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Folks sometimes try, in the interest of being polite, to ignore the fact that we are competing with others for what we have. Today it is just as true as it was 100 years ago. Today’s competition comes from places with huge numbers advantages, and often in the face of these large numbers we are all too willing to cede our own true advantage – our “can do” attitude and “Made in the U.S.A.” spirit. That was the basic underlying theme behind this long-winded response to a post from a friend on Facebook, who was channel surfing and had just watched Fox News talking about our downward spiral in terms of American morality, while at the same time on CNBC, they were talking about our downward spiral in American innovation.

My friend posited the idea that the stark contrast belied the real problem in America today – namely that morality and moral idealism is clouding the judgment of the right-leaning factions of our political jungle, and in turn distracting them from where we should be focusing our efforts. Namely, technological progress.

My own interpretation was a bit different (apologies Don, if I have misrepresented your views, and please feel free to correct me!).

To me it seems both groups are saying similar things, just letting their politics shade the language a bit. I sort of have a different take on nostalgia. I kind of relate to both groups.

Sometimes I feel like we had it much better before I was born, in terms of being competitive on the world stage and understanding our role in shaping it. Just one example: regardless of whether we can, we simply don’t have the will to win the space race today. Yet if you hit the rewind button, that very desire propelled our lives in so many good directions in the 1950s and 1960s. Forget for a moment who the winner actually is, because as the result of simply having the will to win, we all led vastly improved lives.

Prior to that, folks like my grandparents had worked, saved, fought, and died so we could have just such exceptional opportunities and big dreams. As a result America was so exceptional that people gladly risked their lives to get here, just for the opportunities.

Then, perhaps out of a spirit of gratitude or maybe a sense of duty, folks like my parents worked, saved, fought and died to take advantage of those opportunities provided by their parents. That resulted in people like me getting far better lives than we deserve.

Then for some reason, with my generation there was a disconnect. America’s people decided, in the last 15 years, to apologize for how exceptional we really are. We decided to say ‘I am sorry’ when we should have again said ‘I am grateful’.

It would have been bad enough if we had stopped with simply saying these things, but then we decided to act on these ideas. We decided to try to be more like other countries. Now we are like them – like Greece, Iceland and other broke countries, both fiscally broke and morally broke.

To me it seems that there is a necessary risk/reward relationship when you emphasize feeling good and living for the moment above any type of responsibility or accountability. I am no morality expert, but I believe that actively pursuing national policies that promote total dissolution of individual morality takes you to a very similar place as we are in now. I am afraid though, that it still has to get worse before it improves.

Fasten your seatbelt.

“Sorry sir. We don’t accept cash.” Wait – What!?

So I have been flying a bit lately for work, and it has come to my attention that if you wish to purchase a meal on an airplane – never mind that my grandparents used to tell me about the marvelous FREE food on commercial jets – you now MUST carry a credit card. At least if you aren’t in first class on the airline I flew.

I also tried with all my might to rent a car without producing plastic. Impossible. I had to produce my debit card and the car rental company, if they would accept debit cards at all, would only do so with an exorbitant security deposit, applied in the form of a “hold” on my account. This basically means that several hundred of my dollars, although they were in my account, were not accessible by me. For several days after I returned the rental car. Am I being punished for paying with cash instead of borrowing money when I don’t need to?

I have begun the Dave Ramsey plan of living your life with the money you already have, and I’m closing in on the 100% debt free status. This makes me happy and proud. Somehow, I’ve done something that many of my peers have not done – and apparently cannot do – and I’ve done it without cheating anyone, without crazy good luck like winning a lottery or something, and without slighting my life, my family, or my friends.

So now, back to the airline for a minute – let’s consider a hypothetical person we might meet on the airplane. Let’s imagine someone who grew up in the era of World War I. Let’s call her “Aunt Sophie”, who is 99 years old, worth millions, and who has never had a credit card. Let’s imagine that she is flying from her retirement villa in Florida to Anchorage, Alaska to see her great grandson graduate high school. Are we living in a society that will make this woman endure a cross-continent flight without a meal which she can easily pay for 100 times over, just because she does not have a credit card? This is ridiculous.

I grew up in a home without credit cards. My father never had one, and he taught me that you really shouldn’t need one. If you can afford to pay, you don’t need one, and if you can’t afford to pay, you shouldn’t have one.

