The Boy Scouts of America

On By scottpetersenIn Boy Scouts of America, Eagle Scout, Young men who struggleLeave a comment

The Wall Street Journal on September 30, 2024, featured an article detailing how young men in America are struggling. Badly. They are struggling with independence, education, manhood, self-image, being an adult and achievement. Young women on the other hand are in the fast lane — moving forward in all departments. Why is this happening?

According to the Pentagon’s 2020 Military Available Study showed that more than 71% of young Americans (mainly young men) are ineligible for military service due to obesity, criminal history, drug and alcohol abuse, physical and mental health and other reasons. What’s going on?

If you Google the issue, you will find an abbondanza of articles, reasons and solutions. One solution I have not (yet) seen in any of the on and off line treatises is to get your son/grandson to join the Boy Scouts of America. Some here will know that being a Boy Scout – and Eagle Scout – was pivotal to my being the person I am today. Scouting instills discipline, values, character and an education on a wide-ranging spectrum of topics. While it is always better if a father can be involved, Scouting is key. I am still in an email chain with more than a dozen Eagle Scout friends from 60+ years ago (doctors, lawyers, veterinarians, pilots, publishers, entrepreneurs, teachers, clergy).

Oh and as to the “abuse” claims? I wouldn’t be too concerned. While some are legitimate, there was a good deal of fraud peppered into the claims. Check it out. I blame the lawyers who are concerned only with the money.

Sticks and Stones . . .

On By scottpetersenIn Sticks and stonesLeave a comment

[An oldie from September 24, 2015] When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal.    Although ships are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a small rudder . . . . .   Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.  The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell. . . . animals have been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue.  It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.  James 3:3-6

I must confess that there are times – especially when discussing politics – that I really want to be honest.  But I usually don’t take the bait.  Because some people will just not listen to contrary opinion.  And furthermore, words – once said – cannot be retrieved.  As Omar Khayyam observes:  “The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on.  Nor all your piety nor wit can call back half a line.  Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.”

There is thus good reason to just listen to those with whom we disagree. Before we speak. Here are words of wisdom from two wise men. Gautama Buddha said “If your mouth is open, you’re not learning.“ My father always advised “think before you speak.”   Usually I succeed.  Politicians usually do not . . . .   

We’ll be over in an hour

On By scottpetersenIn We'll be over in an hour1 Comment

[A repeat from October 30, 2014]   Maybe it’s a Scandinavian thing. Or generational. But when I was a kid, I remember well my parents saying usually on weekends – often on Sunday after Church – “let’s go see the Lynchs” or “Roland and Elaine” or “let’s stop over at Lor and Bill’s.” And we would get in the car, drive for half an hour and literally drop in on friends or relatives unannounced.  Often around dinner time. The hosts would hurriedly throw some chicken breasts or burgers on the grill. My parents and their friends would talk. Smile.  I would be bored out of my gourd.  And we’d drive home.

On those days we didn’t drive off to see someone, I’d be out playing baseball and see a car pull into our driveway and mentally go “uh oh.” And know that my Sunday afternoon was shot.

If it was my cousin Jack, I knew I’d be able to play cowboys and Indians while sitting in a parked car with Jack at the wheel making sounds like a motorboat.  My cousin Larry could always be counted on to play with soldiers.  But today – no one just “drops in” on anyone. Unless it is a dire emergency.  Today, plans are made weeks.  Months.  In advance.  “Wanna have dinner on Friday?”  “Oh mercy no – we can make it on a Tuesday in about eight weeks.”  Was that a simpler time sixty plus years ago?  You betcha.  Maybe I should reestablish the “drop in” trend.  Gotta start somewhere.  All right.  Listen up.  And be prepared.  We may be stopping over on Sunday afternoon.  I like my burgers medium well.  With sharp cheddar.  Onion roll.  Grey Poupon.  Sweet potato fries.  And Caymus cabernet . . . .    

Talk like a Pirate Day

On By scottpetersenIn Talk Like a Pirate Day1 Comment

[A repeat from August 16, 2018]  Today is the Day! September 19th is “International Talk Like a Pirate Day.” Do you know about this special day? 

In 1995 two guys from Albany, OR (John “Ol’ Chumbucket” Baur and Mark “Cap’n Slappy” Summers) proclaimed September 19th as the day everyone in the world should “talk like a pirate.” The whole idea stemmed from a racquetball injury. One of them reacted with an “Arrrggghhh” as he lay on the floor in pain – and along came an idea. For seven years, it remained an “inside” idea but in 2002 they sent a letter about their “holiday” to humorist Dave Barry.  Barry liked the idea, pushed it in a few columns and the rest is history.

