With $4 gas, it ain't easy being green

(Note: This is an issue that won't go away, so you can bet this won't be the only article I'll write on the subject. I can be bold and call it the first of a series, but this implies discipline on my part.)

If you haven't noticed how ugly gas prices have been lately, you must be one of those people who are not affected by it. Maybe soon I'll meet one of those people.

It doesn't matter how you get around in your home town; you will still feel some effect of escalating energy costs. There's just no escaping it. Even if you ride a bicycle everywhere (as I do) and only check out the gas prices to see how badly those poor fools in SUVs are taking it in the shorts, you may have noticed the price of just about everything else going up.

I have no hard numbers to back it up, but even the cost of pork & beans has increased to reflect the cost of transporting it from the piggery or wherever they process it to your grocery store. Everything's sent by truck, rail, ship, or submarine, so there's a cost right there. And since no businessman in his right mind is going to "eat" that extra cost, you'll notice the difference at the checkout counter. I tell you, there's no escape.

What I find particularly interesting is that folks are starting to pay less attention to environmental issues with fuel doing such radical surgery on their wallets. While it's nice to bloviate about carbon footprints and global warming when gas is a buck a gallon (and it wasn't that long ago), all this talk seems to have gone out the window lately.

Like the noted social commentator Kermit The Frog once said, it ain't easy being green.

There's renewed talk of drilling for oil in previously-forbidden areas such as the National Wildlife Reserve in Alaska and in the Atlantic off the Carolinas. Nuclear power is starting to look feasible again. Even to environmentalists.

My own politics are decidedly conservative, though I'm also serious about environmental issues. It's sort of like what Edward Abbey once wrote: "God bless America ... let's save some of it." But now some of these options are starting to look real good right now. And I'm not the only one thinking this way.

But these are all short-term, for-the-moment measures. Face it. It's a mystery to me why we're still so reliant on fossil fuel anyway. Using our other technologies as a yardstick, oil-driven anything should have been thrown on the scrap heap years ago, where DOS-only computers, vinyl records, Underwood typewriters, and slide rules currently reside. We've built more effective ways of killing the enemy in war. We have radar and satellite technology that can track a hurricane from its point of origin. We've built desktop computers that are more powerful than the room-sized units that coordinated moon landings 39 years ago.

Everything is new and improved, except energy. On that score we're still in the Stone Age.

Back in my taxi-driving days, I drove a Texas oilman from his weekend home on Kiawah Island to the airport, and we spent most of the 45-minute trip talking about alternative energy sources. He'd studied that, and he said that in all of these alternatives there is some oil required somewhere.

(Personal footnote: When I started driving a taxi in 1997, I burned about $16 in gas a day. When I left the business near the end of last year, my daily dose was $30 a day, sometimes $40. The car was a Ford Crown Vic, which did best on high-test and got me about 18 miles per gallon. If I was still driving that cab, the fuel cost would be more like $50 to $60 per day. Sounds like a drug habit, doesn't it?)

As I write this, gas is hovering around $4 a gallon in Charleston, South Carolina. And historically, that's one of the cheapest places in the nation for gas. To get an idea of what people are paying elsewhere, check out gasbuddy.com -- in fact, use that site to find the cheapest gas in your home town. You might save a few pennies that way.

Even when fuel costs reach crisis proportions -- and don't tell me we're not there yet -- people in the good ol' U. S. of A. still like convenience above all. We are, I submit, a spoiled bunch. Despite talk of cutting back on driving, I can look at the freeway and see the same number of cars on it as before, when gas was much cheaper. And the cars look the same too. Maybe a few people traded in their SUVs and four-wheel-drive Diesel trucks for something more economical, but I honestly don't see much difference. And though I get around on bicycle, I don't see where many people have joined me there. Are you kidding? I have yet to see air conditioning or an mp3 player on a bicycle, and I still haven't figured where to put my coffee cup when riding it.

And the trickle of oil shapes our foreign policy. While most of our imported oil comes from neighbors Canada and Mexico, we have to go to some real sleazeballs for our daily fix. Some of my friends don't buy gas from Citgo because it's all Venezuelan oil, courtesy of Hugo Chavez. OK. Chavez may want to be the next Fidel Castro, but he's certainly no worse than the people running Iran, or Iraq, or Saudi Arabia, and his human-rights record is no worse than theirs.

