The words in the above headline are those of Casey Kasem when he would close out each episode of his American Top 40 radio show. I agreed then, and I continue to agree today. Human beings have no business in the sky. That’s probably not what Casey had in mind when he coined the phrase, but that’s my interpretation… and here’s why. 

I have long believed that humans were made to roam the land. If we were intended to be in the sky, we would have wings. We don’t, but that hasn’t stopped generations of humans from trying to get into the air, including my friend Matt Lukacs. Flying in an airplane is unnerving to many folks, but it is now an acceptable means of transportation for most all of us. Damn those Wright brothers.

Oh, well. I get it, and I do fly in commercial planes. I am also joining Matt for an upcoming flight. But skydiving? Bungee jumping? Paragliding? The margin for error in these activities is slim. Casey was right. Reaching for the stars is fine, but keep your feet on the ground, for crying out loud. 

Meanwhile, about 2.8 million skydives are made in the U.S. each year. The United States Parachute Association, which has 40,000 members, recorded 11 fatal skydiving accidents in 2020, a rate of 0.39 fatalities per 100,000 jumps. They contrast that with a 1 in 6,000 chance of dying in a car wreck for those who drive 10,000 miles or more per year. I’m not debating their math, but I still like my odds better in an automobile. 

The thought of landing on the ground in a parachute makes my back ache. My skydiving friends tell me the impact is similar to jumping off a garage, which, to be honest, doesn’t sound appealing either. Don’t get me wrong. I am all for supporting the 73,000 or so chiropractors in the U.S., but I prefer to avoid activities that compress my spine.

So, I will certainly continue to jump in an airplane from time to time, but don’t expect to see me skydiving or bungee jumping or paragliding anytime soon. I am choosing to keep my feet on the ground. And those stars? Well, I will keep reaching. 

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 was introduced to the principles of Feng Shui a few decades ago, and I have read numerous books and articles on it since. Not familiar with Feng Shui? Simply put, it is a Chinese belief in an energy force called chi that flows and has both positive and negative effects on you. A home or office with strong Feng Shui is in harmony with its surroundings and makes its occupants feel better. Hundreds of basic methods exist to create a flow of this positive energy.

Think I’m crazy? You may be right. But just wait, as I share a few of the simplest ideas. 

Feng Shui says your front door is where the most energy enters your home or office, which means it plays a huge role with the potential of positive energy. Basic Feng Shui principles say the front door should be the largest in your home, and you should maintain it properly. No squeaks or flaking paint, and it should open freely. A poorly maintained front door can drain positive energy from your home.

What about Feng Shui in the bedroom? Well, your bedroom has a massive impact on your energy because it is the place for rest — and romance. As such, your bed should be placed away from your entry door and windows. Placing your bed in front of a window can zap your energy while you sleep. To help ground you while you snooze, put it where you can see the door and where you can place your headboard against a wall. As for the TV in the bedroom, get rid of it. TVs emit ions that drain your energy. Don’t store junk under your bed either, or use electric blankets. And don’t hang mirrors where you can see yourself from the bed, as this can be disruptive. Pink champagne on ice? That’s OK. 

Feng Shui can also be effective in your office if you place your desk so you can see the door when sitting behind it. This allows you to take command of the room. You should not have your back toward the door, and you should avoid being in front of large mirrors or windows that will distract you and drain your energy.

Feng Shui is about energy flow, and doorways are how energy goes from one room to another. As such, don’t align your front door with your back door, as all the energy will then flow directly in and out of your home. You should also not align your bathroom door with your kitchen door, as you don’t want those two energies mixing together. It’s a “don’t cross the beams” thing. 

Do a little Feng Shui research and have some fun with this. You might be surprised how understanding energy flow can make you feel. Just be careful, though, or you might become hooked, too. 

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

My wife recently told me that my head is “remarkably tan.” That might have been a compliment, but I’m not sure. My arms are tan, too, at least from the elbows down. The rest of my body is milky white, mostly unexposed to the sun for a few decades. 