Sometimes this seemed like a harsh lesson. Sometimes it seemed almost incredible, especially when I saw how other people used the cards they carried. It was so easy and quick to just hand over the card, and watch as the clerk took an impression and then gave back the carbon. Then later, as computer technology pervaded retail space, things became even easier and quicker, with a simple “swipe” of the magnetic strip.

One day I discovered that a debit card works just like a credit card, but it doesn’t use a credit balance – instead taking the funds from your checking account. This was like an epiphany – I could have all the ease and convenience of the “swipe” without the nasty interest rates, fees, etc. I quickly got one of these, and couldn’t wait to use it in front of my dad – loudly telling the clerk “Put it on my VISA!” and watching my dad’s eyes get big. I explained very shortly afterward that it was not really a credit card and told him how it worked.

Recently, in a discussion with a good friend and mentor, I expressed my concerns with credit cards and the whole system of “buy now pay later”. My friend essentially told me that even if you already have the money, and plan to pay for the product entirely, it is safer to buy with a credit card in case there are problems with the product or service. What?? What place on earth would allow it to be easier to get something fixed if the customer had not yet paid? Can this be happening? Here – in America? Can this be possible?

Another point that my friend made was that often the customer gets rewarded for buying items on a credit card. A certain percent back for gas, a certain percent for food, free airline miles, and so on. Since the merchant pays a fee, I assume that some of this “graft” comes from the merchant transaction fee, but surely not all? Where does the rest come from? Card member fees! Interest! This sets up a very strange, slanted situation where many retailers have to factor card fees into their prices (groceries and gas, especially, since they operate on slight margins already). What does all this mean? It means that gas, food, and myriad other items are more expensive (even if you pay cash) because the retailer has to prepare for the credit card company ambush.

We are adding frictional cost to almost every transaction by using credit / debit cards. A cashless society is a very expensive society to operate in. Expensive in terms of added consumer cost, expensive in terms of privacy (consider piles of purchase history data that are floating around cyberspace, just waiting to tell the story of your spending habits to anyone who will take the time to look), and expensive in terms of some of our basic rights (we are now being told how we should store our money and our property, decisions which were previously made by the sovereign individual).

Throughout all of this process, we have made it far easier for us (or for impostors) to spend our savings, we have made it far more difficult to use the power of cash to bargain with (you cannot lay the debit card in front of the car dealer and expect to get a cash discount), and we have made it almost impossible to safeguard a nest egg by putting almost everyone’s savings into investments that not only carry inherent risk (generally the risk involved in stock market investing) but we’ve also separated the owner from the physical asset, placing wealth into paper instruments (and now into so-called “cyber” instruments) which are far more susceptible to pillage than hard assets in a vault.

Have we made life easier and more productive for the man with a fist full of hard-earned money, or have we made the pick-pocket’s job easier? I ask that question both literally, and figuratively. Because there are both literal pick-pockets who hang around busy areas and work crowds, and there are also figurative pick-pockets (some of them are even legal, legit businesses!) who will talk you out of your money, making it easy for you to move it into their accounts.

Just something I’ve been chewing on since first experiencing “Sorry, sir. We don’t accept cash.”

I was born in a small town and I can breathe in a small town. Those words from John Mellencamp (or John Cougar Mellencamp or John Cougar, depending on the era) sum up my experience in life. I am from here and I am OF here. This is me. But this, my way of life and the only home I’ve ever known, seems destined to become a mere pawn in a culture war that is beginning to rage across our nation.

I love traveling and visiting places like Chicago, Milwaukee, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. I have fond memories of visits to New York City and Washington, D.C. I could spend months at a time in Seattle. But home for me will always be a place that is quiet, almost reverently quiet. A place where the sun rises on a similar scene each day which is acted out by the same characters, more or less. A place where your neighbors likely have ancestors who were neighbors to your ancestors.

There exists in this place more civility than in places that are much larger. Forced politeness when meeting the glance of a neighbor who is a stranger to you gives way to genuine warm concern for your neighbor and friend of many years. The human tragedies here, like in larger cities, often involve sickness or death. However, quite often they are the natural outcome of growing old and only very rarely is there any need to investigate why the tragedy happened.

Like all who are considered “outsiders”, we have been made fun of for being “backwards” and we’ve taken our share (and then some) of criticism for living life according to our faith. We’ve been referred to as gun-toting religious zealots. We have been preached at by people who choose to live without absolute standards about being intolerant, all the while being forced to tolerate the odd views of a few odd people as we’ve watched those views begin to taint not only our popular culture, but also the rules that we are forced to live under as citizens who respect the law.

