You can tell a lot about people by the kind of bread they eat.

What? You don’t eat bread at all? Well, that is the subject of an entirely different column. Today, we are talking about the rest of us — those who enjoy this fresh, soft, fluffy, crusty, nutty, spongy, hearty food that somehow manages to make nearly every meal better.

First, an admission: My mother served bread at every meal. Bread and butter, specifically. It didn’t matter what we were eating. If there was food on the table, there was bread beside it. When we were younger, it was usually plain white bread. Later, we graduated to wheat. And the honest answer for why? Whatever was on sale that week.

So what does your bread choice say about you?

If you eat white bread, you are probably younger and relatively boring. You like to get your flavor from jam, jelly, honey or whatever else you can smear on top. Nothing wrong with that. White bread is basically the blank canvas of carbohydrates.

If you eat wheat bread, you are trying to be healthier. You want everyone to know it, too. But you are not about to give up ice cream or beer. That is called balance.

Prefer a wrap? You are either extremely organized or slightly obsessive. You do not want anything falling out of your sandwich. You probably alphabetize your spice rack, too.

Are you a banana bread person? Congratulations. You procrastinate. You bought too many bananas, ignored them until they turned brown and then suddenly became a baker. Banana bread is basically the official dessert of delayed responsibility.

If cornbread is your bread of choice, you are probably eating chili. And if you are eating chili, you are probably going to need to clear the room later. I don’t make the rules.

Maybe bagels are your thing. You either really like cream cheese, gluten or both.

Then there is rye bread, the only acceptable foundation for a Reuben. Corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing. That is not lunch. That is architecture. Rye comes in light, medium and dark, depending on how the flour is made. And if you eat rye with anything other than a Reuben, you are just being difficult.

Pumpernickel is more fun to say than to eat. Making it properly can take nearly 24 hours, which means you are either remarkably patient or you cheated by adding molasses or coffee.

So, yes, you can tell a lot about someone by their bread. And if you think that is ridiculous, I have one question: What kind of bread do you eat?

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

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

Are you worth more dead or alive? That is a question many people eventually ask, usually while reviewing a life insurance policy and discovering just how expensive it is to continue living.

Three years ago, one of my term life insurance policies expired. I had bought it a few decades earlier, when I was considerably younger and life insurance was considerably cheaper. So I bought another policy recently. This one wasn’t cheap. I understand why. I am older. I am less healthy. And, if I am being brutally honest, I am statistically closer to the finish line. That’s the insurance business. The companies make money insuring young people who believe they are immortal, then they charge the rest of us more because we have started noticing that our warranties are getting closer to expiration. It’s simple math.

Of course, plenty of people have no life insurance at all. These are often the same people who do not give much thought to funeral expenses. “I will be dead,” they reason. “It won’t be my problem.” Technically, they have a point. But it will be somebody’s problem.

More than 20 years ago, a good friend of mine died. He was married and had two young children. Naturally, all of us worried about what would happen to his family. Fortunately, he had planned ahead and carried life insurance. That didn’t make losing him any easier, but it removed one enormous financial worry from a family already dealing with enough grief. It makes you think. And it should.

As part of getting my latest policy approved, I had to undergo a physical exam. Height. Weight. Urine test. Blood work. And 93 questions about my medical history. At some point, I expected the nurse to ask what I had for breakfast when I was 12.

The physical exam itself was humbling. My height has decreased. My weight has increased. I am apparently shrinking in one direction and expanding in another. My blood and urine were, well, blood and urine. Although, thanks to some unfriendly kidney stones, those two categories occasionally seem to have developed a closer working relationship than I would prefer.

I don’t take many medications, other than a cholesterol-lowering pill. The frustrating part is how much those numbers changed from one physical to another. One year, the doctor wanted me on a medication for the rest of my life. The next year, he said my numbers look exceptional. I would like to tell you I dramatically changed my diet and exercise routine. I didn’t. So, I asked the nurse about it. She explained that some test results can be affected, positively or negatively, by what we eat in the 24 hours before the exam.