But getting to the green aspect for a moment. Environmental study isn't so cut-and-dried like physics is, where everything can be boiled down to a handful of natural laws. To truly think green, one must have a grip on a number of disciplines -- from high-school biology and geology to high finance and politics. It's a multifaceted science, with a web of connections that would put an enterprising spider to shame. And much of truly-green thinking is almost the dead opposite of how we humans are built to perceive things.

Humans tend to take the short-term view as a means of solving their problems, and that's where the going gets dangerous. That's where ideas such as drilling in the National Wildlife Reserve come from. Even if we go drilling there or off the Carolina coast, and build a bunch of new refineries, it'll merely put in a dent in the problem without solving anything.

Even some of the feel-good environmental measures such as hybrid cars are, at best, a short-term stopgap measure. And I understand there are problems with those hybrids, that the battery needs to be replaced every so often at a cost that would scare Bill Gates. And, really, the gas savings are not significant enough to solve anything.

But if you wish to think in the long term, this energy problem presents a golden opportunity for some new technologies -- whatever they are -- to take shape.

I'm not a great fan of focus groups and conferences -- one man alone can do some pretty stupid things but it takes teamwork to really foul things up -- but maybe that's a partial answer. For some reason I visualize a summit of some of the best minds in the sciences, engineering, politics, foreign policy, and throw them together for about a month. Give 'em those large sketch pads, feed 'em yesterday's pizza with cheap wine, bunk 'em together in a dormitory, and see if they come up with something to get us off the oil teat.

Right now, we're at the point where we'll take anything. That's the good news. The bad news is, we're at the point where we'll take anything.

Pop quiz: Have you been around much?

Here's an amusing little quiz to find out how much you've been around. Simply match the grocery store chain with the state you're likely to find a store.

_____ Smith's
_____ Ingles
_____ Super WalMart
_____ White's
_____ Stater Bros.
_____ Piggly Wiggly


And the states:

A: South Carolina
B: Tennessee
C: California
D: Arizona
E: Just world conquest, baby!
F: North Carolina


There's no scoring, or at least if there is no one really cares. But if you can get them all right, you've been around some. And if you can say you've shopped in each one and/or know the name of the store's "house brand," I feel your pain.

(Oh, yeah. Up North and Out West, that thing you push in the store is a grocery cart. Down South, it's a buggy.)

Answers will come in a future posting.

Mystery Meat, redux

Dug this up in my archives ... shot at a grocery store in Kailua Kona, Hawaii a couple of years ago. Goes great with this regional delicacy ... some folks just love that mystery meat.

SC governor: Cyclists, motorists have same rights to roads

This was posted by blogger and bicyclist David Moulton, and all I can say is ... it's about time!

Looking at some of this new law, it is now a lot more in sync with bike/car laws in other states. But that's not the issue; safety and survival are.

I do most of my getting around on bicycle, so of course I have an interest here.

Face it. There are plenty of idiots on the road. Many of them drive cars (yes, they are allowed to). And plenty of idiots ride bicycles, too. But while that's good for debate, the real issue is that, in a collision between car and bicycle, you usually know who is going to win. That point tends to end all arguments right there, and it doesn't really matter at that point who the idiot is or what he's driving.

And while this new law is great to have in place, it's still no substitute for safe driving, or safe biking. Or even -- what a concept! -- being a little considerate of the other guy on the road?

<end rant>

Minor Leage plays The Game like they used to

More than once, I've mentioned my unapologetic love for the game of baseball in this blog. But, while my town has its very own pro baseball team, I never went to one of the games until a few days ago.

The Charleston Riverdogs are in the South Atlantic League, in the minor leagues' single-A division. They're affiliated with the New York Yankees, an outfit I despise. I feel no conflict here, though. The players I saw don't strike me as major league material, but even that wouldn't matter a whole lot. Talented minor leaguers don't stay with the Yankees very long, given the House of Steinbrenner's manic methods of team management. So, the odds of any of the Riverdogs ever wearing Yankee pinstripes are pretty remote.

That said, minor-league ball -- particularly the single-A version -- is a good brand of baseball. It's the real thing.

