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

Jim Croce asked for help from a telephone operator to place a call in his 1972 hit song “Operator (That’s Not the Way It Feels).” And in 1972, using a telephone operator for assistance was common. But what about today? When was the last time you spoke with an operator? Even the term operator seems antiquated now. Sounds more like a surgeon. 

Do you remember when 1-800 numbers became mainstream? They apparently launched in 1967 with a goal to cut down on labor-intensive collect calls that often required live operators. By the 1980s, every company seemingly had a 1-800 number, and my childhood buddies and I enjoyed dialing as many of them as we could. We spent countless hours searching for and calling the 1-800 numbers on household products and telling the company representatives we were doing a science fair project and were wondering if they would send us free samples. We then provided our friend Dave’s name and address. His parents’ mailbox overflowed with samples and promotional materials every day, leaving his mother to wonder what in the world was going on. I can’t remember my own zip code today, but I can tell you Dave’s home mailing address. 

The practical jokes intensified. Most every TV infomercial back then had a heavily promoted 1-800 number to call and order products and have them shipped COD (cash on delivery). No pre-payment or credit cards were required, and there was no ability (that we knew of) to track where the orders came from. So, the orders to Dave’s home started. Ginsu knives. Armourcote pots and pans. The Pocket Fisherman. Chia Pet. Mr. Microphone. But wait, there’s more. The Egg Scrambler. Time Life books. The Abdominizer. The Thighmaster. And a wide assortment of feminine hygiene products, gold coin collections and K-tel Records. We thought it was funny. Dave’s mother didn’t. 

I now realize that ordering these types of products under another person’s name is illegal, immoral and some other things that start with an “i.” I am also not sure if a statute of limitations applies, so let me be clear: I was appalled that my friends Ian, Tommy and Mark would engage in such activity.

With that in mind, I close this column with the words of Jim Croce: “Oh, operator, let’s forget about this call. There’s no one there I really wanted to talk to. Thank you for your time. Oh, you’ve been so much more than kind. You can keep the dime.”

Have a terrific Tuesday, and thanks for reading.

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

When Mrs. Marguerite Kalar would show up at school, we knew we were in for an entertaining and educational class period… if we listened carefully enough.

This wonderful woman was born in 1904 and spent many years teaching in the school system in my hometown of Algona. In her later years, she served as a substitute school teacher. Mrs. Kahler was long retired by the time my friends and I knew her, or at least it seemed that way. She was also understandably forgetful. My friend Dave wasn’t.

During one of our first classes with Mrs. Kalar as a sub, she mentioned how her favorite age is 16 because that’s when most kids are introduced to driving, and she went on for the remainder of the class talking about her experiences in great detail. So, to get her off track — and to avoid any prepared classroom instruction — my friend Dave would ask her, “Mrs. Kalar, what was your favorite age?” or “Mrs. Kalar, what kind of vehicle did you drive as a teenager?” or “Mrs. Kalar, at what age did you learn to drive?” The next 45 minutes were another rendition of the same history lesson about Mrs. Kalar’s youth driving experiences.

Our regular teachers caught on to this ploy, as only a few of the lesson plans were ever used. I remember this being frustrating for some of the teachers, and it probably also was for our principal, as finding last-minute substitute teachers was no easy task then, and it certainly isn’t today either.

Even so, an education isn’t all about what we read in books. If we miss a class or two about prepositional phrases, linear equations or photosynthesis, then so be it. Life experiences can be great lessons, too… if we listen carefully enough. This is a great reminder for teachers, principals, superintendents, school board members and legislators who continue to work toward solutions for the shortage of classroom instructors.

Mrs. Kalar died in 1992 and, like many other substitute teachers, impacted a tremendous number of youth in a positive way throughout her lifetime. Thank you, Mrs. Kalar, and that you to all the substitute teachers.

Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

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