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Sock-sock, shoe-shoe 

Jun 24, 2026 | Publisher's Column

When I get dressed each morning, I sometimes think about an old episode of “All in the Family” in which Mike and Archie have a heated debate over the proper order for putting on socks and shoes. Is it sock-sock, shoe-shoe? Or is it sock-shoe, sock-shoe?

It is the kind of argument only a sitcom could turn into comedy, but I have to admit that I have given it more thought than any reasonable person should. And while that debate may be silly, socks are serious business.

According to Beneath the Knees, the global sock market is worth $14.3 billion and is expected to grow nearly 3% annually through 2027. One in every five clothing items purchased is a pair of socks. Think about that. We are buying socks like they are potato chips. You never intend to buy just one pair.

The COVID-19 pandemic managed to sock it to the sock industry. Average revenue per person fell to $1.55, the lowest level in nearly a decade. Apparently, when people were stuck at home, they decided the socks they already owned were good enough.

Here are a few more sock surprises. About 64% of adults wear socks around the house, and men are more likely to do so than women. Even more interesting, one of the fastest-growing trends is wearing socks to bed. Between 2017 and 2021, that category grew by 21% — four times faster than the overall sock market.

Socks have changed, too. They used to disappear into the outfit, matching your pants and quietly doing their job. Today, socks are expected to make a statement. Bright colors, crazy patterns, cartoon characters and even company logos peek out beneath expensive suits. Somewhere along the way, socks went from supporting actors to attention seekers.

I have a touch of color blindness, so I often ask my wife what color the socks I just pulled from the drawer actually are. She finally solved the problem by convincing me to buy only black socks. “Black goes with everything,” she says.

She is probably right, but growing up in the 1970s, black socks with shorts were practically a fashion felony. Every kid had to wear white tube socks pulled almost to the knees, preferably with colorful stripes around the top. And heaven help the poor soul whose socks started sliding down. Saggy socks were social suicide.

My dad ignored every fashion rule. On the rare occasions he wore shorts, he paired them with black dress socks that stretched halfway to his knees, creating a striking contrast with his blindingly white legs. It was a look no fashion magazine ever celebrated.

Years later, my teenage daughter, Sara, started borrowing my black dress socks. I still do not understand that trend. Then again, I buy most of my socks at a hardware store, so perhaps I am not the person to ask about fashion. One thing I do know: Archie had it right. Sock-sock. Shoe-shoe.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

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

Giving hate the day off

Jun 23, 2026 | Publisher's Column

Hate is an ugly word. Unfortunately, it seems to have become part of our daily vocabulary.

At its worst, hate fuels wars, road rage, family feuds and senseless violence. It also sneaks into everyday conversations about politics, religion and, yes, even sports. Some blame the news media. Others point to social media, where outrage often spreads faster than facts. Both deserve some criticism. But, ultimately, each of us decides whether to pour gasoline on the fire or help extinguish it.

I try not to hate. That starts with avoiding the word itself. Words carry weight. They can encourage or discourage, heal or wound. Hate demands an enormous amount of emotional energy — energy that could be spent solving problems, building relationships or simply enjoying life.

When our daughters were young, they regularly announced they “hated” certain foods, songs or television shows. Oddly enough, those were usually things I liked. I would ask if they realized how powerful that word was and suggest they try something less dramatic, like “I do not care for it.” They probably hated that lecture.

These days, I still encounter comments that irritate me, people who test my patience and opinions that make me wonder whether we are living on the same planet. My first reaction is not always my best one. But I am learning to replace outrage with curiosity. Instead of asking how anyone can believe that, I try to inquire how he or she arrived there. Sometimes those conversations are productive. More often, they are not. Either way, I usually learn something. If nothing else, I am reminded how much patience I still need.

I still get angry. We all do. As comedian Bill Maher has quipped, “Humans are not good people.” We have to work at it.

One article I read recently offered simple advice for those moments when hate starts creeping in: Take a deep breath. Remember the other person is human. And let the issue go instead of replaying it over and over in your mind. None of those steps is revolutionary, but they are remarkably effective. I would add one more: Find the humor.

Life is a lot more entertaining when we can laugh at our differences instead of treating every disagreement like the final round of a heavyweight title fight. Imagine how dull the world would be if everyone agreed on everything. Besides, if we spend all our time hating people who disagree with us, we will miss the chance to discover that some of them are actually make pretty good company.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading

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

Dandelions, yellow fingers and mowing dirt

Jun 19, 2026 | Publisher's Column

Dandelions and kids go hand in hand. Yellow stains and all.

