​Buying an atlas expands your world. It teaches you new and unexpected things, too, about how the world changes and how quickly.
 
I like navigating the old way, using a map to find out where I’m going. It allows me to explore the big picture and figure things out on my own. It’s an awesome feeling.
 
Preparing to move, I recently passed on our ancient (2011) road atlas to our son Kirby, who got my dad’s car after he passed away. Lacking a cover, and with some missing and water-logged pages, I gave it to him solemnly, so he can have it to serve as back-up in his GPS electronic-fueled universe. I hope he is forced to use it at some point, and he is prepared, as I had him navigate for me many times on trips through its pages. He now accesses his smart phone to direct me when I get lost, but what the heck, I tried.
 
The 2011 version was in need of replacement anyway, as the 2017 version was ready with all those new streets under construction in the United States. The atlas keeps up, just not as quickly as going online or by using Google.
 
As I cleaned out the back of my car for the trip north, I pulled out battery chargers, a first-aid kid, reusable grocery bags, reading glasses, my 25 favorite CDs, my sports chair and cheering cone. My life as it existed. Underneath, I unearthed two books that contained hundreds of pages in the Dallas-Ft. Worth (DFW) metro area – atlases that were dynamite and necessary 10 years ago, maybe even 5, to find out where you were headed in this massively morphing metropolis.
 
Now those two books are pretty much useless. Not even I would buy them, which says a lot. The company that prints them might not be out of business if enough older people exist who won’t use a form of electronic navigating, but I can’t imagine that market is large enough for them to continue publishing a paper version.

It was odd pulling these books out and dumping them in the recycling bin. The two copies I had were the second version I’d bought since moving to DFW in 2004. Roads are built so quickly here that the original ones were out-of-date within five years (probably even sooner if we want to look at it realistically), so you had to replace them.
Then, with the onslaught of the Internet, Google and GPS, whammo, they were obsolete. Something previously very necessary disappeared very quickly.
 
The books sat in the back of my car for several years. I could not remember the last time I opened them.  They made me nostalgic.  And they were probably only 7-years-old, maybe 8. Obsolescence ratchets up.
 
Most of our possessions hold long-term value in our lives, or at least we have some fondness for hanging onto them. Clothing should be useful until it wears out, but we often discard shirts, shoes and pants before then. Furniture we typically use until the stuffing pops out. Carpets stay on the floor until it is beat up and the color fades.  And so on.
 
But an atlas is a different animal. You would think it should last forever. It doesn’t. Technology displaced it.
 
Still, I’m going to use this new one. I will pore over it as I head through Oklahoma, Missouri, Illinois and Wisconsin, looking at rivers, alternative routes and state parks to explore in the future. A new world will emerge, with places to visit that I hadn’t considered. You never know where you’ll end up.

​Is there a science to selecting quality fruit from the supermarket? Or is it an art form? Did your mother or father teach you the best way to determine if a cantaloupe was ripe or bruised? Do you ever watch someone in the fresh produce aisle to observe how they select apples, peaches, pears or plums to see if they are ripe or decaying?
 
There is a way to feel your way through the fruit selection process to better ensure you’re getting the good stuff. But there are no guarantees. Even if your past method was successful, that doesn’t guarantee the next time you’ll be able to duplicate it. I’m sure everyone has personal examples of this.
 
A number of weeks back, the family excursion for groceries returned with our 3-day supply of apples. They looked good. The skins were taut. Color seemed right. When you bit into them though, they were mush. Not quite brown inside, but close enough that you got the mealy taste of nothingness. Blah. Toss that in the composting bin.
 
Throwing fruit away like that bothers me. First, it’s money down the drain. You work hard for your income and to take 5-6 bucks and say, “Those apples were worthless,” makes you want to go back and get replacement apples from the store. But you could face the same problem of trying to figure out if that shiny skin is deceiving you, hiding a decaying interior.
 
Second, not getting what you thought you purchased (tasty fruit) is frustrating. When you expect to bite into something crisp or properly ripened and find instead that something is so green and hard that it’s tasteless or so old and withered that it’s almost rancid, you get irritated. It’s that expectation thing – you buy something with an expectation in mind and when it’s not met, dissonance sets in.
Over the years, I’ve found some ways that are helpful to determine quality fruit. Most of my experience is with pineapples, cantaloupes and apples. I avoid peaches and plums. Bananas are easy and no one should need any advice there – if they’re green, you need to wait a few days to eat them; if they have lots of brown spots, leave them on the shelf; if they are bright yellow and unblemished, those babies are ready, so grab them.
 
Apples and cantaloupes, on the other hand, are deceptive. Most of the time, you can safely figure out their ripeness level. Yet every once in awhile they screw you up and there goes your money.
 
In the spirit of helping the consumer, here are some things I’ve learned that identify good qualities to indicate you should drop the fruit into your cart. 1. Thunk it with your finger. The tapping on a cantaloupe or apple will give you a feel for the density, how many seeds are inside and whether worms are eating the interior. Put it to your ear and listen to see if it rings after you tap it. If it does, answer your smart phone.
 
2. Sniff it. If it smells ripe, you’re good. If it smells rotten, find someone else’s cart and clandestinely drop it there. That will start a nice fruit selection discussion in that family.
 
3. Feel it. Turn it over in your hands. Squeeze. It should seem just right. What that means, nobody knows. Set your own standards. Then you’ll meet them.
 
4. Look at the color. If it seems bad, put it back in the bin, or hide it behind the cereal boxes until it’s discovered two years from now.
 
I hope these excellent tips will help you next time you shop for fruit. Lower your expectations and everyone will be happy.