With some snow on the ground this year, I can’t help but think of the countless hours I spent as a child playing in the white stuff. Sledding down hills. Having snowball fights. Making snowmen. But, there was one snow activity I could never seem to master — igloo making.

Sure, like many of you, I could dig long tunnels into snow piles. I could create makeshift forts that would last… for a while. I could even create really good snow walls. But a domed igloo? Forget it. My many efforts resulted in the same disappointing collapses.

As a child who watched way too much television, I was intrigued by a commercial for the Sno Bloc Maker by K-tel. “Scoop it, pack it, block it.” Sounded easy. And the igloos on TV looked absolutely amazing.

“Big kids. Little kids. Moms and dads. Everyone is having fun in the snow.” They sure looked like it. The advertised price was only $2.99, and it even came with an aluminum shaping shovel. What a deal!

I wanted some of this “healthy outdoor fun” and to turn our yard into a “winter wonderland.” Who wouldn’t? So I begged Mom for one, and, lo and behold, it was under the tree on one of those Christmas mornings. My brother Steve and I bundled up and prepared for the snow-building task. We were going to create the biggest, fanciest igloo this side of the East Fork of the Des Moines River. What we were not prepared for was the variance in snow. The light stuff would not pack well in the Sno Bloc Maker. The wet snow would stick to the plastic. The slushy snow would fall out like potato soup. This was not the winter wonderland that I saw on TV.

We were patient, and, one day, we had perfect packing snow. One by one, we produced those snow blocks factory-style and stacked them up, carefully tilting each layer inward so we could properly form the dome until… you guessed it, another collapse.

“Scoop it, pack it, block it.” Right. More like “Scoop it, pack it, crack it,” as that’s exactly what happened to my Sno Bloc Maker by New Year’s Day.

All has not been lost, though. Decades later when playing in in the snow with my kids, we came up with the idea of using big plastic storage bins to create snow blocks — and they worked quite well, at least for the first row or two. The weight was a bit much for the upper layers, and the attempts at doming still resulted in the same collapses. It was still a lot of fun and another simple reminder that, despite the generation differences, some things never change.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

Independent. It is an interesting word with interesting meanings. I throw the word around a lot and stress how important it is for local media to be independent, but that’s just one definition. So what else does “independent” mean?

Some say it means not to be controlled by others, or to be truly self-governing. That can work for countries, for companies and for organizations that have the wherewithal to operate without assistance. Many say they are independent but still rely on funding from outside sources to exist. True independence, in this regard, is rare. 

Others say independent means to not be affiliated with a larger controlling unit. That defines Big Green Umbrella Media. We don’t have a “corporate” office to report to. We don’t have a board of directors to approve or disapprove of our efforts. And we don’t have out-of-town shareholders to satisfy. We do have mentors, and one of them gave me some sage advice many years ago. He said we would never be editorially sound until we were financially sound. That proved to be true, and it is valuable counsel for anyone who wants to get into this industry.

In a simpler sense, independent can mean not requiring or relying on something or someone. I often wonder if I could exist in the wild on my own, and how long I would last. I would still have to rely on many things including the land, animals, the sun, water and much more. Or how about living in an underground bunker? Could you do it, and for how long? 

Some retired folks and financial planners define independent as being free from the necessity of working for a living. Most all of us would like to experience that form of independence.

From a political view, independent means not being bound by or committed to a political party. Independents or unaffiliated voters typically outnumber Republicans or Democrats, but their voices are rarely represented. In a weird way, that may be exactly how independents want it to be.

I am proud to be independent by many of these definitions, but I also fully realize how much I need others to exist. Human contact is a necessity for most of us, but we also want to minimize many of the other things we have become reliant upon. And, the more we can do that, the more independent we will truly be.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

Pains or injuries? There is a distinction between the two, but many people use the words as the same. 

I remember being in my 30s and telling a customer who was in his 50s that my body started hurting more once I turned 30. He laughed at me and said, “You just wait!” I passed it off as just another old guy complaining about his aches and pains, and then I realized that I was the one who started the conversation.

Several years ago, I listened to a former NFL player who spoke at a conference I was attending. As one of his humorous quips, he shared that he goes to bed feeling fine and he wakes up injured. Can you relate? How does this happen?

Yes, our bodies do hurt more as we age. Although some pains deal with things that are passed along in our genes, I am convinced that our lifestyle choices are the most significant factor. Yes, what we eat, how we choose to exercise (or not exercise), and how well we sleep are critical factors in how much we ache. 

I am also convinced that we are a softer generation. We jam a finger today, and we feel like we need to have an MRI done. Emergency rooms are full of people who don’t seem to understand what an emergency really is.

I am part of the problem, too. The aches and pains keep piling up, and popping a handful of ibuprofen does make me feel better. Of course, I could stop eating the foods that are causing me inflammation and have a regular exercise plan with plenty of stretching, but that’s a lot of work. 

So, like many of you, I deal with the aches. I complain about the pains. I try to avoid the injuries. And I am probably seeing going to see my doctor too often. But, as the saying goes, better safe than sorry. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading. 