This phenomenon has, in some ways, been accelerated by the communication technologies of the day which seem determined to bring us each hour’s news events before the hour is out. Hot button political issues with strong emotional appeal present themselves sometimes in small town America. This can often put us under the national media’s microscope.

More often than not, this can bring unwanted attention from people who really have no stake in our way of life, nor any intention to take part in it. Frequently these well-meaning absentee experts speak up on this or that issue which is close to their heart and attempt to correct us by imposing their “superior and sophisticated” values onto our “backwards” way of life.

Imagine the roles being reversed, with a “country mouse” telling the urban citizen how to live his or her life the best way. A news report of that same “country mouse” later being shot to death could likely be dismissed by anyone in the vicinity as just some “cracker from the sticks” who was messing around with what they didn’t understand.

Not so in small town U.S.A. Through all of this, small town folks have remained resilient and optimistic, not giving in while at the same time not seeking solutions in violence. While we have had our disagreements, and as my great aunt used to say “strong debates”, it is rare indeed that a conflict ever escalates to the level of, say, shooting. We choose instead to simply live our lives, trying to repeat today what worked well for us yesterday and trying also to avoid repeating any mistakes we may have made. And if the “city mouse” shows up at our Town Hall to push her odd agenda onto us, we will likely offer her a cup of coffee and maybe a homemade cookie along with a warm smile. Then we will patiently attempt to explain to her why she is wrong.

Imagine your friend. You know the one. The person who keeps everyone laughing, while being the most down-to-earth friend you know. Sincere, genuine and honest while being the world’s greatest jokester. Someone who believes the best about others, despite the evidence to the contrary.

Now imagine watching this person get used up for their talents, taken advantage of for their loyalty, and betrayed in their trust.

Now imagine, despite being perfectly justified, this friend refusing to become angered. Imagine instead, this friend rising naturally above the fray, offering a helping hand to those who caused what likely will prove to be their greatest pain.

Here’s to you, my friend.  I am awed, humbled, and yes, inspired.  Thank you for all you’ve done for me and thank you for providing the inspiration and the great example of how to stay classy when those around you are falling. I pray I can file this lesson away and recall it for future use, when I’m sure I’ll need it.

I am a big fan of Flickr – I can just hang out there, looking at other folks’ pictures for hours.  So much can be said in pictures.  One thing I’m pretty interested in is the concept behind these “365″ projects that people embark on.  You know the stuff, it basically is a commitment to take one picture every day and there usually are some more stipulations – often, you must take a picture of yourself everyday.  OK, on three, let’s all say “Narcissism”.  These projects usually are pretty interesting for about 20 or 30 days, but then the “rules” kind of stifle the whole spirit.  I mean, after thirty shots of yourself, only your really good friends are going to keep watching.  Well, your really good friends and maybe a couple sick voyeurs.

Anyway, I decided that I’d like to do a photo project for 2011 but I wanted to make up my own rules.  That’s just kinda how I am.  The rules will be finished when the project is finished.  My first photo of 2011 is here for your viewing pleasure.  Check out my Flickr photostream through the year and be sure to check back on December 31, 2011, to see if I took a picture every day, a picture every week, or two pictures today and three pictures next week.  See if they are of me all the time, or if they are of my pets (probably not – I own no pets currently, but I am taking applications :-] ), or if they are just whatever interests me throughout the year. <– If I were a betting man, I’d bet on this last one!

Oh, and lest I forget, “Happy New Year!”

Think about the last time you got a “warm, fuzzy feeling” inside. What caused it? Did you do something nice? Did someone do something nice for you?

The last time I had a truly warm, fuzzy feeling was just this week. I had a chance to catch up with someone I haven’t seen in a while. The time, of course, was fleeting so we had to cut our conversation short.

Still, in the precious few moments that we shared I couldn’t help thinking back to the first time we met, the many interactions we’ve had since, and how good it felt to finally break the inadvertent silence that had developed between us.

It’s strange to me but I don’t have the words to accurately describe the moment. It felt good. And warm. And fuzzy.

Have you ever looked at three or four generations of a family and discovered that a peculiar trait was handed down?  Perhaps a hook nose or a jutting chin?  Something that is almost cartoon-like in its singularity?  It is funny how our connectedness can be seen in outward manifestations.

