks a president. How in the hell can an active vibrant club like the Frankfort Lions Club not have a president? How will we run a meeting? Who will coordinate the various club functions? Certainly not the Vice President. Let me back up a bit and explain some things.

Team and leadership

The Lions Clubs International (LCI) club constitution spells out an entire administration of President, First Vice President, Second Vice President, Third Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer, and so on. The idea is that these officers will provide the leadership necessary to run the club. The three vice presidents, theoretically, are in training to become the next president by bumping up each year. So our first vice president of the last term should have become the new president, and the remaining vp’s bump up a notch, and a new third vp is voted in. Our problem is that we as a club do not hold the officer’s feet to the fire and allow the first vp to opt out of his graduation. He has had three years to think about it by the time he takes the gavel. He has also had three years of training in place so the job is not foreign to him/her. Parallel to these officers we have a separate team in charge of our largest fund raiser of the year. The First VP is the head of said team. This job is very important to the club but it is also a lot more work than being the president. We never have a problem filling the job of Wurst Fest Chairman. Why? The answer is a mystery to me. Perhaps running the Wurst Fest is a more fun job than being the mundane president.

My take on the matter is that people are reluctant to take on the responsibility that comes with the title “president”. The same people will volunteer for any number of activities throughout the year, but they definitely shy away from the title of “president”. I am not different from these people. I shied away from taking the job for ten years, and I have had extensive experience running clubs throughout my lifetime. At age thirty, I became involved with the Boy Scouts of America as a Cub Master. I wanted my son to have the Scouting experience. I stayed with the program for twenty-five years and moved through the ranks to various leadership positions before I finally quit. I accepted the presidency of a dying Garden Club and brought it back to life; it is still in existence today. As an avid bicyclist I joined a Bicycle Club called Folks on Spokes, and eventually became president and led the group for four years before I had to drop out to care for my wife. I learned that leadership requires a soul brave enough to put himself out in front of the group with a thick skin and psyche that loves rejection. Rejection, a word I hated, but learned to love. Rejection forces a leader to move down the list of candidates until he finds someone who will accept a job. Making phone calls is one of my least favorite things to do, but I force myself to talk to people with as much enthusiasm as I can muster in the hopes that I will convey a sense of positiveness and excitement. It works, but it doesn’t come naturally. For me it is a learned trait. Even now, as I ponder how to handle the lack of a leader in my favorite pastime-club I am reluctant to speak to people who are my friends.

Why is it that the people who lead our country seem to be the weakest candidates? Weak people are drawn to the positions in government. Maybe they do it for the money and because the work can be very easy or almost non-existent when there is huge cadre of bureaucratic underlings who take care of all the details. A leader is very often a figure-head who has the balls to run for office on his non-existent abilities. He wins because the guy he runs against doesn’t work as diligently Once the hard work of campaigning is done, the actual job is a breeze.

Leadership requires a desire to succeed and providing resources to like minded people in the hopes they will motivate themselves toward a goal. Over the years in my leadership positions I learned that finding the people to support you with the same zeal as you have is the secret. I don’t see this desire in the current members of our Lions Club.

A Leader addresses his ideas with a positivity and enthusiasm that makes people want to work with him. One of the images I use to sell is fast moving train, people want to jump on and move with it.

A leader gives credit to the team, and not to himself.

A leader is creative, and encourages others to be also.

Maybe it is time for me to throw my hat into the ring again!

Filed under: Aging, Biography, family, Gardening, Government, Lions Club | Tagged: , , , | Leave a comment »

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