A popular adage says the best things in life are free. But are they?

A few decades back, I was in a staff meeting about truth in advertising with a representative from the Iowa Attorney General’s office. We were told no advertising should publish that promotes anything for free when something else must be purchased to receive that item. The rationale was that, if you have to pay for something to receive something, then it really isn’t free. Made sense.

Meanwhile, I have a new twist on that rule now, at least outside of the world of advertising. We have a growing number of free — or nearly free — government-supplied benefits that are available to some people with minimal or no work required to receive them. In fact, and ironically, less work is often required to receive them. Many of those benefits are important and necessary for some, but I have often thought that tax-funded benefits should not be provided for absolutely free, and that anyone who collects one — whether defined as rich, middle-class or poor — should contribute in some way in order to receive it. And, yes, everyone can contribute in some way.

Most of us seem to know someone who has worked for cash while on unemployment benefits. Or “hid” income in order to collect government subsidies. Or received a disability income when being fully able to work. The list goes on, but I don’t blame the folks who receive the benefits. I blame a system that allows it — and often encourages it — to happen. 

Years ago, a young, single mother worked in our company in an entry-level job. She was smart, capable and hardworking. When it came time for her performance review, I offered her the opportunity for increased responsibilities and earnings. She said she would accept the new tasks but did not want any additional pay, as it would compromise her government health insurance. I explained how I wanted to help create a situation where she would no longer need that assistance. I wanted her to accept a “hand up” from our company instead of a “handout” from the government. She politely told me, “No thanks.” 

Many public entities today rightfully ask for increased funding each year, often for additional staffing to handle various tasks. We also have a large number of people receiving social benefits who are capable — and often willing — to work. Hmmm. 

At this point, there is no easy fix to this problem that will go without harsh criticism, but one has to wonder, what would happen if those who receive free benefits have at least a bit of skin in the game? Would most of the benefactors be willing to work for these benefits, at least to some degree? I think they would. Why? Because, I am fully convinced that the best things in life are not free but, rather, are those we truly earn. 

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

This column is dedicated to all the painters out there. Not the Pablo Picasso types. You are great, too, but this one is for those of you with the paint rollers, the 4-inch brushes, the power sprayers and the dozens of drop cloths. You have my respect and admiration. 

Admittedly, I am not a good painter. It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have, many times, in fact, both inside and outside our homes. Walls. Ceilings. Siding. Even furniture. 

As a youth, while painting our family house, my dad described me as a “cover guy,” noting that I used a lot of paint — mostly on the ground. He was right.

I also like to have fun when I paint, like the time when my friend Dave and I were painting my dad’s shop and I gave him a stripe down his shirtless spine like the cat in the Pepe Le Pew cartoon. 

I am pretty good with a roller on interior walls, as long as there is no furniture in the room, drop cloths are securely in place, and the windows are masked. My wife, Jolene, says the actual painting is the easy part and the prepping process is the real work. She may be right. She has learned to trim edges to perfection without masking anything off. That’s like doing watch repair for me. It makes my brain scream for mercy. 

I believe painting is something patient people excel at. Admittedly, patience is not a part of my skill set. Jolene says I am just being lazy. Again, she may be right, at least when it comes to painting. 

On the positive side, I do enjoy freshly painted items. The look. The smell. The cleanliness. It’s wonderful. I also appreciate having things painted by people who know what they are doing. They are godsends. I have come to realize there are some things I can do and feel good about, and there are other things I need to avoid to keep my sanity. 

Meanwhile, I do still have a sense of humor, so I tell the painters to keep their shirts on. 

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

If you had to name the favorite toy of your youth, what would you choose? Did you have to think about it for very long? I didn’t. Without question, it was my Big Wheel. 

Yes, this all-plastic, low-riding tricycle was the transportation of choice in my childhood neighborhood. Designed in red, blue and yellow with a big front wheel (hence, the name), this toy was popular with many kids in the 1970s. 

The Big Wheel was introduced by Louis Marx and Company, which also produced toy guns, action figures, model trains and even Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots. Most any kid who watched Saturday morning cartoons in the 1970s was familiar with the Marx line of toys, but the Big Wheel was special, at least to me. It was a relatively inexpensive tricycle option that was actually cool. Consumer groups even said it was a safer alternative to the traditional tricycle or bicycle because the large front wheel made it more stable. Of course, those folks never saw me fly it over the plywood ramp my brother made on our driveway.

As a result of those antics, I had a couple of Big Wheels. The first one was a hand-me-down from my brother that didn’t survive the Evel Knievel adventures. The second one I was more careful with, as Mom explained that there would not be a third. This one had a hand brake on the front of the right rear wheel, which allowed for some really cool spinouts. I eventually wore through those plastic tires, but not without hours of fun first. 

I also acquired a special skill on my Big Wheel. I could ride it continually on two wheels. Not the traditional wheelie with the front tire up in the air, mind you. No, I learned to balance on the front wheel and one side wheel. Everybody has to have a claim to fame. That’s mine.

Other companies tried to imitate the Big Wheel, but none could do it as successfully as Marx.  Unfortunately, the company filed for bankruptcy in the early 1980s, and the Big Wheel name and molds were sold to Empire Plastics, which then filed for bankruptcy in 2001. In 2009, the Big Wheel brand name was acquired by Schylling, Inc., a company that specializes in classic toys and games. I am hoping they will create a full-size model for adults. Admit it. That would be fun. Just don’t get tempted by the Evel Knievel ramp. 

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 security cameras installed at work and at home that I can access from my phone. I was a bit late to the game on this technology, but I finally bit the bullet and made the purchases. The instructions were short, as was my patience while waiting for the firmware to update, but I eventually made my way through the QR codes, usernames and password resets.

I had a doorbell camera on a previous house I owned, but I became annoyed by the constant notifications it sent each time the wind blew or a bug crawled in front of the camera. I discovered better camera positioning this time around, and I have been surprised to see how many people are snooping around in my yard. 

While recently waiting to download yet another app on my phone, I decided to count how many total apps I have that manage smart devices. I had to take a sock off. 

I remember when having an electric garage door opener was a big deal. Now, I don’t need any openers, as I have an app on my phone to open and close the door. It works great… until it doesn’t. A reboot usually does the trick, but I can’t help but wonder what I will do when the power goes out for an extended time.

I have some of those smart plugs connected to my phone, too. I even hooked up the Christmas tree to one this year. These would work really great if my wife would use the app instead of physically unplugging the devices and making my app worthless. 

Our daughter, Samantha, lives with her husband and child in a nearby community, but she still shares our app she set up when she lived at home that runs the smart plugs. So, I can access her devices at her home, and she can access mine. It makes for some fun pranks when I turn her lights on and off at her house. Since she is the one who bought me the smart plugs to begin with, it serves her right. 

I realize there are ways to manage many of these devices with a single app from one company. I am just not sure I want to do that, despite my smart TV continually reminding me how it can “help” if I give it access to other devices in the house. I don’t trust Big Tech, and allowing any of them to have all my eggs in their basket makes me, well… chicken. 

Like many of you, I do use a password manager, but it makes me uncomfortable as well. Somehow that piece of paper with passwords that I used to keep in my desk drawer at work seems a whole lot safer than posting anything in the cloud. But, I keep trying to be high tech.

So, I will continue with this smorgasbord of apps and usernames and passwords for now, and I will keep chuckling to myself whenever I turn my daughter’s lamps on and off — at least until I realize she is watching me do it on one of the cameras I installed. 

Have a futuristic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

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