Do you get cold feet? My inquiry is not an analogy or code for anything. It’s just a simple question. Do your feet get cold?

Doctors say your feet can feel cold due to cold temperatures, high stress, anxiety, circulation issues, anemia, diabetes mellitus, nerve disorders, hypothyroidism and some other things most of us can’t pronounce. 

Some simple solutions include movement, socks, foot baths, heating pads, water bottles — and my favorite fix, slippers. 

Yes, slippers. I have a half-dozen of them around the home and office. Call me Mr. Rogers if you want, but my feet are toasty, and it’s a beautiful day in my neighborhood. 

My friend Jason used to mock me for wearing them, especially when I would bring a pair over to his house when visiting. Then he started wearing slippers, or “house shoes,” as he calls them. 

As a child, I couldn’t stand to wear slippers. Seems like I received a pair every year for Christmas, but I rarely wore them. But, to be honest, I rarely wore shirts or pants around the house either. Like most boys, I was too warm-blooded for a whole lot of body coverings. 

Most of us can recall the image of the father figure in the home, relaxing in the easy chair, reading the evening paper, smoking a pipe and having the family dog bring him his slippers. When our kids were still at home, that evening image would have been of me in the kitchen, filling the dishwasher, asking Alexa to play some Elvis music, cleaning up the garbage that the dog got into — and keeping my feet warm with some fuzzy foot coverings. It’s not the makings of a Hallmark movie, but I will take it, as long as I have my slippers.

Comedian/politician Al Franken may have summed up the solution to cold feet best with these words, “It’s easier to put on slippers than to carpet the whole world.”

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading. 

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

Doing the dishes was a nightly task in my childhood home and one that my siblings and I argued over each evening. Who would clear the table? Who would wash the dishes? Rinse them? Dry them? Put them away?

I was the youngest of four children, so I likely was cut some slack. Still, I was eager to be like “the big kids” and help out. My siblings were eager to delegate the tasks — until I dropped a plate, and Mom would not-so-nicely blame it on them.

Mom would often say she didn’t need one of those newfangled dishwashers. She had four of them, and we were better than any Whirlpool. We were faster. The dishes were cleaner. And we used less water and no electricity.

Mom was the inspector. If any food residue was still on the dishes, they went back through the cycle — and none of us wanted to be blamed for that. So we scrubbed, and we rinsed, and we dried, and we put away. 

Doing dishes with Dad was easier. We would wash the dishes and then set them on the counter on a drying rack. “We will let Jesus dry those,” he would say with a chuckle. 

Looking back, I am glad we did the dishes by hand. We learned to actually talk to each other, not only sorting out tasks but actually having discussions. We learned how to work together quickly, efficiently and in an orderly manner. We would listen to music sometimes, but we would usually just talk. There was a lot of joking around, laughing and storytelling. It was mostly silly stuff, as I recall, but it was important then. 

Jolene and I had a similar process with our kids at home, filling the dishwasher after each meal. The dreaded task was clearing the dishwasher, especially when learning it was full of clean dishes when you were ready to load the dirty ones in. When all our kids were home, the dishwasher seemed to run daily. Now, it may run once a week.

Dishwashing today is a different process for a different era, and it just isn’t the same as leaning over the sink, shoulder to shoulder, trading out wet towels. I am reminded of this process as the holidays approach and we hand-wash the “fancy” dishes — and I am actually looking forward to it. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

Today, we officially honor those our country’s veterans. As we offer our appreciation, we should remember the complicated process of how this day came about.

World War I officially ended on June 28, 1919. However, fighting stopped seven months earlier when an armistice between the Allied nations and Germany went into effect on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Those numbers signify the reason for the observation date of Nov. 11.

In November of 1919, President Wilson proclaimed Nov. 11 as the first Armistice Day to honor the veterans of World War I. The celebration included parades, public meetings and a brief suspension of business beginning at 11 a.m. On May 13, 1938, Nov. 11 became a legal holiday dedicated to world peace and was celebrated as “Armistice Day.” On June 1, 1954, Armistice Day was appropriately amended and became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.

Then things got complicated.

The Uniform Holiday Bill was signed on June 28, 1968, with an intent to provide three-day weekends for Federal employees by celebrating four national holidays on Mondays: Washington’s Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day and Columbus Day. Many states did not agree with this decision and continued to celebrate the holidays on their original dates. The first Veterans Day under the new law was observed with widespread confusion on Oct. 25, 1971. On Sept. 20, 1975, President Ford signed a law returning the annual observance of Veterans Day to its original date of Nov. 11 starting in 1978.