It wasn’t always like this. As a child, my skin turned golden brown each summer. I don’t recall ever wearing sunscreen. In fact, I don’t recall sunscreen even existing in the 1970s. It was “sun tan lotion,” whatever that meant. Regardless, I didn’t have any goop on my skin, and I don’t remember ever getting burned by the sun. 

Summer wear for this kid was a pair of swimming trunks. This was appropriate, since the bulk of my hours between 2-9 p.m. were spent at the local swimming pool. The exceptions were Little League games where, unlike the uniforms of today, we wore a basic team T-shirt, blue jeans, any ball cap and tennis shoes. (And why were they called “tennis” shoes?)

Then, during my first week of summer while home from college after my freshman year, I was working construction on a roof tearing off shingles. I thought I would take off my shirt and work on the tan. Leaning over the entire day with my back fully exposed to the sun turned my skin into a bubbling, blistering, itchy mess from my neck to my waist. The only relief I could find from the burn was lying down and aggressively scratching my back on Mom’s shag carpet (with a shirt on, of course). I no longer liked the sun, and I swore I would wear whatever goop was necessary to prevent a burn like that from happening again. 

A few years went by, and, apparently, so did that lesson. I was out of college and working in Des Moines when some co-workers invited me out on their boat at Lake Red Rock, and I forgot to pick up sunscreen. The Heat Miser punched me again, this time in the face. My skin peeled off like the lid on a sardine can, and I was ill for two days. 

A few decades passed, and my doctor told me I may have skin cancer on my nose. A zip here and a zap there, and they think they have it handled. At least I hope so. I read somewhere that skin is the only irreplaceable organ. At 57 years old, that finally makes sense to me — even with a remarkably tan head. 

Now pass me the goop. 

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 written several columns through the years about my being late to the game in learning how to tie my shoes. To avoid the embarrassment, I wore cowboy boots to kindergarten. I know how to tie my shoes now, but I prefer to continue to avoid the process. I no longer wear cowboy boots, but I do slip on plenty of loafers. 

Of course, I wear laced shoes as well. When tying a pair the other day, I noticed how the shoes were wearing out, but the shoelaces were in great shape. In fact, I could not recall the last time I broke a shoelace. Is it because laces are made of better quality materials today? Is it because I don’t pull on them as hard when tightening them up? Or is it simply because I don’t wear laced shoes every day?

I am not sure, but I do know that I snapped a lot of shoelaces as a child. I can still feel my body reeling backwards with the broken lace gripped tightly in my hand. Then I would try to tie the pieces of lace together, which never seemed to work. We had plenty of extra shoelaces around our house growing up, but the breaks often happened when I was in a hurry or not at home. I don’t know if we even have any replacement shoelaces at home now. If we do, I don’t know where they are. 

Do you ever wonder who invented shoelaces? Well, it was Otzi the Iceman, of course. Otzi died in 3300 BC, and his frozen mummy was found wearing bearskin shoes with lime bark shoelaces.

Generations later, some shoemakers stopped making laces and focused instead on buttons or buckles, but shoelaces lived on. The first patent was filed in 1790, and soldiers during the American Civil War even wore ankle-high boots with leather laces.

In the 20th-century, shoemakers started using synthetic materials. Puma created the first Velcro sneakers in 1968, and elderly men everywhere rejoiced.

How about a “shoestring budget”? The origin of this phrase seems to have multiple roots. Many believe it is connected to a shoestring gambler or a gambling game. Others say the term denotes a limited budget because bootlaces or straps are close to the ground. Shoestrings are also quite inexpensive to buy, so the concept of having only enough money to purchase strings may also be reflected in the term.

If Otzi the Iceman knew it would become this complicated, he would have worn cowboy boots, too.

