​Those of us who write know that writing is dying. Others know it too, but for those of us who chose this course as a career (in fact, were more likely compelled down this path because writing was so inherent to our nature), the slow decline of reading (and its implication for smaller and smaller markets for writers) deeply saddens us.
 
Sure, there are new niche markets, from self-publishing books, to seldom read magazines, like the National Cardboard Egg Manufacturers Journal, but that is not enough to sustain our creative juices. We watch the world edge towards video, gobbling up images in YouTube, Instagram and Twitter, as words seem to become less and less relevant.
 
As a society, we lose an element of thoughtfulness and curiosity as we read less. Instead of digging more deeply into a subject, we scan something.  We don’t think. This holds bad implications in a Democracy or any society that must rely on a social compact between human beings (hmmm, sounds like any country, to me).
 
This decline of the published written word has been gradual and steep. I think the first time I understood the nature of this change was in the early 1980s, as large, national news magazines disappeared or shrunk. Life agazine went away. Time and Newsweek magazines began experiencing consistent declines in circulation.
 
Today, I wonder if our three kids EVER read a magazine. I guess if they fly somewhere, they might pick one up at the airport. But otherwise?  NAH, I don’t think so. They’re on their smart phones.
 
And, quite simply, that’s the next generation market. After those of us who are probably 40+ in age pass away (or a few years older or younger depending on how you’ve been raised and what type of dinosaur clan you belong to), there won’t be too many people left who’ve grown up concentrating and reading novels, biographies, complex policy journals or lengthy news articles. They’re reading snippets, 140 characters and captions to pictures.
 
As general news magazines went away, market forces fragmented as people who held very specialized interests saw the proliferation of publications catering to their choice of the day. Whether it was backpacking, computers, knitting or international travel, magazines began to cover these issues more intently.
 
This was growth, yes, but for the writer, because of segmentation, the ability to cobble together a decent paying career decreased. Our already low paying professional livelihood was further devalued.
 
Ad revenue goes down. Publications try to increase profits using pay-per-click and online exposure. As the decline continues, salaries and jobs are cut. News enterprises must economize to survive. We all make do with less. We become another example of the hollowing middle class.
 
In high school, we held career days, where a local leader came to speak with us about our future choices. I remember intently the core message from our local Kankakee Daily Journal Editor, who said not to go into journalism because it didn’t pay. Though my career has been fun, steady, enriching and generally well-compensated, he was right. For the most part, writers don’t get paid. We struggle. We seek new markets and ways to use our skills in other types of jobs that compensate better.

Writing is a skill. It’s hugely valuable to persuade people, convince them of the validity of a point. But that takes a populace willing to read, pay attention, respond and join a discourse.
 
My fear increases as the desire to read decreases daily. And I fear what that means for our country and our institutions in the years ahead. For those of us who write, we’ll keep after it. Will anyone be reading?

​Our dad was a stickler for little things. He passed away the week before last, just shy of his 89th birthday. Thank you, dad, for everything you did for us three brothers, preparing us for the world, instilling good values, demonstrating the meaning of hard work day after day, without complaining.
 
I use the “thank you” phrase because he felt it was an under-used statement. He so seldom knocked anybody else that sometimes we could forget that he did have little things that bugged him.
 
One of his favorites to skewer was the growing use of “no problem” as the two words of choice in service settings. You might tell a wait person at the restaurant that the bread was delicious and when you heard, “No problem” as the response, he would get irked.
 
“There wasn’t any problem to begin with,” he would say, “so why are they acting like some problem was averted?” He was right. For some reason, that phrase has crept into our daily language, like other statements that don’t really mean much of anything.
 
Dad was an old world guy. Be direct. Say what you mean. Use manners. Think for yourself. Don’t beat around the bush. Say “thank you” when that is appropriate.
 
Our world is a lesser place without our dad. He helped others in so many ways, never asking for thanks himself. Instead, he just “did.” He went out and got things done, accomplished tasks, volunteered his time after retirement (and before) so that kids with lesser opportunities gained some of his wisdom and attitude.
 
How we affect others is an odd thing. Sometimes through the use of language we are able to raise others up, teach a lesson, expand knowledge. I’ve taken lessons from our father through his approach and though I’m more the word guy in our family, I’ve still gained many tips from him that influence how I choose to communicate.

That’s one of those things about fathers (parents) we don’t consider until we become one ourselves: Some of the biggest lessons are learned (when you are the kid) through a form of osmosis. You pick things up by watching, paying attention, not from being lectured.
 
Dad taught through doing. We learned through his actions how to handle a saw, throw a baseball, shake hands and look someone in the eye, set aside time to relax with a nap after a busy week.
 
The world is a lesser place with our dad gone from this earthly place. Whether he was building a house, mowng the grass, turning the mulch over in his garden or teaching a kid the basics of the three-point football stance , he was improving things. He made the world better, and there’s a lot to be said for that.

We need more people like him, and I hope his influence remains strong despite his passing. I’m sure my two brothers and I will keep many humorous phrases, funny stories and jokes alive long into the future, with “no problems.”
 
We’ll say our “thank you’s,” remember to extend a “my pleasure” to someone we’ve helped, and an “I appreciate that” when someone steps forward with kindness towards us. Those little things will become bigger things the more we repeat them.
 
We miss you, dad, but we won’t forget you. You kumquat. 