Today, Veterans Day continues to be observed on Nov. 11, regardless of what day of the week it falls on. The restoration of the observance of Veterans Day to Nov. 11 preserved the historical significance of the date. It also helps focus attention on the purpose of Veterans Day: to honor America’s veterans for their patriotism, their love of country, and their willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.

Amen. Thank you, veterans.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading. 

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

The one word in the above headline describes what happened to my wife’s Ford Explorer when it was T-boned in a parking lot while she was driving a few years ago. The aftermath looked like a stepped-on Coors Light can. She was fine, but the SUV suffered more than $7,000 in damage from this low-speed collision. Luckily, the doors still opened. And, even more luckily, we were able to get the vehicle repaired in a reasonable amount of time.

In the process, we learned that we did not have rental car insurance for accidents. My father, rest his soul, was certainly shaking his head in frustration with me. When I wrecked my car, and then his truck, and then his car — all in a matter of a month at age 21 — he made me purchase rental car insurance. “Your car is a required tool for your job,” he told me. “And you need to make sure you have all the tools you need. Buy the insurance.”

So, I did. Or, at least I thought I did.

To be honest, I really wasn’t too concerned after Jolene’s accident, as I had it all planned out. She could drive my truck, and I would ride my motorcycle. What I didn’t plan on was a week of temperatures in the 40s with rain. Have you ever looked at some moron riding a motorcycle in the freezing cold and wondered why in the world anyone would do that? Now you know.  

Through this all, I couldn’t help but think of my mother telling me how she and Dad had one vehicle in the early years of their marriage. She would push my sister in a stroller down to his place of employment if she needed the vehicle and then would return it after her errands and stroll back home. This seemed to work fine for them. Mom not working outside of the home made that arrangement easier, as did the fact that Dad didn’t work far from home. Truth be told, having one vehicle in a family wasn’t all that uncommon at the time. That memory makes me feel guilty each time I drive my vehicle a few blocks to pick up groceries, get a haircut, or go to the bank, but I still do it.

Getting by with less is good for all of us from time to time, as it lets us know how fortunate we are today and that, if necessary, we can make things work without all the “stuff” that we think we need. Except for my motorcycle. That’s clearly a necessity. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

Several years ago, I wrote a column in our Daily Umbrella newsletter that touched on political elections being predictable based on who you would rather sit down and have a beer with. A reader responded to my column and shared a link to a video from Heineken beer that I had not seen before.

The video has been viewed more than 2.9 million times since it was posted in 2017, so some of you may have seen this already. Even if you have, it’s worth another look, as it is a reminder of how even those of us who seem miles apart politically can be on the same page if we try to set our differences aside and work together on common goals. Take 4 minutes and check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etIqln7vT4w

I enjoyed this video and its message because I strongly believe that we could be so much further ahead in so many ways if we could simply focus more on how we are alike instead of how we are different. In finding that common ground, we will learn to better accept and appreciate our differences, too. That’s a great message from our past that is truly relevant today and will be well into our future. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading. 

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

I am not a good hugger, but I am working on it.

I didn’t realize that I was a lousy hugger until my friend Terri told me, “You are a lousy hugger.” I was slightly insulted. Wouldn’t you be? So I asked her, “What makes a good hug?” She replied, “Well, you could start by skipping that little pat on the back — and use both hands when you give a hug.”

Some of you are likely thinking the same thing that I was when my friend told me this. A few generations of us have been taught to respect the space of others and to avoid anything that could be construed as an unwanted sexual advance — and for good reason. 

Quite frankly, I didn’t grow up in a family that hugged, kissed or said, “I love you,” so I didn’t know that those things were right or wrong. They just didn’t happen. When my parents divorced, that changed my father — and his view on hugs. 

Dad told me that after the divorce, he had to decide if he was going to be angry the rest of his life or do everything he could to love his family. He opted for the latter, and part of that approach was a lot of heart-warming hugs for me every time I saw him. 

I remember being on a visit home from college when my friend Mike and I had dinner with my father. When we were ready to leave, Dad walked over and gave me the customary hug. And then he quickly marched over to Mike and gave him a big hug, too. I was embarrassed, but I ignored it and proceeded out the door to my vehicle. When Mike got in the car, I noticed that he had a big smile on his face. He then looked at me and exclaimed, “Your dad is a peach!” He explained to me how his father never hugged him. I then realized how lucky I was and how impactful a well-meaning and caring hug can be. 

With all this in mind, I try to hug my family members every time I see them. I am sure I embarrass my kids sometimes, but that’s OK. Someday, they may truly appreciate this. In the meantime, I am also being a bit selfish. Because, as novelist Diana Rowland said, “The good thing about hugs is that when you give one, you get one.”

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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