Minor League ball is getting pretty big these days. In the mid-1980s, the San Bernardino Spirit set up shop, becoming the first Inland Empire team in decades, and promptly set all kinds of California League attendance records. Now, that same region boasts the High Desert Mavericks (with the Seattle Mariners), the Inland Empire 66ers of San Bernardino (L.A. Dodgers), Lake Elsinore Storm (San Diego Padres), Lancaster Jethawks (Boston Red Sox), and Rancho Cucamonga Quakes (L.A. Angels). That's half of the California League right there, and the entire Southern Division. The Northern Division has franchises with more local history in their towns; Visalia, San Jose, Bakersfield, and the world-famous Modesto Nuts.

Meanwhile, the Tri-Cities area of Tennessee and Virginia is represented by the Bristol White Sox, Elizabethton Twins, Johnson City Cardinals, Greeneville Astros, and Kingsport Mets. Gee, did they leave any towns out? Perhaps Erwin, Tennessee -- oh, they had a team in 1940.

Many of the Class-A players are probably as high up the baseball ladder as they're ever going to get. But you'll find some real surprises, some diamonds in the rough. When the San Bernardino Spirit was affiliated with the Seattle Mariners, they had a 19-year-old kid who tore the league up. He didn't stay very long in town; he was rapidly promoted and made it to the bigs to stay by season's end. And a few days ago, he became only the fifth person to bash 600 career home runs in the major leagues -- behind Barry Bonds, Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, and Sammy Sosa. But the first I'd hear of Ken Griffey was when he was patrolling the outfield in San Bernardino.

A few years ago, the Johnson City Cardinals had a young pitcher who showed great promise with a colossal rookie year in the big league. Come playoff time, though, everything deserted him and he stunk up the joint in the National League playoffs. We're talking about throwing pitches 10 feet over the hitters' heads, setting records for wild pitches, that kind of thing. So Rick Ankiel was sent back to the minors to work out his inexplicable control problems.

Ankiel never really got a handle on his case of what baseball folks call "Steve Blass Disease," but neither did Mark Wohlers, Chuck Knoblaugh, or even Blass. The Cardinals did notice, however, that Ankiel could sure hit the ball. In Johnson City they started putting him in the lineup on days when he wasn't pitching. Now, Ankiel is having a profitable second life in the Cardinals' starting outfield, which makes for a real feel-good story.

The fact the Cardinals carried Ankiel in their organization for so many years speaks volumes about that organization. They're one of the classiest in the big leagues, and would probably be my favorite team if the Los Angeles Angels didn't exist. Can you imagine if Ankiel was playing in the Yankees' organization during this time? Forget it; he'd be digging ditches today.

A few years ago, the Riverdogs were managed by Buddy Biancalana, who had a nice career as a good-field-no-hit utility man and cult favorite. Biancalana will probably never manage on the big-league level, but he brought some interesting concepts to Charleston. He was the minor leagues' answer to Lakers coach Phil Jackson, teaching some Zen-like approaches to the game. A few of his players (see, they're more accessible in the minor leagues; they used to take my taxi to work) told me of some of his breathing and visualization exercises. About half of the players boutht into the techniques, I was told. While you won't find any of those Riverdogs in any major-league boxscores, the team did a lot better than anyone expected that year.

Unusual approaches are a part of the Riverdogs' persona, but you'd expect that when one of the Veeck family owns the team. Between fan contests, dance exhibitions, and fireworks shows, one sometimes has to remind himself that there really is a baseball game going on.

Mike Veeck knows promotion, and while purists such as myself would prefer our baseball straight with no chaser, there's no arguing with the results. The Riverdogs are a hot ticket in town. And sometimes the "stunt" has a lot more substance than you'd think -- like when Veeck hired a blind man, Don Wardlow, to do radio color commentary of the games. Great stunt, right? Except Wardlow's knowledge of the game impressed even me. He used to take my cab to work, and we'd always match baseball wits on the trip.

Promotions aside, minor league ball reminds me of the way the game used to be. No millionaires. No contract haggling. No Steinbrenners.

The players dream of The Bigs, and will play hard to make a good impression. They love the game.

And, tickets to a game are a lot less the ten-spot. Try finding that in the major leagues.

You might find it worthwhile to check out a minor league contest near you -- particularly if you wonder whatever happened to The Game.

Hillary Clinton: Cookies anyone?

