Strange Thievery in Bad Economy

When the economy is bad, home break-ins and retail pilferage increase dramatically. Apparently, so does thievery of a curious array of other items. Time magazine reported on seven of these over the past month or so. Here’s what they said was stolen and the locations where the thefts happened. See if you can match the two lists.

What was stolen:

1.     16,000 barrels of maple syrup (grade not specified)

2.     A truck with $250,000 of raw beef (if there’s any justice, they’ll get Mad Cow Disease)

3.     $100,000 of bees from their beekeeper (Peter Fonda was reportedly devastated)

4.     $3,000 of bras (assorted cup sizes; no wonder)

5.     $65,000 of chicken wings (presumably not yet barbecued)

6.     A tractor trailer with $75,000 of Campbell’s soup (it was probably chunky)

7.     Five and a half tons of Nutella (value over $25,000, and that’s not peanuts)

Locations of the thefts:

a.      Florida

b.      Florida

c.      Florida

d.     Georgia

e.      Canada

f.       Canada

g.      Germany

Looks like you just can’t trust those Southerners or those north of the border…

Here are the matched up answers:

1.     e or f

2.     a, b, or c

3.     e or f

4.     a, b or c

5.     d

6.     a, b or c

7.     g

Always a crack researcher, I dug deeper to see what unusual things have been stolen from retirees in recent months. You’ll be shocked—I say SHOCKED!—at what I uncovered.

A shipment of plaid sansabelt golf pants disappeared near Scottsdale, Arizona. The thieves are still in the wind. Mercifully the pants have not shown up either. Not surprisingly, the value of the goods is being disputed by the insurance company.

Fifty cases of prunes worth $25,000—they were soaked in vodka—were pilfered from a truck in Canada. Culprits were apprehended selling the hot prunes somewhere in Edmonton. They claimed the cases “fell off the back of a truck.” I’ve heard that one before…

A recently retired hot-dogger had his orthopedic boogie board taken from the bottom of a chairlift in Aspen. Worse yet, it was taken around 11 am and he’d purchased an all-day lift pass.

An eighty-year-old woman left her walker outside the stall in the restroom during activities night in her South Jersey retirement community. It was gone when she came out. The thief was caught leaning on it during the Electric Slide. The owner identified it from the macramé wrist strap her greatgrandson had made for her at camp.

Two pallets of diet cranberry juice went missing from a storeroom in Texas. The cost was about $2,000, not including the fees for all the urologist visits that resulted.

In North Carolina, ten cases of counterfeit hearing aid batteries found their way to a retirement home. They have no idea where the real ones were diverted. The trail has gone cold, because it was about three weeks before the residents realized the batteries weren’t working properly.

In Palm Beach, thieves made off with forty cases of old fashioned oatmeal. The entire town was out of sorts for a month. You can’t put a price on that.

Also in Florida, a shipment of Mahjong sets bound for Boca Raton vanished into thin air. What arrived in their place were Ouija boards. One day after their delivery, those also disappeared. When asked if they had any clues, investigators replied: “We think it was someone’s dearly departed, and her name began with an ‘M.’ Or maybe a ‘T.’”

Be vigilant. It doesn’t look like the economy is going to pick up any time soon and you never know what the thieves will come after next. On that note, I’m going to hide my stash of wine.

Pride of Ownership: Sexism in Science and Pop Culture

It occurred to me recently that sexism is rampant and insidious when it comes to science and culture. Many of you are thinking: “And you’re surprised because?” It’s not the rampant part that caught my attention; it’s the insidiousness. I’m not sure exactly how this came on my radar. Retirees have a lot of time for ruminating.

I believe I was posting on Facebook about something philosophical or spiritual and mentioned Pascal’s Wager. Or maybe it was one of those daily mishaps that have us muttering: Murphy’s Law. This prompted me to begin collecting these “owned” phrases of our language and culture.

My list quickly expanded to science, and included Ockham’s Razor (for which I had no idea of its meaning but have since looked it up and hence corrected my original spelling) and Mobius Strip (which I can easily fashion from a piece of paper). I scribbled these on the back of an envelope, confident that the list would somehow grow into a blog post one day.

More of these phrases that I’m describing as “pride of ownership” came to me as I was driving to Vermont recently to visit my sister. Fortunately, I carry a small note pad that I was able to fish out of my purse, along with a pen, without weaving out of my lane on the Interstate. I’m quite good at fishing by feel. I’m often forced to do that to find my earplugs in the tray on my bedside table when Jagdish begins snoring in the middle of the night. I’ve also learned to write short reminder notes in the dark.

So, tools in hand, or actually on the passenger seat (the pad) and in the center console (the pen), I jotted down other phrases as they came to me. As you might expect, some of them were torturous versions of their proper selves.

Somewhere around the Massachusetts/New Hampshire border, one of the CDs keeping me awake led me to write: Elton’s John. Of course, Brits will tell you Elton wouldn’t have a john; he’d have a loo. But Elton’s Loo doesn’t fit my blogging needs. That quickly led me to Paddy’s Wagon and soon after that, Fanny’s Pack. I was feeling quite clever at that point, and I had not had even a drop of wine.