Three years ago my mother’s family began a tradition of having a cousins’ reunion.  It was such a great time, sharing time and meals with people I knew and loved, some I rarely see anymore, and a few I had never met before.  All converged here on our little corner of Iowa, where the family got its start in America.  At the time, we decided to have this gathering every three years and this weekend marks the second cousins’ reunion.

After several hours of interaction with five generations of our family, I quietly made a quick little observation tonight at the opening event.  I haven’t talked to anyone about it yet, so I thought I’d talk about it here.  My family came to this country like almost everyone else – without much.  That was our fortune at the time, but it was not our destiny.  We have all done exceptionally well at what we’ve set out to accomplish.

In visiting with each of the relatives and their families tonight, it dawned on me that each of us has inherited wealth that has helped us along and proven vital to our success. Money?  No, it is a personal feature that isn’t related to money or material well-being.  And like a physical peculiarity, this feature stands out and makes itself apparent across the generations of our family, especially when we are all together.

We seemingly have each inherited the remarkable ability to enjoy a situation for what it is and to share that joy with those around us, instantly making memories and creating bonds with others.  Some might say that this is a behavior, something that is learned.  I say it is an innate ability, related to who we are and who we came from, something that is in our DNA as surely as our eye color and skin tone.

Some time in the mid 19th century, my great great grandfather came to America to eventually settle in western Iowa and raise a large family.  No doubt it was difficult and dangerous to make the trip from his native Ireland.  And surely it wasn’t all roses when he finally arrived and settled. Homesteading was not exactly a “free ride”, after all.  There were trees and rocks to clear, fences to make, homes to build, and crops and livestock to raise.  Not to mention, often these folks were sending some of their money back to the “old country”.

But in the letters that we’ve found between different family members from those years, in the newspaper clippings, and even in the obituaries, there is one thing that stands out about him and each of his children.  It is an enduring optimism and happiness, even thru the toughest of circumstances.  This immutable joy, bubbling just below the surface, is even more evident in some of the period pictures.  They show not only a fierce determination in the eyes, but also a mischievous twinkle – the look of someone preparing to place the whoopee cushion.  It is something I remember so well about my grandfather – his easy smile, sense of humor, and unending generosity all stemmed from his ability to simply enjoy life, whatever life might entail at the time.  It is easy to see and understand that this isn’t something he learned.  No, he was born with it, a gift from his ancestors and a gift that he passed on as well.

Thanks for the gift grandpa, I love you and this is dedicated to you.  Wish you were here.

I remember the feeling I got when I went into the opposing team’s gymnasium for the first time – it was a small gym and we were going to play basketball there, and hopefully we would go home happy, with a win. The strangeness of the gym was apparent from the first time you walked in – there were bleachers on one of the “long sides” of the building, and a stage on the other, with no seats on the ends. This was unlike other gyms we had been to before – and it became one of my favorite places just because it was different.

Have you ever enjoyed something just because it’s a departure from normal?

This isn’t all that unusual, I suppose, but I think that maybe I enjoy it more than most. If there is an uncommon way of accomplishing something, I usually want to do it that way. Sometimes it is easier, sometimes harder, but almost always it is the most unique way to finish the task.

This story doesn’t have any moral, there’s no take-home message, just sharing a quick thought that popped into my “post-midnight” head.

As a born-and-bred Iowa native, I am always interested in agricultural practices where ever I travel.  On a trip to Seattle last summer, I took the opportunity to take an early morning walk down the beach to Elliot Bay on Puget Sound, where I got a close-up look at Seattle’s Pier 86.  The pier was built in 1970 to move grain, unloading trucks and trains and transferring the grain onto ships bound for the far East as well as Central and South America.

A grain handling pier in Seattle's port

In the photo to the left, the ship Ji May is being loaded.  At normal operating capacity  the terminal can load 3000 tons of grain per hour through twin 48-inch conveyors.  In addition to the ability to hold and unload long trains (current capacity is 175 cars, expandable to 215), the unloading operations on shore also include a truck unloader which inclines a loaded semi tractor-trailer to unload 250 tons per hour.

Current capacity is 4.2 million bushels of storage.  The Port of Seattle owns the grain terminal and it is under long-term lease by Cargill, the nation’s largest grain dealer.  The terminal is served by both the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad and the Union Pacific Railroad.

In 1979 the terminal loaded a record-breaking 1,977,000 tons of grain into 85 vessels.  Time to load a standard 15,000 ton bulk hauling vessel is about 5 hours.

Note:  All technical information in this post is courtesy of the Port of Seattle and the information placards in Elliot Bay Park.