Hillary Clinton says she is open to the idea of being Barack Obama's running mate. If I were Barack, I would be really nervous if Hillary starts baking cookies as a peace offering -- especially during the campaign.

Mystery meat makes a comeback

You either love it or hate it -- kind of like liver -- but Spam is making a comeback anyway. Chalk it up to the price of, well, living.

I'm not referring to the spam (lowercase 's') that clutters your inbox, but the uppercase, trademarked version that appears on your dinner plate and is usually called something else.

Yeah. That Spam. Mystery meat. The Monty Python troupe sang about it. The military probably still tells stories about it. And the earliest astronauts were derided by the real test pilots, who called them "Spam in the can."

Many people have a decades-old can of Spam in the cupboard, and it doesn't really matter how old it is. It's still as edible as it once was, as it's preserved by the same science that keeps Egyptian pharoahs looking lively after all these years.

All joking aside (for the moment), I see where people are taking Spam seriously again. There are several articles on it here: From Newsday, from the wire services, and from blogs.

Not too hard to figure. When times are tough, people have to cut corners. These days consumers are in a quandary about whether to feed the kiddies or fill the tank first, so the cheaper fare usually wins out as a good compromise.

These are times for dry beans. For rice, although supply was a little short for a while. For Ramen noodles. For Kraft Macaroni &amp; Cheese. Long ago I'd noticed (and mentioned my findings in print) about the correlation between the federal minimum wage and the price of Kraft. I tell you, it's uncanny.

One place I've noticed Spam hasn't lost its appeal is in Hawaii. I still don't understand why, but during World War II it seems the residents developed a fixation for prepackaged rations. To this day it's the great underrated local delicacy, and there are a lot of ways to cook Spam. Some years ago, while visiting Kailua-Kona, I ran across a Spam display at a local supermarket, and ended up taking pictures of it. The only folks who thought anything unusual about the Spam display were ... the tourists.

But here, on the mainland, the mystery meat is making a comeback.

Enjoy.

Does your stomach drop?

The Millau viaduct is part of the new E11 expressway connecting Paris and
Barcelona and features the highest bridge piers ever constructed.
The tallest is 240 meters high and the overall height will be an impressive
336 meters (1118 Feet), making this the highest bridge in the world.

By comparison, the roadbed of the Arthur Ravenel bridge (linking Charleston to Mt. Pleasant) is a mere 250 feet above the Cooper River, and the uprights are a dinky 570 feet from the water surface to the top.

That said ... Sunday drive, anyone?

Landline = waste of resources

I felt strangely vindicated when I read a wire story in the local newspaper Monday. It was in the business section, and it was one of those lists of budget-saving tips.

You know what I'm referring to. There are plenty of these articles floating around in newspapers and magazines, and usually they say the same thing. Plan your menu. Shop with a list. Route your errands to save on time and gas. The usual stuff. I read them anyway, partly because I'm admittedly thrifty. (I got that honestly, from my Dad. Mom calls it something else, but I digress.)

This latest article on dollar-stretching tips was like all the others, except for one addition. According to financial consultant Janet Fox-Kreielsheimer from Raleigh, North Carolina. one can save a lot by changing around phone services.

"Consider eliminating your landline phone and use only your cell phone if you live in an area that gets good cell-phone reception," Fox-Kreielsheimer suggests.

Did you see that?

I've used cell phones since 2000, and despite the fact cell phone companies are generally evil, the reliability of the service has improved in the eight years since then. I could make calls from places where I'd only get a weak signal and a lot of fuzz before.

Really, since going cellular, the only reason I've found for using a hard-wire phone in the last few years was to go on the Internet, and what with DSL and wireless, that use is rapidly disappearing too.

For me, having a cell phone isn't just a matter of dollars and cents, although it is a major factor. But it's also efficiency. I like to keep life simple, which means as little duplication as possible. When you're talking about two phone services, that's duplication. The cell phone wins out because a) even a prepaid is cheaper than a landline phone, based on my usage; b) long-distance calls are free; c) the service is every bit as good; d) the phone goes everywhere with me.

Efficiency? I only need to give out one phone number and it'll work for everything. Doesn't matter where I am, that number will always find me -- then, of course, I can look at the caller ID screen and either answer or ignore the call on the spot.