Most of us can remember being children, running barefoot through the summer grass and discovering those bright yellow “flowers” sprinkled across the lawn. I proudly picked them, bundled them into tiny bouquets and presented them to my mother. She smiled, thanked me and admired my gift. Then, at the first opportunity, she quietly tossed them in the trash when I wasn’t looking.

Sound familiar? The decades may change, but that scene has played out for generations. What has changed, though, is how we deal with dandelions today.

As a child, I thought knocking the tops off those weeds with the mower blade was a perfectly acceptable lawn-care strategy. Mom strongly disagreed. She never used store-bought fertilizer or weed killer. The rain and sunshine were the fertilizer, and I was the weed killer. Armed with a garden trowel, I was sent into the yard to hand-dig every dandelion in sight. And this was not a casual assignment. Mom inspected my work to make sure I got the entire root. If even a sliver remained, I was headed back for another excavation.

Oddly enough, I enjoyed the job. It certainly beat washing dishes or staining the deck. The dandelion-removal campaign did create one problem, though. Those yellow “flowers” served as convenient markers when I mowed. Once they were gone, I had no idea where I had already been. During dry summers, our lawn was more brown than green anyway. I often mowed dead grass, dirt and the occasional surviving weed.

Still, I mowed because that is what Mom expected. Every now and then, I tried arguing that mowing dead grass seemed unnecessary. Those discussions never ended well. In fact, they often resulted in bonus chores, such as edging with those awful hand-trimming shears.

Eventually, I learned three important life lessons: Dig dandelions by the roots, mow whatever is growing and keep your mouth shut.

And then there were the stains. Do you remember how dandelion juice turned your fingers yellow? No matter how hard you scrubbed, the color seemed permanent. But yellow fingers were fine. They were badges of childhood, right alongside grass-stained jeans, scraped knees and black bicycle-chain grease smeared across your socks. Getting dirty was part of growing up. It meant you had been outside, exploring, working, playing and making memories.

These days, we spend too much time trying to eliminate every weed, stain and inconvenience from our lives. Maybe we should save a few dandelions. After all, some of life’s best memories started with dirty fingers, grass-stained jeans and a bouquet that never quite made it to a vase.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

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

The simple things

Jun 16, 2026 | Publisher's Column

Most of us say the simple things are the parts of life we enjoy the most. Yet when someone asks us to name those simple things, we often stare into space like we were just handed a pop quiz.

For some people, the simple things revolve around food and drink: a hot cup of coffee on a cool morning, a slice of apple pie topped with melting ice cream, or a steak sizzling on the grill.

For others, the simple things are found outdoors: an orange-and-pink sunset, the coo of a mourning dove, the smell of fresh rain, or the rare occasion when mosquitoes decide to bother someone else.

Some people find joy in human connection. Holding a newborn baby. Hugging an old friend. Petting a dog that acts as if you have been gone for three years when you merely checked the mailbox.

Simple pleasures can also be found in activities. Reading a great book. Listening to an album you have loved for decades. Rewatching a classic movie even though you already know every line and can predict the ending before the opening credits finish rolling.

Others find contentment in meditation, prayer, exercise or, perhaps the most underappreciated luxury of adulthood, a well-earned nap.

Or simpler. Much simpler.

My friend Cory, who has declared war on hot-air hand dryers, insists all he wants after washing his hands is a paper towel. Not a blast of lukewarm air. Not a machine that sounds like a jet engine preparing for takeoff. Just a paper towel.

My buddy Jim finds happiness sitting in a deer stand all day, whether he harvests a deer or not. Many people would call that boring. Jim calls it a good day.

As for me, I have learned to appreciate pure silence. No cellphones chirping. No horns honking. No stereos thumping. No televisions blaring. No sirens wailing. Just silence.

The funny thing is that none of these pleasures costs much money. Most require little planning. Yet they are often the first things we push aside when life gets busy. We tell ourselves we will enjoy them later, after the next deadline, the next project or the next obligation.

But maybe the simple things are not supposed to wait until later. Maybe they are supposed to be woven into today. After all, a good life is rarely built from grand events and once-in-a-lifetime moments. More often, it is built from small moments we almost overlook. A cup of coffee. A quiet sunset. A dog’s wagging tail. A paper towel in a public restroom.

