A few things for which I'm thankful

The following was submitted by The View staff reporter Jerry LaVaute:

I kicked around a couple ideas for a column this week, but it’s difficult at this season to imagine a more worthy undertaking than a reflection on the things for which I am thankful:

My wife Jan
She’s still the nicest person in the room, in whatever room we’re in.

My children
A couple of great kids if ever there were ones – friendly, responsible, decent.

My grandson Noah
“Noah looked good,” Jan said to me matter-of-factly after a visit from Noah and his parents on Sunday night. Without a moment’s hesitation, I affirmed her observation.

At six months, the kid is great: confident, happy, big smiles, healthy.

My family
The older I get, the more I appreciate what my Mom and Dad did for me and my sister, particularly around the Christmas holidays, which they made so special as we were growing up.

Job
The process of gathering information and writing about it as clearly as I’m able is one that still fascinates me.

Religion
Answering a call to return to the church over 30 years ago, anticipating my son’s birth, was one of the best things I’ve ever done.

Invitations
I’m thankful to those who took a moment to introduce me to new things in my life.

God
Ironically, I’m thankful to God for letting me struggle at times in my life. I learned a lot from it. But I’ve been extraordinarily blessed, and am grateful.

My Ford career
I learned so much about people and automobiles, and how to listen to and express ideas.

Homes
Since I married, I’ve lived in just two homes in my life. Both were great places in which to live, and to raise a family.

College football
A pastime that has entertained me for many years. I look forward to it every fall.

The University of Notre Dame
The key adjunct to my enjoyment of college football – my team, through thick or thin.

Reading
So many wonderful books; so little time.

Veterans Day reflections from a non-veteran

The following was submitted by The View staff reporter Jerry LaVaute:

In my senior year in high school, during the Vietnam War, I learned that I would be eligible for the military draft after graduation.

After several years of the war, the draft procedure had changed from a selection system that offered a lot of exemptions from the draft, to a lottery system that was intended to clean up what was thought by some to be a system that discriminated against those in the lower socioeconomic strata in the United States.

I was at work that evening, as a copy boy at the Syracuse Post Standard newspaper, at the time Syracuse’s morning newspaper.

We worked in a small office filled with machines typing out news stories in a type of Braille code that would be read by other machines down the hallway, past a swinging door through which we walked.

The room in which we sat and talked and smoked endlessly contained three or four chairs in which we sat, waiting for assignments from the editors. The radio was on that evening, and we were listening to it intently, because this was the evening when the military draft lottery numbers were being drawn.

I don’t recall exactly what my number was, but it was clear to me that evening that it was high enough to enable me to avoid being drafted, and potentially to have to serve in the Vietnam conflict.

I would have gone if drafted, to serve my country. But I was thrilled at not having to go.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve not regretted the outcome that evening, but I have since learned to reserve in my mind and my heart a special place for those who serve and have served, in Vietnam and elsewhere.

And I am glad when Veterans Day rolls around each year, when the service of veterans is celebrated and appreciated, and I can write a story about such an event, showcasing these brave men and women.

For the last two years, I have reported on the Veterans Day celebration at Concordia University. The event, now in its third year, continues to grow.

Concordia had expanded the list of events and activities since last year, and the number of people that attended, including veterans and their families, seemed to have grown as well.
The veterans with whom I spoke that day were pleased by the celebration at Concordia, thankful to be recognized. In fact, some of them were planning to attend several Veterans Day observances in other communities like Ypsilanti, Ann Arbor and Saline.

Veterans Day is each year on November 11. It commemorates the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, when an armistice began among the combatants on the European continent to end World War I, in which the United States was a late entrant.

Problem was, the timetable for the armistice was agreed very early that same morning, about 5 a.m. None of the warring nations’ representatives had considered what should happen in the several hours leading up to 11 a.m.