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

With the Thanksgiving holiday now behind us and Christmas holiday quickly approaching, that doesn’t leave much time for a good debate. Maybe so, but here is you can still toss this around with family members as you chow down on leftovers this weekend. It has to do with Santa’s reindeer. They are all female — and pregnant.

Yes, it’s true. Well, maybe.

Dasher. Dancer. Prancer. Vixen. Comet. Cupid. Donder (yes, Donder). Blitzen. All of them could be making baby reindeer — and the experts say they know this because of the antlers (or lack thereof).

As you deer hunters know, male reindeer shed their barbs just after the mating season, which is in early December. So, with that in mind, a male reindeer would not have antlers on Dec. 24. 

Most female reindeer keep their antlers throughout the winter. This is because pregnant females use them to dig for food through the snow. Those who know say female reindeer lose their antlers just before giving birth. 

Now, of course, you can’t have pregnant reindeer without male reindeer (or a bunch of complicated science), so the guys do have something to do the with the process. They just aren’t members of Santa’s high-flyers on Christmas Eve. 

There is another possibility, again according to those who know. Since castrated reindeer don’t lose their antlers, Vixen and company could be male, meaning that those mischievous elves might have some sharp knives and yet another task at Santa’s Village. 

Some of you may be wondering about Rudolph, the little, red-nosed reindeer that saved Christmas. He may be the only male that pulls Santa’s sleigh. How do we know for sure?  Well, we don’t, but in Robert May’s original cover art on his 1939 book, Rudolph is not sporting antlers at all, which leaves the possibility open. 

If this leaves you all a bit bewildered, you are not alone. I am going with the idea that Santa’s reindeer are a mix of pregnant females (Dasher, Vixen and Cupid) and castrated males (Comet, Donder and Blitzen). I am undecided on Prancer and Dancer.

Throw that around with the leftover turkey and cranberry sauce this weekend. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

Turkey. Stuffing. Green bean casserole. Hot rolls. Cranberry sauce. Mashed potatoes. Those are the foods that often grace our dining table on Thanksgiving day, along with one other customary staple — gravy.

Yes, gravy. The wonderful potato topper made from the juices of meats running naturally during cooking and often thickened with corn starch for added texture. Mmmm. Mmmm.

Gravy is sometimes colored and flavored with gravy salt or gravy browning or ready-made cubes and powders. Canned and instant gravies are even available. I don’t really care, as long as there is gravy. 

Gravy is the Shamrock Shake of our household. It only comes out once per year, and I always look forward to it. 

Some of you may recall the 1951 Looney Toons classic cartoon called “Chow Hound” featuring a dog who bullies a cat for meat. When the cat brings the dog steak, the dog replies each time, “What, no gravy?” If you are a gravy lover, take 1:23 and check it out. 

A few decades ago, Jolene and I were at a community festival that had a princess competition for young girls. It was cute and innocent. The girls were tested with a few simple questions on stage by the host. One was asked, “What’s your favorite food?” She turned her head to the side, grinned ear to ear, and quietly said, “Gravy.” Kids are so honest. 

With all this love for gravy, one has to wonder how it became involved with a locomotive as a term for a source of income that generates abundant money with little effort. Yes, the gravy train.  Not the dog food. The term “gravy train” apparently has roots to the 1920s when railroad men invented the phrase to describe a run that provided good pay and little work. The words made their way into general speech, meaning to have a cushy job that pays well, or, more commonly, to be prosperous. Easy living, you might say. 

Well, if there is one day that should be easy, it’s Thanksgiving. Maybe not during the prep work for the person cooking (Jolene) or the clean-up time for the person doing the dishes (me), but the rest of the day is meant for relaxing.

And that, my friends, is a well-deserved gravy train. Happy Thanksgiving to you all. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading. 

Have you seen the remote control? That’s a common question in our house, with the next one being, “Which remote control?”

We have the TV remote control. The sound bar remote control. And the Firestick remote control.

The most frequently lost remote control, though, is that slick metal one for the Apple TV. When we first misplaced it, I became so frustrated that I bought another one. Then I found the old one. Now we have two Apple TV remotes to lose. And we do. Frequently. 

I have learned that the most common spot to look for missing remotes is in the couch, as they often slip through the cushions. Since I am the designated person to do the search, I find many other hidden treasures — a dozen or so hair scrunchies, some pocket change, more bobby pins than I can count, and a few kernels of popcorn.

I remember when we had TVs without remote controls. Being the youngest child, I was the one who was told to change the channel. When that plastic knob would break (as it often did), I would have to use the pliers to turn to another station. Seriously. 

I also remember buying my first VCR, which came with a “corded” remote. It was about 6 feet long and had more tangles that a string of Christmas lights. It didn’t last long. 

The first TV I personally bought was in 1990, and it was a console set on a swivel base that had a great picture and an incredible booming sound from its wooden enclosure. TVs didn’t need sound bars back then, but those who bought them did need ibuprofen after moving the 150-pounders (which I did up and down stairs more times than I want to count). Most importantly, this TV came with a remote control. No pliers. 

It’s too bad life doesn’t have a remote control so we could turn down the volume, press mute, change the channel to a different scene, or simply press off — all at the click of a button. That sounds nice, but it’s probably best that a life remote doesn’t exist. It would likely fall between the cushions, too. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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