Apparently, we really are what we eat. And when it comes to life insurance, what we eat might determine what we are worth — dead or alive. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

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

There is something wonderfully old-fashioned about being tired because you worked hard. Not exhausted because you spent six hours arguing with people on Facebook. Not worn out because you binge-watched an entire television series. I mean the kind of tired that comes from putting in a full day’s work and knowing you earned the right to sit down, put your feet up and say, “Well, that was a day.”

With Labor Day approaching, I want to salute the working Americans who believe there is dignity in a job well done.

I salute the people who take pride in their work, whether they are running a company, repairing a machine, waiting tables, driving a truck, stocking shelves, teaching children or working behind a desk. They understand that a paycheck is nice, but there is also satisfaction in knowing you did something well.

I salute those who understand that the customer is the real boss. They treat customers with respect, even when the customer’s only goal seems to be to test their patience.

I salute the workers who understand that a workplace does not need a ping pong table, a beanbag chair and a refrigerator stocked with artisanal sparkling water to be a great place to work. Sometimes what makes a job great is simply good people, a fair boss and the satisfaction of accomplishing something.

I salute those who realize that every job has its miserable 20%. No matter how much you love your work, there will be days when you would rather clean the break-room microwave with a toothbrush. You do it anyway. You show up, focus and get through it.

I salute people who understand that expertise takes time. There is no shortcut around experience, practice and making enough mistakes to eventually learn how not to make them again.

I salute those who show up when they are supposed to, arrive on time, leave when they are supposed to and do not mysteriously develop a severe case of “Friday afternoon” at 2:30 p.m.

I salute the workers who spend their hard-earned money locally when they can, support American-made products when possible and understand that strong communities are built one transaction at a time.

Finally, I salute the retirees who spent decades doing these things — working, learning, providing, improving and showing up — while making life better for their families, coworkers, companies and communities.

So this Labor Day, let’s celebrate more than a three-day weekend and a good excuse to fire up the grill. Let’s celebrate the people who still believe that showing up matters, hard work matters and doing a job well matters. Because sometimes the greatest reward for a day of honest work is being tired at the end of it — and knowing you earned every bit of that tired.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

Didn’t own much; didn’t owe much. Read it again. Those six words explain the lifestyle of many families from just a few generations ago. 

My mother was born in 1935, in the midst of the Great Depression. Most of us can’t imagine the doom and demise of that time. Those who lived it learned to get by on little of nothing. 

My grandparents lived humble lives. They didn’t drive expensive cars or wear fancy clothes. In fact, to my knowledge, they never owned a home. I don’t know how much the Great Depression impacted them, because they never talked about it. They just made do, and they didn’t buy things they didn’t absolutely need. They certainly were not alone. 

Today, many who are also clearly struggling financially still seem to find ways to buy flat screen TVs, purchase smart phone plans, have their nails done, and get their seventh tattoo. Some who do borrow money play the victim card in hopes that it will be forgiven. Most of our grandparents and great-grandparents would cringe at even the discussion of the handouts now ranging from the forgiveness of business loans to erasing of college debt.

My mother never had a credit card. She thought they were “tools of the devil,” as she saw too many people get buried financially by choosing not to live within their financial means. When I was in college, I received an application in the mail for a credit card from a gas station. It seemed like a good idea to me, so I applied and received it. I paid it off each month, but I never wanted Mom to know about it. Of course, she did. And, of course, she did not approve. The only debt my mother ever had was her home mortgage. She didn’t buy things unless she could pay cash for them. There was no other option, in her mind. 

A few decades later, while at an out-of-town family wedding, Mom realized that a credit card had become a necessity for things like hotel room reservations. So, she talked with me about it, and I encouraged her to apply for one. To my dismay, she was denied because she did not have any credit history. This woman with no debt, who had never written a bad check in her life, was denied a credit card. I had to co-sign the application for my mother to be approved, which I did. I understand that the credit card companies don’t profit as much from those who pay their debts each month, but this still says something about the society we now live in.

As such, a better mantra for today may be: Don’t own much; do owe a lot. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading. 

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