While putting this essay together, I took a fast count of the phone numbers listed in my cell phone. After taking away all the businesses, I have 34 "personal" contacts. These are friends of mine, along with family members. From these 34 people I have 40 numbers listed, and that's only because I also streamline my contact list. Of the phone numbers, 29 are cell phones, eight are "home" (landline) numbers, and three are work numbers. If I included hard lines, it's guaranteed I'll have 80 to 100 phone numbers for these 34 people. Mom and Dad have three phone numbers (the home number they've had since 1962, and two cell phones). I also have 16 email addresses listed on my cell phone, as I can use it to send short messages.

Of my contacts list, I think only one person has just a landline and no cell phone. Just one.

I still get questions about why just the cell phone. A friend of mine -- young, current, cutting edge, tech-savvy -- sent me a text the other day, asking if I plan to get a landline for my new home. Which struck me as odd; this friend may be the last to consider a house phone to be a necessity. More than anyone else, my friend taught me how to send instant messages, chat online, and "text." Plus, she's probably the greatest living expert on high-speed wireless Internet -- what does she need a landline for?

For the longest time, Mom thought it was such a hoot that I only used a cell phone despite my logic (she thought I was just being cheap). But later, Mom told me about the family lawyer who has -- no home number, no office number, no law firm number, just a cell phone. Just like me, Mom laughed.

OK. It's a safe bet that lawyers don't have to scratch and dive between paychecks like I've had to do a few times, but saving money is good for them too. As is streamlining.

Life, explained:

Here's another one from my brother:

================

On the first day, God created the dog and said:

'Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years.'

The dog said: 'That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?'

So God agreed.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said:

'Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span.'

The monkey said: 'Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?'

And God agreed.

On the third day, God created the cow and said:

'You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.'

The cow said: 'That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?'

And God agreed again.

On the fourth day, God created man and said:

'Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years.'

But man said: 'Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?'

'Okay,' said God, 'You asked for it.'

So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.


Life has now been explained to you.

Javelin catcher, anyone?

You know this really had to hurt ...

Ryan McGeeney of the Standard-Examiner in Utah got, well, nailed the other day while covering a high school track and field meet in Provo. What impressed me is that he had enough presence of mind to get the photo and the story anyway, even if the photo wasn't what he had in mind.


"If I didn't, it would probably be my editor's first question when I got back," McGeeney said later.

Here's a little more on McGeeney, from his home paper ...

Tech support, in the trenches

You're wondering about the wisdom of calling tech support when your computer craps out?

So am I.

My ever-helpful brother sent this along, and as I find with a lot of the stuff he sends, this is a real eye-opener:










This is India.

This is where you call when you have a technical problem with your computer.

I feel better, knowing my technological issues are in the hands of such competent and forward-looking people, aren't you?

Resignation best way to heal fire department, chief

The long-awaited Phase II report on last year's Sofa Superstore fire wasn't to be released for another 24 hours when the first head rolled.

Charleston Fire Chief Rusty Thomas will resign in the wake of the warehouse blaze that killed nine Charleston firefighters.

Thomas left a note this week saying he was retiring effective June 27. In the note, Thomas said the only way for the fire department to heal itself would be if he stepped aside.

In truth, Thomas' resignation was expected -- though the question of whether to keep him on the job was a big one in last year's mayoral election. Although Mayor Joe Riley vowed to stand by his chief -- in contrast with his biggest opponents -- many expected the mayor to toss Thomas under the bus at the most convenient opportunity anyway.

It's true that when nine firefighters die in what started as a trash fire that went terribly wrong, changes must be made. Someone must go, even if getting rid of the leader is merely a symbolic move. Really, it's the same rationale that triggers all man-at-the-top personnel changes, from a coup d'etat to firing a baseball manager.

hough it appears Thomas beat everyone to the punch here, it's not really all that important whether he went out the door on his own or was pushed.

By all accounts Thomas is a good man, generally well-liked and respected. Although his fate was sealed as soon as word came out that firefighters were dead in the Sofa Superstore, you know he wasn't thinking about unemployment or anything else as the warehouse collapsed into flames. He wasn't thinking about his own future when thousands of firefighters came from all over the nation -- and world -- to pay their respects to the Charleston Nine. There's no way. No man worthy of the title is that cold.

Listening to Thomas in the weeks following the tragedy, you knew it really tore him up to lose nine of his men. He couldn't have been thinking about losing his job at that point. No way.