But the generals on each side did. Eager to conquer more land and perhaps to gain a negotiating advantage at future peace talks, the warring armies fought on until 11 a.m. And, sadly, there were more casualties in those few hours than on D-Day in World War II.

It is that type of absurdity that we rail against when we oppose war. But I’ve learned to recognize, as I’ve grown older, that life often does not offer clear and simple choices.
At the Veterans Day celebration at Concordia, I asked some Vietnam veterans how they were received when they returned to the United States, after their service.

One said that, after his plane had landed in the airport in San Francisco, that he had to run a gauntlet of 25 war protesters who yelled at him, called him names and spit at him.

Another said that he did not admit to having served in Vietnam for ten years after his return.
I am ashamed for this kind of past behavior toward inordinately brave men and women, and am glad when I see that attitudes toward veterans have changed.

Each year on Veterans Day, I am joined by an increasing number of those who are grateful to those who did serve, and am grateful that I am able each year to help us remember their service, and to recognize their sacrifice, on behalf of our fine country and its citizens.

Keeping up with time

The following was posted by Staff Reporter Jerry LaVaute:

On Sunday morning, I turned back the clocks in the house.

Spouses often divide household tasks between them, be they frequent or daily tasks, or less-frequent tasks like clock-setting, and this job fell my way years ago.

So, after a brief, inane discussion with my wife Jan early Sunday morning about what time it was (I referred to new time and old time in an effort to figure out which one she was after), I began the task.

I have noticed half-consciously in recent years that there are many clocks in our house.
But on Sunday, I went on a mission to count the number of clocks in each room, and shared the results with Jan.

Modern life can get out of control sometimes, and as I began the task, the number of clocks in a home seemed to me to be an example.

I started in the kitchen upstairs: one clock radio, one coffee-maker, one microwave, one stove, and one wall clock. Except for the wall clock, they’re all digital clocks.

Seems excessive, right? Five clocks in a single, rather small room?

Move on to the living room – one clock radio, one analog clock atop the corner cabinet, another on a stand by a chair.

Yet another clock is on the wall in the hallway, for the programmable thermostat that controls the timing of heating and cooling cycles in the home.

There is one clock in each of the upstairs bathrooms. One of them includes a digital thermometer that conveys the outside temperature to those indoors.

In the master bedroom are three clocks, one on the VCR, one is the alarm clock, and one is a weather alert radio.

I am clueless about how this weather radio operates, including how to turn back its time. I bought it recently from ABC Warehouse, and for the price of a pack of batteries for power backup in case the electrical power goes out, the salesperson programmed it for me.

This was a bad idea. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do in bad weather, so I’ve positioned the instruction manual neatly underneath the unit, awaiting the opportunity when I will master this latest bit of technology in my home.

I move on to the clock radio, which for all its complexity (different types of alarms, two unique alarm time settings) is relatively easy to change – there’s a special button for the elimination of daylight savings time – I hit it, and we fall back by an hour.

The only upstairs room in which we don’t seem to have a clock is what we call the cats’ room, so called because it’s where our two cats stay, protected from the little dog that sometimes terrorizes them.

The little dog is prevented from entering the room by a 30-inch piece of wood in the doorway. The dog’s name is Moses.

But the cats, whose names are Morgan and Mocha, have evolved into what seems a quiet, enjoyable life, helped perhaps by the absence of clock-watching, and the knowledge that they are free to roam the house each night, after Moses is sequestered safely in the bedroom.
In the kitchen downstairs, there are five clocks - microwave, clock radio, coffee-maker, wall clock, stove.

In the family room, there are three clocks, including one that used to hang in my mother’s living room – a nice reminder of her for me.

When I added it all up, including clocks on cell phones, computers, wristwatches and clocks in cars, the total exceeded 20 clocks or watches in or around my home.

It’s a lot, for sure, and it’s a lot of clocks and watches to change twice each year. But unless I’m prepared to move in with the cats, I guess I had better get used to it.