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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

This column is dedicated to all of you who have a burning desire to learn the meanings behind some of today’s popular phrases. Most of these deal with changing technology and have roots to features of original devices, like turning the channel. Yes, we used to turn a knob that would take us to different channels on our TVs. In the early days of television, there were only a handful of channels to choose from — and no remote controls. Even so, those plastic knobs wore out from channel-turning, and many families — including ours — resorted to using pliers.  

Dialing a phone number. In today’s touch-screen world, the idea of turning a rotary dial seems foreign. When phone numbers were assigned by the telephone companies, this became a necessity. Some of you, like me, can still recall the sound of the rotary dial returning to its original position.

Hanging up the phone. We sometimes forget that phones were once in two pieces and connected by a very curly and surly cord. When a phone call was completed, the user would physically “hang up” the receiver on the wall unit.

Rewinding a movie. Most anyone who rented a VHS tape knows the phrase “be kind, rewind,” and anyone who popped in a movie only to find it at the end knows the frustration of dealing with someone who didn’t. This may seem silly in today’s streaming world, but we still find ourselves asking to “rewind” a scene.

Cranking up an engine. In the days before my time, electric starters didn’t exist on cars, so someone had to turn a crank to get the crankshaft to turn so combustion could begin. And, today, we get annoyed when we have to physically open a garage door?

Rolling down the window. Power windows used to be a feature only found in the fancy cars. Today, it can be a challenge to find any vehicle with manual cranks. Meanwhile, we still ask passengers to “roll down the window,” and often for good reason. 

Turning it up or down “a notch.” Not too many years ago, electronic devices had volume knobs with notches that would actually “click” when turning up or down. In a nod to those Freedom Rock hippies many of us can’t forget, “Well, turn it up, man.”

Hitting the hay. In the late 1800s, beds were made of hay, and a person had to physically “hit the hay” to get the bugs out before going to sleep. And you thought your mattress was lumpy?

What ones did I miss?  Send me a note and “tune in” for the replies in Friday’s mailbag. 

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

Most of you who are reading this have an Iowa driver’s license and likely took some form of driver’s education class. For many of you, it was a class you took as part of your curriculum in your freshman year of high school. 

My driver’s ed teacher was Fritz Nielsen. Fritz passed away a few years ago at age 96, but not without leaving a legacy of lessons for many people like me. I liked him a lot, and, as such, I would kid around with him frequently. Sometimes he would laugh. More often, he would not, at least not openly. 

I took driver’s ed in the summer, and I had two good friends as driving partners. Each time when we would go for our drives, and it was my turn in the driver’s seat, I would start by asking Fritz, “So, how fast will this thing go?” Then I would rev up the engine while it was still in park. Fritz never replied but would simply look forward and slowly shake his head, holding back a smile. 

I remember when Fritz asked me to back the car up between two poles that were about 50 feet apart. I did what he told me to do — and I placed the car about an inch from one of the poles. Fritz asked me, “How about putting the car in the middle, Goodman?” My polite reply was, “You are going to need to be more specific with your instructions, Mr. Nielsen.” More head-shaking from Fritz. 

Another time, we were driving in the pouring rain and stopped to change drivers. I quickly made my way to the driver’s seat while the other guys fumbled around and hesitated to get in. I quickly locked the doors and watched them get soaked while repeatedly trying to open the handles. Fritz made eye contact with me this time and again slowly shook his head in frustration — but I think he was smiling inside. 

Even with all the joking around, I did learn a lot in driver’s ed, including a lesson from a segment on “jackrabbit starts.” I recall learning that those who take off quickly end up being at the same stoplight down the road as the person who drove at a rational pace, but the “jackrabbit” only used more gas.

I am not the most patient driver, so this lesson slaps me in the face each time I am in a hurry and end up at a stoplight next to all the cars I hastily passed by — and it punches me in the face when a police officer reminds me of it. 

I have a feeling that, when this inevitably happens to me again, Fritz will certainly be smiling from above — and shaking his head in frustration. 

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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