Greek mythology and the Bible provided a source for several additions to my list. The most obvious was Achilles’ Heel. And hot on Achilles’ heels, Pandora’s Box, Noah’s Ark and Jacob’s Ladder. I was on a roll. Somewhere around the mid-trip rest area and after a lot of figurative head-scratching, I added the Midas Touch and Gordian Knots.

As I neared the New Hampshire/Vermont border, it dawned on me: few of these names that show pride of ownership are female. The only familiar phrase I had come up with was Pandora’s Box. That was only after I had first thought of Achilles’ Heel, which (in a fit of anatomical exploration inspired by the song “Dem Bones”) eventually connected me to Charlie Horse, too.

When I returned home and started to organize my notes, I realized that concepts and ideas were always paired with men’s names. It’s Pascal’s Wager and Ockham’s Razor and Murphy’s Law. Only the inconsequential utilitarian objects on my list were named after women. A pack, a box—both female ownership. The wagon, the ark, even the ladder—male. An insidious show of sexism if ever there was one.

One area where women have historically been recognized as “owners” is in the naming of hurricanes and tropical storms. It took until 1978 for the National Hurricane Center to finally share the glory of devastation with men, and that was done in phases; (North Pacific storms in ’78; Atlantic Basin in ‘79.) I suppose I should look upon this as a great equalizer in the “pride of ownership” battle. As my mother always said, “Thank the Lord for small favors.” Small favors indeed.

And as I always say, “Thank the Lord for a fine red wine, no matter whose name it carries.”

Retirement Chain of Choices

Recently I met some friends for dinner at Smokey Bones. It was a rare opportunity for me to enjoy ribs, since my husband doesn’t care for them. When barbecue is done right (and this was), it leaves you licking the sauce off your fingers. As I sucked my way from pinky to thumb, I was reminded of a classic radio commercial.

The old ad went something like this. A diner orders barbecued chicken. The waitress asks: Do you want a whole chicken or a half? Diner: A whole. Waitress: Do you want regular sauce or extra sauce? Diner: Extra. Waitress: Do you want a napkin or a Wash ‘N’ Dri? Diner: Wash ‘N’ Dri. Waitress (yells into the kitchen): One bird loaded, with soap and water to go. I think this ad is memorable not just because of the clever tag line, but also because of the build up of all the choices the diner is asked to make.

We face choices throughout our lives. Caffeine or decaf? Skim milk or whole milk? AM or FM? Democrat or Republican? As we move into our retirement, our choices change. It’s more like: dentures or implants? Bifocals or intraocular lenses? Hearing aid or blissful ignorance? Soup and salad or salad and soup?

Some of our choices get more complicated, so I’ve created a new retirement parlor game: Chain of Choices. The goal is to see who can build the longest chain with various choices retirees have to make. One person starts the chain with a single choice, and the next person has to use the second option in that pairing to begin a new choice pairing.

Let’s start with what someone who is retired might decide to wear (or not) when he gets up in the morning. Is it just PJs or a bathrobe? Bathrobe or ratty sweatshirt? Ratty sweatshirt or whatever isn’t in the laundry? Laundered clothes or commando? You get the idea.

Here’s another one: the way retirees could be forced out of bed in the morning. Instead of an alarm clock vs. a clock radio, choices might be ambient noise vs. sun in your eyes. Sun in your eyes or a cat that wants breakfast (and is climbing all over your head)? Cat that wants breakfast or cat that is being chased by the dog? Dog chasing cat or dog that needs to go out?

This can then morph into: dog that needs to be taken out vs. being able to travel whenever you want. Travel by air or wander by motor home? Motor home or Jazzy scooter? Jazzy or a walker? Walker or 3-footed cane? Footed cane or broken bones? Broken bones or stay planted in a lounge chair in perpetuity? Isn’t this fun?

Speaking of lounge chairs, another choice might have been: lounge chair with hassock vs. recliner with foot rest. Recliner or sofa? Sofa or on the floor with a pillow under your head? On the floor or on a yoga mat? Yoga mat or plush bath towel? In this example, we have somehow segued from relaxation to exercise. In our house, that’s going in the wrong direction.

Let’s try out the personal care arena (and observe how cleverly I move between variations of the same item). Will you choose a loofah or an oatmeal scrub? Oatmeal or Metamucil? Metamucil or prunes? Prune skin or deep moisturizer? Moisturizer or face mask? Face mask or sloughing mitt? Mitt or loofah? Notice that this has now created the ultimate prize in a chain of choices contest: The Chain Loop. The person who creates the loop is automatically the winner (mercifully ending the game).

Getting back to relaxation, the choice could be: put on music vs. watch a movie. Watch a movie or read a book? Read a book or write a book? Write a book or write a blog post? Write a post or have a glass of wine? We all know how this one turns out.