​We humans tend to assume we’re smarter than other animals. Because we’ve developed technology – this ability to extend our reach – that makes us appear more intelligent. There are things dogs do that make me wonder whether they know more than us or perhaps perceive and communicate differently, in ways that make more sense.
 
Dogs are pretty basic. Feed them and they’re happy. Take them for a walk and they wag their tail like you’ve invented ice cream or something. Crinkle a bag that contains one of their snacks and you can get them to do many things that look funny on YouTube, Facebook or Twitter.
 
They take cues and run with them. It might be a sound, site or smell. Their senses engage and that gets them to run to the front door, roll over, or bolt for your car.
 
Sometimes their reaction is based on a simple action the human takes. Those are the situations that stand out and make me realize how they get the simple things in life and know what’s important. Beyond that, who the heck knows what’s going on in their head, or why something charges their batteries.
 
One of my favorites is watching the reaction of our two canines – Thor and Pepper – when I put on my lawn mowing shoes. You would think I was about to cook a couple of steaks for the two of them.
 
My mowing shoes are my very old basketball refereeing shoes, beat up, grass-stained, but comfortable for handyman activities. All I have to do is go into my closet and come out holding them, and the circus is off and running.

Thor and Pepper start making grunting and yipping sounds, hopping up and down on their paws. They spin around in circles, jump on each other and wag their tails so hard it could knock you out if it hit your head.

All because I’m about to mow. I do like cutting the grass, but not THAT much. What the heck gets them so excited?  I don’t get it.
 
Our front yard needs most of the mowing. I open our gate, close it, and the dogs come and lay down there to watch. They remain stationed during my entire journey, up and back, up and back. They protect the perimeter.
 
Something about watching me walk back and forth pushing a mechanical contraption gets them charged. And they know it’s coming because of the shoes.
 
Similarly, they monitor my behavior when I get up in the morning. My routine every day includes a workout after waking. Some days it’s a bike ride, others a jog, lifting weights, swimming or a brisk walk.
 
Based on how I get dressed, they know whether to show additional excitement about me getting up and changing clothes. If I go jogging, I wear calf support hose. The INSTANT I pull them out of the drawer, they go nuts again, knowing that I will be taking them with me to explore the world.
 
I can hold up one of the calf hose and not say a word and they’ll begin jumping up and down, “Hey, Pepper, dad’s taking us for a walk,” Thor says telepathically to his sister.
 
It’s all quite amusing watching the two of them get excited by cues, but don’t mess them up. If, for example, I pull the calf hose out, but it’s pouring rain, so I decide to work out indoors, man, both dogs go into severe depression, eyes mourning, ears down, placing their faces sadly on the carpet.
 
So, monitor your clothing choices. And prepare yourself for the Pavlovian response.

​Several weeks ago I was up in Topeka, KS, stopping at a McDonald’s for coffee. As usual, the drive-up window was backed up with cars. The cash registers inside the store were empty.
 
I went in, ordered, waited, received my steaming cup of java, went to the stand to add sugar and cream, then exited. The line of cars hadn’t budged.

Eight cars idled. You could feel the heat from their exhaust and smell it. I wondered, as I have many times before, if there isn’t some engineering system we can create to stop spewing these hydrocarbons into the atmosphere since it seems we can’t bring about the cultural change necessary to get people to park their cars and walk inside (EVEN THOUGH THEY WILL GET THEIR FOOD QUICKER BY USING THE INDOOR ORDERING SYSTEM!).
 
For an unknown reason, people seem to believe it is more convenient to stay in their cars, rather than exit, when the visual facts indicate otherwise. If you pay attention and watch, it is almost ALWAYS faster to get out of your car and go inside than it is to wait in the car line. So the issue isn’t about speed. Nor is it about convenience.


I’m starting to think the reason people don’t exit their cars at fast food restaurants has to do with the smart phone and not wanting to interact with others (stay in their personal car caves). It’s more fun to play with the phone than say hi or interact with other humans. They probably tweet, check Facebook, do some snapchatting, stick a few pins up on Pinterest, and then their sausage biscuit and egg is ready. Off you go to work.
 
If you got out of your car, you could still do those things on your smart phone, but you might also have to nod your head or look someone in the eye or comment on the weather. You could make a personal contact, establish the basis for a business relationship or even introduce yourself to someone who could turn out to be a future customer or colleague. We wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?
 
Basic laziness is probably another reason we stick to our autos. That’s visibly reflected if you look at how many people are losing the battle with an expanded waistline. Walking into order wouldn’t change the world, but it is a positive step for many in the right direction.  And they should take it.
 
If we can’t get more people out of their vehicles for the right reasons, maybe we can at least develop a techie solution that reduces all the carbon emissions coming out of the exhaust pipes, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. How about a conveyor belt?
 
Once the car enters the parking lot and the drive-through lane, you turn your car off, open the windows, and the fast food place moves you through, like a car wash. It stops you at the ordering and pickup windows. A sign tells you to turn off your engine to reduce pollution, eliminate hydrocarbons and reduce our reliance on oil, all good things for society in the long run.
 
It’s time for McDonald’s, Hardees, Wendy’s What-A-Burger, Burger King, Carl’s, In-N-Out Burger, Sonic and all the other drive-thru’s to put their engineering talent to work. Whoever comes up with the solution first will dominate the market, give themselves a differentiator and do something good for the world.