Tuesday twitter and tumble

I have filed the last of my story assignments this morning. Now, I wait for editors to respond with whatever reactions their eyes and brains have upon reading the words I've crafted with information gathered. The usual reaction is "cut it down."

Editors worry about space. Writers worry about having priceless nuggets cut from their copy.

I learned long ago, however, to avoid falling in love with what I've written. Others may not feel the same passion as I, and if I want to appear in print, I'll have to deal with the most unkindest of cuts from the "Brutal" editors. Still, I know exactly how Caesar felt.

Well, speaking of the most unkindest cuts, how 'bout that stock market? Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

That invested pittance I referred to a week or so ago has been feeling the wrath. Last week, it fell by $300; then, it regained most of that back. Yesterday morning it was back down by almost $300. This morning it has lost another $500.

Oh well, with all the see-saws we see, by the end of the day, maybe I'll be happy for a few hours.

Mother was telling me yesterday about her memories of 1929. She remembers her Aunt Annie grimacing every time another bond went down. She also talked about money hidden in mattresses, coffee cans and dresser drawers.

That practice continued in the family for decades after. One time when Mother and Harold were going to purchase some property, she borrowed the money from her adopted mother/cousin Louise. She had to fly back to Michigan to get it.

Louise went to a bedroom and pulled the amount out of the top dresser drawer. Hundred-bills. Enough to buy 55 acres back in 1966. You can do the math. We knew exactly where the money was stashed when Mother stepped off the plane at Spokane Airport. That was when you could still watch people get off planes out on that concrete area surrounding the terminal.

She held her purse tight to her stomach, and we figured there was a good reason for that. We drove home that night, and later watched as she pulled out the makeshift pocket from beneath her blouse and laid out those hundred-dollar bills on the bed. That was the most cash we had ever seen, and I'm thinking it's the most I've ever seen since.

After all, who sees cash anymore?

Who will see cash or credit? That is the question. Not to get too Shakespearean with you, but we may be seeing several of the most unkindest cuts of all yet to come.

I don't know what they're going to do to fix all this mess, but I thought Bill had a phenomenal idea yesterday morning. He said this bail-out bill ought to offer incentive bonuses to the folks who have paid their bills, paid off their mortgages, never faulted on their taxes, etc.

Seems offering an incentive for doing things right would send a positive message to all have followed the other routes of living on plastic and over-extending themselves. Plus, it would reward rather than punish those who own no responsibility in this situation.

We have some bills to pay today, and we'll hand over the money as soon as the services have been rendered. Our chimney sweep, Norm, who called on that hot day in August, called again last night. We were a little more inclined to want his services now as the calendar turns over to October tomorrow.

While he's cleaning the chimney, I'm expecting Larry from Naples to come rolling in the driveway with this year's supply of barn shavings. Larry found a method to compact the shavings into big bales, which he sells for $35 a piece. He'll bring me six of them, and they'll last the winter.

Well, I guess that's enough twitter on this lovely Tuesday. The one thing I can say positive about yesterday's morbid Monday was that the weather was gorgeous, so it made the news just a little easier to stomach. I hope they get this situation figured out by the time winter dreariness sets in, because if it's not, my opinions could get pretty ugly.

Have a nice day, and keep your fingers crossed that some brainpower will be injected into the American money mess.