Actor Robert Newton (who starred as Long John Silver in the 1950 Disney film “Treasure Island”) is considered the patron saint of Talk Like a Pirate Day.   So remember, on September 19th, when anyone says anything to you, tilt your head, give them the eye and say “Avast you scurvy lubber.  Prepare to be boarded. . . . ”  

I suggest writing your Congressmen and Senators to make this a national holiday.  Since all politicians are scurvy bilge rats, this should be a natural for them . . . . .

Uncle Walter

On By scottpetersenIn Uncle WalterLeave a comment

[A repeat from December 14, 2017]  I wonder if every family has an “Uncle Walter.”  My Uncle Walter was my father’s father’s brother. He was born in Denmark and moved to the United States just in time to be conscripted into the United States Army – and shipped off to France – in World War I. When Uncle Walter finally got home, he behaved strangely.  He only wore white clothes and he refused to sleep in a bed.  He always slept on the floor.  He was committed to a veterans’ hospital in Milwaukee. My father said Uncle Walter was “shell shocked” [PTSD] from the War. And that was that for Uncle Walter. My father’s family never talked about him and only once that I recall did anyone go to visit.

I’d heard about Uncle Walter but I’d never met him.  So when I was in my late 20’s – rebel that I was – I decided to go find him.  I called the Veteran’s Administration and learned that he was in a halfway house for veterans on South 27th Street in Milwaukee.  And I drove up to see him.   As I approached the address, there was an old man in white clothing walking slowly on the sidewalk.  I stopped the car.  Got out.  “Are you Walter Petersen?”  He looked at me.  I said “I am Willy’s [my father] son.”  And Uncle Walter began crying. . . . .

A few months later, I brought my father up to see Uncle Walter.  And just about every week from my first visit, I sent him a care package of Copenhagen snuff [he loved it], some candy and a couple of dollar bills.  When he died at the Veteran’s Home in King, Wisconsin, his will left me “everything”:  his large print Bible, his veterans benefit (about $1,700), the cross on his coffin and a brand new stuffed bunny for my daughter.  The Bible remains on my shelf.  The cross is on the wall in my den.  The bunny is still in Lauren’s old room.  And the money purchased a memorial tree that sits in our yard.   I’m glad I reached out to my Uncle Walter.   Though I suspect there are more than a few Uncle Walters out there. . . . . . 

Lydia the Tattooed Lady

On By scottpetersenIn Lydia the Tattooed Lady1 Comment

(A 10 year old – 9/11/14) I was on the train yesterday and a young couple got on and sat down. The guy’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Both arms and both hands were covered with tattoos and his legs were similarly adorned. Tattoos crept up the back of his neck and around toward his throat. Not sure how you view it but to me it was pretty weird. But you see this new body decoration frequently. Men with tattoos covering their arms, necks, torsos, legs. Even facial tattoos. And there are tattooed ladies. 

In 1939, Groucho Marx sang “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” in the classic Marx Brothers’ film “At the Circus” (enjoy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4zRe_wvJw8). In 1939 as well as in 1977 when the Muppet Show had Kermit singing the song to a bedecked Miss Piggy, tattoos were an exception rather than the rule. It violates the Torah (Leviticus 19:28) and the hadith in Islam where tattoos are haram (forbidden). Nonetheless, guys had the occasional anchor or “USMC” inked on their arm and a woman might have a small flower or family name.  But tattoos were modest – and tasteful. Heavily tattooed ladies remain a part of “Freak Shows” at the circus (or reality shows) even now.   As recently as the 1960’s and 70’s tattoos were associated with bikers and criminals. In Japan, only the yakuza (the crime syndicate) has tattoos. In China, tattoos are taboo. In Europe, tattoos are still very unpopular. And then there’s America.

According to a recent article by Miriam Jordan in the Wall Street Journal (June 27, 2014), 71% of young people today are now ineligible to join the military (see http://online.wsj.com/articles/recruits-ineligibility-tests-the-military-1403909945). The reasons? Bad grades, obesity, criminal records, ADHD (and other issues), drug use, and now under a new regulation – excessive tattoos. Great. Makes you feel safe.

Burglary

On By scottpetersenIn Crime, How do we deal with crime?Leave a comment

I grew up in a small family business. Around 1960, we moved from 137 South Albany to a 3 story building at 2330 West Van Buren Street in Chicago (see July 26, 2022). I worked there on weekends and during the summer months. One of our employees had graced the office with a monstrous glass cage full of happy canaries. Maybe a dozen or more. They were cute. They provided wonderful choruses of chirps and tweets. We fed them each day. Cleaned their cage often. Fresh water. And sometimes let one fly around the office – only to lure him (her?) back with a special treat.

