I inherited some old Adirondack chairs a few years ago. At the time, I reasoned that with a light sanding and a new coat of paint, these could be nice chairs. When my light sanding peeled off sheets of paint, I knew I was in for more work than I had planned. I persisted, though, using a power washer to take off the large stuff and an orbital sander to smooth it out. After two coats of oil-based primer, two coats of top paint, and many hours, my wife asked why I didn’t just buy new chairs. Fair question.

The answer was that this became a challenge I had to conquer. The amount of time or money I was putting into the chairs quickly became irrelevant. I simply had to win. Something was pushing me to save these chairs. 

While power-washing, sanding, priming and painting, I couldn’t help but think about what these old chairs had been through, and I smiled as I thought how similar they are to the human body. 

Each layer of paint represents memories for someone. These are the experiences the prior owners had, much like the clothes we choose to wear on our bodies. Sometimes old and worn. Sometimes faded. Sometimes needing repaired. Sometimes needing replaced. But we also sometimes hang on to them, often by needle and thread or with a new accessory to make the old appear new again. Even so, each layer — each color — represents a specific stage of life. 

Underneath those layers of paint, I found a few damaged boards that needed repair — broken bones, you might call them. Despite the fix, they are not quite the same. The repaired pieces don’t blend in with the others, but they do keep the old chairs usable, at least for a while. 

Securing these boards were a bunch of rusty screws — the joints of the chairs. At first, they were shiny, new and sharp, made to hold the bones together. Over time, they weakened, became discolored and even broke off. So, in a surgical DIY effort, I took a few of the worst ones out, and I screwed in shiny, new, sharp ones again. 

While putting in the new screws, I realized that some of the core wood was soft and rotten, no longer able to do what it was intended to do. The shiny, new, sharp screws couldn’t hold that mush together anymore. Repair was no longer an option. These vital boards — the organs of my chairs — needed replaced immediately. 

I did the work to these chairs a few years ago, and I am proud to say they are still standing today. Sure, the paint is peeling in spots again, and a few more repairs are needed, but they are usable. My wife says they need to be discarded, maybe even set aflame. I am not ready to throw them in the woodpile just yet. Like most of us, with a little TLC, they have a few more good years left in them.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305

What does the Fourth of July mean to you? A day off from work? Barbecues? Fireworks? As the anniversary of the birth of America — the greatest nation in the world — it means much more than that, at least to me. 

I am a proud American. Not a proud Irish-American, or a proud German-American, or a proud French-American, or a proud Native American. I am a proud American. Yes, my heritage has ties to each of those four (and likely more), but I don’t get caught up in that. I take pride in being an American, and I truly believe this is the best country in the world. This didn’t happen by accident but only by the sacrifices that so many made — and continue to make — to ensure that our country is free. Yes, freedom still rings in America, but we have to listen.   

The haters will hate. They hate our military. They hate our police. They hate our government.  Until they need any of them, of course. They want to drive a wedge deep between us by focusing on how we are different. None of those organizations — or the people in them — are perfect. Neither am I. Neither are the haters. We all can make this great country even greater. Whether we do that — or spread hatred — is up to each one of us.

I was 7 years old in 1976 when our country celebrated its 200-year anniversary. It was an incredible time of celebration. The red, white and blue was everywhere, even promoted in our public schools. It was a time in our country shortly after dealings with war, protests, rampant drug use, a presidential impeachment, and more. An oil crisis and a farm crisis both loomed. But American pride was strong, even in this 7-year-old kid. 

Today, our country seems more divided than ever, as we dwell on subjects we disagree on like immigration and religion and ammunition. Maybe on this one day — July 4 — we can set aside those differences, join hands and focus on what we have in common.

We are Americans.

Have a fantastic Fourth of July, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital editions
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

The words in the above headline are those of Casey Kasem when he would close out each episode of his American Top 40 radio show. I agreed then, and I continue to agree today. Human beings have no business in the sky. That’s probably not what Casey had in mind when he coined the phrase, but that’s my interpretation… and here’s why. 

I have long believed that humans were made to roam the land. If we were intended to be in the sky, we would have wings. We don’t, but that hasn’t stopped generations of humans from trying to get into the air, including my friend Matt Lukacs. Flying in an airplane is unnerving to many folks, but it is now an acceptable means of transportation for most all of us. Damn those Wright brothers.

Oh, well. I get it, and I do fly in commercial planes. I am also joining Matt for an upcoming flight. But skydiving? Bungee jumping? Paragliding? The margin for error in these activities is slim. Casey was right. Reaching for the stars is fine, but keep your feet on the ground, for crying out loud. 

Meanwhile, about 2.8 million skydives are made in the U.S. each year. The United States Parachute Association, which has 40,000 members, recorded 11 fatal skydiving accidents in 2020, a rate of 0.39 fatalities per 100,000 jumps. They contrast that with a 1 in 6,000 chance of dying in a car wreck for those who drive 10,000 miles or more per year. I’m not debating their math, but I still like my odds better in an automobile. 

The thought of landing on the ground in a parachute makes my back ache. My skydiving friends tell me the impact is similar to jumping off a garage, which, to be honest, doesn’t sound appealing either. Don’t get me wrong. I am all for supporting the 73,000 or so chiropractors in the U.S., but I prefer to avoid activities that compress my spine.

So, I will certainly continue to jump in an airplane from time to time, but don’t expect to see me skydiving or bungee jumping or paragliding anytime soon. I am choosing to keep my feet on the ground. And those stars? Well, I will keep reaching. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305

I was introduced to the principles of Feng Shui a few decades ago, and I have read numerous books and articles on it since. Not familiar with Feng Shui? Simply put, it is a Chinese belief in an energy force called chi that flows and has both positive and negative effects on you. A home or office with strong Feng Shui is in harmony with its surroundings and makes its occupants feel better. Hundreds of basic methods exist to create a flow of this positive energy.