The simple things are still there, waiting for us. The real question is whether we are willing to slow down long enough to notice them.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

Our long, stubborn love affair with feet, pounds and Fahrenheit

Jun 9, 2026 | Publisher's Column

How tall are you? How much do you weigh? What is the temperature outside? Most of you probably know the answers without hesitation. And most of you probably did not answer in meters, kilograms or degrees Celsius. That is because the vast majority of Americans still speak the language of feet, pounds and Fahrenheit. We inherited the system from Great Britain, held onto it after the British moved on, and have defended it with the same determination we reserve for arguing about barbecue and college football rankings.

Some of you may remember the great metric push of the 1970s. International-minded leaders wanted the United States to join most of the rest of the world in using a single measurement system. In 1975, Congress passed the Metric Conversion Act, legislation designed to encourage a transition from feet and pounds to meters and kilograms. The law was voluntary, but many schoolteachers acted as if the change was inevitable.

I still remember being told that if I did not learn the metric system, I would be hopelessly unprepared for the future. Nearly 50 years later, that future has arrived, and most Americans still measure their height in feet and complain about the weather in Fahrenheit.

A handful of laws require consumer products to include both metric and U.S. customary measurements, but that is about as far as the revolution went. Why? Part of the answer is simple: Americans do not like being told to change. Another part is that we have never been especially interested in doing things just because other countries do them. Call it stubbornness. Call it independence. Call it American exceptionalism with a measuring tape.

To be fair, the metric system has its advantages. It is logical, orderly and based on powers of 10. Conversions are easy. Everything fits neatly together.

The imperial system, meanwhile, often appears to have been invented by a committee of medieval farmers and tavern owners. Yet there is something intuitive about it. A foot is roughly the length of a human foot. An inch is about the width of a thumb. You do not need a calculator or a lesson in geography involving the distance from the equator to the North Pole.

As a 7-year-old, learning the metric system felt like homework. I can only imagine how adults reacted. Change tends to happen slowly. In America’s case, sometimes very slowly. Still, the world grows more connected every year. Science, medicine, manufacturing and international trade increasingly rely on metric measurements. Whether we notice it or not, the metric system keeps creeping into our daily lives.

So perhaps the metric advocates will get the last laugh. Maybe 50 years from now, Americans will measure themselves in meters, buy produce by the kilogram and check the weather in Celsius. But do not bet against us finding a way to keep talking about 6-foot-tall people and 75-degree days.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

The first time

Jun 2, 2026 | Publisher's Column

I spotted a bumper sticker at a stoplight recently that asked a question I haven’t been able to shake: “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” The light turned green. The car drove away. The question stayed with me all the way to work. It’s a tougher question than it sounds.

I can easily remember plenty of firsts. The first time I rode a bicycle. The first time I ventured into the 10-foot end of the swimming pool. The first movie I saw in a theater. The first kiss. The list goes on. But the last time I did something for the first time? That took some thinking. To answer it, I tried a different approach. Instead of asking what new things I’ve done lately, I asked what things I still want to do.

Back in my 20s, when I believed my body was indestructible and recovery was a personality trait, I had ambitious athletic goals. I wanted to run a marathon, bench press 300 pounds, earn a black belt in taekwondo and ride the entire RAGBRAI route across Iowa. Somewhere along the way, those goals quietly exited the building.

Today’s goals are less dramatic but probably more important. Eat more fruits and vegetables. Exercise consistently. Get enough sleep. Relax. Reduce stress. Remember that “self-care” isn’t just something other people are supposed to do. And, most importantly, tell the people I care about that I love them before they have to remind me.

There are still plenty of firsts out there.

I would like to travel to Ireland with my wife. And Hawaii. I’m not sure why those destinations ended up on opposite sides of the globe, but apparently I enjoy making travel plans complicated.

I would like to learn to play the guitar. Not necessarily well — just well enough that people don’t immediately ask me to stop.

I would like to spend more time with our kids and my grandson. I would like to ride my motorcycle more. I would like to read more for fun instead of proofing copy and scanning emails and trying to decipher instructions for products I should have assembled correctly the first time.

There are also some things I would like to do less of. Watch less television. Spend less time staring at my phone. Eat less junk food that somehow keeps finding its way into my pantry.

Maybe that bumper sticker got it right. Doing something for the first time doesn’t always have to be big, bold or Instagram-worthy. Sometimes it is simply deciding there are still things worth trying.

So, how about you? When was the last time you did something for the first time? Drop me a note and let me know. I’m curious.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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