Duck and cover may sound like a country music duo, but it’s not. At least I don’t think so. Those three words were a technique used in air raid drills that many of you who attended public schools in the 1950s and 1960s may recall. It was part of a preparation for U.S. citizens to survive being bombed by the Soviet Union. 

Students were instructed to get under their school desks or get on their knees and cover their heads. Mandatory drills were in place to have kids practice the technique, handouts were sent home with students, and President Kennedy was telling Americans to build nuclear fallout shelters in their backyards. Congress allocated $169 million to identify suitable public buildings, erect fallout shelter signs on them, and stock them with supplies. It was a time of immense fear about something we were told was deadly and imminent, and even the silliest of precautionary efforts that were promoted by the government were taken seriously.

The nuclear fallout shelters were to be stocked with water (at least one gallon of water per person, per day), canned food and a supply of potassium iodide tablets to help protect from cancer caused by radioactive fallout. We now know these shelters would have been mostly useless in cities that were attacked and of limited benefit in outlying areas. What were the survivors to do when they eventually had to leave the shelter after five days or 30 days or whatever the nightly news said and be exposed to the nuclear fallout? OK, so maybe all the details weren’t pieced together to survive a nuclear attack. They still aren’t, at least not for us commoners. But in the 1960s, President Kennedy was attempting to persuade the Soviet Union that we were prepared and indestructible. Do you think Khrushchev was convinced?

I was too young for the duck and cover drill. The practice, along with the stocking and use of nuclear fallout shelters, had mostly disappeared by the 1970s when I was in elementary school. But those nuclear fallout shelter signs with the three yellow triangles in a black circle were still posted, and my friends and I often wondered what they were for. A few of these signs can still be seen in banks, hotels, libraries, post offices, schools and hospitals. The fear of nuclear war subsided in the 1970s but reared its ugly head again in the 1980s. The threat will likely always be imminent, as long as war-mongering humans are on this planet. We tend to be slow learners — and, at times, a bit naive. Duck and cover.

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

I was changing a battery in a wall clock at the office this week, and I wanted to make sure I had the correct time. So I asked a handful of staff members, and they all responded at the same time… with the same time. You can thank cell phones for that incredible accuracy. 

It got me wondering when I last asked someone what time it was. Most people don’t ask; they just look at their phones. Studies show 97% of Americans now have some sort of cell phone with 85% owning a smart phone. In contrast, only about one-third of Americans wear wrist watches today. 

When I was in college, a large clock hung on the wall in the main dining room area. I would wait for people to be directly under it and then ask them if they knew what time it was. They would offer it… with a puzzled look on their faces as they walked away, looking up at the giant clock. I was clearly more amused than they were.

Asking for the time was once a commonplace request — even to complete strangers — and most on the question-receiving end were happy to share it. Some of us even used to call the operator to ask what time it was. Imagine asking an operator — or a complete stranger — for the time now.

I admit I am in the minority on the whole time-telling thing. I don’t always carry a cell phone with me, and my retro Timex doesn’t keep perfect time or automatically change with Daylight Saving Time. So, when necessary, I continue to ask people for the time. And they continue to oblige… with puzzled looks on their faces. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

As a teenager, I worked after school at a concrete statuary in my hometown of Algona. My boss was Dennis Meyer, who now owns and operates a statuary on Merle Hay Road in Johnston.

On my way to work after school one day, while running late, I passed a school bus that was slowing down for a stop. The school bus driver finished his route and then stopped by the statuary to talk with Dennis’ father and business partner, Amos, who, as I learned later, had also driven a school bus at one point in his life. The conversation Amos and I soon had was not pleasant, but it was a life-changer for me. Amos made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that I would no longer be employed there if he ever heard of me passing a school bus again. I tried to awkwardly explain that the bus had not stopped yet, but that didn’t matter. The conversation was stern and short.

After Amos left, Dennis softened the blow a bit, but he was also firm in his delivery. He told me he didn’t expect me to ever be late and that I should plan my time better. But if I am running late, he said, I should never pass a school bus that is slowing down or stopped. Ever. 

I don’t know who that school bus driver was, but I appreciate how he handled the situation. He could have reported me to the police. He could have called my parents. He could have personally chewed me out. But he knew the wrath of the Meyers would be penalty enough. And it was.

I grew up in town, so I didn’t ride the school bus. As a result, I didn’t understand the issues and hazards bus drivers had to deal with. Now, as a father of three who all rode the bus, I know what kind of an impact a driver can have on an anxious and apprehensive youngster.

I shared this memory with Dennis in recent years, and he offered his trademark ear-to-ear smile and said, “I hope you learned something.” I did. Ever since that day as a teenager, when I see a school bus, I slow down way sooner than I need to, and I stop and patiently wait, offering a friendly wave and a smile to the driver and the kids.

Driving a school bus is not easy work, and drivers are getting more and more difficult to find. The last thing they need are impatient drivers of any age zipping by them. The Meyers — the concrete statuary owners — made that clear. Their words are cemented in my brain forever. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

In an effort to downsize and simplify, I have been moving a lot of “stuff” lately. You know. Stuff. We all have it, at least the noun definition: a group or scattering of miscellaneous objects or articles. “Stuff,” ironically, is also a verb, meaning: to fill by packing things in. 