Think I’m crazy? You may be right. But just wait, as I share a few of the simplest ideas. 

Feng Shui says your front door is where the most energy enters your home or office, which means it plays a huge role with the potential of positive energy. Basic Feng Shui principles say the front door should be the largest in your home, and you should maintain it properly. No squeaks or flaking paint, and it should open freely. A poorly maintained front door can drain positive energy from your home.

What about Feng Shui in the bedroom? Well, your bedroom has a massive impact on your energy because it is the place for rest — and romance. As such, your bed should be placed away from your entry door and windows. Placing your bed in front of a window can zap your energy while you sleep. To help ground you while you snooze, put it where you can see the door and where you can place your headboard against a wall. As for the TV in the bedroom, get rid of it. TVs emit ions that drain your energy. Don’t store junk under your bed either, or use electric blankets. And don’t hang mirrors where you can see yourself from the bed, as this can be disruptive. Pink champagne on ice? That’s OK. 

Feng Shui can also be effective in your office if you place your desk so you can see the door when sitting behind it. This allows you to take command of the room. You should not have your back toward the door, and you should avoid being in front of large mirrors or windows that will distract you and drain your energy.

Feng Shui is about energy flow, and doorways are how energy goes from one room to another. As such, don’t align your front door with your back door, as all the energy will then flow directly in and out of your home. You should also not align your bathroom door with your kitchen door, as you don’t want those two energies mixing together. It’s a “don’t cross the beams” thing. 

Do a little Feng Shui research and have some fun with this. You might be surprised how understanding energy flow can make you feel. Just be careful, though, or you might become hooked, too. 

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital editions
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707

My wife recently told me that my head is “remarkably tan.” That might have been a compliment, but I’m not sure. My arms are tan, too, at least from the elbows down. The rest of my body is milky white, mostly unexposed to the sun for a few decades. 

It wasn’t always like this. As a child, my skin turned golden brown each summer. I don’t recall ever wearing sunscreen. In fact, I don’t recall sunscreen even existing in the 1970s. It was “sun tan lotion,” whatever that meant. Regardless, I didn’t have any goop on my skin, and I don’t remember ever getting burned by the sun. 

Summer wear for this kid was a pair of swimming trunks. This was appropriate, since the bulk of my hours between 2-9 p.m. were spent at the local swimming pool. The exceptions were Little League games where, unlike the uniforms of today, we wore a basic team T-shirt, blue jeans, any ball cap and tennis shoes. (And why were they called “tennis” shoes?)

Then, during my first week of summer while home from college after my freshman year, I was working construction on a roof tearing off shingles. I thought I would take off my shirt and work on the tan. Leaning over the entire day with my back fully exposed to the sun turned my skin into a bubbling, blistering, itchy mess from my neck to my waist. The only relief I could find from the burn was lying down and aggressively scratching my back on Mom’s shag carpet (with a shirt on, of course). I no longer liked the sun, and I swore I would wear whatever goop was necessary to prevent a burn like that from happening again. 

A few years went by, and, apparently, so did that lesson. I was out of college and working in Des Moines when some co-workers invited me out on their boat at Lake Red Rock, and I forgot to pick up sunscreen. The Heat Miser punched me again, this time in the face. My skin peeled off like the lid on a sardine can, and I was ill for two days. 

A few decades passed, and my doctor told me I may have skin cancer on my nose. A zip here and a zap there, and they think they have it handled. At least I hope so. I read somewhere that skin is the only irreplaceable organ. At 57 years old, that finally makes sense to me — even with a remarkably tan head. 

Now pass me the goop. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
President and Publisher
Big Green Umbrella Media
shane@dmcityview.com
515-953-4822, ext. 305

I have written several columns through the years about my being late to the game in learning how to tie my shoes. To avoid the embarrassment, I wore cowboy boots to kindergarten. I know how to tie my shoes now, but I prefer to continue to avoid the process. I no longer wear cowboy boots, but I do slip on plenty of loafers. 

Of course, I wear laced shoes as well. When tying a pair the other day, I noticed how the shoes were wearing out, but the shoelaces were in great shape. In fact, I could not recall the last time I broke a shoelace. Is it because laces are made of better quality materials today? Is it because I don’t pull on them as hard when tightening them up? Or is it simply because I don’t wear laced shoes every day?

I am not sure, but I do know that I snapped a lot of shoelaces as a child. I can still feel my body reeling backwards with the broken lace gripped tightly in my hand. Then I would try to tie the pieces of lace together, which never seemed to work. We had plenty of extra shoelaces around our house growing up, but the breaks often happened when I was in a hurry or not at home. I don’t know if we even have any replacement shoelaces at home now. If we do, I don’t know where they are. 

Do you ever wonder who invented shoelaces? Well, it was Otzi the Iceman, of course. Otzi died in 3300 BC, and his frozen mummy was found wearing bearskin shoes with lime bark shoelaces.

Generations later, some shoemakers stopped making laces and focused instead on buttons or buckles, but shoelaces lived on. The first patent was filed in 1790, and soldiers during the American Civil War even wore ankle-high boots with leather laces.

In the 20th-century, shoemakers started using synthetic materials. Puma created the first Velcro sneakers in 1968, and elderly men everywhere rejoiced.

How about a “shoestring budget”? The origin of this phrase seems to have multiple roots. Many believe it is connected to a shoestring gambler or a gambling game. Others say the term denotes a limited budget because bootlaces or straps are close to the ground. Shoestrings are also quite inexpensive to buy, so the concept of having only enough money to purchase strings may also be reflected in the term.

If Otzi the Iceman knew it would become this complicated, he would have worn cowboy boots, too.

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital editions
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707