We were not in a great neighborhood and from time to time, there would be damage to a window or door. It was when I was in college that serious problems began. During one summer, we were burglarized three times. The last time was the worst. We came in and found the office ransacked. Papers all over. Ripped. Typewriters destroyed. Excrement on walls. Urine on the floor. And. . . . each one of the little birds had been murdered. Thrown against the wall. Stomped on. Dismembered. And we all cried and shared our grief with employees who stood in the office. It was then I told my father that from that day forward – I would be spending nights in the office. With a 12 gauge shotgun and a few other things. I wanted to be there – when they came in. I still remember my rage. I wanted to do to “them” what they had done. And so much more. My father – wonderful man that he was – patiently calmed my spirit and convinced me to “not” do that. And fortunately – we were never “hit” again. . . . .

What do we do with the people who do things like that? Destruction of property (I think of those who smash and grab small family businesses). Sure – it was an office. And yes – they were “just” little birds – but they were murdered. Would a shotgun have been the answer? What would you do? What if it was your home?

Gardens

On By scottpetersenIn GardensLeave a comment

I like flowers as much as any guy. They’re easy on the eye. They smell good. And they make a decent gift in a pinch.  For me, I like a landscape chock full of flowers.  Thus when I drive, I’m often attentive to the gardens I pass.  When my granddaughters were little – and I was the chauffeur – I would always have them look for interesting sites along the way. One thing I would ask was for them to point out was “gardens” that they might see. There was never a wrong answer. A few flowers to one might be “look Popi! It’s a “garden!” Thus we would turn a simple ride into a botanic journey. 

Now my definition of “garden” and yours may differ.  Mine requires an aggregation of different flowers in an actual flower bed.  A few daffodils in a pot or a line of petunias along the driveway is nice but it doesn’t qualify – for me anyway.  I like gardens. . . . . .  

When I drive to play golf, I often take a shortcut on an assortment of north-south streets in Skokie.  For the most part, the homes along the way are nice-looking, well-maintained and landscaped.   Some may have gardens in the back yards where the owners can enjoy them.  But there are only a handful of (my definition) gardens in the front yards of those streets.  One is an uber garden which is quite beautiful.   And there are a couple wild natural gardens.  Many homes have a few flowers out in front which is still very nice.  Most offer grass and some bushes (a few wildly overgrown).  But the gardens I pass make the ride pleasant and get me in the mood to whack the elusive white pellet.  It’s only when my golf ball gets lost in a flower bed or bushes that my enthusiasm for gardens diminishes. . . . . those $%#&^X*! gardens. . . . .    

Golf is 70% Mental and 30% Mental

On By scottpetersenIn GolfLeave a comment

[Given my golf game – a timely repeat from December 8, 2016]

The only time I ever took out a one-iron was to kill a tarantula. And I took a 7 to do that.  ~ Jim Murray

The only sure rule in golf is – he who has the fastest cart never has to play the bad lie.  ~ Mickey Mantle

Sex and golf are the two things you can enjoy even if you’re not good at them.   ~ Kevin Costner

After all these years, it’s still embarrassing for me to play on the American golf tour. Like the time I asked my caddie for a sand wedge and he came back ten minutes later with a ham on rye.
~ Chi Chi Rodriguez

Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can keep the clubs and the fresh air.  ~ Jack Benny

Professional golf is the only sport where, if you win 20% of the time, you’re the best.   ~ Jack Nicklaus

The only time my prayers are never answered is on the golf course.  ~ Billy Graham

If you watch a game, it’s fun. If you play at it, it’s recreation. If you work at it, it’s golf.   ~ Bob Hope

If you think it’s hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball.   ~ Jack Lemmon

You can make a lot of money in this game. Just ask my ex-wives.
~ Lee Trevino

Hurricane Donna!

On By scottpetersenIn Hurricane Donna, Hurricane namesLeave a comment

Hurricane Donna was the strongest hurricane that took place during the 1960 Atlantic hurricane season. Donna was a category 4 hurricane that intensified as she smacked Florida and the Eastern United States. Hurricane Donna was . . . . wait a minute. . . . did you think I was gonna talk about my “Donna”? Whoa . . . I’d be in big trouble if I did that.

The history of hurricane names is interesting. During the 1800’s hurricanes were often identified by the places they hit – the year they occurred – or the name of a saint. In 1953, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) – an agency of the United Nations – began to name hurricanes using female names. The names were adopted in alphabetical order – a practice borrowed from the military’s phonetic alphabet. However, for some inexplicable reason, in 1979 male names were included to identify Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico hurricanes. Today, hurricanes are named on alphabetical lists alternating between male and female names. Even so, in 1986, the Washington Post had an editorial that lamented “many of the male names don’t convey either the romance or urgency that circumstances might warrant.” I mean Hurricane Mortimer? Hurricane Chauncey?

In any event, Hurricane Donna was a real troublemaker. Yet to this day – the world has yet to see or experience Hurricane Scott. For that bad boy – you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. . . . . .