Both seem appropriate. 

George Carlin offered a great interpretation of “stuff” in his comedy routine from a few decades ago. If you are up for a laugh, and aren’t offended by a bit of graphic language, check it out here.

When my wife and I made our first move, I asked her about the need for so much stuff, including the really heavy bag of rocks she wanted me to load up. “It’s for the bottom of flower pots,” Jolene told me. I didn’t know that flower pots required special rocks, so I let it slide. In our next move a few years later, I came across that bag of rocks again. Of course, I had to ask, “Do we really need this bag of rocks?” She yelled, “Yes!” I didn’t argue. On our third move, when I eyeballed the bag of rocks that we hadn’t used in more than a decade, I put my foot down. “I am not moving this bag of rocks another time,” I firmly stated. “If and when you want rocks, I will find you rocks.” She reluctantly agreed. It was a small victory on stuff. 

Do you rent a storage unit for your extra stuff? You are not alone, according to sparefoot.com. Self-storage units are a nearly $44.3 billion industry with 52,000-plus facilities using 2.1 billion square feet. About 11.1% of households rent a self-storage unit, spending $85.30 per month, on average. And all this while 65% of us have a garage, 47% have an attic, and 33% have a basement, according to boxbee.com. Meanwhile, most of our grandparents and their parents lived in much smaller homes, often without garages. Where did they keep all their “stuff”? The answer is that they simply didn’t have as much of it. What a concept. 

I was reminded of all this stuff when moving a roof box cargo carrier for our SUV. Yes, I had to find room to store something that sometimes stores other things. And, yes, it did come in handy a few times on family vacations, but I would rather move a dozen heavy bags of rocks than carry this buffalo again. Just don’t tell my wife. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

NBC newscaster John Cameron Swayze was the spokesman for a series of TV commercials that tested Timex watches against jackhammers, paint mixers, washing machines, water skiers and even an elephant. After each test, Swayze uttered, “It takes a licking and keeps on ticking.”

Those eight words continued to be the slogan for Timex watches for many years. I cited it the other day when I was mocked for wearing my Timex Ironman sport watch that I have donned for a few decades. My quoting of that slogan brought about a lot of blank stares from the 35-and-younger crowd. 

Doesn’t matter. My Timex rocks. It gives me the time and date. It has a stopwatch, three alarm settings and some other features I don’t know how to use. It also has a button to push so the screen lights up — Indiglo style! The Timex Ironman remains the king of black plastic wristwatches, but don’t take my word for it. Bill Clinton has been seen wearing a Timex Ironman. Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg and Mario Lopez have been spotted wearing versions of it, too. Even Rihanna.

Yes, I used to own one of those fancy Apple Watches, the ones that hack — I mean track — your personal data. I won it at a trade show a few years ago. Then I decided that if Apple wanted my personal data, they could pay me for it, rather than the other way around. 

So I strap on my Timex Ironman many days. It doesn’t need recharged. It doesn’t send me annoying alerts. It doesn’t sync with anything. I change the battery every year or so, I put a new band on it once, and I have to adjust it for Daylight Savings Time. But other than those tasks, this timepiece has been maintenance free — just the way I like it. 

So mock me for my Timex Ironman watch, if you must. Truth be told, my watch and I have a lot in common. We can both take a licking and keep on ticking. 

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

“Take it easy.” That phrase became common in the 1970s with the Eagles hit song of the same name. Jackson Browne co-wrote the lyrics in 1972 with Glenn Frey and put Winslow, Arizona, on the map. But what exactly does it mean to “take it easy”?

Lionel Ritchie told us he was “easy like Sunday morning” in the Commodores’ 1977 ballad. I don’t know about you, but Sunday mornings haven’t been easy for me. When we had three daughters at home, trying to get them out of bed and ready for church was a time challenge each week. And after the service — and during times when our business needed every dollar just to survive — the whole family pitched in to help clean our office. Our youngest daughter, Abby, was eager to help and would crawl underneath the work stations and move wires aside while I vacuumed. The system worked well — until I caught her hair in the vacuum rollers. That Sunday morning, particularly, was not easy. 

“Easy as pie.” This phrase is used to describe the simpleness of a task. Obviously, the person who came up with this never attempted to bake a pie. Pie is not easy. Ice cream is easy. Unfold the carton. Scoop. Eat. It doesn’t get much easier — unless the carton was edible, which isn’t a bad idea. 

“Easy on the eyes” is a phrase used to describe someone who is attractive. Now let’s be honest. If we saw someone strikingly beautiful, we would likely look twice or focus more, which certainly would not be easy on the eyes. Something bland or hardly noticeable would be easy on the eyes. 

“Easy come, easy go.” This one I agree with, as most things in life that come along easily are also lost easily. The most meaningful things usually take a great deal of ongoing work, and then we hold them dearly.

Meanwhile, Jackson Browne may have been onto something about taking advantage of every moment when he wrote, “We may lose or we may win, but we will never be here again.”

Have a fantastic Friday, and “take it easy.”

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