Thomas was right to resign. And again, that's his humanness talking. There's no way he could keep a business-as-usual attitude after losing nine of his men. He said the tragedy had "forever changed" him; again, totally expected. This is something he will always live with, and you know it will affect his performance should he continue to go to that job.

He does merit plenty of criticism for the way the Sofa Superstore fire evolved the way it did. Reports say the Charleston Fire Department was a hidebound organization, fighting fires the way they used to with little regard for new methods or training. Equipment had been lacking, and the general aggressive method of firefighting just doesn't cut it any more. As chief, Mr. Thomas knows he set the tone, and nine firefighters are now dead. This has to keep him up nights.

This is something no man should live with, let alone be reminded of it every time he goes to work. And that's what would be happening if he continued on the job.

Thomas said his "retirement" -- forget that word; he's barely 50, a few months younger than I -- is the only way for the department to heal. It may also be the only way that Rusty Thomas, the man, can heal. After nine deaths on his watch, he'll need it.


=============

Again, although the firefighters will forever be collectively known as the Charleston Nine, these men had names, families, dreams, and lives. And again, here are the men we're talking about:

* Brad Baity, 37. Nine years on the job.
* Mike Benke, 49. With the department for 29 years.
* Melvin Champaign, 46. A relative newcomer; two years with the department.
* James "Earl" Drayton, 56. From Station 19, a 32-year veteran with the fire department, retired several times and came back.
* Michael French, 27.
* Capt. William "Billy" Hutchinson, 48. With the department 30 years.
* Mark Kelsey, 40. A 12-year veteran.
* Capt. Louis Mulkey, 34. A firefighter for 11 years.
* Brandon Thompson, 27. With the Charleston department for four years, but something of a "young veteran" — helping out fire crews as a volunteer since he was 14 and was a captain with the Pine Ridge fire agency.

Charleston Mayor Joe...

Charleston Mayor Joe Riley announced that fire chief Rusty Thomas will resign at the end of June. Is this the first head rolling after the report? We'll find out.

Even the casinos are hurting

How bad is the economy these days?

It's so bad that the casino industry, which I always considered to be bulletproof, is taking a hit. Tropicana announced it is heading for bankruptcy.

Which is interesting in that one if its properties is a casino where I used to work, the old Ramada Express casino in Laughlin, Nevada.

We'll see how this pays out.

Fire report to be released - will heads roll?

Charleston Mayor Joe Riley said today that he will release a report about last year's Sofa Superstore fire that killed nine firefighters.

The report, which is actually the second phase of the investigation into the fatal fire, will be released next week, first to the families of the fallen firefighters.

Riley has faced criticism that he plans to sit on the report. "The right thing to do is not delay the report," Riley said.

[Add, May 7] If the report is as scathing as expected, it's likely that heads will roll among the fire department.

If you have to go, do it in style

This news story is from my home town. All I can say is, ugh!

If there are worse ways to go, I don't want to know about them.

Here's one from a friend...

Here's one from a friend of mine:

Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are in boat, in the middle of the Atlantic, in shark-infested waters

The boat sinks.

Who will be safe?

The answer: America.

Handling money, family style

This is interesting -- I've been hearing some discussion lately about how folks handle money. Maybe it's 'cause there's just not enough of it to go around for most people these days.

According to this article, it's learned behavior, and often passed through the generations.

This makes sense. My father is, well, he calls it "thrifty." Mom sometimes calls it something else, but this is not the forum for that. I seem to have inherited Dad's attitude toward money.

They're showing off the old Navy Yards

Ordinarily I refuse to use this space to plug upcoming events, but this is a special case.

For those who have been around the Lowcountry a while, you remember how North Charleston looked back in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Back in the day, area along East Montague and Spruill looked pretty run down, and the closer to the old Navy base you got, the scarier it all looked.

The region took a gigantic hit when the base shut down about a dozen years ago, and not just in the pocketbook either.

I remember the old base quite well. It wasn't too long ago that I thought they'd have to paint it first before they could condemn it.

OK. This Saturday, the same area will be shown off with a couple of events -- the TrySports Green Village Tour, which is an 8K run-walk by the Sustainability Institute, and later in the day, a Kentucky Derby party at the Navy Yard At Noisette Park (Derby attire recommended).

H'mmm ... says a lot about redevelopment efforts there.